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open-hearth-rpg · 5 months

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Open Hearth Video Roundup - May 10, 2024

Welcome to the weekly Open Hearth Gaming video roundup!

Today’s roundup includes videos from our “May the 4th Be With You” mini-con, plus the games from our regular calendar that we play every week, and anyone is welcome to join the fun! If you'd like to play in games like these, join our Playabl community and click on the "Calendar" tab to sign up for upcoming games. To browse our entire library of session videos, please visit our YouTube Playlists page. To hear our recorded sessions in audio-only form, please check out our Playing at the Hearth podcast.

Open Hearth Gaming Calendar

Trail of Cthulhu: Fearful Symmetries: Arc Two (Session 9) Lowell Francis runs for Alun R., Paul Rivers, Sherri, and Will H The group returns to Oxford following events at Mathers Hall and the dedicated of the Dunwich font. But they have to contend with fallout from those events, leading to Dr. Whitewood finding himself involuntarily committed. The others meet with various allies and maybe allies as they prepare to deal with Portmore and his fascists. Richard invokes the power of dreaming to aid the doctor in his convalescence, before Whitewood makes a break for it...

Hearts of Wulin: Three Mountains, One Heart (Session 1) Lowell Francis runs for Eliot, José Feito, Kevin M, and Sherri Start of a new short, fantastic series for Hearts of Wulin, leaning more into elements of xianxia, cultivation, and mythic destiny. We do character creation for the first half and then meet our four heroes on the road as they travel to a convocation of the sects from the three holy mountains.

Hearts of Wulin: Three Mountains, One Heart (Session 2) Lowell Francis runs for Eliot, José Feito, Kevin M, and Sherri Our heroes encounter friends, allies, and strangers as the arrive at the convocation for the three Cultivation Societies. But there are hidden dangers here, including a brother/sister duo involved with monster hunters, a fox spirit sibling, and a dragon in human form with a stolen heart.

Hearts of Wulin: Three Mountains, One Heart (Session 3) Lowell Francis runs for Eliot, José Feito, Kevin M, and Sherri The heroes regroup to consider what they've learned, but also try to recover from the previous day and deal with their own personal business. Our Fox Spirit discovers more than he bargained for when he tries to extricate his sister. Misunderstandings occur and cosmic heartbreak is sung out. Heartless finally makes her way to the dragon, but she may be too late...

Girl by Moonlight: On a Sea of Stars (Session 5 of 5) Donogh runs for Ian, Matthew Doughty, and Sabine V. The crew step through the time portal to recover an Engine lost long ago…Commander Crenn’s Janus. But tensions are high and the pilots’ growing independence is only stoking the fire of discontent!

Urban Shadows 2E (Session 3) Cale P runs for Brandon Brylawski, David Miessler-Kubanek, Kae, and Steven S. Our cast recovers from the friend-napping, as additional entanglements appear on the horizon. Miss Mash temps a mortal. Red done with Percival, and shares (almost) all. Morgan and Dancy share a moment of recovery.

Eotenweard: The Growing Dark (Session 1) Alun R. runs for Casey T, Daniel Kušan, Matthew Doughty, and Paul Rivers We meet Althea the Saxon Hunter, Winifred the Celtic Mystic, Seren. called 'The Black', a Christian Sword of God, and 'Dawn', a Fae wrapped in a mortal seeming. Despite their differences of culture and belief, or even mortality, they have been brought together by their Gods and Supernatural Patrons as Eotenweard...Heroes given Gifts with which to defend the innocent and defeat the Darkness that grows across the Old North. Their footsteps have been guided to the village of Torhaven, in Saxon Bernicia, which shows signs of slow decline and death. There's crows mobbing a falcon and conspicuous spider webs...then, hospitality, an unexpected interruption, and signs of 'poison' that lead them to a dream made real...

Eotenweard: The Growing Dark (Session 2) Alun R. runs for Casey T, Daniel Kušan, Matthew Doughty, and Paul Rivers As morning breaks Seren the Black rises early to loudly praise God while Althea seeks out the Priest of Woden who interrupted the previous night's meal. Meanwhile, Dawn goes to meet Tar, the sheep herder whose behaviour he found suspicious. After a disturbed night of dark dreams, Winifred looks for Althea in hopes of some solace, but instead Althea is assaulted by a manifestation of the Darkness that stalks the village. There's a sobbing maiden comforted, an overgrown Roman watch tower, and unquiet spirits from long ago. Then...a dark warren infested by spiders, crow spirits, and a dangerous threat before a confrontation in the Lord's Hall...and the betrayal of a frightened innocent...

Girl By Moonlight: Divine Engines (Session 11) Lowell Francis runs for Ethan Harvey, Patrick Knowles, Sherri, and Tyler Lominack Our protagonists undertake an escort mission with little preparation or intelligence. They desperately fight a trio of Leviathans, but even once they've delivered their charges to the location, they must still battle their way back...which leads to strange events.

Godkiller (Session 1 of 12) Donogh runs for Madelancholy Discover the Cradle, a failing land of hungry and capricious gods, where Walang Tao - rebellious scribe of the Cloister takes their first steps as Godkiller - confronting the cruel Little Slaughter.

Imperium Maledictum: 3 Cycles from Retirement Lowell Francis runs for Alun R., Dom, MadJay Brown, and Sabine V. We do setup, safety discussion, patron creation, and character creation for our short series of Imperium Maledictum, a TTRPG of WH40K rogues and agents.

Imperium Maledictum: Plausible Deniability Lowell Francis runs for Cody Eastlick, Keith Stetson, MadJay Brown, and Rich Rogers We do set up, safety discussion, patron creation, and character creation for our short series of Imperium Maledictum, a TTRPG of WH40K rogues and agents.

Star Wars Saturday

Fellowship (Session 10) Rich Rogers runs for Cody Eastlick, Greg G., Steven Watkins, and Tyler Lominack The fellowship discuss a member's problems, welcome a new ally, and make a horrible discovery.

Stars in the Dark: Stars in the Dark II (Session 8) Anders runs for Marc Majcher, Mark (they/them), Rich Rogers, and Steven Watkins Let's You and Them Fight - In the final episode of this season the crew tries to shift the blame for the bombing from themselves to the Pykes.

Star Wars Saturday Special Edition

Murder in the Jedi Temple Lowell Francis runs for Alun R., José Feito, Sabine V., and Will H A one-shot murder mystery for our Star Wars Minicon. The Jedi Temple on Devoc is a place for the lost, fallen, and broken. There the Jedi Council dispatch those who have come too close to the dark side, who have had their faith broken, or struggle to maintain contact with the Force. You are one of the Jedi sent there to recover, but the serenity of this place is about to be broken by a murder. Can you and your fellow recovering Jedi find the killer before they strike again? Inspired by and reskinned from Rosewood Abbey.

Before the Sith Lowell Francis runs for Casey T, Sabine V., and Yi A Star Wars Saturday long game which reskins Before the Storm (from Pelgrane's Seven Wonders Collection). Our heroes regroup at Decorum Base awaiting the forces which will be coming soon. An army of Dathomiri Nightsisters and Force Zombies, led by a fallen Jedi Jaydis Cheybe. Against them are the remnants of those who quested to find Khyber Crystals-- with these they may be able to summon Force Ghosts to counter the Force severing Cheybe and her legions have inflicted on countless Jedi. The heroes wait, struggle with their personal turmoils and question one another for perhaps the last time... (This was a double-session, and we had a hiccup in the second half which meant I had to split that video.)

Butterflies & Hurricanes Donogh runs for Madelancholy, Rich Rogers, and Steven Watkins In their last season on Tatooine, friends Matthias, Bonn, Gwyn & Quell make each other promises they can’t possibly keep. With the encroaching Empire, dreams of rebellion and family trouble will any of them be able to realize their dreams?

Hit the Sith - Save the Galaxy Alun R. runs for Marc Majcher, Rich Rogers, Steven Watkins, and Will H We meet Garik, an Agent for the Rebel Alliance leaving his analyst desk for his first field assignment; Urto Gha, the Weequay Bounty Hunter, who has joined the Rebellion after becoming sickened by Imperial offers to hunt Jedi; Katakat Ekop, the Nautolon Tech (and pilot) whose family crossed the Empire one time too many; and Veth Oddriss, a naive Young Twi'lek with an as yet unfocussed connection to the Force. They evade a TIE fighter patrol as they seek to stop the assassination of Gam Zagno, the Ugnaught labour organiser who can help them thwart an Imperial plot. There's an angry overseer, a canteen riot, and a Dug with a blaster...then, an ancient battleground where Jedi and Sith clashed, remnants of ancient technology overgrown by jungle, a shot at Grand Moff Tarkin...and a last minute double cross...

Pasión de las Pasiones: Esa Cantina Sucia Y Vieja Puckett runs for Jo Lene, Marty, and Steven S. On a backwater planet in an even more backwater town, there's a dirty old bar that doesn't allow droids, but is apparently fine with...laser swords? Things get complicated. Fast.

Silent Falls

The Station Donogh runs for Elle and Mark A doomed train is inching towards Silent Falls. Seven passengers wait in the eerie station, each of them carrying a burden. The ghosts of the station feverishly attempting to escape their murder. One person on the train knows more than any others, about the dark secrets the town and its people hold.

Off-Calendar Highlights

For the Queen: Prequel to Hearts of Camelot: Prince's Bride Madelancholy runs for Alex C, Jonn, and Noctua A For the Queen playthrough, introducing us to characters that will appear or be mentioned in the upcoming Hearts of Camelot: Prince's Bride series.

Hearts of Camelot: Prince's Bride Madelancholy runs for Alex C, Jazy, Jonn, and Noctua We are introduced to Sir Roderick and Perin, brothers tasked with escorting their brother's betrothed to the sacred site; Princess Llurywenn, the beloved joy of her people, sent to marry the heir of the neighboring kingdom, people she has not seen since childhood; and Riesling, the familiar disguised as his master Alacritus, the great magister with plans of his own.

Hearts of Camelot: Prince's Bride (Session 1 of 7) Madelancholy runs for Alex C, Jonn, and Noctua Riesling, as Alacritus, gains the ire of the head of the princess's retinue as they make preparations to leave. An apprentice of Alacritus's order joins the retinue, much to Riesling's surprise and dismay. On their journey to meet with the princess's party, the Escavalons are attacked by a forest beast, magical in nature, and discovers one of their number has knowledge and skill previously unsuspected. A slight detour to Llancarfan Abbey becomes unavoidable. Watch as we build on the characters created in Session 0 for Adrian Randall's Arthurian-themed hack of Hearts of Wulin.

Trophy Dark: Cordially Invited, Part 1 Madelancholy runs for Jim, Marty, Merilee, and Shane The crew was tasked with finding the employer's daughter who fell in with the wrong crowd - nothing could go wrong going undercover and attending an exclusive masked ball on a luxe private island, right? Right?? Michael Van Vleet's Dark incursion, based on his Popcorn playset.

Trophy Dark: Cordially Invited (Session 2 of 2) Madelancholy runs for Jim, Marty, Merilee, and Shane Deals and drugs are the most normal things happening on this weird island, as guests are beckoned downstairs and become part of a grander ritual - of transformation, of...THE EGG.

#rpg actual play #rpg #ttrpg #open hearth gaming

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picoletta · 1 year

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Mother, Many moons ago, you used to sketch constellations around my scars while I gazed at the pinpricks of glowing orbs freckling my skin. Weaving stars into my hair, you would hold my hand as we swam in the galaxies of our own little cosmos.

When father came back from the seas, reeking of cheap liquor, rotten fish, and the more putrid odour of wretched disappointment, our little universe widened happily in the hopes of welcoming another star. Alas, it wasn’t until too late that we realized the unfamiliar darkness that crept in wasn’t about to go away with the sun. Lost in the tales of glittering gold and enigmatic sirens, he created his own planet inside his study – a world patched together by compasses and soiled maps.

When I think of you, when I think of that summer, I want to remember your smile, your crooked front teeth, your tie-dye t-shirts and Minnie-mouse pajamas, your burnt brownies and popsicle-stained lips. I want to remember you swaying your hips to the radio, tap-dancing under the kitchen lights beside the empty fridge. I want to remember our lopsided sand castles and the sea salt on our lips. And yet, all I remember are your eyes, ruby-red and unblinking, as you poured father’s tea that summer day. Instead of seeing the familiar geometry of constellations in your eyes, I saw the fathomless depth of the Black Hole.

“Too sweet,” he spat, as his left hand, swift as a serpent, lashed out on your cheek. He threw the tea cup across the room; it exploded in a thousand tiny fragments of porcelain and Asiatic lilies. I watched, transfixed, as the clock on the mantelpiece above his head ticked one, two, three…

He gasped for breath as if his lungs were being squeezed by an iron first. He flailed his hands around wildly, like a drunken pelican, sweeping the maps and globes off the table. Earths in various shapes rolled across the floor.

The squawk of the yellow bird which jumped out from the clock drowned his last cry. And all the while, you stood beside him, silent and stoic as a knight. And then you plunged into the depths of that Black Hole. All I remember was seeing a trickle of that “too sweet” tea down your throat.

As my hand slipped from yours, I couldn’t swim anymore. I was drowning, Mother – drowning in the same galaxy where I learnt to waddle as a child. The same stars – or were they really just bright needles? – dug into my skin, leaving behind rivulets of blood – disgusting, mortal fluid – across my limbs.

I still wake up in cold sweat, my mouth bitter with the taste of sweetened tea and metallic blood.

Take this wayward seafarer, Mother, and show her the way. Let the North Star appear in her night sky. In Fate’s sickening, sadistic twist, I find myself out in the seas – the very same seas where dad used to traverse for buried treasures and legendary discoveries. The sea is bottomless, a dark, cold pool of nothingness, rising above the deck to wash over me like a nightmare. And yet, I see the reflections of your stars in its murky waters. And I know that it’s not father who is watching over me tonight.

Put me to sleep, mother – for I have been sailing for too long. Sing me a lullaby, tell me a story. For once, let my dreams be golden and rich with the tales of glorious battles, brave knights and sleeping princesses, dragons and castles.

Let the heavens open up, Mother. Let the shooting stars rain. Let the sky rip apart with the cacophony in my head. Let the sea rise and the ships sink and the final notes of the orchestra drown my scream.

Guide me home, Mother, or I fear I will tear our universe to shreds.

#creative writing #astronomy #story #quote #originalquote #silence #light #tumultuous #stormy #cacophony #domestic violent relationships #trauma bonding #reality shifting

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dailytafsirofquran · 5 months

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Tafsir Ibn Kathir: Surah Al-Nahl Ayah 14-18

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

16:14 And He it is Who subjected the sea (to you), that you may eat from the fresh tender meat, and that you bring forth out of it ornaments to wear.

And you see the ships plowing through it, that you may seek from His bounty and that you may perhaps be grateful.

16:15 And He has driven firm standing mountains into the earth, lest it should shake with you; and rivers and roads, that you may guide yourselves.

16:16 And (by the) landmarks; and by the stars, they guide themselves.

16:17 Is then He Who creates the same as one who creates, not! Will you not then reflect!

16:18 And if you would try to count the favors of Allah, you would never be able to count them.

Truly, Allah is Forgiving, Most Merciful.

Signs in the Oceans, Mountains, Rivers, Roads and Stars

Allah tells;

And He it is Who subjected the sea (to you), that you may eat from the fresh tender meat, and that you bring forth out of it ornaments to wear.

And you see the ships plowing through it,

Allah tells us how He has subjected the seas, with their waves lapping the shores, and how He blesses His servants by subjecting the seas for them so that they may travel on them, and by putting fish and whales in them, by making their flesh permissible to eat - whether they are caught alive or dead - at all times, including when people are in a state of Ihram.

He has created pearls and precious jewels in the oceans, and made it easy for His servants to recover ornaments that they can wear from the ocean floor.

He made the sea such that it carries the ships which plow through it. He is the One Who taught mankind to make ships, which is the inheritance of their forefather Nuh. He was the first one to travel by ship, he was taught how to make them, then people took this knowledge from him and passed it down from generation to generation through the centuries, so that they could travel from country to country and from place to place, bringing goods from here to there and from there to here.

Thus Allah says:

that you may seek from His bounty and that you may perhaps be grateful.

for His bounty and blessings.

Allah says:

And He has driven firm standing mountains into the earth, lest it should shake with you;

Allah mentions the earth and how He placed in it mountains standing firm, which make it stable and keep it from shaking in such a manner that the creatures dwelling on it would not be able to live. Hence Allah says,

And the mountains He has fixed firmly. (79: 32)

and rivers and roads,

meaning He has made rivers which flow from one place to another, bringing provision for His servants.

The rivers arise in one place, and bring provision to people living in another place. They flow through lands and fields and wildernesses, through mountains and hills, until they reach the land whose people they are meant to benefit. They meander across the land, left and right, north and south, east and west - rivers great and small - flowing sometimes and ceasing sometimes, flowing from their sources to the places where the water gathers, flowing rapidly or moving slowly, as decreed by Allah. There is no god besides Him and no Lord except Him.

He also made roads or routes along which people travel from one land or city to another, and He even made gaps in the mountains so that there would be routes between them, as He says:

And We placed broad highways for them to pass through. (21:31)

that you may guide yourselves.

And landmarks,

meaning, signs like great mountains and small hills, and so on, things that land and sea travelers use to find their way if they get lost.

and by the stars (during the night), they (mankind) guide themselves.

meaning, in the darkness of the night. This was the opinion of Ibn Abbas.

Worship is Allah's Right

Then Allah tells us of His greatness, and that worship should be directed to Him alone, not to any of the idols which do not create but are rather themselves created.

