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little-mad · 3 years

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Downsides of Thievery Pt. 11

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin wouldn’t really say he was a good judge of character, the amount of friends in low places he had was a testament to that. However, even he could tell that this new alteon that had appeared was bad news.

There was something about the way the guy held himself--it was cocky and arrogant, as if he was certain he was the most important person in the room. Not to mention the sleazy little smile he was wearing that seemed to promise trouble. But what Gavin hated most was the way the guy looked at him. It was hard to describe, but the only thing Gavin could think of to equate it to was how middle school bullies looked right before they were about to trip some poor kid in the hallway.

The green-eyed giant had been speaking in the same language that Gavin had heard a couple times throughout his time in the alteon dimension. Of course, he couldn’t understand any of it, which made him nervous for some reason.

“Not really much to look at, is he?” the new alteon remarked, now switching to English. “I know all humans are pretty pathetic, but I was expecting someone a bit tougher looking.”

Gavin scowled. This guy had intentionally alternated to speaking in a language Gavin could understand so that he would be able to hear the insult. Why was he being purposefully antagonistic? Yeah sure, Gavin was a criminal, but even Rael hadn’t been that big of a dick at first.

“Ashryn, I suppose you’re stationed here? Rael inquired. Gavin could tell he was trying to change the subject, to shift this “Ashryn” guy’s attention elsewhere.

“Why can’t he just tell this asshole to screw off?” Gavin thought to himself crankily. He tried to catch Rael’s eye but was unsuccessful. It was like he was very intentionally keeping his eyes up and forward.

“Hmm? Oh yes, that’s right,” Ashryn responded absentmindedly. He was apparently too preoccupied with staring at Gavin to give Rael his full attention.

What was it with these alteons and staring unabashedly? Just because Gavin was a comparatively tiny person from an alternate dimension didn’t mean they had the right to gawk at him like he was some sort of zoo animal. It was like all their manners flew out the window when it came to humans.

Ashryn stepped closer, a crafty smile still on his lips. “This is your first time dealing with a human up close, isn’t it?” he said to Rael while still not looking away from Gavin. “You don’t really realize how entirely inferior they are until you get close to them,” he continued. “Sure they look tiny and pathetic from afar, but up close you can really get a sense for how insignificant they are.”

Gavin really didn’t have a short temper, it was one of his few good traits actually. For the most part, he’d learned to just brush off insults and move on. He had given up on being well liked the moment he decided to become a thief. However, even Gavin’s temper had its limits, and he had just about reached his.

Springing to his feet, Gavin glared up at the massive elf-eared bastard standing in front of him. “What’s your problem?” he demanded, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

If this guy really wanted to insult Gavin and the rest of humanity so badly, why couldn’t he do it in his own native language? Oh yeah, because he was a complete ass. Ashryn didn’t just want to disparage humans, he wanted Gavin to know about it. For whatever reason, this alteon had decided he wanted to start a fight.

Next to Gavin, Rael had tensed up. The human hardly even noticed, he was too busy shooting daggers at Ashryn. Besides, Gavin was none too pleased with Rael at the moment anyways. He was basically just letting his comrade, or whatever they were to each other, run his mouth freely.

The grin on Ashryn’s face grew only wider at Gavin’s outburst. He took a step closer. “Rael, I think I’ve angered your little human,” he commented with a chuckle.

Gavin didn’t wait to see how Rael would’ve responded. Forget getting him to defend him. Who cared if Gavin was miniscule compared to Ashryn? He was going to stand up for himself. Someone needed to teach these giants some manners. Gavin was already in trouble, so it might as well be him.

“Okay you big, pointy-eared asshole,” he started with a bang. “Just because you’re bigger than humans doesn’t make you better than us--in fact with an attitude like yours, I’d argue you’re substantially worse than most humans I know...and I know some pretty shitty humans.” The words were flying out of his mouth almost of their own accord. It was like he’d opened a floodgate that he couldn’t close. “You’re clearly just a pompous dick who--”

“Enough!” The words echoed around him like thunder. At the same time there was a rush of air, a flash of movement, and then a thud that vibrated up through Gavin’s feet.

It took a moment for him to register the giant hand next to him, and a few more moments for him to realize it had just slammed down beside him. Gavin looked up, following the arm connected to the hand, expecting to see it attached to Ashryn. Instead, he was met with the rage filled face of Rael.

And then all of a sudden he was back in that clearing, pinned under a hand bigger than his entire body. The fear, the intimidation, the betrayal--it was all the same, probably even worse now actually. The worst part was that he didn’t understand, he didn’t understand why Rael was staring down at him with nothing but fury in his teal colored eyes.

Despite their turbulent relationship, Gavin had...well he had come to trust Rael. For god’s sake, he’d nearly considered the alteon to be something akin to a friend. So why...why had this happened? How had Gavin screwed this up?

“You will show some respect,” Rael growled down at him, and it was like Gavin was looking at a completely different person to the one he’d been talking to only a few minutes ago.

Why had he been put in this situation? Why did the guard outside the office have to be Ashryn? Why did Gavin have to snap like that? These questions swirled around inside Rael’s head as he looked down at the fearful human standing mere inches away from where he’d slammed his palm down on the bench.

“You had to do it,” a dark part of Rael’s mind told him. “If you hadn’t, Ashryn would never respect you, and he’d defame you to the entire Imperial Guard.” It was true--if Rael had failed to scold the human that was in his charge after he’d blatantly insulted an alteon soldier, he would be viewed as a failure among anyone who was anyone. Still, he hadn’t enjoyed doing it.

It wasn’t like last time, when Rael had trapped Gavin under his hand. There was no sense of satisfaction or pleasure derived from the action. All he could feel was a mess of anger and guilt.

He was furious that Ashryn had essentially manufactured the situation, but he was also angry with Gavin for quite literally forcing his hand. If the human had just kept his mouth shut, if he’d ignored Ashryn’s goading, then none of this would have happened. Why couldn’t Gavin have just made things easier?

“Well,” Ashryn spoke up with an appreciative tut. “I must say, you certainly know how to put a human in their place.”

Rael shifted his gaze towards the alteon. He couldn’t stand looking at Gavin anymore, seeing the fear and betrayal in those hazel eyes only deepened the heavy pit that was forming in his stomach.

“And you apparently know how to rile them up,” Rael muttered as he moved his hand away from Gavin and placed it back on his own lap.

Ashryn gave an amused chuckle. “Maybe so,” he answered with a satisfied grin on his face.

Despite having a primarily amicable relationship with one another, Rael had never much liked Ashryn. While they were about the same age and had gone through most of their training at the same time, Ashryn was regarded more highly within the Imperial Guard. Rael attributed this largely due to the fact that Ashryn’s family has had a long history of involvement with the Guard. Perhaps that also explained why the man was so pompous and smug all the time.

It was then that the door to the Emperor’s office opened for a second time. This time, it was a group of some of the top Imperial advisors exiting. They all eyed Gavin as they passed, however none of them said anything, only acknowledging the two soldiers with brief nods. Rael noticed that the last advisor out failed to close the door behind her, leaving him with a view inside the office.

There, sitting at his desk, was the Emperor of the entire realm of Iaela. He wore a calm smile on lips and waved a beckoning hand at Rael. “Bring in our human guest,” he called, his tone authoritative yet somehow still polite.

Ashryn was quick to assume his position beside the office door. He stood up straight, his arms behind his back like a perfect soldier. However, the part that the Emperor wouldn’t be able to see was his face--with that, Ashryn smirked over at Gavin. “Why does he look like he knows something that we don’t?” Unfortunately, there was no time for Rael to ruminate on his uncertainties. The Emperor was the very last person to be kept waiting.

Rael turned to Gavin. The human had gone pale and his body was so tense that it looked like the guy might bolt at any second. Rael was sure that the last thing Gavin wanted was to be picked up after what had just happened. However, there was no choice. There wasn’t even time for Rael to allow the human to walk onto his palm of his own accord.

As gently as possible, Rael carefully scooped the human up into his hands. Thankfully, Gavin didn’t put up any kind of fight; he gave a quiet gasp, but otherwise made no audible complaints. Once Rael was sure he wouldn’t drop the little man, he began to make his way into the Emperor’s office.

Immediately upon getting past the doorway, Rael felt a whoosh of air and heard a soft thud, indicating that the door had been shut behind them. This left him and Gavin entirely alone with the most powerful person in the realm.

This wouldn’t be Rael’s first time speaking with the Emperor, however it was certainly his first time alone, without any advisors, scribes, or guards around. Rael swallowed hard. He couldn’t mess this up--he had to prove himself to be a proper soldier worthy of being accepted into the ranks of the Imperial Guard. He wasn’t a peasant anymore, he was a proud, noble soldier.

“Rael, correct?” the Emperor inquired, the name sounded so foreign coming from his lips.

Rael nodded silently as he dipped into a low bow, which proved somewhat difficult while keeping his hands horizontal and steady for Gavin.

“Very well, Rael, could you place that human on my desk please?”

(Also, as a side note, I fixed up some continuity errors in chapters 6 and 9 if you feel like skimming through and seeing the minor adjustments)

#sometimes my own plot points just fly right out of my mind ig #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael #g/t fearplay

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 4 years

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Contending the Flame VI

Author’s Note: Happy Holiday season everyone! Hopefully you are having a better time than I am currently with work and new lockdown restrictions where I live. I already have the next two chapters written, so I plan to upload each within a week of one another. Thanks as always for being awesome!

Vikings Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 2234

Warnings: Servant dynamic, language.

The coming weeks had slowed as the provisions for the Heathen army continued to dwindle. As the weather closed in around them, so too did the Saxons. Their plight to negotiate for land had gone unheeded by Ivar. Well, it was Ubbe's plan but Hvitserk had gone along with it. Lately, it seemed he was being pulled back and forth between his brothers, his only use being the mediator. He wasn't sure which brother to follow, preferring it better when they all worked in tandem. Right now it was best for him to stay out of their way.

Ivar had returned to how he had been before, after the misfortune with Margrethe. He was terse with the thralls, and he shunned any prolonged company with women. There were moments, either when he was sitting at a table or alone in a corner, a strange look would pass over his face. Hvitserk was sure he was the only one to notice, but he didn't let on about it.

If Ivar wondered about the nun, he never said as such, and Audhild had reported that he hadn't come around inquiring about you. On the surface, it seemed whatever had started between you was over, but Hvitserk didn't think so. You were two boats passing in the night, waiting for the other's signal.

Hvitserk had taken it upon himself to keep watch of the nun. He had told Ubbe from the start not to get involved, but now he had thrown himself in headfirst. You no longer seemed to be a danger to yourself, and Audhild had said that you thrived as a healer, though you spoke very few words. It got Hvitserk curious, and he set out to find you.

Until the battle against the Saxons would start, the healers were not so occupied. Audhild had told him where you could be found. It was a courtyard that was led in by an archway, with bushes of purple flowers. At its heart was a statue of a man who Hvitserk wondered about. Christians had these carved monuments of people everywhere. What great deeds had they accomplished that granted them the honor of being captured in stone?

He quit his thoughts as he spotted the nun hunched over by a bed of flowers. It struck him then that he didn't know your name, and the few words he picked up in English would not get him far

"Mary...erm Sister," He called, trying to recall what you had said when you were first claimed by Ivar.

You stood with abruptness from being startled, your guard up as you recognized him. Your sheared hair was now covered in a sage green scarf, twisted and wrapped not unlike the Sami people. Hvitserk could see a black and blue bruise around your left eye, about the size of a fist. "Sister Mary Catharine, and you don't have to call me that."