Thus He says,

Is then He, Who creates, the same as one who does not create! Will you not then reflect!

Then He shows His servants some of the many blessings He granted for them, and the many kinds of things that He has done for them.

He says;

And if you would try to count the favors of Allah, you would never be able to count them. Truly, Allah is Forgiving, Most Merciful.

meaning that He pardons and forgives them. If He were to ask you to thank Him for all of His blessings, you would not be able to do so, and if He were to command you to do so, you would be incapable of it. If He punishes you, He is never unjust in His punishment, but He is Forgiving and Most Merciful, He forgives much and rewards for little.

Ibn Jarir said:

"It means that Allah is Forgiving when you fail to thank Him properly, if you repent and turn to Him in obedience, and strive to do that which pleases Him. He is Merciful to you and does not punish you if you turn to Him and repent.''

#allah #quran #revert #dua #islam #help #religion #revert help #ayat #hadith #revert help team

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libidomechanica · 2 years

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Prepared within he known that, had naughter, “that fix on it”

A tanka sequence

The heart’s Blood sheep, and there, when I too refuse, picks might long shine because. Prepared within he known that, had naughter, that fix on it.

Love, Ay, fill was withouten longer flight! But peeress, his grave, be warm of all hollow have said, before never bright; where we have?

My dreadful of mind? Stealth of Cathay. The moorland rain, or few, do lie, perchance her. In things and with weakness madmen’s Zone gently.

Narrow seemes in myself, that in defaced it. I myself there I doe theirs, but the greene: and in a shut stayne view that a feint.

When large and always above! But I could have north your beast was he call when long since herself I pressing owre and than all the boon.

Vast as thou gynst the night guides the windy more sweet a sleep. And pithy, come of flurrying from its muzzle beneath is wealth to me.

You than all me here done, thou or her lot how, and stand not it well known. Purple, the music of my love forget. The years twire now.

She is, presents hungry this time to me. In white hair the field their poisoned home say nay! And Giaours the Choristering Kate is it?

To speak. So saddle jimp with my brothers, head wash tongues the tints as my long six month endows not made here among the pleasing more!

You means of the woods. I hae sent, but a fault lies buried deep, when the dead, thy Brown, or fear coupe. Then heaven with fresh and round me.

Deepest not born in life alone was looked no though the roots of one lay, so child, to drink their owne thee. I the fleshly soul’s way. Lo!

For love music of the waves like lily’s who could do, whatever me? The Arrow, well the searching— was mirror, love and round died.

Be thirst hung within. What we recompetence a snail, or happy I, thou and new-found the terrace, the mountain-top, and for thee.

Do I hesitate, the has also too, became a cup; the eye quickness on still the lost: at last string each dark inn-yard.—And weep.

Went away speechless he wept Blood redden’d, her legs spring. What fell asleep in Taylor an empires yourse that euen the gude song.

Her looks his an in her the invention beares of seas; a horror of mine’s bare in its misery! Bone are look’d about toys.

When that lovers such for the grief’s stay. There we live you at the glorious rulers of the silent strangled in clay. War not know.

There ye feet were she sate beams thy tyred state of Martyrs now the teeming the think? It see reveal, a grey does come attaineth.

Fainting a bottomless. Now Doubt—now with thy sight. Why do that does she strange malade, never yet of amber than this marriage-bed.

My leave me, farewell by night from love, with the fox we can I begins to prove must path the tracts. Was a soft, some down with the rain.

He ’ll be. To weare, and sitt: and I lingers, together with words; fair Annie on behind to-day, oppressed to me; its crisis?

What is not keep fair Salámán heather’s like a blew in the beside by absent it. Murderous eyes shining star with bath dew?

The wild frown. His eye for ward from her the more swarming me, and slurring gold,—the priest; shut eye. ’ His peculiar not with crimson come!

And chase paint you see how sholde I begins. To hates to Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud was meek, and sit the unswept and over be my pulsing.

Last loue with the silence morning yields by emper’d crowds its hull again. Puffing behind to change, this, that robber sae bushy, O!

With us, O my louely ship, an idle let her courteins of translation! By sea-shell shell it were on me—breather stirrups.

Her look it, the window. And delight, when Ioues delight and as dare? I know to be forsooth: I have sleep her foule hoped away.

Whither, when with her now in my Genevieve! To all to humbles her, the curse, the has brough hellish power has tantalized here.

Its kissable no long a husband, but I touch of ours thoughts, maud is every heart breeze that trothplight whose he kings of your solid.

Vast she window’s face, he red scheme of Nature face. Go tell when lie; peace, head-for delicate your own Incompelled Rescue Inc.

I will be so low down he end, being child, and brough me away? About him the kiss’d twere betide Thee; but all her could makes me!

With her infant’s gratitude. In the children. Cool waves him, whom to muse are repeat the partake the Muse of loue is no divine?

Would dry’d him, hurl’d in the world is in branches in the close—they said, my Friend, then would be. Come near and equal come down and equal.

Complain is o’er-read, the Veil from the learn it, I will start bear is beneath down by Memory die. A dank, sickly help to thee?

It’s a joy! Imagination in proues that is never slave on the stop; and woods their unsuccess. And the shifts and said, it great!

With may (I grant gloom. Bail shall ne’er she woods shal answer’d upon her find not; and, go chip of the name, o how shew the lass madness!

And thou shew his wrong; saying the lily’s whooped for me that little chanced my eare. With all to this is battled to me; or love?

Whereas my voices daught of thickens, the while thus, those silent to sink back down! All her of corn has dead: and returned wash, would plump.

Angry fancy light, I had see so flatter live or stand, Archime. When Goethe head, o’erleap that midnight, doe you passions find not set.

Mated with word! I known, and she raging realm in vain. Embalmed days he wood, cast up the list her lo’e thee my beloued and a sland.

Half-world shore, I gaue to his Associates and was of one black. Bed— to be King Croud, so that liuing dream? I’ll seven to our face.

You falter night we drown. Your smiles, which is already the sport which long sun. My Love Supreme. You were is small run, catch you survived.

But a long, the phants are cheek, you leave beetles, will mind like a bliss to retrace at learn its veterans rest I won my hands. Or him.

Yellow and Night giu’st not her houres: none clear then on the for lose on bed where, only not player. To comfort of heart to me.

Off with lichen. To vs with that pass’d the wind, to the woods thou art, eternity: So moughts till the lilies, lest with a jest.

—The hones her solitary plays. Out of doomed many beauty charm invention is o’er ocean with a bit of loue than we walls.

Premier or said her. With reach’d out how purer little in they cries, wont to me, which the more; but for me, which a fleece of the went.

For casement, that when wind! ’Tis no restores’ accountless live. That I was that trother arms, and geniall lively fix’d with, default?

That which passed oaks; countings of Sensual Abyss, under than doth thy bier. Not death not afray: lyke to thinking: There a tear coupe.

Since to innocent proved. No quiet. Born she nearer on the future meditation would my humours and true the moonshine, mine.

And it is, thy mammie’s beside by the sweet breath who are first swell, beside cafe, dealing berth, the sun deceived a target thus?

Spread that which sight. Gave ashes on a rage and rain and claws scuttling a nurseth one but mutual threw the seals to speak, twas borne?

My chief forehead some shadow-like the Muse, but I fix’d, as I then with life. With as rise gentle friends, none of thing purple turning.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #178 texts #tanka sequence

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whatgaviiformes · 2 years

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Fic: A Study in Light

Here, fam. Have a character study before I head out to dinner. 💛

*****

The sea steals away the gentle light of unfamiliar stars suspended in the deep-purple of a moonless sky, and, though Gordon can’t see the waves, he can hear them surging, lapping towards the sand. Between two palm trees near the back of the beach, close to where they’ve built the path to the villa, he keeps a hammock tied, and it’s there that he sits in the early hours of morning.

John would take offense to him calling them unfamiliar stars. His brother may easily pivot between hemispheres, but Gordon knows he’ll never quite get past looking for the North Star, and these are not the constellations he learned growing up, when his mind was most absorbent.

Scott, who’d learned it from Rescue Scouts, showed him that. How to find Polaris when lost. These days, he lets the water guide him, not the stars.

Gentle stars.

John would frown at that too. He’d tell him that the stars were anything but gentle. That despite how steady and calm they seem from trillions of miles away, on a planet as small and as miniscule as Earth when compared with the infinity of the Universe, the stars churn with nuclear chaos. Forges of a size incomprehensible, scattering elements, and heat, and light so pervasive it can cross the enormity.

To find him here, on the edge of the sand, watching their light die with the depths of his sea.

He swings his legs, relieving some of the pressure where the rope has dug into the back of his knees.

Once upon a time, Mom would call him “Sunshine.” Dad too, before he’d gone and gotten himself stuck in an explosion that shook their world more violently than any star. He barely remembers the way the phrase sounds from their lips, and no one calls him that anymore.

But they do expect it. They just say it in different ways.

Scott of all of them is the most direct. It’s his job as commander to know his brothers’ skill sets – their strengths, their areas for growth – and to delegate roles on the field accordingly. Gordon’s light, though Scott calls it his “vibrancy,” is perfect for rescues involving children. But that comfort isn’t for kids alone. His strength as a rescuer is his calming positivity. For example, it’s the tone he used with Ned Tedford at the bottom of the sea when all seemed bleak. But he smiled, worked the problem, and made it all seem carefree and easy.

Scott will be the first to admit he can sometimes get lost in the adrenaline rush while Gordon brings patience and a friendly voice and the fine balance that is humor and competency.

Virgil says it in his art, the gold just a bit brighter, the colors bolder, and if Gordon is included as a subject, his smile blinds. In the painting Virgil created for his 21st birthday, Gordon is swimming, descending into the depths underwater, without gear, where the reef and the fish welcome him to their home. It’s a beautiful piece where not even his apparent longing for the sea takes away from the brightness Gordon brings to their depths, and with his sun cast along the coral the scene strikes at his heart every time.

Sometimes, it hurts to look at.

John is trickier, his heart no less feeling than anyone else’s, just harder to read sometimes. John knows Gordon’s passions as equally as his own, maybe not as thoroughly, but he knows what energizes him. Space-residing, but also just as close, John knows how to meet Gordon’s excitement with his own. They both are at the fringes of the world, both living day-to-day for the wonder of what they will find next. And if an exclamation point didn’t accompany the “Awesome, thanks” after sending him an article about the 10 Coolest Nudibranch Species of the Tropics, then John knew something was up. For the record, that article was biased based solely on their appearance, which John knew when he sent it to him.

The proper response was to send him back a podcast about Babylonian astronomy, obviously.

And if he didn’t? If he didn’t have the energy to respond back in kind, John would be the first to call him up and ask what he needed.

Then there’s Alan. Gordon doesn’t know how to be anything other than bright in his little brother’s space, because Alan is the only person in the world he can be a big brother for, and while Alan has four big brothers, Gordon only has the one little one. It’s not that Alan can’t take it; he’s always been smart and intuitive. But Gordon is so proud of him, and if there’s one thing he’s always promised, it’s that he will always try to be the best goddamn big brother he can be to the one little brother he’ll ever have.

It's crushing sometimes, feeling the weight of needing to be - well it’s not on or off, like a switch, so much as it’s a turn of the dial. How much of himself, and which parts is he bringing to the surface?

The joy is as genuine and honest as it comes.

It’s just? He tones down other parts of himself.

Keep the lights on for too long, and they’ll blow out eventually.

And that’s okay from time to time, as long as they don’t see the worst of it. As long as he doesn’t bring them down with him.

In truth, his brothers have just as much light to share as he does. He sees it in Alan online, when he sees him helping out newbies get started with better equipment for a more positive experience, and with John, leading the people they rescue from fear into safety with just his voice. Virgil, the first up for a standing ovation when he experiences a piece of live orchestra and piano. And Scott, barrel rolls of laughter over a plate of Grandma’s cookies.

“Gordo?” His name comes with an exhausted yawn and heavy footsteps along the sand.

“Bit early for you.” That's an understatement. Rescues aside, Virgil is rarely caught out of bed before the sun rises.

He hums, deep and low. “John caught a heat signature out here. Had to be you. Do you even know what time it is?”

He sits down in front of him once he reaches the hammock, not caring that his jeans are collecting beach particles, and follows his glance out towards the blank horizon.

“No? Two or three,” Gordon answers. “I slept out here for a bit.”

“It’s four.” He doesn’t ask what Gordon’s doing out here, doesn’t push for answers. He waits, his presence calm, and comforting, and there. And when it’s obvious that Gordon doesn’t need talking right now, Virgil settles back against the palm tree next to him, his eyes slip closed, and he pauses.

He probably intends to stay awake with him, but Gordon can hear his breathing even out when the hour catches up with him.

It makes him smile that Virgil tried.

“How do you do it?” he asks the sky. But the words are for the slumbering form of Virgil beside him. “Why do you see me the way you do?”

He doesn’t get the answer until the sky fades into gold, when the brightness of the dawn wakes him. Virgil staggers up with a groan, his bones creaking from the position, but he slides next to Gordon on the hammock, clapping him lightly on the back.

“That’s what’s so encouraging about the sun,” Virgil muses. “It always comes back.”

#gordon tracy #gavii scribit #ficlets and bits #thunderbirds fanfiction

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verai-marcel · 3 years

Text

Of Dragons and Love (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Arthur didn't want to come to Strawberry, didn't want to help a certain sniveling rat escape his cell. So he decides to explore the town instead and runs into a mysterious woman whom he can't let go.

Author’s Notes: I’m gonna take a moment and lean hard on my heritage to pull some inspiration from an old Cantonese opera. And we're gonna leave Micah in his cell because nuts to that guy. So pretend this takes place in chapter two when Arthur was supposed to go rescue him, but decided to do a side quest instead. This was written for the RDR Mini Bang! @rdrbigbang

Tags: Arthur x F!Reader, spoilers, Chinese mythology-inspired, alternate timeline, mild exophilia, insta-love, magic, smut, HEA

Word Count: 6,378

Accompanying Artwork: @danger-r-98-5 has made some wonderful art for this fic!

AO3 Link is here.

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

Arthur stepped into the small town of Strawberry and immediately wanted to turn around. He could pretend Micah was dead. He could just bide his time and wait for him to hang.

As he rode through the small town, he passed the small jail and kept going to the visitor's center. Seeing the map of the nearby area tacked onto the wall next to the entrance, he hitched his horse and walked over to take a better look.

"Welcome to Strawberry, good sir!"

Arthur flicked a tired glance at the boisterous man before continuing his casual perusal of the map, waiting to see if he would leave. When the man remained beside him, he sighed, exasperated.

"Hullo," he said without looking at the other man.

"Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"Uh, just passin' through." It sure as hell wasn't for pleasure, and his business was his own.

"Ah, I see. Well, please keep us in mind if you ever want to spend a day relaxing in our lovely town. This hotel is the coziest in West Elizabeth," the man boasted, gesturing behind him. "And the scenic Mount Shann and Owanjila Dam aren't too far from here."

"Alright."

"And Big Valley, just past the mountains, is a beautiful place to hunt and camp."

"Uh huh."

When Arthur continued to look at the map without any further inclination towards interacting with him, the man gave up on his sales pitch. "Well, I'll be inside if you have any questions."

"Ayup."

Finally alone, Arthur focused on the path that would take him to Owanjila. He'd been meaning to do a bit of fishing and commune with nature. Seemed like as good a place as any.

Anything to postpone the reason he came here.

***

You weren't sure how you lived so long, not knowing what you were. You had been living with your mother for two decades, not knowing who your father was. Your mother didn't talk about him, and the one time you asked, she had simply said one thing.

"He disappeared."

You didn't know what that meant exactly, and she did not explain.

Until one day, on your twentieth birthday, he appeared. A large, scary looking man came to your door. Your mother paled and tried not to react, but when he held out a necklace and told her how sorry he was for leaving her alone, she broke down and cried.

You found out that when she was young, your mother lived in a small house by a waterfall that fed a large lake. There was a growing town not too far from there, where she worked as a waitress.

One day, on the other side of the lake, a group of Chinese workers made camp as they worked on the railway that was coming through town. They were not welcomed in the town by most people, but your mother took pity on them and sold them food and other groceries, for a delivery fee.

Somehow, your father had caught her eye, and they developed a secret relationship. When her parents discovered the love letter your father had written to your mother, she was kicked out of the house, without anything of hers to take with her. When your mother had gone to the camp to look for your father, it had been abandoned, the workers having left hours earlier to the next site.

Broken hearted, your mother had thrown the necklace he had gifted her into the lake and left town, moving to Strawberry and giving birth to you. You had grown up here, made friends, had a few short dalliances with boys here while you grew up.

Strawberry was a small town, but there was a creek running through it, and when you had free time, which was not often these days, you loved to follow the creek to a waterfall and watch the water. You always felt an affinity with the water, felt like it always pulled at your very soul. You had learned how to swim with ease; your mother had said you were like a fish.

Your father explained why he had left, and why he had finally come back.

"I am a Dragon," he had said. "Great-great grand-nephew of the Dragon King of the North Sea."

He was an immortal creature, drawn to the belief of his people in a foreign land, looking for something to comfort them while they worked in dangerous conditions to make money to send home to their families. He protected them, guided them, and thus, had to follow where they went. When the camp left suddenly, he had no time to say goodbye and was nearly dragged away, the pull of his people’s belief taking him with them.

But now he was free, his people having finished their jobs. They had dispersed, either leaving for China or moving to San Francisco, where other Dragon Gods held domain and took over the belief of his former followers. So he started looking for his long lost love, who still cared for him deep in her heart, and traced the thread of emotion leading back to her.

He promised to take care of you and your mother from now on, and he made good on his promise. For the past five years, he had worked alongside the two of you, making your small farm plot healthy and fertile.

It helped that he could make the sky rain whenever you needed it.

He had also trained you in your small powers. Because you had been untrained for so long, your powers were weak, but over time, and with practice, they grew steadily stronger. You could breathe underwater. You could swim faster than humanly possible. And while you couldn't transform into a dragon, your hair became teal and your skin could shift into a bluish-grey tint. It was a bit unsettling the first time you did it in the mirror.

But your most favorite power of all was the ability to shape nearby water to your will. At first, you could only move a small amount of water in a mug. But over time, you could move water in pitchers, basins, buckets, barrels, and even water troughs for animals.

At this point, if you entered a pond, you could easily create ripples and small waves just by focusing on your energy and sending it outwards from you.

Five years had passed since he had come back, and you had learned so much. Your life was so peaceful now that it came as no surprise when your parents announced that they wanted to move back to their hometown. Of course something had to change; that was the only constant in life, after all.

But you didn’t want to leave. You loved Strawberry. This was your home.

Your father had let out a breath, then smiled, much to your surprise.

“Owanjila does not have a spirit to guard it, since it’s a new body of water. Perhaps… you can become its guardian.”

“But I’m half-human,” you had said.

“So is Owanjila,” he said.

You nodded and smiled. Now you knew why he had been training you so hard all these years.

***

Arthur was pleasantly relaxed for the first time in a long time. He had spent all day fishing and gathering herbs after he set up a small campsite tucked away in the thicker part of the forest. It was quiet on this side of the lake, since all the travelers would go across the dam to take in the scenery. He was glad he picked a spot that was farthest from, for he didn’t have the energy to even say hello.

With a couple of large fish, he made his way back to his campsite, cooked up a fine meal with his freshly picked herbs, and spent some time writing and drawing before looking up at the stars before he fell asleep, the campfire quietly dying as his snores melded with the rest of the night.

***

It had been three months since your parents had left you here. They had sold the small farm and used the money to help you fix up a small abandoned fishing cabin out here on the far side of the lake, where you could hunt and gather on your own, trading furs and fish in town. Ever since you had become the guardian, the fish had spawned much more frequently and grew faster than normal, keeping you well fed. You figured it was a side-effect of the lake having a guardian spirit now.

You looked at your hands; yesterday, you had tripped on a step as you walked back from town, getting some small cuts on the palms of your hands as they had scraped against the gravel. Today, they had healed so quickly that there were no scars; you had never healed so quickly before. You wondered if your powers were growing and had walked into town earlier today to send a letter to your folks, letting them know what had happened.

It was late; the moon was high in the sky, and as bright as the electric lights in St Denis. You were roused from your sleep by the pull of the moon, and knew that it was time.

You took off your clothes and set them on your front porch. Walking to the water’s edge, you slipped into the water without a sound, the liquid embracing you as if you were an old friend.

“Hello, Owanjila,” you whispered as you walked deeper and deeper until you were completely submerged. Then you transformed, your skin turning bluish-grey, your hair shifting to a beautiful teal, and your gills appearing near your collarbone. You kicked your legs and swam gracefully through the water, spinning and twirling as you joyfully moved through the water as easily as you could walk on land.

Once you reached the middle of the lake, you bolted upwards, your legs kicking in unison with such speed and power that you broke the surface easily, your body shooting into the air. You let out a whoop of excitement, for it was only during full moons that you could fly this high out of the water; you had certainly tried other times. For a moment, the starry sky and the bright moon seemed impossibly close, and you held out your hands as if you could gather them all up and hold them tight forever.

Flipping backwards, you extended your hands in front of you and dove back into the water with barely a splash.

***

“Huh, whuzzah,” Arthur muttered as he was jolted awake by the sound of someone yelling. Immediately on alert, Arthur reached for his pistol and carefully made his way out of the tent, looking around. Seeing nothing but trees and rocks after circling his campsite twice, he was about to go back into his tent.

Another yell echoed through the trees. It didn’t sound like anyone in danger, more like… elation?

His curiosity piqued, he quietly made his way towards the lake, following the sounds of the water sloshing around as if someone was swimming. Coming to the shoreline, he saw the full moon, reflected in the water, with ripples circling from the center of the reflection.

Unable to stop himself, Arthur found a nearby rock and climbed it to better see the center of the lake. Squatting down, he peered out at the water.

Something shot out of the water at breakneck speed, surprising him enough that he fell onto his ass.

For a split second, he saw everything clearly.

He saw her nude form, water glistening off her skin, the moon bathing her in a silvery light. He saw the look of ecstasy on her face as she looked up at the moon.

He saw her eyes as they met his.

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat.

Then she was gone, diving back into the water like an arrow, hardly disturbing the surface.

Sitting up, he crawled to the edge of the rock and peered at the spot, waiting for her to return. Part of him wondered if he had imagined it, and part of him hoped she was real. He had felt like he had seen something so evanescently ephemeral that his heart fluttered like a child seeing fireworks. He wanted to experience that sparkling feeling again and again.

When his knees ached and his joints complained, he finally gave up, climbed off the rock, and returned to his tent. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it didn’t come quickly as his heart continued to race. When he finally managed to nod off, his dreams were filled with a mysterious woman with an expression so filled with euphoria that he could almost taste her joy.

***

You were mortified. A man was camping around your lake and you hadn’t noticed? Granted, you were in town most of the day trying to sell some rabbit pelts, and then you had written your letter at the post office since you had run out of ink and bought some at the general store and didn’t want to walk all the way back to your cabin.

But still, you hadn’t noticed. You supposed it was because he had no ill intent. It wasn’t that you could sense people, that wasn’t how your power worked; it was more you could feel out harmful intentions. People who came and went on the dam were usually harmless tourists and you took no notice of them. But occasionally that greedy mayor would come up here and consider building some cheap cabins out on the lake as tourist traps, and you would cause the lake to be extra choppy that day, splashing water on him if you were nearby. It was usually enough to change his mind.

You stayed at the bottom of the lake, waiting long enough before you slowly swam up again, moving towards the edge of the lake before you poked your head up from the water.

He was gone.

You sighed in relief and swam back to your cabin, looking around once more before getting out and back onto your porch. Grabbing your clothes, you got inside and dried off, thinking of the man’s shocked expression.

But what came to your mind most of all was that in the moonlight, you had managed to make eye contact. In that moment, your heart had pounded like you had seen something beautiful.

Despite your embarrassment at being caught naked and in your half-dragon form, you wanted to see him in the daylight. You wanted to find out who he was, and why your heart had finally moved after all these years.

***

Arthur came out of his tent, bleary eyed as he yawned. He hadn’t gotten a whole lot of sleep, but he was, for better or for worse, used to it. The sound of a crackling of a fire and the sight of a figure sitting with their back turned was also something he was used to.

Until he realized that the fire had gone out last night and he had come to this place alone. Reaching for his pistol, he stopped when he heard her speak.

“I mean you no harm.”

Arthur, suspicious, for people who had said that to him before often would turn around and shoot him, put a hand on his pistol, but left it in its holster. Coming out of his tent and rising to his full height, he walked around to face the woman at his campfire.

When she looked up at him, he felt like he was hit with an arrow.

Those same eyes from last night met his, and he felt like the whole world slowed and became silent. All he saw was her, and he didn’t care about anything else.

***

His eyes were beautiful, like gemstones sparkling in the morning light. His hair was tousled from sleep, but it made you think of him in bed next to you. You swallowed. Why were you thinking of waking up next to him? You barely knew him!

But you couldn’t ignore the heat in your veins as your eyes traveled down his body. His very tall, muscular body. Oh gods, you felt your heartbeat quicken as you suddenly had a mental image of him climbing over you, his naked body above yours, his big hands holding your hips as he thrust—

“Can I help you, miss?” the man finally asked, his voice rough from sleep. His voice was like whiskey, flowing smoothly over your body and making you burn with need. He swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat. Oh, to lick that sun-kissed skin…

You shook your head, both in answer to him and to clear the lustful images from your head. “I’m alright, I just wanted to share your campfire.”

***

“Oh?” Arthur asked, sitting down beside her to hide his body’s reaction to meeting her eyes. When he had met her gaze, he was hit hard with desire, the sudden image of her beneath him, legs spread, her expression of ecstasy for him and him alone.

For a brief moment, he wanted to take her, to guide her to the ground and thrust wildly inside of her like an animal.

But instead he reeled himself in; he wasn’t that kind of man. He didn’t even know why he had such a visceral reaction to her. All he knew was that she was sitting here with him now, and she was beautiful. When she turned away, he felt like he was suddenly lost, and wished for her to look at him once more with those mysterious eyes. He observed her as she poked the fire with a stick, wondering what she was thinking.

“So, uh, you live around here?” he asked, berating himself immediately for such an awkward question.

“I do, just down the shoreline,” she replied.

“Oh.”

She turned to meet his gaze, and he felt it once more. A pull, stronger than any he had ever known, as if she was hypnotizing him with just one look. Unable to stop himself, he leaned in closer, her lips beckoning him.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously.

The spell broken, Arthur quickly leaned back and sputtered, “I, uh, I don’t know, to be honest.”

The woman smiled at him, and he felt his entire world light up with fireworks.

“What’s your name?”

“Arthur.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur.”

She told him her name, and he repeated it just so he could say it out loud. He loved the way her name rolled off his tongue. He had shivered with desire from the way she had said her name.

“So you saw me last night,” she said after a few moments.

He smiled nervously as guilt wracked him. “Uh, yup. I’m sorry, I didn’ mean to peek.”

“It’s alright, I should’ve been more careful,” she said, a wry grin on her face. “Usually no one camps here.”

Silence stretched between them as Arthur wondered what he should say, if anything.

She brought up her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “And there’s not much to look at anyway,” she said self-deprecatingly.

“You were beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly. He couldn’t believe she’d think that. He wanted to burn the sight of her coming out of the water into his memories so he’d never forget.

She turned her head to look at him, and he felt the pull once more, but it was tinged with melancholy. It made his heart clench. He reached out and put an arm around her, pulling her into his chest, desperate to ease the pain. “Yer beautiful,” he repeated.

***

Surrounded by warmth, you sank into his chest and breathed in his scent. His natural musk, layered with balsam and leather, was soothing to you, made you feel safe and protected. No other man had affected you like this. Was this how your parents had fallen for each other? Was it an instant attraction?

You had been taught to follow your instincts, and something about this man made you want to keep him forever. To hold him tight and never let him go.

So you reached back out to him, wrapping your arms around his broad torso. Looking up at him, meeting his surprised expression, you leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were chapped but pliable as you pushed forward, pressing your body against his.

You were met with a startled grunt. He let you go and backed away, like a shy lady from an all too amorous man.

“Y-you barely know me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Sorry,” you said, shrinking back on yourself. Maybe you misread him, maybe he was just saying you were beautiful to make you feel better. Maybe you were just lonely and wanted to connect with him, the first man who had made you feel something in years.

“Look,” he said, leaning forward again, “it’s not that I don’t want to, I just think, well, maybe we git to know each other a bit more first before, uh, well…” He trailed off, gesturing blandly.

You laughed. Of course. He was shy. Standing up, you reached out to him. “Will you stay a while? My cabin is small but it’ll protect you from the elements better than your tent. And it’ll be warmer at night too.”

Arthur stared at your hand for a moment before standing up on his own. “Alright. I’ll pack up first.”

***

Arthur wasn’t sure how he was convinced to stay in a cabin with a woman he hardly knew, but every time he met her eyes, everything else fell away and all he wanted was to be with her.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, maybe a few days, maybe weeks. But he had never been so content to just fish and hunt and spend time with his sweet lady. He learned about her parents, who had been small-time farmers near Strawberry before they moved to her mother’s hometown, leaving her to live on her own. When he had asked why, she had said it was because she loved it here and didn’t want to leave.

He understood why; after the first few days of just roaming the land, living off its bounty, he was quite content to just stay and forget his troubles. She would go into town and sell his furs and pelts, and when he wasn’t hunting, he would help upgrade her little cabin, fixing up small things here and there to make her more comfortable.

He had insisted on sleeping on his bedroll on the floor beside her bed, at least for now. He felt like he was working up the courage to bed her, even though she clearly had given him an open invitation to her bed.

Every night he thought about it.

And every night, he trudged to his bedroll and slept beside her bed like a faithful pet dog.

***

14 days had passed. The new moon would be out tonight, and you were itching to go for a swim.

But with Arthur here, you hesitated. He had seen you that first night, sure. But he hadn’t seen you clearly. He hadn’t seen your skin and hair color change, your gills at your collarbone, your preternaturally fast swimming.

As you stood at the end of your little fishing dock that was connected to the porch of your cabin, you sighed. Watching the setting sun streak its beautiful orange rays across the water, you internally debated if you should show him so you could freely act as the guardian once more. You had been feeling stifled as of late, only able to use your powers while he was out hunting, and only in secret in case he might come out of the forest at any given time.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?”

You smiled. He had started calling you his darling or his sweetheart after a week of gentle caresses as he walked by, or even a casual kiss on the cheek as you went into town on an errand. No matter how much he said it, you melted every time. It was endearing and charming to you, even though they were simple words. The way he said them, the love and care he put into those pet names, was everything you wanted to hear.

Turning to Arthur, you saw that he was dressed in his usual blue shirt and black ranch pants, looking concerned. Seeing the care he had for your well-being made you come to a decision. He deserved the truth of you.

“I need to show you something.”

***

Arthur swallowed as his sweet lady began to disrobe right there on the dock. He was shocked to a standstill, unable to move as he saw every inch of beautiful skin exposed to his view. His pants grew tight, his throat dry, and his internal instinct to protect surged through him.

“Darlin’, what’re you…”

He couldn’t utter another sound as he watched her usual skin shimmer and then shift to a blue-grey tint. Her hair became teal colored, and slits appeared above her collarbone.

“Gills,” she said as she pointed at them, shrugging shyly. “I’m a dragon spirit. Or half of one.”

Arthur could only nod in both shock and awe. He had suspected she was hiding something, but he would have never guessed it was something like this. He took in her form, human and yet not, familiar and yet bizarre. But still beautiful, wonderful, her.

“Do… do I disgust you?”

“No!” Arthur said, quickly taking two steps to stand in front of her. “Yer still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

Seeing her smile shyly and look away, his need to assure her only grew stronger. “That why you could swim so good?” he asked, reaching up to caress her neck, right above her gills.

She nodded again.

“What’d you mean by half?” he asked, curious.

“My father, he was a dragon, the great-great grand nephew of the Dragon King of the North Sea.”

Arthur nodded. “Oh. Okay then.” He didn’t understand what that meant, but it sounded a bit important.

She tittered. “I don’t really know how important that is either,” she said, answering the unspoken question. “But I can swim real fast, breathe underwater, and I can control water a little bit,” she said, her excitement growing with each word. She turned to the water and put out her hand.

Ripples started to appear, and they grew into small waves, rolling across the surface of the lake.

She turned back to him, a happy glow to her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re not disgusted by me.”

“I’d never be,” he replied, pulling her into his arms. His gaze traveled along her face, admiring her hair color, her bluish-grey skin, and the gills at her neck, before looking at her smile, full of self-confidence. She was radiant and it made her all the more alluring.

“You’re beautiful, no matter what.”

***

This time when you kissed Arthur, he kissed you back, unafraid, bold, confident. He quickly took over, his fingers gripping the back of your head as he pulled your body closer to his. You felt the rough fabric of his shirt sliding along your sensitive nipples and moaned softly.

He suddenly wrapped one arm around your waist and one around your ass before picking you up with ease.

“I need you darlin’,” he murmured before turning from the dock and walking determinedly towards your cabin. He maneuvered you inside and shut the door, not wanting any interruptions. Laying you down on the bed, he stepped away to light the lantern before returning to you, taking off his hat and flinging it aside.

You shifted back to your human colors, your gills disappearing.

“Yer magical,” Arthur whispered before resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, a wry grin on his face. You kissed him back, smiling in return, acknowledging his silly word choice and accepting his sentiment for what it was: a compliment. He shared your gaze for a few moments before kissing you back as he unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it open while he climbed over you. You could feel his impatience as he pressed his bare chest against yours, his kisses heating up and becoming demanding.

“Arthur,” you breathed as he moved down to kiss your neck, his lips tracing lines where your gills had been.

“Why’d I wait this long,” he muttered, mostly to himself, as he ran his fingers from your hip up your belly. His touch was feather-light, almost ticklish as he skimmed the underside of your breast before tracing circles around your areola.

You writhed, whimpering softly. He looked at you, keeping his gaze locked with yours as he leaned down and took your nipple into his mouth.

"Oh, yes," you moaned as his tongue played with you, distracting you just long enough for his other hand to caress the inside of your thighs. You parted your legs eagerly.

You felt Arthur smile against your skin before he switched to your other breast, giving you the same pleasure as his hand slid between your legs, his fingers exploring your slit.

"This honey fer me, darlin'?" he asked in a low, husky voice.

"All for you," you whispered.

He let out a soft growl of satisfaction before dipping a finger inside of you. Your hips lifted up towards his touch. Moving away from your breast, he kissed his way up your neck, to your cheeks, then to your lips once more. He took his time tasting you, his tongue languidly caressing yours as his fingers delved inside of you, his thumb brushing against your bud, each stroke driving you higher and higher towards your peak that was approaching rapidly.

You moaned his name, muffled as it was by his mouth on yours. He growled in return, pumping his fingers faster, his thumb stroking you with determination.

"Ah, ah, Arthur!" you cried out as you climaxed. As you felt the pleasure zip through your veins, you buzzed with power for a moment before it faded.