He was glad you had answered in his language. Though some of your pronunciation was wrong, they would get by well enough on the gist of things. "Why not?"

"I don't think I am a nun anymore, not in the eyes of God. Just Catharine will do."

As Hvitserk took a step forward, you shifted back. The mistrust hung heavy between you both, and he realized he'd have to go slow in order to gain your favor. He stood firm where he was. "What happened there?"

You gingerly touched the mark on your face he had indicated to, a sad smile forming. "I'm not the discarded whore of the crippled bastard, even if some of your men think so. When one took out his cock and tried to relieve himself on me, I fought back."

Hvitserk was disappointed to hear what had happened, though such behavior was unsurprising. His heart sunk for his brother as well. Some of the men still only thought of Ivar as the lesser son of Ragnar, even after he had proven to be a sharp mind with a fierce heart.

"Do you know who he was?"

The nun shook her head. "No, and I have not seen him again. At least I still have the Lord's mercy."

You made a crossing gesture over your heart that Hvitserk did not understand. He spotted the cloth bandage on your wrist as well. "How's that healing?"

"It's fine," You said as you folded your arms behind your back. "Why does it matter? He didn't send you here, did he?"

The white look of terror on your face was hard to miss. You looked like a hare caught up in a trap. Hvitserk tried to think about the best way to ask his questions in order to get the answers he needed. "My little brother doesn't command me. I just wanted to know why you did it."

"I wanted to spare myself from a worse fate," You said, turning your back to him while you felt at the petals of the flowers. "I didn't want to suffer like the priest."

Hvitserk recalled what an imposing figure Ivar had cut hovering above the Christian man as he poured molten gold down his gullet. "Ivar told you about that?"

"No." You gazed over your shoulder a moment before your eyes flickered down. "I knew he had done something horrible, but it was another slave who told me. She said I should be careful, and that your brother hates all Christians."

Hvitserk took a step towards you without thinking and grabbed you by the shoulders. "What slave?"

"I don't know," You gasped while breaking out of his hold. "She came to clean the room one day. It was the first time I had spoken to anyone else besides Ivar."

"Why would she need to tend to his room when he had you?"

You frowned, seeming to forget your previous grievances for his closeness as you leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

Hvitserk knew from an early age that he was not exceptional. Ubbe is a strong swordsman and scout, Sigurd was musically inclined, and Ivar is a cunning strategist. At best he could survive raids and follow a battle plan, achievements that any of his brothers could do better. But none of them had his gut instincts, and his stomach was wrought with the feeling that a trickster had snuck their way into the camp.

"It's nothing," He said eventually, though not with enough conviction for the nun's liking.

"I don't believe you."

The earnest look on your face would have annoyed him more if not for how undisguised your naivete was. Maybe that was what drew Ivar in.

Hvitserk prepared to say more but was interrupted by a voice calling over his shoulder.

"Brother," Ivar called, followed by the indistinguishable sound of metal steps plodding the ground.

Hvitserk turned, bracing for whatever force Ivar would throw at him. If he was surprised to see the nun, he didn't let on, instead, his face sat stoically as he maneuvered forward with assurance. He was too young to look so miserable.

Ubbe was with him, peering at the girl who had taken refuge from prying eyes behind Hvitserk's back. His was a face easier to read, both tense and curious at the discovery. Hvitserk knew he would be answering questions later.

"She won't sleep with you brother," Ivar inserted with a cold chuckle. "She's chaste."

Hvitserk scowled at Ivar's attempt to maim with petty insults. "That's not what this is. Audhild sent Catherine to tend to an old injury I sustained from my raid with Bjorn," He lied.

"Catherine," Ubbe said. "Is that her name?"

"No, her name is Ólaug," Ivar interrupted before Hvitserk could speak. "Isn't it, Bride of Christ?"

You refused to rise to his idle taunts. You were as still as the Saxon statue, and your eyes never left Hvitserk's back.

"I don't know if it's really her name, but it's as she told me. Now what do you want, Ivar?"

"We are leading this army together, yes?" Though it didn't sound as if he meant that. "The Saxons prepare to attack at dawn, and we need you before going over our plan of countermeasures."

"Right," Hvitserk mumbled, turning back to the nun while nearly knocking you back because of how close you stood beside him. "Audhild will be expecting your return. You should go."

Your eyes grew wide with gratitude and you gave a curt nod. You made certain to keep an arm's breadth away from Ivar as you passed, taking the route around Ubbe instead. Ivar watched you leave over his shoulder, his face filling with scorn as his attention snapped back to Hvitserk.

"What happened to her face?"

"She's a thrall, Ivar. When they disobey, they are punished." His blunt remark had the desired response, as he noticed Ivar's jaw stiffen and grind back and forth. "Forget that for a moment, I think we have a worse problem. There's a spy in our camp working against you little brother."

"What are you talking about?" Ivar sneered, adjusting his stance as his crutch struck the ground.

"I know why she tried to end her life. Another slave told her about what you did to that priest. She didn't let on about it, but I think it was implied to her that she would suffer the same fate, or worse by your hand."

"But I would not have done anything to her," Ivar tried to defend, his face falling into guilt.

"It's not like she would know that, though," said Ubbe. "She's a nun, and sees us as little more than rapists and murderers."

"I was kind to her," Ivar huffed, struggling away from them towards the same flower bush the nun had been eyeing. He pulled on a branch, bringing the blooms close enough to smell.

Hvitserk shared a discreet look with Ubbe, communicating the shared thought of Ivar's favor for his former thrall. "Whoever spoke to her probably knew that, and was trying to get her away from you."

"They probably wanted to catch you alone," Ubbe added. "Your life could be in danger."

Ivar scoffed, releasing the branch back with a snap. He pivoted towards them, his movements were aggressive. "I don't have time to worry about one spy. The Gods would never let me die without honor, alone and asleep without renown. Tomorrow we fight the Saxons, and face victory."

Turning back towards the archway of the garden, he began down the same path the nun had departed prior. His stance was rigid, and his grip tight on the crutches. Hvitserk still held his breath on habit, afraid to watch Ivar stumble knowing that he couldn't offer to help him back up.

"Where are you going, Ivar?" Ubbe called.

"To address the army, and I expect you both to join me," He said, never stopping on his way out to even look at them.

When they were alone, Hvitserk could feel Ubbe eyeing him before even turning his way. "What?"

Ubbe chuckled, "You told me not to get involved, yet here you are jumping in headfirst."

"I'm worried. Ivar has been distracted since giving her away to Audhild, and we need him thinking straight if we're going to beat the Saxons together."

"We should have known Ivar would fall in love with the first woman to show him kindness," said Ubbe, looking pensive at the statue that had transfixed Hvitserk earlier.

"You think he loves her?" Hvitserk exclaimed in surprise.

"Well, he's at least fond of her, but with Ivar, it's difficult to tell." Ubbe ran a hand over his face as if to wipe away the stress he was feeling. “What really happened to her face?”

“One of our men was not kind to her. Ivar still does not hold the favor of every warrior in the army, and she is at risk as a result of that. I’ll tell Audhild to keep a closer eye from here on out.”

Ubbe nodded in agreement. “We’ll continue to try when we can as well, but I don’t know what will happen once we finish here. I don’t think Ivar has plans on remaining in York much longer.”

“I know,” Hvitserk said, feeling resentment towards Ivar for all of the misery he was constantly dragging them into. Even if they were to return to Kattegat next, Hvitserk knew it would be to war with Lagertha and Bjorn. He loved Ivar and would follow him to the four corners of the world, but not at the cost of their family and their father’s legacy.

It felt like they were using you as a buffer for their little brother’s madness, but in the days that Ivar had kept you, he had been more agreeable and even happy. Hvitserk held respect for you even if he hated your Christian God, but if it was your freedom measured against the success of their army, then he would have no trouble giving you back to Ivar in chains. Peace in the time of the sons of Ragnar was more important than one nun.

"I hope you know what you're doing, getting involved, brother," said Ubbe, disrupting his train of thought.

Hvitserk approached his older brother and gave him a clap on the shoulder. "Of course I don't, that's why I have you. Now come, let's go speak to our army before Ivar gets any more ideas about leading without us."

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#vikings #ivar x reader #ivar x you #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar imagine #history vikings #vikings imagine

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rigelmejo · 4 years

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march - just some thoughts

i have read more this month than any other month? and its not slowing down its only 3/12 so i have 2/3 of a month to go and i’ve read 26 chapters. even if these chapters are ‘short’ at 10 pages, if i wanna count by ‘20 page’ chunks i’ve still read 13 chunks so far. and i’ve still got more time in the month left. most other months i’ve managed to read ‘a lot’ i read 10-20 chapters. so i’m doing really good.

grammar is a weird thing? in reading i feel like its quite easy now to understand. when listening or watching - same. and yet if asked ‘why do i say/type X’ or ‘why is it written/spoken like X’ i have absolutely no explanation in my head. i could not explain the grammar if prompted. this puts me in a weird place and i feel like i SHOULD go over a grammar guide again just so i can WORD what i’m intuitively understanding.

this is a bit bizarre to me because within the first 6 months of study i DID read through an entire grammar guide just to get an idea of what i was about to look at, and it hardly made sense once actually reading/watching/listening. i understood the guide fine, but actually Seeing chinese i was still confused. i would reference AllSetLearning’s Chinese Wiki on some basic points, then after 6 months i just stopped. now its been what 1.5 years and - reading is so easy, listening is so easy, grammar wise. none of the grammar confuses me. but i no longer ‘explicitly’ have any idea what the fuck the grammar is. i used to. i studied it explicitly before trying to read/listen. and yet now that i can read/listen, i have no idea how to explain the grammar. i can listen to a podcast and i don’t think about what the grammar is i just get it. i read and just know what i’m looking at. its like english - i cannot fucking explain it. Which makes speaking/writing a bit hard. Because when i try to check if i’m right i have no fucking clue HOW anymore - i just say/write what comes to mind and HOPE it makes sense. i have no way to conciously check for errors except ‘does this feel right’? And that’s not good enough for me lol. So I definitely do need to eventually read a grammar guide for explicit explanations again.

Technically I think “English and Chinese Grammar Side By Side” grammar book would be an excellent one to use. Because i read the first 50 pages of it and it compared it to english (so it explained english too), and it was very easy to understand and started basic then got more involved.

I’m probably gonna use my very old Chinese Grammar Self Taught by Thimm book instead. Just because I really like that book. Then I guess use another after (probably Basic Chinese Sentence Patterns since its modern and perfect for ‘catch your own mistakes’ study and much shorter than Eng+Chinese Grammar side by side).

Anyway I’m in a very weird place right now lol. I know i’m understanding grammar that is stuff I never even studied initially in the grammar guide, but unable to explain what it is, and a lot of stuff i did explicitly study in a grammar guide i completely forgot the explanation for. My reading and listening is GREAT, because all my effort only has to go into learning new words lately! its relaxing! Its the only part i need to do! But my writing/speaking i am very concerned about because being able to check myself for mistakes is something i’d like the ability to do.

how grammar is presented really makes a difference in how well i get it. there is some serious benefit to ‘show simple first then build up what you know’ that text books tend to prefer. versus like grammar reference books that may start with some in depth stuff.

i tried to read a japanese grammar guide the other day and 1 it was great but 2 it covered some ADVANCED stuff i never learned in genki 1+2, and so it was Explicit grammar description of stuff i had literally years ago been immersing in japanese and Still not conciously known about. So i felt. Overwhelmed lol. I felt so confused. I feel like I might switch to Tae Kim’s grammar guide primarily just because its structured with basics covered first. and i feel like until the basics are again glued into my brain, seeing even more advanced stuff just confused me so much i had no idea how to remember it. which is funny because? my usual strategy with grammar guides is to just read it and let what sticks stick and what is confusing be moved on from, in the hope i will later see it again and understand it better. so like based on what i usually do i should’ve just been able to read through it (and i’m gonna try anyway lol). but truly japanese grammar just... my mind does not like wrapping around it and remembering it. (chinese grammar is so much easier for me... so much easier....;-; )

i have been tempted to just Restart Nukemarine’s LLJ (Lets Learn Japanese) memrise decks, because I KNOW they worked for me last time really really well. And they include Tae Kim grammar lessons. And I know if i did it then maybe i’d get back to where i was years ago pretty fast.