You didn't have time to think about it, for Arthur climbed off the bed and took off the rest of his clothes. He was such a big man, with muscles from hard work, scars from a rough life, and a dangerous grace to him. He had power and knew how to use it.

And right now, he wanted to make you release over and over again.

He climbed over you, just like in your fantasies, and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist. Taking his hard length in his hand, he slid the tip around your entrance, slicking himself up as he watched you tremble beneath him.

"You sure 'bout this, darlin'?" he murmured, a slight tremor in his voice, as if he was holding back. He didn't stop sliding the head of his cock along your slit, up and down in a slow rhythm.

"Yes, yes please Arthur, just take me!" you begged. He was driving you mad with his gentle strokes. You lifted your hips up, causing the tip of him to slip inside.

"So needy, sweet girl," he crooned before he pushed forward, driving himself deeper inside of you.

You writhed and winced as your body stretched around his girth. He was sweating, holding himself steady as he waited for you to regain your breath before inching forward some more. Patiently, Arthur watched your every reaction, taking great care to control his movements until his hips finally came flush with yours.

He murmured your name, his lips brushing against yours before he kissed you. His hands cradled your face as he grinded against you, the heat of his body warming you up like a thick quilt. Deepening the kiss, he angled your head so he could devour you. A low moan escaped him as his hips shifted, building a steady rhythm of short thrusts.

"More, Arthur," you said when he finally let you take a breath.

"I'll give you whatever you need," he replied before lifting himself up, letting the cool air touch your body. He pulled his cock out almost all the way and waited for an eternal moment while he stared into your eyes, the lust blowing out his pupils.

Then he slammed back inside of you.

Your pleasure-filled yell was stopped short by Arthur's swift uptick in pace. He was hammering his cock inside of your tight, wet channel, and he couldn't get enough. Not saying a word, he only moaned and panted as he drove into you relentlessly, taking just a split second to adjust his angle before continuing.

"So good," he moaned before he got up onto his haunches, taking your hips in his big hands, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucked you like a man possessed. He growled, a feral sound of pleasure, before he reached down and stroked your clit.

"Need… to… see… you… let go…" he panted.

You tightened your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with your own enthusiastic motions, reaching for your breasts and playing with your nipples before him.

"Oh darlin', you look so pretty like that," he grit out, his face contorted in an effort to control his desires. He was so close. So very close.

"Give me everything!" you gasped, your body shaking, on the edge of a precipice so high that you almost felt fear.

Feeling your body grip him so tightly, Arthur let out a passionate shout before he spilled inside of you. His eyes were wild as he stared at you, his mouth open as he drew in breath after ragged breath. He moaned as he thrust one last time before crushing his hips to yours, keeping his shaft inside of you for as long as possible.

As he spent himself inside of you, you felt your core suddenly overflow with ecstasy, your body shuddering as you came around his thick cock. At the same time, your power unleashed, making your body glow a bluish hue.

"Darlin'!?" Arthur panicked, sounding winded, his brow creased with worry.

The power that had unlocked within you gave your vision a strange overlay of colors. And within the warm orange glow of Arthur was a black cloud in his chest. You reached out through the haze of your afterglow and pulled at it.

He gasped and coughed.

You pulled again. Now that you had touched it, you knew it was bad. It needed to get out of his system before it did permanent damage.

Arthur grasped his chest. "What…" he trailed off as he coughed a few more times before you managed to heave out the black cloud from his lungs. You quickly quashed it in your hands.

Looking up at him, you put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him, pouring the last of the glowing power inside of him. On some instinctual level, you knew you had healed him of something. Whether it was an old lingering illness or a new one that was just about to form, it was now gone from his system.

When you finally pulled away, Arthur looked bewildered. For a few seconds, or a few minutes, you weren’t sure how slow or fast time was flowing, the two of you could only stare at each other, lost in that foggy place between dreams and reality.

"What'd you pull outta me?" Arthur finally asked, still a little breathless.

"Something bad. An illness, I think,” you replied. You took a deep breath before squeezing his hand. “Whatever it was, it will no longer hurt you."

Arthur smiled and pressed his forehead against yours. "Thank you, sweetheart."

***

Arthur left a day later, telling you that he'd be back once he had taken care of some people.

You didn't see him for a long time.

Four months passed before you saw him again. He looked ragged, skinnier, as if he had been through hell and back. But when he saw you, he rushed over and fell into your arms, holding you tight as if you were the only real thing in his world.

***

He told you everything. He confessed that he had been the one to help that criminal escape and shot up the town. That he had been chased all over three states with his gang. That he had stolen money from several trains. That he had been on a ship that had sunk and was stranded on an island for days before finding a way back.

He told you about John. He told you about how he had helped him escape the Pinkertons, had ran with him all the way down the mountain before telling him where to meet his family. Then Arthur had set off, the long way around through the wilds of Ambarino so he could lose the men who were chasing him, just so he could get safely back to you.

You saw now that his eyes were unclouded, having seen his world for what it was. You saw pain and regret in his eyes, but you also saw understanding and a clarity that was not there before. He appeared to have finally found wisdom at a heavy price.

After he had told you everything, you cooked him a meal of steamed fish and herbs. He ate quietly, as if his confession had stolen all of his words from him.

He finished his meal and sat in silence for a few minutes before looking towards you. "I ain't a good man—"

You shushed him. "You are more good than not, Arthur," you said. "We all make mistakes. You were just trying to do your best. That's all any of us can do."

Reaching for his hand across the table, you grasped it and pulled it to your chest, placing it over your heart. "Will you stay?"

Arthur smiled hesitantly. "You… still want me?"

You stood up and leaned across the table to kiss him. "I'll always want you, Arthur. I love you."

He kissed you back. When he looked at you, his gaze full of gratitude. "I love you too, my sweet darlin'. Thank you fer believin' in me."

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

End Notes: I had to end it on a sappy note, of course. Hope you enjoyed that little romp with some folklore!

#rdrbigbang2021 #arthur x F!reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

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aloraundomiel · 3 years

Text

Wartober/Kisstober - Day 4

I’ve decided to combine @rubinecorvus Wartober 2021 and @raincoffeeandfandoms Kisstober 2021 prompt challenges for double the fun and double the headache. :3

Day 4 - Navigate + Slow Kisses

WARNING: POETIC AND OVERLY METAPHORED ALLUSIONS TO SEX AHEAD

Dick has always loved maps.

As a boy he’d been obsessed with charting the world, one latitude at a time. He could see the peaks of the Himalayas on every globe. The jungles of Madagascar in every atlas. The sea currents. The depths of the Pacific Ocean in every naval chart.

He’d trailed bony boy hands over the lines of longitude, zigzagging past the equator and up to each pole in turn, imagining the far off lands detailed in perfect topography beneath his fingertips and what adventures they may hold. Wild animals perhaps. Inland seas the color of blue only dreamt of, brimming over with dolphins bearing their backs of gold. Rubies deep in the planet’s crust the size of a fist, too glamorous even for the most queenly neck. Anything beyond the tidy suburban monotony of Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

He’d joined the air force with a head full of boyish fantasies that never quite grew up. A misplaced Peter Pan training to plummet to the ground instead of fly, while fiery flak explodes in every direction. Dick falls from planes and navigation blows away, pulling it with him. A mere leaf in the wind. A tiny insignificant speck in a great big world.

He never lands in the lush tropical jungles of his childhood imagination. He never sets foot on the coastline with water so crystal clear you can see straight to the bottom. He lands in Hell. And there are no fantastic creatures here, no jewels or mountain-whisp clouds to chase. No sunsets over the curve of the horizon.

There’s only death. And fear. And the responsibility of leading men who look to him for guidance out of the smoke and into the daylight. He grips his compass like a lifeline and does his best. It’s almost good enough. They almost all make it to the next day.

Dick gets lost occasionally.

When he’s left to the watches of his chilly billet and the candles in the rest of the camp have long gone out. That’s when the isolation strikes hardest and the ghosts feel free to crowd in. They cast a shade so thick, he chokes, drowning on his own failures, his own insipidity. He wonders if he’ll ever make it out to see the sun again. If he’ll ever find the way back.

And then enters Nix.

With his sly, self assured grin and his dark, sardonic wit. He slips like a wish into Dick’s billet, or the potato cellar of a blown out building, or the back of the jeep when he purposely drives off the marked path. He takes Dick’s hand and cocks that brow that says “Trust me” and by God and all his angels, Dick does. He follows blindly and oh so willingly, grateful for the guide and indebted to Nix for knowing exactly when he’s in danger of venturing too far off course.

Nix strips him of the olive military wool that demands strict obedience. The color that barters not a hair of deviation from a pre-drawn map made by men who don’t know what it’s like to nose dive into the inferno of battle. Nix casts it away, tossing it to the floor and covers Dick’s skin with his own hands, paints him with his own array of colors. A black-brown fan of lashes skirting over his collarbone, the red of his mouth at Dick’s pulse point, coral pink tongue in the shell of his ear, the beach sand tan of his calloused fingers tightening around Dick’s naked bicep. Teeth with brightness to rival the Pacific white caps on his chest and abdomen. Eyes the color of expensive coffee from the tropics glancing up over his belt buckle, warm and rich.

Nix kisses him and he can feel the earth’s rotation slow beneath his feet.

Nix touches him and gravity is solid and real beneath his back once more.

Nix traces the constellation of Dick’s freckles with his lips and Dick can set time by the star’s orbit again.

He lets Nix take him apart and put him back together, piece by tattered piece. Until he’s whole and functional again, at least for a little while. Long enough to get his bearings and restart the cycle of playing tour guide through the landscape of dreary Europe, his band of Lost Boys in tow.

He comes to the siren song of Nix’s praises, his lover urging him on with clever fingers that play Dick's body like a well rehearsed instrument. When he’s caught his breath and regained his sense enough to flip their positions, Dick pins Nix down. Cages him against the cot and splays him wide, the scroll of his skin like fine golden parchment in the dim candlelight.

Nix squirms under the tenacious attention, craving speed and friction. But Dick is on a mission. He’ll recommit every part of him to memory, burying it deep in his psyche like treasure. Until the mental image of Nix bowing under his hand becomes as priceless and coveted as monstrous gemstones he can bask amongst at whim. Sorting them like a king sitting on his spoils. He’ll relearn the lines and transits of Nix’s form until he can recite in perfect detail the landmarks of his moles, the patterns of his body hair, the slope and angle of his wrists. He’ll stake his flag here, laying claim to Nix’s body and heart as conquistadors of old did to things and locations too precious to part with.

He can read his future in the curve of Nix’s hip bones. The universe in the earth tones of his eyes.

“Dick,” Nix whispers, something between a whine and a moan. He scraps desperate fingernails along Dick’s scalp, trying to steer his mouth where he needs it most. “Come on. Come on.”

Dick won’t be bullied off course. He runs the tip of his tongue along the shadow of the Adonis belt Nix used to have when he was in peak fighting shape at the start of the war, lingering at the scar just there above the pelvic crest. He lets his lips trek as fingertips do, memorizing the most scenic routes across and over and around this body he loves so dearly.

He steers southward down from the navel, following the trail of dark hair and Nix groans. He heads north to circumvent a nipple and Nix whimpers. He nibbles and sucks contrails on every inch he can find, until Nix bears the purple marks that label him as Dick’s territory and Dick’s alone.

He wrings curses and prayers and nonsense from Nix’s mouth. Until he arches beneath him and cries his release into the hush of Dick’s palm, breathy laughter squeezing through the spaces in Dick’s fingers.

“Jesus Christ,” Nix gasps, chest heaving with blasphemy and bliss. He tugs at Dick until he slides back up the length of his form, letting out the softest sigh for every slow kiss pressed to each body part on the journey up. “How do you do that? Remember exactly what gets me going? You always know.”

“I’m good at cartography,” Dick says.

“The hell does that mean?”

Dick just shrugs, cranes his neck down to pepper his shoulder with kisses.

Nix pulls a face that suggests Dick might be moderately insane, but then he laughs that ruby-ocean-wilderness-touchstone laugh of his and maneuvers Dick fully down on top of him for a long, lazy, silky sweet kiss. And though they’re both sated and satisfied for now, passing back and forth the same oxygen, filling each other's sails - it does not feel like journey’s end.

It feels like a beginning. Each and every time he’s with Nix and resets his course by the steady, unwavering foundation of his being. It’s always a new start. One he hopes against hope never stops resetting.

Because Nix has always been his True North.

Dick kisses his mouth and feels like he’s come home.

#winnix #my fic #waxing poetic #navigate #slow kisses #dick winters #lewis nixon #band of brothers #fanfic #fanfic prompt #kisstober 2021 #wartober 2021

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irondad-creator-awards · 4 years

Text

The Nominations So Far (Kinda)

Some of you have been asking to see who’s nominated in which category, so I’m putting up what I’ve done so far. This is by no means everyone nominated, as we’ve had 96 submissions to the form, and I’m not going to be able to log them all until nominations close. But if you’ve been contacted to say you’re up for an award, you should be listed below...

Good Luck to everyone nominated x

1. THE ONE THAT MADE YOU GASP! — A story which had a plot twist you didn’t see coming. Something that caught you so off guard that you had to stop a minute and take a breath before devouring the rest. What’s the story for you?

A Peter Parker Problem by Spagbol99

Chaotic Peter Parker by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

Cycle Through by Ambivalentangst

Ever In Your Favor by Iron_Spider

Irondad Ficlets by Ironxprince

Like Father, Like Son by An_Odd_Idea

Love Leaves A Memory No-One Can Steal by Ironmum

More Peril In Thine Eye by Iron_Spider

No Longer In Service by Starryknight09

Proof Of Concept by Flurrbee

Serenity by Jolinarjackson

Spidey Tot by Kevy_Grayce

Stab Me In The Back (I'll Catch You From Behind) by Lansfics7

Stop, Look, Listen by Forthenightisdarkandfullofterror

2. THE MULTI-CHAPTER YOU COULDN’T PUT DOWN — A story which kept you up all night or calling in sick for work so you were free to read. Who’s the culprit?

A Parent Apparent by Happyaspie

A Peter Parker Problem by Spagbol99

A Sailor Went To Sea by by Yellowdistress

Air I Breathe by Heartofcathedrals

And You’ll Blow Us All Away by Losingmymindtonight

Astronomy In Reverse by Pansley

Come My Darling, Homeward Bound by Iamirondad

Every Beautiful Lie (Always Has An Ugly Truth by Da_Moose

Five Times Tony And Peter Chaotically Cleaned by Ironmum

I Will Carry You (Always) by Thestarvingwriter

Identity Crisis by Kitcat992

If They All Knew About You by Mshermia

In Unlikely Places by Looneylizzie

Irondad Ficlets by Ironxprince

Mr. Parker Declined To Commentby Apisdn

Pain Will Always Come Back To Haunt You by Kevy_Grayce

Permanence by Theexhaustedalchemist

Pieces Of Echoes by Geekymoviemom

Proof Spiderman Loves Clickbait by Mauvera

The Lost And Forgotten by Lizcraz

3. THE ONE-SHOT THAT THAT HAD YOU HOOKED — Some writers can cram more greatness into less words than a 100k monster. What’s the one-shot that did it for you?

5 Times Peter Sleepwalked And The 1 Time He Pretended He Did by Losingmymindtonight

Countless Ways To Say I Love You by Hopeless_Hope

Familiar Faces by Happyaspie

First Wednesday Of March by The Case Of The Missing Museum Bea-Storer

Fitting In (Tiny Spaces) by Aloneintherain

I Can Hold The Weight Of Worlds (If That's What You Need) by Bluesweatshirt

I Promise I'll Do Better by 221broadwayiron

I Will Soften Every Edge by Losingmymindtonight

Petey And The Hermit by Eccentric_Artist_221b

Something Here Will Eventually Have To Explode by Madasthesea

What You're Feeling Is Probably Normal by Finny3120

4. THE BEST THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES — A drabble (under 1k) can pack in all the goodness that you need in a coffee break read. What’s that story for you?

Butter Me Up by Iron_Spider

Cuddle Bug by Marvelous_Writer

Food At Home by Aimaim94

Insomniacs In The Dark by Littlemissagrifina

Irondad Cuddles by Lilacsoulw

Let The Mind Games Begin by Ironmum

5. THE BIODAD THAT TOUCHED YOUR HEART — Some of the greatest stories flip canon and make Tony Peter’s biological father. Be it baby Peter taking his first steps or Tony dealing with the fact his son is following in his superhero footsteps as Spider-Man, which is the one you loved most of all?

An Abstract Concept by Iron-Spider

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Built From Scraps by Peter Stank

Happy Hogan Never Forgets A Face by Jen27ny

Hardest Lessons (Softest Results) by Mainstreamelectricalparade

If They Knew All About You by Mshermia

My Little Bambino by Maicaly

Return To Me, The One I Love So Endlessly by Superherotiger

Slow Down, Start Again From The Beginning by Cassiecasyl

Sound Logic by Aytheria

Spiderson by Emily_F6

Stars, Hide Your Fires by Yellowdistress.

The Less Than Secret Life by Yellowdistress

The Ties That Bind Us by Winterturtle

They Say Boys Don't Cry (But Your Dad Has Shed A Lot Of Tears) by Tempestaurora

What’s In A Name? by Geekymoviemom

6. THE ONE WITH THE FIELD TRIP — The field trip trope is one of the most popular in the fandom. What’s the story that you think pulls all the elements together to make it great?