I tried Earthlingo app. Its a cool idea, I don’t think its worth it though unless you planned to get Rosetta Stone (since Earthlingo is FREE). Earthlingo features 1000 words per language, taught to you by exploring video game worlds as an alien. Its a cool concept, but since all words seem to be nouns then you aren’t even learning the most common verbs/adjectives. And 1000 words is not a lot. And you could learn 1000 quite fast if using srs flashcards like Memrise or Anki (think weeks if you push yourself, and a month or two months if going at a regular pace). Earthlingo you have to slowly explore the worlds so that eats time, you have to choose to test yourself (so you don’t review nearly as often as flashcard apps), and one test includes walking around the world clicking the object which you’re given the word for (takes time to find the right object). All this means a word that might take maybe 15 minutes to study over a few weeks, might instead take much longer to study and learn. I don’t use duolingo because it generally covers so few words (usually 2000-4000 i think which is good for a beginner resource but you have to do the WHOLE course to get to all those words and i take so long on duolingo that could take YEARS for me versus a month on a flashcard app or clozemaster). Duolingo I also don’t use because it very slowly paces learning material (it takes me months/years to get through 1000 words on duolingo - just personally i go so slow on it, i think faster people would find a use for it). Likewise Lingodeer takes me AGES to get through (and i think covers 2000 words nowadays? I’m shocked Duolingo has more words for the japanese course tbh). However, Lingodeer is by far the best ‘app’ for Japanese grammar lessons in app practice form. Even if basically all the apps feel pretty slow to me in how fast they give you new info. Earthlingo is cool that its free, and for learners 12 and under i think it would be super useful as a way to engage them and keep them studying (since what child likes flashcards? whereas as a child i would’ve loved this). But as an adult Earthlingo is sooooo slow on how fast you can learn words, and it does not even offer very many words (1000 is a nice bare minimum but without verbs/adjectives it can only be a supplementary learning tool for beginners at best).

Link about Lingodeer having 2000 words in a course. (Since its SO hard to lookup how much vocabulary lingodeer includes :c )

Nukemarine’s LLJ memrise decks (which I’m considering going through again but ToT agh flashcardssssss.... they sure do work though agh)

http://www.chinese-grammar.com/beginner/ - this is the site I read a chinese grammar guide on at like Month 3. I am rereading it now maybe it will help me remember wtf grammar explicitly is. ToT (A tip, read Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced sections). Last time I visited the site you just clicked a section, then saw each fully explained grammar point and clicked ‘next’ it was nice. Now its laid out a little less ideal for me, but its still got all the same nice info! (Also honestly if you are a beginner I really DO like this grammar guide... it introduces basic info first, gradually gets more complex, and i could follow its logic knowing like 200 hanzi and 100 words ToT. its very easy to understand even if it takes a while to apply that info).

im probably gonna read hanshe more today. i’m at the point where either i know enough vocab, or the writers style has just ‘clicked’ idk. but now i just am not getting bogged down by unknown words and am just. speeding through enjoying the plot. Also rip me this novel has 155 chapters and im only on chapter 30.

watching japanese lets plays is really fun! i feel like im 3 years old cause i just see nouns i can learn pretty easy in context cause i know the game well, and hear some vaguely familiar verbs, but its fun! also it helps i know kingdom hearts 2 like by heart so. a lot of it makes me instantly cheerful and nostalgic. roxas’s voice is so cute in the japanese version.

oh i almost forgot: I found a book recently for chinese that for it’s like 10 page grammar guide summary at the beginning ALONE i think is more than worth the 4 dollars it costs to get. It has a ton of compound words and its a reference book in mandarin and cantonese (it has pronunciation for both, all characters are in traditional). I got it initally because it as a bunch of compound words and I’d like to get better at knowing a lot of common ones. But the intro to the book has a page explaining sentence structures in chinese, then examples. Its so straightforward and to the point. I love it. The book is “Understanding Chinese: A Guide to the Usage of Chinese Characters” by Rita Mei-Wah Choy. (There is also a companion book for individual hanzi, which is nice but this book specifically I’m finding more useful).

what i really like about Listening-Reading method, and reading, as study activities: no matter how I do them it is only improvement. I have a tendency to ‘redo’ material i don’t feel i fully mastered, or refuse to move on. So when i have duolingo, flashcards (sometimes i can move on if i ignore reviews/make myself do new stuff), books, grammar guides, self guided classes - i have a tendency to redo the material. over and over. and not progress and challenge myself. whereas with reading - every time i look up a word its useful because its new or something i clearly Need to review (not something i’ve actually learned and can move past reviewing). so whether i reread material or read new stuff, as long as i run into things i find somewhat challenging (feel the desire to word look up), i know i am running into new material i can learn. Same with listening-reading method: whether i finish a book or just skip to random books, any new chapter i do will give me new words to learn/remember (until i’ve reached a point of perfect listening comprehension which is a WAYS away). There’s no way for me to mess it up. I can give up a book im bored with, i don’t have to stick to one resource to the end.

someone tell me why professionally made chinese audio books almost NEVER line up to the chapters???? whyyyyy ;-;

Even More Notes lol:

So I read so much in Pleco, which auto pronounces, I have COMPLETELY forgot. 得地 - for these two, when they’re attached after a description like 淡淡慢慢高兴 etc, when are they pronounced di versus de???? i’m pretty sure 得 is pronounced de when its an adjective like ‘-ly’. but for 地, i don’t remember if when part of a describer if its pronounced di or de????

#rant #march progress #march #everyone using ore in kh2 is hilarious a lil to me tho #u are all bishies u are all tiny kids WHy u acting so tough lol

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years

Text

Ten Pounds

Pairings: Tom Holland x Deaf/HoH!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Tom learns sign language so he can communicate more easily with you.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I am Hearing. I studied ASL for two years and had quite a few Deaf/ HoH friends but I moved across the country and unfortunately have regressed in my knowledge of the language because I’ve had a hard time getting reacquainted. I had a difficult time writing this because I know that the Deaf/ HoH community has such a large range of ability to hear, speak, write, and/or lip read. I tried really hard to assume as little about the reader as possible but for the sake of this fic, I did not include any verbalization on the reader’s end or details on perception of sound. I also had a difficult time trying to figure out how to describe what was being signed, as I wasn’t sure whether or not to write it in English or gloss because I didn’t want to perpetuate the idea that ASL is just English signed word for word but I wasn’t sure if it would be more confusing written in gloss. ALSO I’m aware that this would most likely be taking place in the UK and I described American Sign Language but that’s simply because I don’t know any British Sign Language. Anyways, please let me know if this was alright or accurate or inaccurate and please inform me on how to write better fics like this! I’m open to criticism and to learning more about this but please don’t be rude about it.

_______________________________________

Tom arrived at Haz’s new apartment way before anyone else had to help set up for his housewarming party. It wasn’t a huge affair, only about fifteen or so of his closer friends, but he still wanted everything to look presentable.

People began to show up around seven-thirty that night and soon it was all snacks and drinks and hanging out with everyone. For the most part, Tom found himself at least acquainted with most of the people there, since he and Haz were practically inseparable so it was a fairly comfortable party.

“You are never allowed to drink that much beer again, Harry, I swear.” Tom spoke, reminiscing about the night before with a bit of a cringe tainted laugh.

Harry looked offended, “I was not that bad!”

“You were dancing on the table and waving your fucking shirt in the air!” Haz continued the story between sips of his beer, “I swear, I let you come over to my new place and you nearly wreck the place.”

Sam chimed in, “Honestly, I’m embarrassed to be your twin sometimes.”

Harry’s hands flew up in defense, “Okay, okay, don’t you blokes go acting like you weren’t all drinking either! I was not the only one who had a little too much!”

The group of men laughed and joked, remembering Harry dancing like a stripper with his shirt off on the table. He did have a point: None of them were exactly sober the night before.

Just as Haz was about to say something, Tom saw him look at the door over his shoulder, “Oh, wait. Someone just got here. Let me say hi real quick.”

Tom let his gaze follow Haz as he walked over to the door, which had opened to reveal you standing there with a bottle of wine, looking like the most beautiful girl at the event, at least to Tom. He watched your face light up with a smile as you waved at Haz. He leaned down to hug you tightly and-

“Wow, Tom, stare a little harder, why don’t you.” Harry laughed.

Tom whipped his attention back to his brothers, “What? I wasn’t staring.” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest with a feigned attempt to look nonchalant.

He was staring.

Sam gestured behind Tom with his cup, “Well, you better stop being weird cause she’s coming over here now.”

“What?” Tom asked, eyes wide as he turned to check but by that time, Haz had already brought you and another blonde girl over to meet the group.

“Tom, Harry, Sam, this is Y/N and Katy. I think you’ve met Katy before, though. Right, Tom?” Haz introduced you and your best friend Katy to the three other men.

Tom nodded, “Yeah, I think we’ve met but hi again anyways.” He laughed as he shook Katy’s hand again just to complete the interaction. He got to you and shook your hand. “Hi, I’m Tom.”

You took his hand with a smile but when he was finished speaking, he watched in momentary confusion that quickly turned to curiosity when you pointed to yourself and then (with a pointed finger moved from your ear to your chin/ moved two fingers from right to left).

“Sign language? Oh shoot, I don’t- I can’t-” Tom stuttered, not really knowing what to say.

You gently waved a single hand in front as if to say, Don’t worry about it. Tom watched as you tapped your thumb against your chest with an open five palm. Then you held up one finger. Wait a second. You dove down to grab your phone and quickly began tapping.

“She says it’s fine, just wait a sec.” Katy translated for Tom, just in case he didn’t understand the very obvious signs like Hearing people often didn’t.

Tom looked at her, “You know sign language too?” He asked in surprise and amazement.

Katy nodded, “I’m an interpreter. Me and Y/N actually met at an event that I was interpreting for and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Oh, so do you interpret for her?” He asked, watching in amazement as her hands moved as she spoke, signing along with what both she and Tom were saying. He glanced over to see you waiting with your phone in hand, watching as she signed.

She shook her head, “No, we’re just friends. I mean I help out in times like right now where there’s a conversation between Hearing people so she’s included but she’s capable of communicating herself.”

You took that as your cue to hand him your phone:

Hi! I’m Y/N but I think Haz already said that. Yes, I am (Deaf/ Hard of Hearing) but if you want to talk we can write :)

Tom read the message quickly and looked up to see you waiting patiently for him with a kind smile.

Hi :) I’m Tom. I’d love to keep chatting. Sorry I can’t sign :(

You took the phone back and giggled: It’s fine. Most people can’t. I can show you your name if you want?

Tom read the message and nodded excitedly, “Yeah that would be cool!” He voiced, cringing when he did. He wasn’t used to communicating like this.