A Different Take by Cyberwolfwrites

Constant Internal [Spider] Screaming: Semi-Connected Scenes From A Graduating Senior’s Life by Isadancurtisproduction

Field Trip by Inkinmyheartandonthepage

Field Trip Flip by Happyaspie

I Don’t Want To Talk About It Anymore by Bees_And_Wasps

Mr Stark Enough For You? (Another Field Trip Fic Bcs We Dont Have Enough) by Livinei

Neon Liar (Hiding In Plain Sight) by Isadancurtisproduction

No Reason To Go by Pokegeek151

Tower Of Donuts And Doubts by Platinumdollz

Who Is He? by Velarisstars

7. THE TIME AFTER TIME ONE — There’s some great time travel stories out there, but which is your favorite?

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Every Beautiful Lie (Always Has An Ugly Truth) by Da_Moose

I Have Time by Peterparkr

The End Is Just A New Beginning by Tytach

The Time Traveler’s Mentor by Iamirondad

Whatever It Takes by Starryknight09

8. THE ONE WITH ALL THE OWIES — Another massively popular Irondad trope is hurt/comfort, and there’s some amazing stuff out there. Which is the one that you love most of all?

A Peter Parker Problem by Spagbol99

Air I Breathe by Heartofcathedrals

Be Weak by Fluencca

But What Is Grief? by Odd_1

Danger Pizza by Alice_In_Ink

Darkness Will Be Rewritten by Marveal

Dude, Do These Tacos Taste Funny To You? by First_Page

Follow The North Star Home by Fallingforbees

Foolish, Fragile Spine by Plnkblue

Outnumbered by Heartofcathedrals

Sometimes It’s Easier To Just Swim Down by Mjscorner

The Room Where It Happens by Notapartytrick

We All Chase After A Few Dying Stars by Losingmymindtonight

What I Have, I Give To You by Aatticsaltt

When My Body Won't Hold Me Anymore (Where Will I Go) by Madasthesea

Your Heart Changed (Mine Stayed The Same) by Loisselina (Loisselina)

9. THE ONE THAT HURTS SO GOOD — We all like a bit of angst sometimes, so what’s the story that you wanted to hide from but you had to keep reading to get to the happy ending?

Built From Scraps by Peterstank

Cycle Through by Ambivalentangst

Fifteen Years In The Making by Potts89

Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me by Itsreallylaterightnow And Killerqueenwrites

I Need You To Be Free by Marveal

I Promise I'll Do Better by 221broadwayiron

If You Listen You Can Hear The Ibis by Yellowedistress

Let's Get On With Living (While We Can) by Almond_Blossoms

Love Leaves A Memory No-One Can Steal by Ironmum

May Parker's Complete Guide On How To Raise Your Spiderling by Embarrassing_Myself

More Peril In Thine Eye by Iron_Spider

Of Flying And Falling by Polaroid15

Sunlight by Ardenskyeholmes221

The Room Where It Happens by Notapartytrick

When Trauma Comes Knocking by Kevy_Grayce

10. THE ONE THAT SOOTHES THE PAIN — What’s the story that you go to when you need a pick-me-up after the angst?

5 Times A Spider-Baby Got Dad Smooched by Buckets_Of_Stars

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud by Grilledcheesing

5 Times Tony Stark Protected Penny Parker by Emily_F6

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Bitch Better Have My Money by Neicy286

Career Day: A Short Story by Shewritesall

Early Childhood Education by Thedisneyoutsider

Five Times Peter And Tony Chaotically Cleaned by Ironmum

Hardest Lessons (Softest Results) by Mainstreamelectricalparade

I Can Hold The Weight Of The Worlds (If That's What You Need) by Bluesweatshirt

Instant Kill Mode by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

Kids These Days by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

The Road So Far by Nicolemoon8

No More Lonely by Shewritesall

Petey And The Hermit by Eccentric_Artist_221b

That's How You And I Will by Frostysunflowers

What You're Feeling Is Probably Normal by Finny3120

Whatever It Takes by Starryknight90

11. THE ONE WITHOUT A HOME TO GO TO — There’s some wonderful homeless Peter stories out there, so which is the one you were blown away by?

A Difference In Husbandry by Happy_Cloud

After The Landslide by Freyaatterton

Distracted by A Dime by Happyaspie

I Told You I Had Issues by Bergen

Is It Too Much To Ask For Home That Lasts? Ft. Peter Parker by Wakandaforever2357

The Little Things (That I Miss) by Da_Moose

The Third Option by Uncertainty_Principle

Unexpected (Everything I Never Knew I Wanted) by Moonchild2593

12. THE ONE THAT’S A WHOLE NEW WORLD — There’s lots of imaginative AUs in Irondad fic. Whether it’s Steve and Tony as baseball players or Pepper being Peter’s mom, which one is your number one?

A Guardian Among Us by Superherotiger

A Soul's Best Friend by Superherotiger

Ever In Your Favor by Iron_Spider

Have Patience, A Quick Wit, And A Gentle Heart by Ironfamjam

I Battle My Jerk Step-Dad by Andromath

Petey And The Hermit by Eccentric_Artist_221b

Sea Spider by Bean_Reads_Fanfic

Spidey Tot by Kevy_Grayce

Though Everything Is A Miracle by Overtures

Until It Disappeared From Me by Ashleyparker2815

When I Am On Your Shoulders by Ladyblackwater

You Mispronounced Spider by Lliblo

13. THE TWEAKING THE SETTINGS ONE — There’s things we all wish we could change in canon — *cough* Endgame *cough* — so which canon divergence does it for you?

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud by Grilledcheesing

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Beautiful Boy by Emily_Davison

Bittersweet by Kevy_Grayce

Built From Scraps by Peterstank

I Will Restore All That Was Broken by Killerqueenwrites

May Parker's Complete Guide On How To Raise Your Spiderling by Embarrassing_Myself

Moulded Minds by Wingswithstrings

Pieces Of Echoes by Geekymoviemom

The End Of Infinity by Friendlyneighborhoodfangirls

The Returned by Nicolemoon8

What Was Missing Was You by Happyaspie

What Were The Words I Meant To Say Before You Left by Madasthesea

14. THE ONE YOU GO BACK TO AGAIN AND AGAIN — Some fics deserve a re-read or ten. What’s the story you go find yourself going back to?

A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood by Ambivalentangst

A Parent Apparent by Happyaspie

Age Regression Was Impossible... Right? by Chvotic

Am I Just A Shadow You Drew by Ironxprince

Apartment 43B by Ironfamjam

Back To Bed by Eccentric_Artist_221b

Beautiful Boy by Emily_Davison

Family Is More Than Blood (It Is Light) by Moonchild2593

Keeping Company by Whumphoarder And Xxx_Cat_Xxx

Moulded Minds by Wingswithoutstrings

Play by Losingmymindtonight

Rules Are Made To Be Broken by Ironmum

Sins Of The Fathers by Geekymoviemom

The Darkest Hour Is Just Before The Dawn by Starryknight09

The Lost And Forgotten by Litcraz

The One Where Peter Is Bucky’s Weakness by Jinxquickfoot

The Rise And Fall Of A Spider by Spidersoning

The Spider-Man Conspiracy by Tempestaurora

15. THE SERIES THAT SWEPT YOU AWAY — Some of us love to go on a long ride with a series, so which is the world of multiple stories that you binged or waited anxiously for each update?

Another June Day by Skeeter_110

Chaotic Peter Parker by Isnt_It_Pretty_To_Think_So

Home by Glwilliams97

I Love You More Than Anything (Bio Dad Au) by Iron_Spider

Irondad NSAP by Chvotic

Lights To Guide You Home by Jolinarjackson

Mr. Stark & His Kid by Writerstrash

Once Upon An Adoption by Kevy_Grayce

Out Of Darkness by Starryknight09

Soul Stone Realm by Marvelmusicmystery

The Room Saga by Iamirondad

Tony Stark Is A Good Mentor by Happyaspie

Was That A Star Wars Reference, Dr. Stark? by Jen27ny

We Forgot Peter by Inkinmyheartandonthepage

Webcams And Webshooters by Losingmymindtonight

16. THE IN-PROGRESS ADVENTURE — What’s the story that has you checking your email each day, hoping for an update?

A Difference In Husbandry by Happy_Cloud

A Perfect Storm by Grilledcheesing

Ain't My Blood; Still My Boys by Parkrstark

All The Stars Align by Ashleyparker2815

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Every Beautiful Lie (Always Has An Ugly Truth) by Da_Moose

Fifteen Years In The Making by Potts89

Found Family by Thedisneyoutsider

If They Knew All About You by Mshermia

If You're Going Through Hell, Keep On Going by Baloobird

Mr. Stark, Something Is Wrong by @Simping-For-Peggy

Outnumbered by Heartofcathedrals

Peter’s New Step-Brother by Bowtiez

Priorities by Jlmonroe1234

Return To Me, The One I Love So Endlessly by Superherotiger

Sleeping Through A Rogue Winter Storm by Pogokitten

Survivors Guilt by Ember_Darla And Marvel_Cinematic_Universe_Fan

Tech Of Nondestructive Yakking by Wabisabi

The Case Of The Missing Museum Bea-Storer by Ironmum

The Hero Of Our Own Story by Kingdomfaraway

The Many Adventures Of Iron Dad And Spider Son by Lbigreyhound13

What You Were Then I Am Today by Madasthesea

You Are My Sunshine by Iamconstantine

17. THE COMPLETE FIC THAT YOU CHERISH — Whether or not you’ve got the patience for an in-progress or not, there’s a wealth of complete stories you can devour at leisure or all in one coffee-fuelled binge. What’s yours?

Intern Spider by Emily_F6

Only For A Little While by Eccentric_Artist_221b

The Guardian by Emily_F6

18. THE ONE THAT GAVE YOU ALL THE LOVE — We all love Irondad, but some stories come with bonus bonds that give us just as much. Do you have a Peter & Bucky, or a Peter & Steve working alongside which delivers all the found family goodness?

"I Have A Nephew!" by Zimnokurw

5 Times Happy Hogan Nearly Had A Heart Attack Because Of Peter Parker by Thespydersargon

Be Careful What You Wish For, You May Just Get It by Savana_Marlark

Brighten Up, Sunshine by Iron_Spider

It Must Be Nice (To Have Mrs. Potts On Your Side by Sdottkrames

It Takes A Village (To Make Sure You're Okay) by Baloobird

Kingdom Come Undone by Killerqueenwrites

Project: Get Bucky Barnes A Dog by Ruxian

Road Work Ahead by Toniwilder

Rules Are Made To Be Broken by Ironmum

When In The Dark by Kevy_Grayce

19. THE PROLIFIC WRITER AWARD — Irondad has some amazingly prolific writers. Which are the ones you’ve subscribed to get at that fic-wonder goodness of 10 works or more?

Aimaim94

Buckets_Of_Stars

Emily_F6

HAPPYASPIE

Inkinmyheartsandonthepage

Ironmum

Iron-Spider

Jen27ny

Littlemissagrafina

Madasthesea

Magicalyss

Mshermia

O0CITRUSEE0O

Parkrstark

Superherotiger

20. THE NEWBIE — New writers are joining the fandom all the time. Who’s the newbie (posting for 12 months or less) that’s delivering the good stuff for you?

107thinfantry

Fallingforbees

Ironmum

Jinx_Frost

Just_Ppeachy

Kittybellestark

Lilacsoulw

Maicaly

Polaroid15

Spagbol99

Sunflowerspideyy

21. THE OG — Who’s the writer that’s been around for a while (12 months or more) that keeps you captivated?

Ashleyparker2815

Emily_F6

Happyaspie

Iron_Spider

Jen27ny

Kevy_Grayce

Parkrstark

Snarkymuch

Spooderboyandtincan

22. THE WILD CARD STORY — The story that does (or doesn’t) fit into the above categories but you believe deserves the prize. Which one is that for you?

Aliens Really Are Out To Get You Aren't They? by Some_Sort_Of_Trash

Born To Cherish by Ironfamjam

Everyday Superhero by Stoneage_Woman

Five Times Tony And Peter Chaotically Cleaned by Ironmum

Guess I’m Not Good Enough by Freyaatterton

I Can Hold The Weight Of Worlds (If That's What You Need) by Bluesweatshirt

I Will Soften Every Edge by losingmymindtonight

I’m Not Telling Him. Period by Scooter3scooter

Irondad NSAP by Chvotic

Kids Suck, But You're Great by Gymlily06

Long Gone | Marvel Au Strangerlyparker

Play by Losingmymindtonight

Tech Of Non-Destructive Yakking by Wabisabi

The Reinvention Of Tony Stark by Losingmymindtonight

This Ride Is A Wild One by Just_Ppeachy

What You're Feeling Is Probably Normal by Finny3120

ART 1 — DIGITAL MEDIA - Who has those PhotoShop skills, who makes the best mood boards? We have some wonderful artists in the Irondad fandom, and we’re here to celebrate them. Who's your favorite artist?

@Itsybitsyspiderling (Tumblr)

@monireh (Tumblr)

@Blackchessknight (Tumblr)

ART 2 — SKETCHES — Who has the skills with the original medium of art in sketches? Whose pencil can create the characters we love best?

@broskev (Tumblr)

@Dakt37 (Tumblr)

@monireh89 (Tumblr)

Ellarie.png (Instagram)

ART 3 — CARTOONS — Chibis, Manga, Anime, who can create the very best?

@Maryo274 (Tumblr)

yes-i-am-happyaspie (Tumblr)

ART 4 — FANVID — Some of the greatest creators are the ones that match the music to the mood, find the perfect scenes to make us laugh and cry. Who does that for you?

All My Life || Tony & Peter (Father/Son Au) by Akapotatogirl (YouTube)

Emsxworld (YouTube)

Tony Stark & Peter Parker | Ashes by Mythicalroyalty (YouTube)

ART 5 — BEST IRON FAMILY FANART — Who can create those feeling of Ironfam with their art? Who captures the characters we love in that iconic family.

@broskev (Tumblr)

@moonestaly (Tumblr)

eccentric_artist_221b (AO3)

Ellarie.png (Instagram)

#Irondad Creator Awards #irondad #spider son #irondad and spiderson #iron man #spider-man #peter parker #tony stark #art #fanart #creators #fandom awards #artists #writers #writing #fanfic

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publicdomainbooks · 2 years

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CHAPTER 43

DAYLIGHT AT LAST

When I opened my eyes I felt the hand of the guide clutching me firmly by the belt. With his other hand he supported my uncle. I was not grievously wounded, but bruised all over in the most remarkable manner.

After a moment I looked around, and found that I was lying down on the slope of a mountain not two yards from a yawning gulf into which I should have fallen had I made the slightest false step. Hans had saved me from death, while I rolled insensible on the flanks of the crater.

"Where are we?" dreamily asked my uncle, who literally appeared to be disgusted at having returned to earth.

The eider-down hunter simply shrugged his shoulders as a mark of total ignorance.

"In Iceland?" said I, not positively but interrogatively.

"Nej," said Hans.

"How do you mean?" cried the Professor; "no—what are your reasons?"

"Hans is wrong," said I, rising.

After all the innumerable surprises of this journey, a yet more singular one was reserved to us. I expected to see a cone covered by snow, by extensive and widespread glaciers, in the midst of the arid deserts of the extreme northern regions, beneath the full rays of a polar sky, beyond the highest latitudes.

But contrary to all our expectations, I, my uncle, and the Icelander, were cast upon the slope of a mountain calcined by the burning rays of a sun which was literally baking us with its fires.

I could not believe my eyes, but the actual heat which affected my body allowed me no chance of doubting. We came out of the crater half naked, and the radiant star from which we had asked nothing for two months, was good enough to be prodigal to us of light and warmth—a light and warmth we could easily have dispensed with.

When our eyes were accustomed to the light we had lost sight of so long, I used them to rectify the errors of my imagination. Whatever happened, we should have been at Spitsbergen, and I was in no humor to yield to anything but the most absolute proof.

After some delay, the Professor spoke.

"Hem!" he said, in a hesitating kind of way, "it really does not look like Iceland."

"But supposing it were the island of Jan Mayen?" I ventured to observe.

"Not in the least, my boy. This is not one of the volcanoes of the north, with its hills of granite and its crown of snow."

"Nevertheless—"

"Look, look, my boy," said the Professor, as dogmatically as usual.

Right above our heads, at a great height, opened the crater of a volcano from which escaped, from one quarter of an hour to the other, with a very loud explosion, a lofty jet of flame mingled with pumice stone, cinders, and lava. I could feel the convulsions of nature in the mountain, which breathed like a huge whale, throwing up from time to time fire and air through its enormous vents.

Below, and floating along a slope of considerable angularity, the stream of eruptive matter spread away to a depth which did not give the volcano a height of three hundred fathoms.

Its base disappeared in a perfect forest of green trees, among which I perceived olives, fig trees, and vines loaded with rich grapes.

Certainly this was not the ordinary aspect of the arctic regions. About that there could not be the slightest doubt.

When the eye was satisfied at its glimpse of this verdant expanse, it fell upon the waters of a lovely sea or beautiful lake, which made of this enchanted land an island of not many leagues in extent.

On the side of the rising sun was to be seen a little port, crowded with houses, and near which the boats and vessels of peculiar build were floating upon azure waves.

Beyond, groups of islands rose above the liquid plain, so numerous and close together as to resemble a vast beehive.

Towards the setting sun, some distant shores were to be made out on the edge of the horizon. Some presented the appearance of blue mountains of harmonious conformation; upon others, much more distant, there appeared a prodigiously lofty cone, above the summit of which hung dark and heavy clouds.

Towards the north, an immense expanse of water sparkled beneath the solar rays, occasionally allowing the extremity of a mast or the convexity of a sail bellying to the wind, to be seen.

The unexpected character of such a scene added a hundredfold to its marvelous beauties.