You laughed at his flusteredness. On a bad night, maybe the communication barrier would have annoyed you. Of course it got annoying having to baby step every single person who didn’t sign through this process. But there was something about Tom that you found cute.

Slowly, you walked him through the signs. Your… name… T-O-M.

He followed, trying his hardest not to mess up. He was even doing pretty well with the exception of mixing up his “T” and “M” with “N.” But he persisted, nonetheless, and got it pretty quickly.

The way he looked so proud of himself made you giggle and you twisted both hands in the air, celebratorily. You texted back to him: Good job!

That was probably terrible but thank you, he responded with a laughing emoji.

The rest of that night had been filled with you and Tom talking quite a bit over a few glasses of wine. The conversation became natural quickly, even over text, which was an adjustment for Tom but he felt that you made it easy. You were nice and easy to talk to. Even after the night ended, Tom found himself wanting to see you again.

“So how did you and Y/N meet? I mean, I didn’t think you knew sign language?” Tom asked Haz the next morning, helping him clean up from the night before.

Haz shook his head, “I didn’t. I still don’t know much, honestly. But I was friends with Katy and I met Y/N at one of her parties and, I don’t know, we just sorta became friends. Katy’s been helping me learn sign but we still mostly just text to each other cause my signing is terrible.” He laughed.

“Do you think you could teach me what you know? I want to be able to actually talk to her, y’know? Make it easier for her.” Tom asked, placing the chip bowls from last night in the dishwasher.

Haz stopped sweeping the dining room long enough to make an immature face at Tom, “You like her! I freaking knew it!”

“So what if I do? She was really nice!” Tom wasn’t having any of Haz’s teasing, especially when it was all true anyways. Why deny it?

Haz nodded, smiling at the way his best friend looked just thinking about you, “Yeah, she is pretty nice, isn’t she? Don’t worry, mate. I’ll teach you what I know.”

You and Tom had gone almost a month without seeing each other again. It wasn’t until you and Katy had just happened to run into him and Haz at a bar that your paths crossed.

Tom and Haz sat in a booth in the back of the bar, celebrating a new role Tom had landed with a few drinks. “Hey! Look who’s here!” Haz drew Tom’s attention to the bar where you and Katy had just sat, “Katy!” He yelled just slightly above the noise.

Katy looked over her shoulder around the bar until she saw the person calling her name. Her face lit up and she waved before tapping you on the shoulder. You glanced over your shoulder to see where she was pointing, waving at Tom and Haz when you saw them. The two men waved you over, inviting the two of you to sit with them. Once the bartender slid your drinks across the bar to you, you and your best friend joined them.

Tom’s heart sped up a little when you slid into the booth beside him while Katy sat on the other side beside Haz. Before anyone could really say anything, Tom caught your attention, thinking for just a moment before signing, “Nice to see you again.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You learned sign?” You asked, shocked. Tom looked like a deer in headlights when you signed back and he tapped his fingertips against the palm of his other hand. Again? Slower this time, you signed, “You learned sign? Understand?”

Tom looked adorably proud of himself when he understood, moving his fist up and down, “Yes. A little.”

You began to blush a little and your face sparkled, as if to say no way! “Thank you! That’s so cool!”

Tom loved how expressive you were, how even with a language barrier between you two, he could still understand at least part of what you were saying.

You and Tom found yourselves caught up in each other again for the rest of the night, him trying his hardest to communicate in your language, even if it was still a little messy and imperfect. Nevertheless, you couldn’t believe he’d actually taken the time and effort to learn sign language for you! It was definitely flattering to say the least.

Seeing their best friends so enamored with each other, Haz and Katy watched the two of you. “I haven’t seen her like this with a boy in forever. She’s been talking about him non-stop since your party.” Katy ratted you out, not really even having to whisper since you and Tom were so concerned with your own conversation that neither of you would have noticed they were speaking anyways.

Haz nodded, “Same with him. He’s been practicing almost every day so he could talk to her.”

“I think we just accidentally played matchmaker.” Katy laughed, “Ten pounds says they’ll be dating by the end of the month.”

The blonde man scoffed, “Ten pounds says they’ll be dating by the end of the week.”

#tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #deaf!reader #hoh!reader #deaf/hoh!reader #Tom holland x deaf!reader

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

Text

Amoureux - The Children’s Character Profiles

A/N Six children are a lot to keep track of so I made one-page summaries for each of them so we can familiarize ourselves with each of their personalities and hobbies!

Henry is the eldest of his siblings and who is known to his parents (and to this blog) as our little prince. His five siblings are just as royal as he is but he is the one who really brought together his family and started his parents on the road to the rest of their lives. Born on the 6th of August 1821, Henry is the only American born child but his nationality is definitely 100% British regardless. He was given two strong regal names, Henry and Alexander both appearing through history as English and French rulers. He was born into poverty but was named to be destined for greatness to seventeen-year-old Daniel and Louisa who had more love than money after fleeing Europe for the sake of their romance. Henry introduced them into the responsibility that parenthood was and forced them to grow up far quicker than they had anticipated. Even still, he is their little prince and they always seemed to have him on a bit of a pedestal.

Moving back to England to the Royal Family and growing up in a palace meant that Henry could get away with quite a bit. He was a naughty little boy like his father had been as a child but he never met much reprimanding from his parents, especially once they started to have more children and their attention was focused elsewhere. Young Henry wasn’t much of a jealous child per se but his younger brother was born the same year his Uncle Christian became King so the little prince who was once the focus of everything, seemed to be pushed back a few steps. This only made him act up a bit more, hiding around the palace and running everywhere instead of walking and putting up fits when it really wasn’t necessary. He just liked being the centre of attention.

After the havoc that young Daniel and Louisa caused across the country, they were determined to make up for it through perfectly properly behaved children…starting with Henry. It took a few years for his uncle to have children which meant, if God forbid his uncle died, he would take the throne (Daniel couldn’t because of his criminal record from being banished before he was born…having a ‘criminal’ on the throne wouldn’t look good to the public). Henry was young and he didn’t understand this too well and his fiery personality was perfect proof of it but he smartened up as he grew up, especially as he learned his place as eldest child. He took his ‘job’ as oldest child very seriously and took charge of his five younger siblings in every way from teaching them French to sneaking them into the kitchen for extra pastries.

It’s safe to say Henry was an active little prince and from a young age he took up horseback riding and eventually started playing polo when he was old enough. Henry was the perfect handsome mix of his uncle and his father with their soft brown hair and shining blue eyes (and his uncle’s dimples) and caught the eyes of young ladies from the moment he was school age. He basked in it too because he loved being the centre of attention – especially if the attention was from girls. There was nothing that the aristocrats’ daughters loved more than watching Prince Henry playing polo or accompanying him on rides around the garden.

Henry never had to become King but he was certainly up to the challenge if the situation arose. He was the pride of his parents and the eye-candy of his country and the key to his family’s entire stability, honestly. Our little prince.

Philip was the first British born child of Daniel and Louisa. He was conceived nearly as soon as the young parents moved back to England and was born into regality from his very first breath. He was born on the 19th of March 1823 at Highgrove where his family resided. He was named after both his British and French regal heritage, his middle name in particular stemming from his mother’s name and the most common name of prior French Kings. He had deep brown hair like his older brother but was the only on of two of the Seavey children to have their mother’s green eyes.

In fact, he was a lot like Louisa in many ways and it was safe to say he was a bit of Mama’s boy from the start. French came easiest to Philip and he often chose to speak it as much as he could – even though he kept having to be reminded by father, siblings, and staff to speak English please. But he could always speak French with Louisa at teatime. Philip was the most perfect little gentleman both with his manners, his dress, and the way he always cared for his mother and his younger siblings the best he could. If Daniel wasn’t around, it would be Philip at Louisa’s side, holding her hand as a boy and offering his arm as a young man. He had a soft spot in his mother’s heart that was for sure.

He was much gentler compared to his hyperactive older brother; but the boys, being quite close in age, got along well regardless. Henry was always one to help coax Philip out of his comfort zone and usually was the one who ended up getting Philip in trouble. The younger brother was more of the reasonable child and was best known to question Henry’s antics. Philip much preferred quiet hobbies like painting or piano – although painting was his favourite. He could paint portraits and landscapes alike and often helped himself to Highgrove’s grounds to get lost in the trees for an entire afternoon with his easel and canvas.

Daniel tried to get his second son into music since his first could hardly sit still at the bench long enough to set his fingers on the keys. Philip humoured his father enough to learn the basics of piano but as he grew up, he kept rushing off to paint or to sit quietly with Louisa in the drawing room. He much preferred the gentle romantic aesthetic of the world and he found his comfort in the green of the grass and the colours of the flowers and even scribbled little poems in the pages of his lesson books – only in French though so none of the staff could ever read them and laugh. He was a shy tender little boy and his mother saw the world in his green eyes and kind soul.

He was gentle but fair in his status as second-eldest and made sure to be the sensible one when his older brother might not have thought something through. Philip was there to ground his family and his siblings and to be the mediator if things got rough. His tame nature was enticing to many and his natural calm aesthetic and the way he saw the world was of nothing but the sweetest of souls.

Margret was the first of three daughters and the third of six children. She was born closest in age to Philip, being born at Highgrove House on the 25th of May 1824. She was the perfect mix of her parents after an eldest boy who took after the English side of the family and a second-eldest boy who took after the French side of the family. With her mother’s light strawberry blonde hair and her father’s bright blue eyes, Margo was the most perfect little princess. At least in her parents’ eyes. She was named after her father’s maternal grandmother and her mother’s maternal grandmother, respectively, making for the perfect combination of British and French.

She was a perfect mix of her parents by looks and a perfect mix of her brothers by personality. She was active like Henry and was just as sneaky as he was – but was better at getting away with it – and yet she was gentle and compassionate like Philip and admired the grace in the world. She tended to turn to French when she was emotional, ever since she was a little girl even having a nightmare in the middle of the night she would crawl into her parents’ room and whimper to her father about her “cauchemar”. Daniel could only really offer her comfort in English but his attempt was nice enough and she always fell right back to sleep in his presence.

Margret’s active side came out from a young age, always getting up to dance around the room when Daniel would be playing piano and it wasn’t long before she got her own ballet instructor. As a dancer, she knew a little bit about music too so she had just enough piano lessons to get by but her focus was on ballet. It wasn’t odd to find her practicing her grande jete’s down the hallways at Highgrove, nearly knocking over candelabras and unaware servants in the process.

Margo was graceful as a ballerina and she could use that to her advantage in her adventures with her siblings, especially when it came to sneaking into the kitchen for extra pastries – a Seavey original antic. As a young tot she was used to pouting her way out of trouble – those blonde curls and big blue eyes always melting any adult’s heart – but once she was older, she was able to cross the entire palace without making a single sound (made for sneaking out a bit easier as a teenager). She seemed to be so stealthy she could walk up behind any member of her family and startle them with a sweet “qu'est-ce que tu fais?” (what are you doing) over their shoulder. Daniel swore he was going to die of a heart attack by the hands of his eldest daughter because of this.

In terms of studies, Margret preferred the languages to the arithmetic or sciences; spending her time practicing French and Latin and keeping her nose in a book as she spun a row of ballet chaînés down the hallways. There honestly wasn’t a time Margret wasn’t dancing. She danced more than she walked truly. Music came easily to her father and dancing came easily to her; both of them constantly hearing music in their heads in their own ways.

Princess Margret was the idealized concept of graceful princess in and out of the palace and made her own appearances at the Royal Ballet as she got older. But she knew her place in her family well and was a gentle and persistent eldest sister.

Fredrick was the youngest surviving son of Daniel and Louisa. He was born in Highgrove on the 27th of February 1826 in the middle of a winter storm. His middle name was a strong English name often passed down from British royalty and his first name was the English form of the Germanic name meaning ‘peaceful ruler’. He was similar to his elder sister with his appearance with their mother’s strawberry blonde hair and their father’s blue eyes and from the moment he was born, his sister took quite the liking to him. The not-even-two-year-old Margret was captivated by her new baby brother and constantly asked to play with him as soon as she possibly could.

Most likely because of this, Fredrick grew up close with his elder sister and tended to copy more of her activities than his elder brothers. Daniel was a little worried he was going to have a second son that preferred tea over solid hobbies but Fredrick’s interests didn’t stop at the garden table. Up to this point, much to Daniel’s glee, Fredrick was his only diligent music student but he took more to the cello than piano which was quite unique. As a young boy, Fredrick was very close to his father because of his interest in the cello and they had lessons together almost every day.

Their slight hostility only began when Fredrick started his studies. Arithmetic didn’t come easily to him and reading and languages were boring and it took him a long time to finally learn how to read in either English or French. He never learned to read Latin. Daniel, once a young boy who detested his own lessons, grew up to understand the importance of an education in his children and Fredrick’s constant dismission of his studies drove Daniel crazy. He saw too much of himself in his youngest son in that case. They argued quite a bit about Fredrick’s studies and Daniel couldn’t understand why he just couldn’t learn the bloody lessons. It was often that Daniel took away his son’s cello to force him to get his work done. Fredrick learned how to swear in French just to curse off his father when he didn’t know what he was saying. Fredrick was a graceful child like his elder sister – and the meaning behind his name – but he could really swear like a sailor when it got down to it.

He never really cared for horseback riding too much but he found his outlet in archery. He was oddly good at it too and Daniel used that to his advantage to help Fredrick with his studies. He would write words on pieces of paper and stick them to the target and every time Fredrick hit one, he would have to read the word to teach himself to read. Any incentive that worked was good enough – especially after his tutor was deemed unfit after he was caught punishing the young prince with a ruler on his palm. Ever seen Louisa yell? You probably haven’t until that day. Fredrick stayed as the least studious of his siblings through most of his youth, much preferring to spend his time in the music conservatory or with a bow and arrow in hand.

Being the youngest boy, Fredrick had to sort of keep on his toes to keep up with his older siblings but he also had more of a gentle nature to support his younger sisters as well. For a middle child, he was a good mix of everything before him and, at the same time, almost fiercely independent.

Adelaide – sweet little Delia – was born on the 3rd of September 1828 right around teatime. It was a warm and sunny afternoon and she was delivered at her family home of Highgrove like her three elder siblings. Her name is Germanic for ‘nobility’ which was quite fitting for her family’s societal standing but her middle name is both a perfect mix of her French and British backgrounds. She was the prettiest of the Royal babies – at least that’s what the staff whispered, and what Margret decreed at her first look at her baby sister – and donned her father’s brown hair and her mother’s green eyes.

From a young age, Adelaide was charming and clever yet sensitive and she saw the world in more of an analytical sense. She asked “why” to everything (both in English and French) and lessons came easily to her from languages to sciences and arithmetic. She knew her multiplication tables at an impressive age and her constant shining colours often made her elder brother Fredrick envious. The likes of his younger sister was something that Fredrick hated to be compared to. Delia was Daniel’s little shining star because of her intelligence and her talent for music and her caring personality. For a girl in the 19th century, Adelaide was taking the world by storm and often questioned her tutors and her family about the ways of the world in terms of politics, sciences, and mathematics. She was a girl ahead of her time.

Adelaide could have been seen as ‘one of the boys’ but there was nothing she loved more than the femininity of life. Teatime with her family or going dress shopping or, especially, where she found her calling in singing. Adelaide had a set of lungs on her and that was apparent ever since she was a baby and could cry loud enough to wake up the servants in the basement. When she was a child, she could scream at the top of her lungs if one of her older siblings tried to play a trick on her – and she always got the pity. This only led her to discovering her gift of singing as a pre-teen, especially when she accompanied her family to the opera and the show brought her to tears. From then on, you could hear her practicing her scales all through the palace – and breaking a few glasses if she really tried. She even sang a few songs for her family and guests when she was older as the entertainer of the house.

Sure, she was arguably the prettiest of the children, but Adelaide was more focused on her studies and her singing than getting married and she was often blind to the callers that would come by the palace for her. Even during balls, she would bore her dance partners with talk of mathematics or sciences until they would up and leave her. Daniel was approached plenty of times by fathers of aristocratic young men who were appalled by Adelaide’s intelligence and scolded him for “not raising a nice young lady”. It never phased him, Daniel (and Louisa) were incredibly proud of their young scholar, especially within the fact that she was a woman, and if no boys wanted to dance with her, Daniel would always gladly take their place.

Henry was her protector since she was so blind to her callers that someone had to ward off the boys. Adelaide was a well-rounded princess and the envy of her siblings but – although she might have used her intelligence to pick on them as a child – she always treated them fairly and with nothing but love.

Victoria was Daniel and Louisa’s rainbow baby (in modern day terms). The Duke and Duchess expected not to have any more children after their son, Alfred, was stillborn in 1829. His death caused much grief in the young parents so they weren’t willing to risk that ever again. But Louisa fell pregnant again and gave birth to a healthy baby girl in the early morning of the 30th of April 1831. The relief that followed a safe birth only had Daniel and Louisa falling more in love with each other and with their new baby. She was named Victoria meaning victory; from overcoming and shining through a great loss. Her middle name was, of course, taken from Daniel’s younger sister. In fact, Victoria even looked like her aunt with light brown hair and those blue Seavey eyes and button nose. She truly looked like a little princess.

Victoria was in love with the idea of royalty and her family’s standing in society. She asked often when it was to be her time to be queen, always hoping for another answer than her mother or father’s usual “you’re a princess, not a queen”. If she asked enough times, they would let her be queen, right? She enjoyed spending time with her Uncle Christian who was king and hearing all the responsibilities he had and she especially liked travelling with him in the Royal Carriage (even after there was an assassination attempt that nearly took young Victoria with it). But she could relate a lot more to her Aunt Anna as youngest child and royal princess and they often went horseback riding around the palace grounds whenever they could.

With five elder siblings, Victoria grew up a little spoiled but also a little tormented. She always tried to keep up with everyone as best as she could and was willing to get up to just as much mischief as her brothers and sisters. She caught up with Henry on horseback and Philip with lingering afternoons in the gardens and clashed most with Fredrick in regard to music. Fredrick was a diligent cello student but Victoria was the only one of her family members to pick up the violin and the two often got into silent arguments with their bows in hand and trying to out play the other. Their usual bickering – as youngest son and youngest daughter – was expected to the other siblings and Daniel and Louisa often had to nearly force them to make up over whatever silly argument they were having.

Victoria could give or take her studies. She did well – especially in the languages where she even took up a little bit of German on top of French, English, and Latin – but would have much rather been with her violin or out with her horse. She could often be seen joined by her more musically inclined brothers and sisters putting on a little band performance for the family and/or guests. Victoria took her royal duties quite seriously – expected from someone who grew up begging to be queen – and she loved traveling into London to visit the public shops and, as she got older, helped to give speeches at various events. She was responsible and respectable and was determined to keep a good public appearance no matter what, not only through hos she carried herself but also within who she chose to spend her time around.

Of course, in the comfort of her own home was where Victoria’s spunky personality could flourish. Afterall, how else was she supposed to keep up with five older siblings?

#👑#character profile #writing #oc #why dont we #daniel seavey fanfic

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vitaliciouscreations · 5 years

Text

Drop of Paradise - Part 2

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Note: Bridgette and Sabine speak a little English in this part, but since I’m writing this in English, all of the “English” is really badly translated French. I’m so sorry for the badly translated French. Edit: Thanks to @dargeon-lissa the French is now significantly less badly translated.

“Hi, Marinette!”

Marinette turned her head to look at the door of the bakery and smiled when she saw Rose coming through it, followed closely by Juleka. Unfortunately Juleka was followed closely by Lila, and the smile dropped from Marinette’s face before it even had time to fully form.

Rose skipped up to the counter, happy and cheerful as always, and beamed at Marinette. Juleka gave Marinette a much more sedate smile. Lila, behind the other two, gave Marinette a downright nasty look that Marinette was kind enough to ignore.

“Hello, Rose. Hello, Juleka.” Marinette took a moment to swallow her pride and put on her customer service face. “Hello, Lila. What are you doing here?”

Had that sounded too demanding? Too rude? Marinette sent a look to her mother who was tending the register, but she didn’t seem to be paying attention to Marinette’s conversation with her friends. Or rather, her friends and Lila, but Sabine didn’t know about that.

“Lila knows a producer in Japan who works with Babymetal!” Rose said. “He’s looking for a new sound and Lila said that Kitty Section would be perfect! We called an impromptu band practice so Lila can send him a recording! Isn’t that just fantastic, Marinette?!”

“It would be fantastic if you guys caught the attention of someone like that in the music business,” Marinette agreed. “But don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

Rose’s excited smile dropped off her face and Marinette hated it. She hated seeing her friends upset, and she hated being the one to upset them. More than that, though, she hated Lila for offering out fake opportunities like she did. Winding Marinette’s friends up like puppets when she knew eventually the strings she had them dancing on would unravel, along with every lie she’d ever told them.

“Why shouldn’t she get her hopes up, Marinette?” Lila asked in a sickly-sweet voice. “A little optimism is good, right?”

Not when it gets them to believe liars like you, Marinette thought, biting back the words and glaring at Lila. Rose and Juleka shifted uncomfortably.

Marinette forced herself to stop glaring and instead focused on Rose and Juleka. “So, are you guys here to get some snacks for practice?”

“Yup!” Rose chirped. “It’ll be just the five of us, so I was thinking we’d get a box of twenty assorted macarons? And maybe a bag of croissants. Is that alright?”

“That’s just fine,” Marinette said with a smile. “Any preferences on what flavor of macarons?”

“Surprise us!”

“You know,” Lila began as Marinette turned her back to begin the order. “My great grandfather used to own a bakery back in Italy.”

“Really?” Rose asked, already on the hook.

Marinette heard the door to the bakery open as Lila continued. “Oh yes. He taught me how to make the best tiramisu in the world! Of course, I have a hard time baking now with my arthritis and everything, so I have to settle for buying baked goods nowadays.”

“Oh,” Rose crooned. “That’s so terrible.”

“That sucks,” Juleka mumbled.

“Mom,” Marinette called out. “Do you know if the new batch of strawberry cheesecake macarons is done yet?”

Marinette’s mom didn’t respond. Marinette dropped the fifth croissant into the bag and then glanced over to see why her mom hadn’t said anything. Then she nearly dropped the bag.

Standing across from her mother at the counter was none other than Marinette’s favorite cousin, and she was quite the spectacle. Bridgette was wearing a gorgeous gradient blue-to-purple cheongsam that Marinette was dying to get a closer look at, along with a big, floppy sun hat and novelty Eiffel Tower sunglasses. She also had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and a huge grin on her face.

“That’s a… look,” Lila said in a rude voice. For once Marinette didn’t even mind her comment, too surprised at seeing Bridgette.

“Bridgette!” she called out, and Bridgette turned to look at her. Her grin widened even further upon seeing Marinette and she strode over.