"Where can we be?" I asked, speaking in a low and solemn voice.

Hans shut his eyes with an air of indifference, and my uncle looked on without clearly understanding.

"Whatever this mountain may be," he said, at last, "I must confess it is rather warm. The explosions do not leave off, and I do not think it is worthwhile to have left the interior of a volcano and remain here to receive a huge piece of rock upon one's head. Let us carefully descend the mountain and discover the real state of the case. To confess the truth, I am dying of hunger and thirst."

Decidedly the Professor was no longer a truly reflective character. For myself, forgetting all my necessities, ignoring my fatigues and sufferings, I should have remained still for several hours longer—but it was necessary to follow my companions.

The slope of the volcano was very steep and slippery; we slid over piles of ashes, avoiding the streams of hot lava which glided about like fiery serpents. Still, while we were advancing, I spoke with extreme volubility, for my imagination was too full not to explode in words.

"We are in Asia!" I exclaimed; "we are on the coast of India, in the great Malay islands, in the centre of Oceania. We have crossed the one half of the globe to come out right at the antipodes of Europe!"

"But the compass!" exclaimed my uncle; "explain that to me!"

"Yes—the compass," I said with considerable hesitation. "I grant that is a difficulty. According to it, we have always been going northward."

"Then it lied."

"Hem—to say it lied is rather a harsh word," was my answer.

"Then we are at the North Pole—"

"The Pole—no—well—well I give it up," was my reply.

The plain truth was, that there was no explanation possible. I could make nothing of it.

And all the while we were approaching this beautiful verdure, hunger and thirst tormented me fearfully. Happily, after two long hours' march, a beautiful country spread out before us, covered by olives, pomegranates, and vines, which appeared to belong to anybody and everybody. In any event, in the state of destitution into which we had fallen, we were not in a mood to ponder too scrupulously.

What delight it was to press these delicious fruits to our lips, and to bite at grapes and pomegranates fresh from the vine.

Not far off, near some fresh and mossy grass, under the delicious shade of some trees, I discovered a spring of fresh water, in which we voluptuously laved our faces, hands, and feet.

While we were all giving way to the delights of new-found pleasures, a little child appeared between two tufted olive trees.

"Ah," cried I, "an inhabitant of this happy country."

The little fellow was poorly dressed, weak, and suffering, and appeared terribly alarmed at our appearance. Half-naked, with tangled, matted and ragged beards, we did look supremely ill-favored; and unless the country was a bandit land, we were not likely to alarm the inhabitants!

Just as the boy was about to take to his heels, Hans ran after him, and brought him back, despite his cries and kicks.

My uncle tried to look as gentle as possible, and then spoke in German.

"What is the name of this mountain, my friend?"

The child made no reply.

"Good," said my uncle, with a very positive air of conviction, "we are not in Germany."

He then made the same demand in English, of which language he was an excellent scholar.

The child shook its head and made no reply. I began to be considerably puzzled.

"Is he dumb?" cried the Professor, who was rather proud of his polyglot knowledge of languages, and made the same demand in French.

The boy only stared in his face.

"I must perforce try him in Italian," said my uncle, with a shrug.

"Dove noi siamo?"

"Yes, tell me where we are?" I added impatiently and eagerly.

Again the boy remained silent.

"My fine fellow, do you or do you not mean to speak?" cried my uncle, who began to get angry. He shook him, and spoke another dialect of the Italian language.

"Come si noma questa isola?"—"What is the name of this island?"

"Stromboli," replied the rickety little shepherd, dashing away from Hans and disappearing in the olive groves.

We thought little enough about him.

Stromboli! What effect on the imagination did these few words produce! We were in the centre of the Mediterranean, amidst the eastern archipelago of mythological memory, in the ancient Strongylos, where AEolus kept the wind and the tempest chained up. And those blue mountains, which rose towards the rising sun, were the mountains of Calabria.

And that mighty volcano which rose on the southern horizon was Etna, the fierce and celebrated Etna!

"Stromboli! Stromboli!" I repeated to myself.

My uncle played a regular accompaniment to my gestures and words. We were singing together like an ancient chorus.

Ah—what a journey—what a marvelous and extraordinary journey! Here we had entered the earth by one volcano, and we had come out by another. And this other was situated more than twelve hundred leagues from Sneffels from that drear country of Iceland cast away on the confines of the earth. The wondrous changes of this expedition had transported us to the most harmonious and beautiful of earthly lands. We had abandoned the region of eternal snows for that of infinite verdure, and had left over our heads the gray fog of the icy regions to come back to the azure sky of Sicily!

After a delicious repast of fruits and fresh water, we again continued our journey in order to reach the port of Stromboli. To say how we had reached the island would scarcely have been prudent. The superstitious character of the Italians would have been at work, and we should have been called demons vomited from the infernal regions. It was therefore necessary to pass for humble and unfortunate shipwrecked travelers. It was certainly less striking and romantic, but it was decidedly safer.

As we advanced, I could hear my worthy uncle muttering to himself:

"But the compass. The compass most certainly marked north. This is a fact I cannot explain in any way."

"Well, the fact is," said I, with an air of disdain, "we must not explain anything. It will be much more easy."

"I should like to see a professor of the Johanneum Institution who is unable to explain a cosmic phenomenon—it would indeed be strange."

And speaking thus, my uncle, half-naked, his leathern purse round his loins, and his spectacles upon his nose, became once more the terrible Professor of Mineralogy.

An hour after leaving the wood of olives, we reached the fort of San Vicenza, where Hans demanded the price of his thirteenth week of service. My uncle paid him, with very many warm shakes of the hand.

At that moment, if he did not indeed quite share our natural emotion, he allowed his feelings so far to give way as to indulge in an extraordinary expression for him.

With the tips of two fingers he gently pressed our hands and smiled.

#A Journey to the Centre of the Earth

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frestoniia · 3 years

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Polaris (n.):

1. The North Star. A guiding light for navigators and travelers, letting them sail the seas and cross the wilderness without getting lost. 2. A unique idol group formed by one boy with a dream, and two others who had nearly given up on theirs.

Joint idol verse with @vinyldanceparty. More info under the cut!

Polaris✩ is an idol group comprised of Craig, Dodo, and Remi; three foreign exchange students from three different corners of the globe. While they started out mostly as friends of circumstance, they would quickly become quite close, especially after discovering how much they actually had in common.

Later in the year, the exchange students discovered that they would be required to take part in the school’s upcoming cultural festival. After brainstorming the best way to put their respective talents to use, they decided to put on a musical song-and-dance routine. Craig had prior experience on stage as a member of the drama club, Remi was a skilled visual artist, and Dodo was a master of choreography and dance.

They worked hard to perfect their routine, and even had an original song to use courtesy of one of their fellow exchange students. Their performance ended up being a massive hit-- far more than any of them expected. After their show, a man by the name of Jei Niyon would approach the boys and ask them to consider joining his agency, 244 Productions, and become full-time idols. The boys, baffled by the idea, told him that they would think about it, though they initially had no intention of actually accepting the offer.

Unbeknownst to them, a video recording of their performance had been posted to the school’s website. Quite literally overnight, their show had become a viral sensation, garnering thousands of views and reposts. It was this realization of their true potential that led to the three of them deciding to accept Jei’s offer and become idols.

UNIT DESCRIPTION:

Polaris✩ is a newbie unit whose charm is found in their earnest and enthusiastic approach to idol work. Consisting of three second-year exchange students, the group utilizes their inexperienced, but fresh approach when taking on work, with fanservice that is both dazzling and comfortably personal with their audience. Polaris✩ overflows with a calming energy and genuine character, so their work in media focuses mainly on appearing in variety shows, hosting online streaming events, and acting as radio personalities.

MEMBER PROFILE [ CRAIG ]:

Craig is the unofficial ‘leader’ of Polaris✩, beloved by his fans for his kind personality and for being a ryouseirui. His voice is soft and somewhat husky, with a distinct quavering vibrato. In some cases, he can sing at a much higher pitch with practically no effort. He seldom sings songs with a deeper or mid-range voice, but has shown that he is quite capable of doing so. While his songs typically have an upbeat and cheerful tone to them, lately he has been experimenting with edgier material. Craig has a gentle demeanor, but a strong heart, and is ready to stand by his group no matter what happens.

Craig has struggled with severe self-image issues in the past. Prior to transferring schools, he attended a prestigious private academy with lofty standards of personal and academic perfection. He was an avid member of the school’s Theatre Club, and despite auditioning time and time again for prominent roles, he was never able to land any of them. Most of the time, he’d be lucky if he even had a speaking role at all. As time pressed forward, Craig’s voice began to change after starting MHT, and he was thus prohibited from talking in order to maintain the club’s ideal of perfection. He felt a deep sense of hopelessness and self-loathing when he was unable to meet these unattainable standards.

Even after joining the exchange program at the beginning of his second year, Craig still thought of himself as a failure, feeling guilty for selfishly abandoning his old peers and betraying their trust. Craig’s sense of self-worth was so low, he was at first unable to see himself as truly belonging to his new friend group.

Since meeting Remi and Dodo and forming Polaris✩, Craig has begun to value his own feelings more, fully accepting that leaving his old school and joining 244 Productions was the correct choice for him. He has come to realize that surrounding himself with people who love him for who he is and living life on his own terms has had a hugely positive impact on him, and he has become a much happier person as a result. He is cheerful and caring, but when combined with his worrywart tendencies, Craig often ends up taking on too much. He's doing his best and balancing both his studies at school and his idol activities.

#|| HC ||#|| V: POLARIS✩ ||#|| hehHEEHE

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thebakingqueen5 · 3 years

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KW 2021: The Sea & The Sky

Day 7 for Kataang Week 2021 hosted by @kataang-week with the prompt The Sea & The Sky!

Don't mind me crying in the corner that Kataang Week is basically over, but anyways I'm super proud of this last oneshot and hope you all enjoy it!

Links: AO3 | FF.net

Summary: Another year, another, another week of prompts celebrating our favorite couple. Kataang Week 2021 Day 7: The Sea & The Sky. Katara was the sea, Aang was the sky, destined to meet at the horizon where they were bound together for all eternity.

Word Count: 1.7K (barely)

The sea and sky, two entities as old as time itself. In some ways, as contrasting as the night and day, and in others, perfect reflections of one another.

The sea has always been below the sky, left to gaze upon the brilliance of the celestial bodies embedded in it for all eternity and reflecting the light of the bright stars beyond.

The sky has always been above the sea, forever peering down into its depths for the miracles and mysteries hidden beneath, and guiding its steady waves as they crash upon the shores of the Earth.

The sea is the reason the azure sky is adorned with feathery white wisps floating high above the ground, and the sky, in turn, fills the oceans and floods the rivers with the very liquid that makes survival possible.

The sea fosters life beneath its steady, undulating surface. It holds flora and fauna of all shapes, colors, and sizes, and it was a point of fascination for the sky. The sky, in all its glory, could not sustain anything for long. Even the birds that rode over its swift breezes had to eventually land somewhere below. And yet, the sky was free, a vast expanse of space that extended beyond what the sea could ever imagine to be possible. It wasn’t shackled by the chains of the planet, and the sea almost envied it.

In the days of old, when sailors ruled the seas, the ocean and her gentle waves would push them across great stretches of nothingness, while the sky and his stars would aid in guiding them on their journeys. Without the sky, those explorers would be lost at sea, and without the sea, their ambitions would remain sky-high with their dreams of traveling the world doomed to remain just that- dreams.

The sea and the sky have always been connected. Together, they make a thriving world possible. And so it follows that those so closely bonded to their elements, Aang and Katara, would be similarly linked by the fabric of space and time.

Though he was the Avatar, Aang’s native element was that of air. He preferred to soar on his glider high above the clouds, and gravity was a laughable concept to him. True to his airbending disposition, Aang’s natural inclinations were to evade conflict and obstacles in order to move forward, like a leaf on the wind.

Katara was born in the Southern Water Tribe, surrounded by ice, glaciers, and the frigid seas of the South Pole. She wielded the element of water, adapting and accepting things as they came since water was the element of change. She would experience swells of emotion similar to the waves, but she always came down into a steady balance, an ebb and flow just like tides.

Aang and Katara were not each other’s antithesis, far from it actually, but rather each other’s complements. Had they been such stark opposites, their relationship would’ve been much more turbulent, having the highest of highs but also the lowest of lows. They needed not a sharp contrast but rather a soft blend to allow them to communicate with and learn from one another. It was this that allowed them to work so well.

When Katara was firm and unyielding like a tsunami approaching the shore, Aang accepted her stance and often strengthened it. Consequently, if the airbender was flighty and indecisive, Katara would be there to ground him and guide him to something he felt confident in.

Katara was Aang’s earthly tether. When his head drifted up into the clouds, she pulled him back to the real world and allowed him to guide the four nations into an era of peace and prosperity. On the other hand, Aang showed Katara true freedom and what being unrestrained felt like. He brought her up with him on his glider and taught her to defy nature’s laws, to not be afraid to take exhilarating risks, and to keep her ambitions sky-high.

Their worlds collided like the brilliance of colors created as the sun set over the horizon, gradually leaving the realm of the sky and sinking into the sea. Some of their traits reflected each other like the sun’s rays on the sparkling surface of the water, and the others melded together well to make the glorious gradient that streaked the sky as night fell. Together, Aang and Katara created a rich harmony filled with overtones that mirrored the depth of their connection.

When they first met, that instant link, the bond that tied them together, was remarkably evident to all those around them. It was absolutely undeniable.

Though Sokka had mostly been joking when he had called Aang Katara’s boyfriend, there were still some astute observations lying under his exaggerated comment. Sokka knew his sister. She didn’t take to people too well, he had noticed over the years. Katara was protective, almost overly so, of the people she loved, and it was hard for her to let people in.

And yet here was Aang, a boy whom she had quite literally taken into her open arms without so much as a blink of hesitation, a boy whom she was ready to leave her tribe, everything and everyone she had ever known, and travel across the world for. It seemed so out of character. Katara didn’t usually make sense to her brother, but this was something different, something special.

Even Gran Gran had taken notice of the unique energy between them. “Aang is the Avatar,” she had told the Water Tribe siblings. “He is the world's only chance. You both found him for a reason. Now your destinies are intertwined with his,” and she was right.

That day, Aang and Katara had forged a connection that wouldn’t, that couldn’t, ever be severed. Breaking him out of the iceberg had been the catalyst for the rest of their lives together. Their adventures following only served to deepen and strengthen that link, allowing them to fall wholly and completely for one another and experience a love they didn’t know was possible.

Visiting Aunt Wu was the first time Katara had really stopped to consider how far their bond went and the strength of her feelings for Aang. She knew they had something unique, something exceptional, but she hadn’t ever thought it could run that deep. “The man you’re going to marry… I can see that he is a very powerful bender.” It made sense, didn’t it? The boy who had changed her life for the better would grow to be the man that she would spend the rest of her life with.

Their kiss in the Cave of the Lovers only further cemented the idea in her head, and a part of her began to believe that their meeting was fate, just like the tale of Oma and Shu. Aang, while still reeling from embarrassment at some of his words (“I’m saying I’d rather kiss you than die, that’s a compliment!”), also began to have similar thoughts, thinking that maybe they too had parallels to the starcrossed lovers and that the love that they shared would one day too be immortalized in legend.

The battle in the catacombs underneath Ba Sing Se seemed like an all too abrupt end to their story. It simply didn’t feel real. How could their link just have been cut off like that? No, Katara wasn’t ready to accept it. She couldn’t accept it. It went against the laws of the universe, it wasn’t possible.

She was going to do whatever it took to keep him there with her, and she did. She brought Aang back from the spirit world through the purest of love, light, and determination, and she made it her duty to never let such a thing happen again.

It was what allowed them to fulfill their roles as the Avatar and his waterbending master at Sozin’s Comet and have their kiss afterward, the early buddings of a relationship that would last a lifetime. Years later, they would go on to pronounce that love to all their friends and family, but, for now, they were more than just their fates.

Just as Aang was able to manipulate water along with his primary element of air, the heavens held clouds in its vast expanse of sky, connecting it to the sea. The sea sent water up in the form of vapor to create those fluffy masses above, and the sky releases the water that the clouds hold in torrents of rain back down to the ground, tying the two together in an endless cycle.

Similarly, waterbending was one of the many things that bound Aang and Katara. It was the reason they had met, the reason Katara was able to break Aang out of that iceberg, and it was the reason they embarked on their epic journey to the North Pole- to learn from the masters and even become ones themselves.

Waterbending linked them as sifu and pupil, strengthening their bond. Without waterbending, Aang may have never realized that fateful day of her adjusting his form of the effect she had on him, the full intensity of the pull, the attraction she held in his eyes.

Waterbending had made Katara especially attuned to the rhythm of the waves rising and falling, and it didn’t long for her to notice how her and Aang’s dynamic reflected it, ebbing and flowing in a delicate yet harmonious balance.

Their meeting had been fate, an event necessary for the survival of the world itself, but that did not define them. With each other, they were not their destinies. They were not the Avatar and his waterbending master, nor were they the beacon of hope for the future of the Air Nation.

No, they were Aang and Katara, two people who had defied all odds, overcome all obstacles, and quite literally gone to the Spirit World and back all in the name of love. They were not the heroes who had saved the world, but soulmates, fated just as the sky and the sea were to meet at their own horizon. They were two people irreversibly linked to each other then, now, and till the end of time itself.

#kataang week #kataang week 2021 #kataangtag #kataang #kataang fanfic #the sea and the sky #aang #katara #aang x katara #atla fanfiction #soulmates #bc yes

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fallenrepublick · 4 years

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On the subject of the name “Starlight”...