“Ah, et Marinette. Je ne veux pas sonner comme une vieil dame très sentimental, mais tu as tellement grandi depuis que tu as quitté Eden. Tu es presque une adulte maintenant!” Bridgette said in what Marinette recognized as English, but couldn’t understand.

“Oh, Bridgette, Marinette ne sait pas encore parler anglais,” Marinette’s mother said, also in English.

“My bad,” Bridgette said in much more understandable Eden-dialect Chinese, and grinned at Marinette. “Hello Marinette. It’s very nice to see you again.”

“Yeah!” Marinette agreed, switching into Eden-dialect Chinese as well with only a little difficulty. “I’m happy to see you too, Bridgette!”

Bridgette laughed sweetly. “Thank you, Marinette. I see that your sweetness hasn’t changed with your age. But, ah,” Bridgette cast a look in the direction of Rose, Juleka, and Lila. “Don’t let me interrupt you and your friends.”

Bridgette waved at Marinette and headed back over to Sabine, and Marinette turned back to Rose, Juleka, and Lila.

“Wow, Marinette!” Rose exclaimed. “I didn’t know you spoke a language other than French! And who was that? She’s so pretty!”

Marinette smiled at Rose. “That’s my cousin, Bridgette. She came to help me with my presentation for multicultural week.” Marinette set the bag of croissants down on the counter. “I’m gonna go check if Papa has finished with the new batch of strawberry cheesecake macarons. I know they’re your favorite, Rose.”

“I can handle that,” Marinette’s mother said, coming over to them. “Marinette, why don’t you show Bridgette upstairs to your room? I know you have a lot of things you want to talk about with her having to do with your upcoming presentation.” She gave Marinette a knowing look, and Marinette blushed.

“Okay, Mama, but call me down if you need any more help.” Marinette turned to Bridgette. “C’mon, I’ll show you upstairs.”

Bridgette blinked at her uncomprehendingly.

Marinette’s cheeks heated even further. “Ah, sorry. I guess you don’t understand French. Mama suggested I show up to my room, so…”

Bridgette nodded. “Of course. Thank you Marinette.”

Marinette ushered Bridgette through the gap in the side of the counter and lead her into the back. It looked like the new batch of strawberry cheesecake macarons were indeed done, so Rose would be happy.

“I actually wanted to ask you about something,” Bridgette said as they reached the stairs at the very back of the bakery. “Like you said, I don’t speak French. I decided English would be a better language to learn considering how broadly it is spoken across the world. That, and it was easier to learn in Eden than French was.” Bridgette laughed into her hand as they reached the top of the stairs. Marinette began to take her shoes off, and Bridgette followed her example.“I was told that giving my presentation to the French President and Parliament in English would be fine, but I doubt your classmates will understand it as easily. So, I wanted to ask you if you’d be okay with acting as a translator during the presentation at your school?”

“Of course!” Marinette agreed easily. They reached the steep stairs leading up to Marinette’s room. “Watch your step.”

“Thank you, Marinette,” Bridgette said. “For the warning and the future translation.”

“Of course,” Marinette said again. She lifted the trap door and climbed through it before holding it open so Bridgette could do the same. “This is my room. We figured you could sleep in here for as long as you’re in Paris. You can take the chaise or the bed, your choice.”

Bridgette smiled at her. “The chaise seems just fine, Marinette, but thank you.”

Marinette smiled back. “Yeah, of course. Now, ah, do you want to get settled in, or…”

“Actually,” Bridgette said with a sly smile. “I am quite interested in hearing what you have to say. Aunt Sabine mentioned you have a great many ideas on things to do for your presentation?”

Marinette flushed. “Ah, yeah. I guess I got a little enthusiastic. I’m just… really excited.”

“You should be excited!” Bridgette exclaimed. “Eden is finally revealing itself to the world. It’s all very exciting! Now, tell me more about these ideas.”

Lila Rossi was the daughter of an important Italian diplomat who brought her daughter with her wherever she went. From Venice to Barcelona, and London to Paris. With so many changes in location over the course of her short life, Lila had developed some very specific abilities. Among them the ability to fit in at any new school by telling people what they wanted to hear, and the ability to say those things in many different languages. Including English.

Eden. Of course that little brat was from Eden. The biggest news story of the century, and of course Marinette Dupain-Cheng was at the center of it. She was at the center of everything Lila deserved to be at the center of, wasn’t she? And come next week, she would be the center of everyone’s attention for weeks to come.

Lila shook her head, well-concealed rage coursing through her veins as she exited the bakery behind Rose and Juleka. Not if Lila had anything to do with it.

“Have you guys heard about Eden yet?” Lila asked as the three of them began to make their way down the street.

“Of course!” Rose exclaimed. “It’s so amazing! A secret Chinese city hidden in the mountains, a secret for millennia? I’m getting inspired just thinking about it! Maybe we can write a Kitty Section song about it!”

“That would be awesome,” Juleka mumbled. Ugh, Lila hated the mumbling.

“I could help you with it,” she offered. “I know a lot about Eden that most people don’t. I actually volunteered there for a whole year when I was younger.”

“Really?!” Rose squealed, and Juleka looked at Lila with interest. Lila hid a smirk. Too easy.

Translations (what I meant for the translations to say, anyway):

Ah, and Marinette. Not to sound like a sentimental, old woman, but you’ve grown so much since you left Eden. You’re almost an adult now.

Oh, Bridgette, Marinette doesn’t know very much English yet.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #lila salt #ml salt #ml eden au #drop of paradise

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masquerade-story · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5 - Commencing Plan

"Earth has magic too. Alchemy and enchantments. Chemistry and technology. Same things, different names." Crystal spoke slowly as she examined the cloth material in her hands, checking for tears or weak points in the weave.

Grey pumped his fist, a triumphant look on his face. "I knew it! No way that backflipping robot was natural science."

"Science is the study of the world around you. It doesn't cancel out the existence of magic, it just helps to understand its rules better."

"Listen here, little miss know-it-all."

"I don't know it all, just more than you."

"Hey!"

Crystal grinned, finishing her examination without sparing an extra glance for the outraged Grey stomping his foot at her side.

"That's a low bar some days," Rayne said with an exaggerated sigh, then promptly ducked as Grey chucked a pillow at her face.

"Lils!" Grey whined, draping dramatically over his sister's lap, interrupting her own costume examination. "They're bullying me!"

"The truth hurts sometimes dearest," Lillian muttered, much to her twin's dismay. He recoiled away as though she'd flung him, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in distress.

"Betrayal! Mine own blood doth betray!"

"My point," Crystal continued, using a needle and thread to tighten up a bit of beaded tape on a hem that came loose. "Was that when I said magic exists on this world, I mean I don't know what form this world's magic is going to take, so we should be careful until we understand more. It may be familiar, like chemistry and technology, or it could be something more fantastical, like what that Eater pulled on us. Until we know the rules, we shouldn't be reckless."

"What if being reckless is part of the rules?"

"Then we'll find out soon enough and adjust our course of action."

"I hate that you have an answer for everything."

"Then stop asking questions."

Crystal and Grey stuck out their tongues at each other while Lillian giggled, and Rayne shook her head at the foolishness of it all. "Children, please."

"You're the youngest one here!"

"Hard to tell by looking, huh?" Rayne shrugged. She wasn't nearly as useful with sewing, so she'd taken to tying on little chimes and ribbons to decorate her bodhrán since her large acoustic kit was much too large and bulky for their purposes. The small frame drum, just a bit over a foot in diameter and only four inches deep, was much easier to carry and play.

When they brought their main instruments for the music video, they brought along a few supplementary instruments to use for the mixing as well. Actual recording was going to happen in a proper studio, but sometimes having them around and playing them when practicing could spark more natural inspiration than trying to force it during a recording session.

So in addition to Crystal's small harp, Grey's bouzouki, Lillian's electric keyboard and Rayne's acoustic drum kit, they also brought along macho bongos, a bodhrán, a tambourine, a fiddle, a bombard, an ocarina, a zither, enough bell bangles for the four of them, and a kalimba which Lillian was unnaturally proficient with. None of the instruments were particularly large, so it was easy to fit them in alongside everything else in the hand cart. Especially the kalimba - a hand-sized wooden board with attached staggered metal tines, which made an ethereally charming resonating sound when played despite its minuscule size.

"Rayne's got her drum, I'm taking my bouzouki, Lils is bringing..."

"Kalimba."

"Right, right. Coco, which instrument are you grabbing?"

Crystal snipped the thread with her teeth after tying a tight knot. "Since Lils is bringing the kalimba, I'll go with the fiddle."

"Ooh, are we gonna do a jig?"

"Maybe. We have to see what the climate's like in town."

"Climate is cold, Coco. There's snow."

"Emotional climate, Goofus! If something terrible happened recently, if there's an illness going around or a famine or what have you, it'd be inappropriate to run in with a nice cheerful Stick Across the Hob."

"Ah, Morrison's Jig. A classic."

"We can play it if people are friendly to us. Who knows, maybe they hate folk music. There was a time in our own history where the only socially appropriate music was religious hymns, you know."

"Gross."

"Right? So again, we just have to be careful."

"And then once they like us we can do fun songs, right?"

"Maybe slow tempo drinking songs or instrumental sea shanties to uh, test the waters."

"Har de har. Lyrics?"

"I really, really, extremely thoroughly and tragically doubt they'll speak English or any of the other languages we can sing in, and they might be alarmed by foreign languages. Classic orchestral music might be our best bet, honestly."

A potentially insurmountable language barrier was part of the reason their little group hemmed and hawed about heading to town. On the one hand they definitely needed more information about the world, but on the other hand, walking in without any knowledge or method of communication was a terrifying prospect.

So they did what they all did best, and procrastinated productively. The costumes were a good start, but they weren't sturdy enough to withstand frigid winter winds since the things were entirely cosmetic. Lillian proposed they somehow create thicker linings for their clothes, and Grey suggested they make use of the house's ability to restore items in order to do just that. But for that to work, they'd have to understand how it worked.

That night they waited with bated breath after destroying a single pillow, shredding it to bits as a sacrifice to the experimental gods of magic science. As soon as midnight ticked over on the household clocks, a new pillow appeared in its original place on its appropriate bed, and the shredded remains of the sacrificed pillow were still laying sad and limp on the floor.

"Infinite pillow glitch," Grey had whispered with delight, setting the other three to helpless giggling at his dumb joke.

The next day was spent ruining disposable objects around the house to various degrees and moving them around in order to determine the magic house's threshold of accounting damage and item 'respawning' limits. Some items were completely replaced, some were merely repaired, items from outside the property didn't count, and everything else had different thresholds for what counted as damage and what didn't.

While everyone was running around wrecking their house and generally having a good time doing magic science, Crystal put an empty jar outside of the fence to sit overnight. After the reset that night, it was fully replaced complete with its original contents, while the original empty jar remained outside of the property wedged into the snow.

Crystal smiled to herself with this new discovery, and put several small jars of preserves outside the fence in one of the small wooden crates she found in the cellar, covered with a thick towel to help insulate the glass.

"What were you getting up to?" Grey asked, as she stomped back into the house rubbing her arms to fight off the winter chill.

"Wishing we had warmer clothes," Crystal sighed, the mischievous glint in her eyes telling Grey he wouldn't get any answers yet. "Or at least pajamas with sleeves."

"Plotting something sinister?"

"Maybe."

"Rock on. Lemme know if I can help."

"Of course."

With their new knowledge regarding item respawn rules, they set about tearing more pillows and sheets into raw materials for upgrading their silly stage costumes into something functional, and copied the costumes into several spare sets for each of them just in case.

The costumes were inspired by fantasy medieval fashion and Renaissance faire finery, all four virtually identical in styling. Surcoats with silver bead tape and embroidery, high collar tunics with voluminous bishop sleeves, canvas cloaks with deep hoods, leather bracers, leather boots, leather belts with ring clasps, assorted leather bags, gloves, and leggings. Aside from the white tunic, everything was black with silver embellishments such as bead tape and braided fabric trims, or embroidery that shimmered in the light. The cloaks also sported little silver jingling bells attached along the hem, matching decorative bells on the boots and bags.

Most importantly, each of them had a unique Venetian masquerade mask with an attached beaded black face veil. The intricate, ornate masks had little bells dangling from loops on the sides, and were decorated with gemstone accents around and above the eyes; each member of Aos Sí Echtrae used a different gemstone for their stage name to capitalize on all the 'Fairy Rock' jokes they could make.

Plus, Crystal was already named after a shiny rock, so it was convenient all around.

"How are we gonna make these clothes warmer?" Grey asked, holding up his surcoat and raising an eyebrow in Lillian's direction.

"Quilting." Lillian said, gesturing with her hands to try and pantomime what she meant. "Gonna create pocket insulation layers using sheets, fill them with cotton and feather down and foam and whatever else we have to use. Then sew the pocket insulation layer in the middle of the original costume layer and an inner lining, to make the clothes warm without sacrificing their aesthetic!"

"The cloaks too?"

"The cloaks especially. They're already a strong sturdy material and have been water sealed, insulating them will basically turn them into actual quilts to shield us from the wind. In fact, I'll probably use cloak copies to make waterproof pants, since insulating leggings is a bit hard thanks to their thin material..."

"Too bad we can't make better boots too," Crystal sighed, glancing out the window. It hadn't stopped snowing since they arrived, and though most of the layers didn't completely stick, there was still a foot of snow outside they'd have to slog through to reach town. If the weather continued, they would have to put off the visit until some of that snow melted off.

"I'll break the path for you guys," Rayne said, flexing a powerful bicep. "No worries. We should still wait until it stops snowing, though. Walking through bad weather always sucks, even more so if it's over a big distance."

"Remembering high school?"

"God, that hill was brutal."

"Hey, everyone gets to help out with this!" Lillian said, pointing at the other three who were subtly edging toward the door during their conversation.

"I can't sew," Rayne quickly protested, and Lillian held up a finger to shush her.

"The lining doesn't have to be sewn pretty, the stitches just have to be strong. We need to make several copies of the belts, I want to repurpose them into something else... And I wanna keep an original copy of the costumes as well as have several sets of each so this is gonna take a few days worth of resetting to complete. Oh! Rayne, you can find big branches to make into walking sticks, the ground will be uneven under the snow and we don't wanna trip."

"Yes ma'am..."

Under Lillian's watchful eye, everyone got to work on different tasks in order to prepare for their first visit to another world's town, feeling a combination of trepidation and excitement in their hearts.

------

"Hey guys? There's uh. There's something weird." Rayne's voice echoed down the hall, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps as she hurried toward the living room where the others were gathered around the finished costumes and enjoying the last of their breakfast.

"What in the... Is that... Is that a telescope?!" Grey asked incredulously as Rayne rounded the corner with something large and heavy in her arms.

"I was checking out the study and found it in one of the cabinets. So, the study has that windowed alcove bit that sticks out from the side of the house, right?"

"Yeah, like a breakfast nook but for books. Book nook!" Grey grinned, switching his attention from the costumes to the big brass telescope that Rayne was hurriedly setting up in front of the largest living room window. "This thing is ancient! There's no way this isn't some priceless antique or something!"

"Yes yes it's very cool and belonged to a former trade ship navigator about a hundred years ago don't ask how I know that I'm not sure either I understand why this weirds Coco out now, but that's not important!" Rayne wheezed, peering through the eyepiece and adjusting the focus before stepping away. "Look at the town."

Grey peeked through first, too excited about the telescope itself to wait much longer. He stared in silence for a good long moment, then frowned and stepped away to give Lillian room. "That's... You're right, that is weird. But I can't quite put my finger on why... I mean, aside from the architecture itself? But something else is bugging me..."

"It's hard to see detail from here even with the telescope, but I think some of them had glowing symbols decorating them?" Lillian said with a shrug after she had her turn. "They're pretty, and unusual for sure. Either magic or electricity, but I hope it's magic. That'd be cool!"

Crystal took her turn last, automatically touching her face to lift up the glasses that she no longer had to wear. She gave a soft laugh at finding her face naked, shook her head, and peered through the eyepiece.

The buildings were indeed strangely pretty, smooth white or silver constructs with colorful glass roofs, in sleek appealing shapes that more suited a science fiction setting rather than fantasy. Some had glowing symbols etched under arched windows or in rows along walls, but the light was dim and flickering, and it was impossible to tell from afar what shape the symbols had.

"The town has a uniform layout," Crystal said quietly, furrowing her brow. "It's a planned city. Wide roads on a grid, a perfectly arched wall surrounding the whole thing except where the harbor is. The tallest building is in the middle, might be a palace or castle? But... There's no people."

"Wait, what?!" Lillian exclaimed while Grey snapped his fingers in realization.

"That's it! Even though it's winter, there'd still be people moving around and working and stuff, right? But those roads are totally empty! No cars or wagons or pedestrians or nothing."

Crystal swung the telescope around, peering into the empty harbor, then past that toward the horizon where puffy white sails broke the barrier between sea and sky. "Ah, the ships... The city is really sleek and almost futuristic, but those ships are..."

Grey nudged Crystal aside to steal the eyepiece again, bouncing his leg with excitement. "Yo! Those are some real nice maritime vessels, my friends! Four-masted wooden masterpieces, and is that mizzenmast lateen-rigged? Squared raised stern, that's a nice prominent booty on those ships for sure. Those big boys are either carracks or galleons, or whatever they're called in this world. Whew, they're real beauties!"

"Was it an evacuation?" Lillian asked, concern coloring her voice, but Grey shook his head.

"Doubt it. The sails are torn and mended all over the place, and I think I see minor hull damage on the ones up close, but those lads are definitely pointed toward the town, and resting in a recognizable formation at that. They've been through a long journey to get here specifically, I think. In fact..." Grey swung the telescope, adjusting the focus as he went, searching to and fro until he spotted what he was looking for.

"They were further away when we first got here," Rayne said, holding up her fingers in a little pinching gesture. "The sails were like, this big on the horizon."

Grey nodded, then exclaimed aloud. "Aha! Found a pinnace! I dunno why it took them so long to approach, but they're moored in the deeps now, not sheltering in the harbor. And there, by the town wall! There's a little camp. Looks like... Ten people? They used a small pinnace boat to approach so it's probably a landing party scouting the area to see if it's safe to approach."

"I didn't see people! Let me see!" Rayne bumped Grey aside with her hip, stealing the telescope back. "There they are! Oh, they're still unloading the boat."

"It was still snowing pretty hard until like, today. They probably only just sent the team out." Grey said, and Rayne nodded in agreement.

"Looks like it. Hmm... Their clothes do look a little like our costumes, I think? They're tiny colorful blurs, but I think I see a couple people in cloaks, and possibly armor? Using our costumes is probably the best idea after all."

"But now things have gotten a bit more complicated," Crystal muttered, drumming her fingers on her bottom lip as thoughts tumbled around in her mind. "There's no permanent settlement yet. For some reason that city is empty, and we don't know why. The city looks more advanced than anything the people in wooden ships would be capable of making, no matter how nice the ships are, so they probably aren't the same civilization. If they have that many ships, are they colonizers? Are there natives to this land we need to worry about? How would they see us if we, as strangers who don't even speak their language, suddenly walked up while they're trying to settle an apparently empty foreign city?"

Grey and Lillian exchanged glances, while Rayne turned from the telescope and placed a hand on her hip. "Coco. Relax."

"How can I relax? If they're not friendly we're probably boned! They'll definitely come explore the forest for resources and they'll find us and-"

"Crystal!"

Crystal flinched as Rayne grabbed her by the shoulders and gave a gentle shake, bringing her back to her senses. She hadn't even realized she'd hunched over and started scratching at the delicate pale flesh of her arms, bright red tracks screaming their distress under her fingernails. She shivered, forcing her clawed hands to relax, and took a deep breath. "Ah... S-sorry, I... I just..."

"Does it feel dangerous?" Lillian asked, her voice calming Crystal's nerves with its serenity.

She thought a moment, then pressed her lips together and shook her head. "No. It doesn't feel dangerous. I'm just... Worried, I think. Anxious. There's so many unknowns..."

"If they're gonna find us anyway, let's go to them on our own terms," Grey said, giving Crystal's face a gentle tap with his knuckles. "Right? We readied the costumes anyway, and Rayne whittled us some fine walking sticks."

"I even polished them."

"See? She polished them, Coco."

"There was wood lacquer in the maintenance closet."

"Wood lacquer, Coco!"

"Alright, alright!" Crystal threw up her hands in defeat, struggling in vain to hide the growing smile on her face. "You win. Let's get dressed and go make first contact."

"The masks are mandatory!" Grey said, grabbing his off the living room table. "If we're gonna be a minstrel group we gotta look the part!"

"I finished the slings for your instruments, so you can carry the cases on your back under the cloaks. Should make it less of a strain to lug them through the snow." Lillian looked proud as she showed off the repurposed leather belts, carefully measured to fit each of them and evenly distribute the weight of the heavy cases across their torsos. "My kalimba is small enough to fit in a bag so I felt like this is the least I could do to help."

"You're so great Lils," Grey sighed, giving his twin a grateful hug.

"I'll go get the sticks," Rayne said, running upstairs.

Meanwhile, Crystal rolled her eyes and heaved a despondent sigh. "Man... I have to wear actual clothes again..."

"It's too cold to be a nudist, Coco."

"I'm not a nudist, I'm just texture sensitive!"

"You'd be a nudist if it was socially acceptable."

"Eh... Debatable. I'm kinda lumpy."

"No you're just soft and huggable."

"Which makes me lumpy. Oh well, at least the costume materials feel nice." Crystal sighed once more, grabbing her outfit off the living room table. "Alright, everyone turn off their vision for a second."

"We have all seen you naked, Crystal."

"We all took turns washing your back when you went through physical therapy, Crystal."

"Also this is the living room."

"Nudist."

"Exhibitionist."

"Can't hear you guys I'm already naked!" Crystal stuck out her tongue as, contrary to her statement, she headed down the hallway toward the bathroom in order to change in privacy.

"Who's naked?" Rayne called down the stairs, accompanied by the thumping sound of four walking sticks repeatedly hitting the banister as she descended.

"Everyone except you!" Grey called back, his voice muffled as he pulled the blouse over his head.

"I had to get the sticks, no one told me we were having a nudey party!"

"Nudey parties are better fun with guests that aren't basically your relatives," Lillian grumbled, and Rayne nodded as she dumped the walking sticks on the nearest sofa.

"Eh, true. No offense, you guys are our unofficial adopted siblings."

"No no, it's mutual. You both are our sisters, seeing you lot naked does not rustle my jimmies in the slightest."

"Completely unrustled?"

"Not even a jostle."

"Damn."

"Wait, why are we unofficially adopted? There's no birth records in this world for us. We can just be siblings and no one will ever be able to prove otherwise."

"Shit, you're right! Okay, you're all adopted by me now. You can call me Mama."

"Like hell we will, you're the youngest!"