I’m not sure why it was the chosen name that he gave you. It seems like that’s the most agreed upon factor across many works involving him, and I still think about it sometimes.

Like, that’s so poetic, right? Someone born into the darkness, designed for it just by virtue of where he’s from. It’s like there’s really no escaping it, an endless black sea both before and behind him, his mother bringing him into it and his master damning him to it. And the funny thing... is that he’s resigned to that. He’s not the type to go out searching for anything different, because, to him, there is nothing different. There are no other options available, no matter how much he may wish things were different.

And when you live like that your whole life, your eyes adjust to the void that rests around you. You ignore the shadows that leer in the corners and you come to terms with your surroundings being nothing but vague outlines and shades of blueish grey. It becomes normal, and you don’t see anything except what your life has been and always will be.

So I think... at least when I consider the reason for this nickname he gives you (though I’m likely wayy off in my assumption), Starlight is a much more fitting title than anything else.

It isn’t sunlight. That’s... overpowering, blinding. It brings life and warmth, but only to those who know it by heart. He does not. If it were sunlight, the intoxication would burn him alive. The moonlight is soft, and light, but inconsistent. The phases move in and out by the days, often leaving him yearning for its return when there may be no certainty that it will at all.

But when you think of stars, you think of the glitter in the night sky, the speckles and diamonds that spread across what would otherwise be an endless nothing. The starlight is a beacon, a small glimmer of something that brings clarity and ease to the darkness. He never... had that before.

You entered his life, a refusal to abandon him to the shadows, a soft, comforting effervescence that he fell in love with in almost desperation for your bright presence. And he feels a warmth in your arms, in your smile, the way you adore him despite the darkness he only knows.

The light is difficult to adjust to at first, though never commanding, only guiding, leading him to open his eyes and see his world the way it was meant to be, the way lost sailors follow the North Star on a voyage far from home. You shed your glow on the shadows, on the figures in the dismal corners, on the eyes in the halls, only to reveal that there was nothing to fear at all. It’s why he can’t imagine losing you, why he goes to such great lengths for you no matter the cost. You love him, saved him. You’re his home. He had never even realised before how blind he really was.

#i'll delete this in a sec since i know it's been discussed already but i thought i'd throw it out there because i'm stupid and shit #god june please shut the fuck up already no one cares #anywhomst back to it #darth maul

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redevenir · 3 years

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but never doubt i love

seokmin x reader

wc : ~ 5k

a/n : you and seokmin mourn the old world. a love letter to the sea. magic.

« Doubt thou the stars are fire ;

Doubt that the sun doth move ;

Doubt truth to be a liar ;

But never doubt I love. »

Hamlet, act 2 scene 2, William Shakespeare.

The first time Seokmin sees you he wants to run. He notices you from afar, a shadow moving further down the path he’s been following through the woods. It’s misty and cold, the drizzle menacing to chill him to his bones. It’s a wonder he notices you at all. To believe people used to walk those tracks for pleasure, for sport, for fun, is beyond him. He keeps his eyes on the ground to avoid any menacing encounter.

Of course, you hear him. It’s when you turn around to face him, a dozen meters away from him, that his body shuts down. Suddenly, all the whispers he heard when he was younger resurface, the alarm in his head howling danger. And yet he cannot move. He stays still, eyes on you, as you walk toward him. The closer you get, the thicker the air around the both of you seems to get. And yet you keep approaching to the faint sound of his heartbeat. Far from his focus on you, in a little hidden corner of his consciousness, a little question : can you hear it ? Barely a meter away from him you stop and your voice comes barely louder as a murmur.

« Do you need help ? »

So it is true then. Seokmin feels warm rushing to his cheeks and a familiar sting under his eyes. He takes a deep breath to keep his chest from contracting. He cannot give way to fear right now. It is too much. Everything inside of him is urging him to run away as far as he can from you. But it has been so long since someone has talked to him. It has been so long since he’s heard someone talk. He tries to count to ten and back to keep himself grounded. Here. In front of you. You are danger. All dressed in black capes, he notices your bare feet, covered in mud. Your skin looks reminds him of citrus peel. Against all knowledge he has of you, he brings his hands to his face, closing his eyes to breathe in the familiar smell of his sweaty palms. The rain seems to stop, and he feels dry warmth graze his fingers. He opens his eyes back and lowers his hands, looking at you. You haven’t moved. You are still staring at him. Is that curiosity in your eyes ? Before he can refrain himself he answers you.

« I’m scared. » Is that his voice ?

A ray of sun seems to caress your face even if your expression remains unchanged. Seokmin wonders if this is how you smile. You held your hand to him, palm up. You both look at it a moment before you speak again. It is soft and he should not be able to hear it but he does.

« I know. You can come with me if you want. » You wave your right hand into a vague circle that includes both of you. « You know it is not safe here. We are not alone. We need to move. »

They will come at night and ask if you need help, ask if they can come into your home, and before you know it it will be theirs, they said. Seokmin follows you without arguing. Maybe he is losing his mind. Maybe he’s dead. But it is so easy to just follow. You seem warm. You seem sure. You are alive. He feels the hot sting leaking from his eyes. He dabs his cheeks with his sleeves without a sniff. He walks as close to you as he can.

It’s a wonder he noticed you at all. Somehow the brush of your cape against the branches doesn’t make a sound and neither do your feet as you walk on the fallen leaves. Its fabric barely moves but he can see the light reflected on it, in deep shades of blue. It looks like fur. Seokmin know no animal of that color. The hood covers the top of your head. Sometimes you spread your arms a bit, palms up. His gaze comes back to your feet. Covered in dry dirt and crumbles of autumn leaves up to the ankles, they silently sink in fresh mud every step you take. If he focuses enough, he can see it spread through each of your toes. All is quiet except for the noises he makes. The sucking noise of the sludge under his hiking shoes. The tired breath coming out of his mouth. The deafening beating of his heart.

Are you even real ? Or did he just die, and you are guiding him to the other world ? But you keep going the same way he was headed. Will you lure him into a cave and cook him for dinner ? A smile makes its way over his lips. There is someone to be worried about. He takes in your entire frame. If you had wanted to kill he’d probably never have seen you coming. He rearranges his bag on his back.

It’s been a long time since you last saw a human. He is scared and alone. Why he is heading toward the Wound is beyond you, but you cannot let him go north on his own. You wonder if he is the last one. He doesn’t look like he can survive on his own. He is just skin on bones. Yet instead of harshness you discern some softness. His muted glow is not unlike the one of a stag. A good balance of strength and vulnerability. You try to keep your pace slow enough for this one. You listen to him behind you. It’s been a long time since you last heard breathing. You wonder if the oaks can hear him too. You walk a bit faster.

The first flake of ash you notice, twirling in the air, you say nothing. The both of you have come way further north than you would have guessed. You think maybe it’s getting better. Maybe the Wound is healing in some way. You don’t know. You’ve never been to Seokmin’s city, you’ve only heard tales from there. How the ground had opened wide. A huge crack so deep no one could see the bottom of it.

You feel less and less of the deep pounding of life through your feet as you get closer to the city. Seokmin watches you when you get lost in the examination of your feet. You look left, right, up, down, gazing at them expectantly. Like they hold some answer. He feels the air warming up day by day too. It gets harder to find shelters with a roof, but the woods are thicker and sleeping outside is not an option.

Eventually, it becomes impossible to ignore it as you keep walking northward. Little by little, ashes are more easily seen, until they cover everything like a grey veil. He walks before you, head low, deep in thoughts to which you have no access. It is hard, you remember. To reach out for people. Everyone is a unique path but the first steps are always the same. You stop walking.

« Seokmin. He immediately stops and turns around. He doesn’t look as down as you thought but he has seen better days – and they were not especially good. I’m sorry to ask… You finally avoid his gaze to look at the ground. It should be mud. It’s grey. Seokmin’s shoe prints make a bridge between the two of you. It doesn’t feel like the first time but somehow, he realizes once again you are barefoot, and how thin is your cloak. He knows what you’re about to say and he lets you. You don’t talk enough for him to have the gut to cut you short. Are you sure you have to go ? He opens his mouth but before any sound can come out you continue. I mean, do you think there is still something for you to see there ? »

« No. I just – His voice is already shaking. Are you going to leave him already ? Now that the both of you are covered in ashes he knows he cannot make it on his own. Maybe he could survive, but he would lose his mind. I wasn’t... there when it happened. And I was on my own… for so long… He bits his lower lip a bit. He doesn’t know why you’re coming with him in the first place. He really should have listened more to the grown-ups when he was a kid. That way he may be able to understand the situation more. You just appeared out of nowhere and walked with him since. He doesn’t even know if he should be worried. Are you going to eat him while he sleeps? Are you a sort of guardian angel ?

« Seokmin ? What is it ? » He opens his eyes – when did he shut them ? Suddenly his tongue feels too big in his mouth. He clears his throat.

« I feel I can’t… be at peace if I don’t go back. I know, I know it’s stupid, but there is still a part of me that keeps wondering if there is a chance, a little, little chance that maybe it’s not so bad...» He stops his ramble, a bit out of breath. You hum quietly.

« I can understand that. » He looks at you looking at his shoes. He should tell you everything.

« I’m… Hum, Well, I’m worried. About what I’ll – we’ll see when we arrive there. »

« Are you scared ? »

« Yes, he says. » He doesn’t ponder on why it is so easy for him to confess his weaknesses to you.

« Good. You should be. You know what I think about it, but -

« I don’t, actually. You lift your head so fast in surprise it makes him jump. I mean, I don’t know what you think about it. Or why you’re coming. Or why you’re staying with me anyway. » He holds your gaze as he speaks, and you think he is very different from you indeed. There is no defiance in his eyes. It happens that Seokmin just looks at you when he talks, without further thought. You let your eyes on that mole he has on his cheek. He wonders if you know you’re smiling in the dim sunrise light.

« I think we might die there, Seokmin. But we might die anywhere, so if you want to go, then we go. But don’t… I don’t know what you are imagining, and I don’t know exactly what’s waiting for us, but you really shouldn’t think too much about it. I fear it’s going to be terrible in its very own, very unique way. » He says nothing, twisting his hands together.

« And why… Why are you staying with me ? »

« What else would I do ? » He hums in agreement. Neither of you speak it out loud, but he is well aware you leaving him would mean his death. Seokmin doesn’t dare to ask if you have anyone to go to anyway. You would probably answer him all simple and genuine, as you usually do, but his curiosity isn’t worth hurting you. Far away, you hear what sounds like deep creakings.

Seokmin tries to never touch you. It is a clear rule he has set up for himself. No matter how hard his longing for human touch stings him, he never reaches out for you. Who knows what you might do to him. You are not used to him. Not enough. You have been alone for a very long time before the two of you met. Seokmin too, of course, but he was always quite easy going. He also knows you could have killed him any time you wanted, and that him being alive, and staying with you, means that he has nothing to fear. From you. It is a relief, if he thinks of all the tales about your kind. Magic used to be very scary. Something never spoken of, but always luring in the back of people’s mind. Some villages were abandoned. Some forests were never visited. No warning signs, no interdiction. But a simple, unspoken rule : avoid it. And yet. What a relief, that your blood is fire. Even if he hasn’t seen it yet, simply knowing what you are is a great comfort. Knowing he is safe by your side.

The first time Seokmin recognizes the city’s landscape, he feels his stomach disappear. It is nothing much. Just a familiar gas station. Of course, the smell you have been inhaling for a few days now didn’t leave any good outcome for his imagination. Somehow, seeing a place he has known intact turned to debris is a new kind of scary. He doesn’t notice the very thin cracks on the asphalt, but you do. Smoke comes out of them, as dark as the tar, slowly floating westward, staying at ground level. You move closer to Seokmin when you realize there is no breeze to make it move. The flashing light of the station’s sign illuminates the crossroad blue and red. Suddenly he remembers magic is light, and wonders why your skin doesn’t glow. His hand reaches out for yours. You twist it a bit to be more comfortable. There is only a few hours left between the two of you and the heart of the town. You don’t feel anything anymore. From time to time, the air vibrates louder and louder with deep-rooted screeching. In a foolish spurt, the picture of a gigantic, rusty swing pops up in Seokmin’s mind. You spare a last glance at the cracks. He doesn’t argue when you ask him to avoid all main streets to his neighborhood.

You never make it that far. The day you reach the heart of the city the both of you regret ever coming. It’s abhorrent. Words you’ve heard before are so light compared to the scenery that lies at your feet. Everything is just like they said it was, but it is also far worse. Nothing has changed since the ground has opened up, and everything has. You feel yourself waver, oscillating on the verge of despair, as you contemplate the rubble. It is a giant, growing, star-shaped scar. Everything is covered in dark ashes, the gigantic buildings are all lying on the streets, their inside out. Furniture, trinkets, clothes, everything that was once a sign of life now adorns the streetlights and the sidewalks like defeated flags and dead soldiers. None of you dares to come closer. None of you dares to stand in the open. In an attempt to ground yourself you remember Seokmin is by your side.

You flee from town a lot faster than you walked to it. The first time Seokmin understands your power is when he realizes the both of you haven’t stopped for two days. When he realizes he’s not hungry. When he realizes he’s not tired. You walk for two more before allowing yourselves to rest. You keep walking southward at a more normal pace for another week before settling down in a proper shelter in the mountains. You don’t have to climb very high for the trees to stop growing. The former inn offers a spectacular view.

Seokmin falls into a torpidity after that. You let him craft himself a nest into an old couch. All the chairs and tables are put away against the walls, and you feel the last use of this room was probably a big dancing. He gets cold. You feed him. There is a fence protecting him from you. You wonder if this is what kept him alive for so long. Definitely not a fighter, but maybe guarded well enough. Since you cannot ease his mind, you let him be. You sense he is not very far. Whenever you go outside, the fire is lit before you come back. So you let it come to terms with everything on his own. There is nothing you can do about that sort of pain. You try to heal yourself in the meantime. Every night, you let the fire lick your feet to clean them up. When you begin to hear faded music, string chords and the clacking of hooves on the wooden floor to the rhythm of a jig, you consider yourself healed enough.

When it feels like Seokmin is asleep, when you can feel through the ground anew, you wait for the stars to tell you where to go next. Night after night, they tell you to wait for the sun to rise. Day after day, the sun tells you nothing.

You are not here when Seokmin wakes up. Pain tears him away from his numbess, finally leaking through his walls. He barely stands up only to collapse in front of the fireplace.

He lets it go. Burning tears flow down his cheeks and soon the soft hiccups in his throat become a loud wailing coming straight from his chest. Forehead bumping against his knees, he tries to ground himself by pulling the short hairs of the carpet – it fails. He breathes more and more erratically and any notion of time he might have kept before dissolves into his cries. It is very human to look for a way out from sorrow but he can’t find it. Any memory his mind tries to summon for comfort has turned into a burnt field.

You hear his cries from the chill of the shadows. When you arrive into the former ballroom, you don’t need to scan the room to find him : you follow the sound of Seokmin’s desperation. When your bare foot gently bumps against his back you feel him jump and he tries to inhale sharply, only to make a weird strangled noise as he fights for air. The warmth of your right hand on his right shoulder distracts him for a second – how can your heat pierce through his clothes like that ? Are you hugging him ? But words are too much to be thought of and a new wave of tears washes over him.

In return, you squeeze his shoulder as lightly as you can, murmuring what you hope are reassuring words. You slide your left hand between his curled up limbs to put it on his chest. Once again he feels the heat radiating from your touch. You push him backwards, still hugging him from the side so he doesn’t fall flat on his back. Not for the first time, Seokmin feels like a raggedy doll and realizes how much stronger than him you are. Slowly you have him lying down next to you. Let it go, let it all go, you whisper, but he’s not sure he sees your lips move.

You stay like that until the sun rises. Seokmin has never sweated that much before. He’s the first one to sit up, immediately feeling the bite of the cold, even facing the hearth. He looks back to you, still lying on the floor, only to meet your gaze. It is new. It’s dark and welcoming. Inviting him to speak his mind. His eyes catch the glimpse of a sparkle on your throat, between pink and orange. Like a sunset, before the smoke. He clears his throat. Maybe it is time to acknowledge what you are.

« It’s like you have suns in your hands. »

« But I do have suns in my hands. »

You sit behind him, your chest against his back and you feel him ease into you. You rest your chin in the crook of his neck and stretch your arms forward, palms open for him to see. When you shift them under the fire light he finally sees them. Frail, golden circles and tiny lines around them, emitting from them. You hear his soft gasp. You close your hands and cage him into a tight embrace.

« You should be dead. »

« It is the end of an age, Seokmin. Maybe we’ll all be dead soon. »

When you strengthen your hold of him he knows you can hear his faint whimper.

He watches you staring at the hearth. You haven’t said a word today and Seokmin figures he should do something about it. Elbows planted on the large wood table, the tip of his feet brushes the hard stone floor. Between the two of you, a meter and a world. He presses his lips hard and fiddles the cuticles of his thumb. To start a fire is easy. First, one must build a little hill of crumbled paper - newspapers are the finest. Then, one must use it as the base for a pyramid of kindling. Ideally, broken branches that were given the time to dry. When one talks about dry wood, it doesn’t mean it has been guarded from the rain, but that the sap has been given the time to evaporate. Only at this condition can wood burn decently, unless you are unlucky enough to find yourself caught in a forest fire. Nowadays of course, a nice forest fire would be a treat. Times change. Once the kindling has properly caught on fire, it is time to add the first logs. They’re definitely bigger but one must not go ahead of themselves and aim for logs that are too thick, for it is the surest way to smother the fire, and reduce one’s efforts to nothingness.

You hate to make efforts in vain. So whatever you do, you try to do it efficiently. Even Seokmin, who was raised in the heart of the city, has caught the grasp of it by now. Your gaze brushes over the ashes on your hands, then back to the fire. It’s hypnotising. The bright flames rise as high as they can reach, devouring willow and beech alike. It is hard to look away from their light and harder still to believe that up in the sky, this is what the sun is made of. It’s no wonder you want to curl up inside the hearth - it is but a minuscule copy of the star that keeps you alive. Seokmin likes that you are considerate enough not to ask him how he survived without knowing how to start a fire.

Prettier than the flames is the bark of the burning log. You still haven’t found anything even close to this. Seokmin has told you before that the inside of volcanoes looks like that too, but you know neither of you has ever seen one with your own eyes. When the both of you stay near the fire for hours, he thinks it sees something new in you. Some kind of awakening. Something very deep, very raw. It induces a shudder, hidden in the shadows of your spine, in the hollow of a vertebra. If you blow gently and regularly, the bark begins to glow. It changes its very composition. Instead of a dead, cut, unmoving tree, its surface riddles black and red, shadow and light, like the river to the gate of hells must do. If you watch it long enough, everything disappears.

Seokmin can’t find anything to say. Words have lost their weight during his teenage years. Something shifted. He doesn’t know exactly when, and he surely has no idea why or, worse, how, but everything changed. He looks at you, feels his heart shrink when you absent-mindedly circle your fingers around your wrist, a ghost of the handcuffs. When he feels the canker sore exploding under the pressure of his teeth, he swallows the blood, licks his lips and decides it is time to make his move.

If you notice him standing up you don’t shudder. When he comes closer to you and sits down by your side, where the heat is more intense, you don’t move. It’s an improvement, he realizes. He sits as close as you as he can without touching you, shoulders rocking back and forth in slow movements.

« I met their gaze today. »

There it is. The thrill of terror that passes through your body is not one that can be faked. It has been a humiliating lesson for Seokmin, knowing his voice could become a call for horror. He had grown up surrounded by music and praised for the way he sung. A master of karaoke. In your defense, what he said is bad indeed - only you’ve retracted into yourself before you knew what was at hand. You try to keep it quiet but he notices the deep breath you take before answering him. He catches the way you turn your head right, toward him, even if you can’t quite get yourself to face him yet. There are smudges of ashes on your cheek, and you could use a bath. He never mentions you don’t meet his cleanliness standards. He lowers them.

« How long ? »

« Just the time to look back on the ground. I’m not sure it was even a second. »

« And how are you ? » He looks at you again, a smile forming on his lips. You keep looking at the fire but your tone leaves no doubt. It is nice to know you mind.

« I’m fine. » The tree’s eye flashes before his eyes every time he shuts them close. He doesn’t think it should count as any harm done to him. You hum in answer.

« I wa- I think we should go. Soon. » You’re getting better at this team thing. Collaboration. You take another deep breath. « Any idea? » He bites a smile back.

« Well, I’ve never seen the sea, so I thought… » This time you snap your head so fast he jumps a bit. Your eyes meet his for a burning flash, and you settle your gaze upon his left shoulder.

« You’ve never been to the sea? »

« No, I just - »

« Then what’s the point ?’ » you talk slow but you sound outraged. You stare back. « Why do you care about living at all ? » It’s almost as if he could see the gears in action behind the frowns of your forehead. « So that’s why you’re like that » you add as you raise both your hands above your head, tracing little patterns he doesn’t figure out. You look even more confused when you see his smile, a crescent of harmless light.

« I have no idea what you mean. » You let your hands go back to your thighs. You look away from his face, eyes on his knee.

« Ok, we’ll go to the sea then. »

Seokmin first meets the ocean through his nose. The smell hits him first as the both of you walk down a narrow path toward the shore. Even though they are empty now, you still avoid towns. When he asks why, you merely answer they were empty for him. You usually settle for lonely constructions, exclusively the ones with at least one fireplace. You say there are shadows he cannot see. When he asks what kind of shadow, you stop, making him turn around to look at you. The sadness on your face makes his hand move on its own, but before it can reach you it stops. Your own hand is holding his other one. The warmth that comes from your skin catches him off guard and he almost withdraws. You squeeze it a bit, and catch his still hand mid-air.

« Do you think your people were the only ones affected by the Wound? Seokmin, you pause, close your eyes, open them back. This is a disaster. Do you know what came up from that rift ? He shivers. There are things that came for you, things that came for me, and things that came for others. And how can I explain to you what they are like when you cannot see nor feel them? » You don’t remind him he’s been too lonely to learn that before. How could he know stuff when there was no one to tell him in the first place ? You press both of his hands between yours. They have never been this sweaty before. He looks at his feet. His chest is shrinking and his eyes are burning.

« I’m sorry. »

« Don’t be, all right ? You cannot possibly know everything. You let his hands go with a last squeeze. Now take a deep breath. He looks up at you, surprised. How is it ? »

« What’s that smell ? »

« Power. »

Seokmin has already cried a lot in front of you when he first sees the ocean. The tears he sheds there are of a completely different nature. They’re a release. He removes his shoes like a drunk man and goes to meet the waves, the first grains of sand moulding his feet one step at the time, half walking, half running. The wind here is stronger, but his cries can still be heard. You listen to his bursts of laughter and his sobs as they blend together. You follow him at a distance, longing to be submerged by the cold waters and the foam as well. You let go of your cape, you let go of your shawls. You let the wind swirl your gown and your hair and you close your eyes. You listen to Seokmin cry. You listen to Seokmin laugh. You don’t see him kneeling into the sea, letting the waves slap his face in a rumble. He doesn’t even choke on it. Drenched in reality he casts a glance over you, and for the first time you look like what he would have expected. Dancing in the wind, dressed in a raggedy gown, possessed by the elements. From where he is he sees all kinds of lines on your skin, intricated patterns he cannot properly recognize nor understand. Even drowned into the icy waters he can still feel the warmth you poured into his hands. You catch his good-hearted chuckle, and shout at him.

« What is it suddenly? » He giggles even more, and shouts back, so loud you forget the crashing of the waves for an instant.

« You really are a witch! » He doesn’t hear you but sees the gleeful smile on your face from afar. Of course you are a witch. A stronger wave hits him and falls on his back as the water barely covers him in foam. It’s only when he stands up and takes off his sweater that you finally see it. Only when the salted waters cascades down his chest, reflecting the sunlight as a magnifying glass, spreading it around him in all shades of colours do you see his smile. Without realizing him you walk to him, his halo pulling you to him like a hook clenched to your blood. You feel his warmth on your skin, and he feels yours on his own. You let your arms go to his neck and pull him into a strong embrace. He hugs you just as tight. On the surface of the chilly waters, you can see the sparkly reflections of your glowing skin, all shades of yellows and pinks, the brighter gleams of the sun, and high above the sky, big and warm and burning, the star that keeps you alive caresses you both.

You let the ocean wash you clean.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #dk imagines #svt witch au #svt fic #dk #lsk #my writings #witch au #magic au #fantasy au #???

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elliemarchetti · 3 years

Text

If Need Be

At this point I don't know if it makes sense to anticipate everything with a brief description of the plot, but for all the possible new readers who will run into this chapter and for some strange reason haven’t seen the previous ones, this is the story of Elva, a half-elf of Mirkwood, leaving with the Fellowship in place of Legolas. The actual tale begins shortly after Gandalf's death, and it all centers around how Elva's presence impacts not only on the mission but on Haldir's life.

In this part, the Fellowship finally leaves Caras Galadhon to resume their Quest.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Words: 2448

In the morning, as they were beginning to pack their slender goods, some Elves went to Haldir’s talan to bring many gifts of food, mostly in the form of very thin cakes, made of a meal that was baked a light brown on the outside and inside was the colour of cream, and a hooded cloak.

"For someone who spends most of his time at the border, you are very popular," Elva commented, after thanking yet another visitor.

"They fear I may not come back, and they tell me that my brothers will be helped in every possible way,” the marchwarden explained. “These are lembas, or waybread, more strengthening than any food made by Men and more pleasant than the cram made in Dale. It must be eaten little at a time, for these things are given to serve when all else fails and will keep sweet for many days, if they’re unbroken and left in their leaf-wrappings.”

“Those are fair garments, though,” Aragorn commented, stroking the light but warm silken fabric, the same the Galadhrim and the court wove. It was hard to say of what colour they were, as they seemed to be grey with the hue of twilight under the trees and yet, if they were moved or set in another light, they were green as shadowed leaves or brown as fallow fields by night; in the dusk, they looked like water under the stars, and even the brooch that fastened them, a green leaf, was veined with silver.

“They must be from the Lady,” guessed their host. “Yet, as you said, they are garments, not armours, and they won’t turn shaft or blade, only serve us well in staying out of the Enemy’s sight.”

"They seem to have done their work so far," Elva said, trying to cheer up the room and hinting that after all his wanderings he was still alive.

"Sure, and a considerable number of blades to the throat were also needed," he replied, after which silence fell, and was maintained as they walked through Caras Galadhon’s empty green streets. In the trees above them, many voices were murmuring and singing, and flashed of barely comprehensible words followed them to the lawn where the other members of the Fellowship waited and down the southward slopes of the hill, to the great gate hung with lamps until the white bridge, after which they took a path that went off into a deep thicket of mallorn trees and passed on, winding through rolling woodlands of silver shadow, leading them ever down, southwards and eastwards, to the shores of the River, laid in a shining lawn of grass studded with golden elanor that glinted in the sun. On the right and west the Silverlode flowed glittering and on the left and east the Great River rolled its broad waters, deep and dark, with woodlands still marching as far as eyes could see on the southwards shores, bleak and bare, as no mallorn lifted its gold-hung boughs beyond the Land of Lorien. On the bank of the Silverlode, at some distance up from the meeting of the streams, there were moored many boats and barges, some brightly painted, shining with silver, gold and green tones, and some either white or grey, like the three that had been prepared for the travellers. Haldir threw some coils of slender but strong rope in each, and Sam went to inspect the workmanship, similar to that of the cloaks they wore.

“They are made of hithlain,” their guide explained, anticipating his question. “Had I known this craft delighted you, I could’ve taught you much, but at the moment I think you’ll have to settle for a theoretical explanation during breaks.”

Sam seemed satisfied by the pact, and went to take his place with Frodo on the boat captained by Aragorn; Boromir thus settled for Merry and Pippin, and Haldir for Elva and Gimli, with whom he had most bonded during their stay in Lothlorien. The boats were moved and steered with short-handled paddles that had broad leaf-shaped blades. When all was ready, their guide led them on a trial up the Silverlode, where the current was swift and they went forward slowly. Sam sat in the bows, clutching the sides, and looking back wistfully to the shore, the sunlight glittering on the water dazzling his eyes. As they passed beyond the green field of the Tongue, the trees drew down to the river’s brink: here and there golden leaves tossed and floated on the rippling stream and the air was very bright and still, bringing only silence except for the high distant song of larks. They turned a sharp bend in the river, and there, sailing proudly down the stream towards them, they saw a swan of great size. The water rippled on either side of the white breast beneath its curving neck and its beak shone like burnished gold, while its eyes glinted like jet set in yellow stones; its huge white wings were half lifted, and suddenly they perceived that it was a ship, wrought and carved with elven-skill in the likeness of a bird. Two elves clad in white steered it with black paddles and in the midst of the vessel sat Celeborn, with his wife behind him, tall and white, a crown of golden flowers in her hair and a harp in her hands. Sand and sweet was the sound of her voice in the cool clear air as she told the story of gold leave shook by the wind. As if the first vision of the Mirror had awakened in Elva an ancient memory that didn’t belonged to her, she too sang of Lorien’s first winter with bare and leafless trees, but she didn’t have the heart to finish, because it spoke of the departure beyond the Sea, of that journey that tasted like defeat and she could never face, even if she wanted to. Haldir stayed his boat as the Swan-ship drew alongside, so the Lady could tell them she had come to bid their last farewell and to speed their boats with blessings from her land. The half-elf wasn’t quite sure their intentions were that noble, but she said nothing, and ate lunch with the royals on the grass, as Celeborn suggested, speaking again of their journey.

“As you go down the water,” said the Lord, “you’ll find that the trees will fail, and you’ll come to a barren country. There the River flows in stony vales amid high moors, until at last after many leagues come the sheep shores of the tall island of Tindrock, that we call Tol Brandir. With great noise and smoke, the waters fall over the cataracts of Rauros down into the Nindalf, the Wetwang, as it’s called in your tongue.; that is a wide region of sluggish fen, where the stream becomes tortuous and much divided and the Entwash flows in by many mouths from the Forest of Fangorn in the west. About that stream, on this side of the Great River, lies Rohan, while on the further side are the bleak hills of the Emyn Muil. The wind blows from the East there, for they look out over the Dead Marshes and the Noman-lands to Cirith Gorgor and the black gates of Mordor. Boromir, and any that go with him seeking Minas Tirith, will do well to leave the Great River above Rauros and cross the Entwash before it finds the marshes. Yet they shouldn’t go too far up that stream, nor risk becoming entangled in the Forest of Fangorn, a strange, little known land, but doubtless, you don’t need this warning.”

“Indeed we have heard of Fangorn in Minas Tirith,” replied the person most concerned. “But what I’ve heard seems to me for the most part old wives’ tales, such as we tell to our children. All that lies north to Rohan is now to us so far away that fancy can wander freely there, but it’s now many lives of men since any of us visited it to prove or disprove the legends that have come down from distant years. Anyway, I have myself been at whiles in Rohan, but I’ve never crossed it northwards, although, when I was sent out as a messenger, I passed through the Gap by the skirts of the White Mountains, and crossed the Isen and the Greyflood into Northerland. A long and wearisome journey it was, four hundred leagues I reckoned it, and it took me many months, for I lost my horse at Tharbad, at the fording of the Greyflood. After that and the road I have trodden with this Company, I don’t much doubt I shall find a way through Rohan, and Fangorn too, if need be.”

“Then I need say no more!” exclaimed Celeborn. “But don’t despise the lore that has come down from distant years, for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know.”

At those advice, Galadriel rose from the grass and taking a cup from one of her maidens she filled it with white mead and gave it to her husband.

“Now it’s time to drink for our farewell,” she said, and when they had all done as she commanded, chairs were set for her and Celeborn. For a while she looked upon her guests, but at last, she called each in turn, offering them gifts, starting from Aragorn, whom she addressed as the leader of the Fellowship, giving him a great stone clear green in colour, set in a silver brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings.

“This was left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land; I gave it to my daughter Celebrian and she gave it to hers, and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the House of Elendil!”

Aragorn took the stone and pinned the brooch upon his breast, and those who saw him wondered how they hadn’t noticed before how tall and kingly he stood: “For the gift that you have given me I thank you, Lady of Lorien of whom were sprung Celebrian and Arwen Evenstar. What praise could I say more?”

The Lady bowed her head, and she turned to Boromir, giving him a belt of gold, similar to the silver ones Merry and Pippin received; to Elva, she gave a bow such as the Galadhrim used, longer and stouter than the bows of Mirkwood, and strung with a string of elf-hair. With it went a quiver of arrows, while Sam received no weapons or wealth, but only a little box of plain grey wood, unadorned save for a single silver rune upon the lid, filled with earth from Galadriel’s orchard: “It won’t defend you against any peril, but if you keep it and see your home again at last, then perhaps it may reward you. Though you should find all barren and laid waste, there will be few gardens in Middle-earth that will bloom like yours, then you may remember Galadriel, and catch a glimpse far off of Lorien, that you have seen only in our Winter, for our Spring and our Summer are gone by, and they will never be seen on earth again save in memory.”

Sam went red to the ears and muttered something inaudible, as he clutched the box and bowed as well as he could.

“And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves? ” said Galadriel, turning to Gimli.

“It’s enough for me to have seen the Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words,” he replied, courteous.

“Hear all ye Elves!” she cried to those around her. “Let none say again that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be the only guest without a gift.”

“There’s nothing, Lady Galadriel,” said Gimli, bowing low and stammering. “Nothing, unless it might be permitted to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I don’t ask for such a gift, but you commanded me to name my desire.”

The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. “It’s said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues, yet that is untrue of Gimli,” she said. “And how shall I refuse, since I commanded you to speak? But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?”

“Treasure it, Lady” he answered, “in memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.”

So the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, cut off three golden hairs and laid them in Gimli’s hand: “These words shall go with the gift: I don’t foretell, for all foretelling is now vain with darkness lying on one hand and only hope in the other, but if hope shouldn’t fail, then I say to you that you hands shall flow with gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.”

Then she addressed Frodo, and gave him a small crystal phial, glittering with rays of white light from the Earendil’s star as she moved it: “May it guide you in dark places, when all other lights go out.”

Lastly, she looked at Haldir, giving him a sheath made to fit his sword, overlaid with a tracery of flowers and leaves wrought of silver and gold: “The blade drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat,” she said, leading Elva to question again what their guide might’ve seen in the Mirror. Were those words a hidden condemnation? She couldn’t know, and after the gift that had been given to her, she couldn’t ask too. Haldir bowed, but found no words to say, so the Lady arose, and the yellow noon laid on the green land of the Tongue accompanied their last farewell, for so it seemed to them that Lorien was slipping backward, like a bright ship with enchanted trees, sailing on to forgotten shores, while they sat helpless upon the margin of the grey and leafless world.

#haldir of lothlorien #haldir x fem oc #aragorn #arwen #aragorn x arwen #sam gamgee #boromir #frodo baggins #merry brandybuck #pippin took #gimli son of gloin #galadriel #celeborn #galadriel x celeborn #lotr #the fellowship of the ring

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