"Respect your elders, young man!"

Crystal laughed to herself as their voices echoed faintly through the closed bathroom door, then focused on getting dressed. Her costume was modified further thanks to a personal request she'd made, adding a long black wrap skirt that went to her ankles to be worn over the leggings. She also added a silver sash around the waist and under the belt, made using one of the spare bedsheets.

She didn't mind pants so long as the material was nice, but she preferred the swish of long skirts and dresses because it felt more fun, and if she had to wear clothes anyway they might as well be layered and interesting. Just so long as the inner layer actually touching her body was a nice comfortable fabric!

Lillian made the skirt match the rest of the outfit using bead tape and braided fabric, and liked the resulting skirt so much she added a shorter skirt and some frilly modifications to her own outfit. Then Grey wanted some fancy embellishments and dangling cloth bits to look more dramatic, so in the end only Rayne kept the original design.

"We look amazing," Grey said with a delighted sigh as everyone gathered together in the living room once more to don their masks.

"Are the masks really necessary?" Lillian mumbled as she tugged on the gossamer veil, causing the beaded decorations woven into the fine material to jingle and shimmer. "I mean... What if not being able to see our faces scares them, or makes them suspicious?"

"Then we can take them off?" Grey said with a shrug, slinging the shoulder strap of his instrument case over his arm before settling his cloak. "But I think it adds to our mystique as wandering minstrels, and we look fantastic rather than threatening. Plus, they're the ones landing near our house, right? We're the ones living here. For all they could know, it's culturally inappropriate to walk around with naked faces!"

"We'll have to get pretty close to know for sure," Crystal said. After a moment's thought, she took out her hairclip and left it on the coffee table, allowing her long blonde hair to tumble free in the brief moment before she put up her hood. She'd spent enough time in cold climates to know long hair was best left protecting one's neck from cold air. "We'll watch their body language as we approach. If they seem hostile, we'll back off. In the meantime, we should bring some food. It's a long hike."

Everyone agreed, filing into the kitchen to pack snacks and sandwiches into their bags. Crystal tucked a few jars of preserves into hers, bringing only those and a couple sandwiches instead of cramming the space with small packs of miniature cookies and potato chips like everyone else. Her choice of foodstuff went unnoticed, since everyone else was busy playing Tetris trying to fit their chosen assortment of snacks into relatively small bags.

Once everyone felt prepared enough for their journey, they took a moment to brace themselves, each grabbing a homemade walking stick, then stepped out of the house into the snow.

#writing #chapter #original #original story #masquerade #fantasy #isekai

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ravenclaw-craftsgirl · 4 years

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~IDENTITY (AS OF 6TH YEAR)~

Name: Lilian Marie Le’Reau

Gender: Female

Age: 17

Birth Date: February 23, 1973

Species: Human

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Sexuality: Gay

Alignment: Neutral

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: French/English (dual citizenship)

Residence: London, England

Myer Briggs Personality Type: INFJ-T The Advocate

1st Wand:

Alder Wood 12 3/4 Slightly springy flexibility Unicorn Hair core Alder is an unyielding wood, yet often its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, rather helpful, considerate and most likable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards.

2nd Wand:

Acacia Wood 13 Supple flexibility Horned Serpent Horn core A very unusual wand wood, which I have found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and also withhold their best effects from all but those most gifted. This sensitivity renders them difficult to place, and I keep only a small stock for those witches or wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as ‘bangs-and-smells’ magic. When well-matched, an acacia wand matches any for power, though it is often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament.

Animagus: Black Ragdoll with curved white marks under the eyes and on the paws

Misc Magical Abilities: Naturally adept at most forms of transfiguration and animation charms, wandless spell casting, silent spell casting

Boggart Form: Death Eater from her past

Riddikulus Form: Darth Vader saying “Lilian, I am your father”

Amortentia (others): A kitchen cooking a full meal; generally steak, green beans, baked potatoes, buttered rolls and brownies

Amortentia (Lilian): (before dating) Machine shop oil, the smell of grease and degreaser (after dating/ married) The smell of an old book and the fragrance of Merula’s perfume

Patronus: Multiple Wolves (average 2-3, more depending on the need)

Patronus Memory: The memory of all her friends, family and loved ones attending the unveiling of her first golem

Mirror of Erised: Herself, living life without fear of persecution by muggles or pureblood wizards.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Piertotum Locomotor

Baubillious (for offense and creation)

Permanent Sticking Charm (It’s easier than weeks of welding)

Aguamenti (you wouldn’t believe how many fires are started near Lilian)

Incendio (speaking of fire…)

Engorgio

Reducio

~APPEARANCE~

In game

Height: 6’3” (190.5 cm)

Weight: 170 lbs (77 kg)

Physique: Toned/ Lean build

Eye Colour: Purple/ Amethyst

Hair Colour: Snow White (originally chestnut)

Skin Tone: Porcelain

Body Modifications: Single Purple streak of Dyed hair

Scarring: After the battle of Hogwarts in the second wizarding war, Lilian loses her left arm and right leg below the joints. She later develops prosthetics nearly identical to her original limbs, but stronger than steel

Inventory: On her person she will have a charm bracelet of several shrunken items including:

-a table -a cooler -a medical cabinet (with everything inside secured) -three Tiny Golems (for easy transport when not in use)

As well as a satchel with several books, pencils and sketch pads for when she has an idea or observes something inspiring. She owns a car and a Thunderbolt broomstick.

Fashion: Lilian normally dresses in black slacks, a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a black vest over the white shirt. She also owns several pairs of boots, most in the style of buckle up platforms with steel toes. She will also wear various dresses to accentuate her figure, muscles or the dresses design as well as several pop culture t-shirts (her favorites are often science fiction based such as Star Wars and Halo)

~ALLEGIANCES~

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Affiliations/Organizations:

The Order of the Phoenix

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

The Constitutional Republic of France

The Royal Crown of England

Professions:

Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office (consultant)

Department of Magical Equipment Control

Freelance Craftswoman (magical prosthetics)

Freelance Craftswoman (miscellaneous items)

Freelance Craftswoman (Animated Objects)

~HOGWARTS INFORMATION~

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: ★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ (E) Charms: ★★★★★★★★★★ (O) DADA: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ (O) Flying: ★★★★★★★★☆☆ (A) Herbology: ★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ (E) History of Magic: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ (A) Potions: ★★★★★★★★☆☆ (O) Transfiguration: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ (O)

Electives: Study of Ancient Runes Ancient Runes Alchemy Arithmancy Advanced Arithmancy

Extra Curricular:

Dungeons and Dragons club Potions Club Magic TheoryAncient Runes Club Education of Muggle Items Group (unofficial president)

Favourite Professors:

Professor McGonagall: While not typically the first choice of Ravenclaws, Lilian respects Professor McGonagall for her cool and decisive temperament, her rational thought processes and her ability to make the correct call in stressful situations. She is also partial due to the shared Animagus attribute as well as the professor’s forgiving nature towards Lilian’s Experimentation with magical creations.

Least Favourite Professors:

Professor Trelawney: While Lilian respects every form of knowledge, she never understood why this class was a core requirement and not an elective. Surely if someone was that desperate to know their ‘future’ they could use their own time instead of forcing an entire class to follow suit. Lilian is a firm believer in ‘you make your own fate’ and views Professor Trelawney as overly superstitious, even by wizarding world standards.

~RELATIONSHIPS~

Father: Daniel Le’Reau Muggle English Professor Attended University of Cambridge, England Short, Chestnut brown hair with matching Goatee. Tall, slightly scrawny 38 years old.

Daniel is soft-spoken and amicable, often seeking the least confrontational methods. Polite and poised, as expected of a respected University professor

Upper Middle Class

Professor of Literature and English Studies at the University of Cambridge

Daniel is a very well known professor, often sited in many English studies papers for his ideas on early literature such as Shakespeare and Anglo-Saxton ballads, noting their implications in modern art and culture as well as their historic significance. He is also known to be quite supportive of his students, often treating them like family members and helping them achieve their dreams.

Known the McKinley family since Lilian was 5 (the day she was almost kidnapped)

Mother: Amelie Nicole Le’Reau Muggle Long straight Black hair, Amethyst eyes, Average height, toned muscles, rugged beauty. Mechanic (military contracted) 37 years old.

Amelie is an outspoken, avid thinker who spends just as much time as her husband educating people.

Amelie originally served in the Royal Engineering Corps in her early years until she met and fell in love with a rather awkward yet lovable man named Daniel. Shortly before her Exit date, she married him and had Lilian. Since then, she’s been a military contractor for the Royal Engineering Corps. Assisting with various mechanical jobs from basic transportation to armored troop transports to Tanks and Mobile Weapons Systems.

Nearly traumatized when a dark wizard kidnapped Lilian after killing several bystanders with magic and curses. Almost forbade Lilian from attending Hogwarts when she received the acceptance letter. Remains in good standing with Shamus McKinley.

Love Interest: Merula

While they only officially started dating during the Sixth year, their relationship started in the Fourth year.

During the Celestial ball, Lilian noticed that Merula didn’t have anyone to dance with and offered to dance with her. After the Celestial Ball, Merula’s Attitude softened to a degree. While Lilian was still being teased about how tall she was, she was no longer harassed for being a muggle, nor was she mocked for her passions. While Merula wouldn’t outright ask for help from Lilian, She would never deny Lilian helping her.

Generally the attitude of the two was always Lilian genuinely trying to learn about Merula while Merula made an effort to understand Lilian and where she was from. Eventually Mistrust and Resentment would make way to curiosity and intrigue.

Only when Lilian had saved Merula’s life from Dementors had she finally figured out her mixed feelings for Lilian, realizing that she had fallen in love with the quiet muggle born witch, eccentricities and all.

Best Friends:

Rowan Hubei Khanna (Female Khanna) Rowan Harrow Khanna (Male Khanna) Ben Copper Penny Haywood Badeea Ali Ismelda Murk Rival: None

Enemy:

Patricia Rakepick

Dormmates:

Rowan Hubei Khanna Badeea Ali Tulip Karasu

Pets:

Eleanor is an american shorthair that Lilian rescued from the street during her trip to Diagon Alley. Eleanor had been a kitten at the time, thus Lilian was given special permission to have her familiar with her during all classes to make sure she didn’t go hungry.

Due to outstanding Circumstance, Lilian has also (legally) adopted an Acromantula that refers to himself as Cain. While technically intelligent enough to take care of himself, he does allow her to give pets and scratch his carapace in the right areas. In exchange, Lilian is given a supply of webbing to refine into silk as she needs.

Closest Canon Friends:

Ismelda Murk Rowan Hubei Khanna

Closest MC Friends:

Helene Adler @heleneplays

Skylar Morningstar @angrynar

Ada Corcoran @ask-bincopper-archive

Neon Welkin @neonbluewaves

Ethren Whitecross @hogwartsmysterystory

~BACKGROUND/HISTORY~

[The following is an excerpt from the book The Craftswoman, a biography on the Life and Philosophies of Lilian Le’Reau]

Interviewer: What do you know of Mrs. Le’Reau? Headmistress Rowan Hubei Khanna: Lilian? Wow, where do I begin… She was always quiet. It was almost as if she were watching everything that happened for the sake of safety and precautions. Like she was always expecting the worst to happen to her no matter what. But given her history I wouldn’t put it past her.

I: Could you please elaborate on that? Headmistress Khanna: Well, I suppose so. When Lilian was around the age of five, she and her mother were attacked by a rogue Death Eater, one of the remnants of the first wizarding war. A lot of people died that day, several more had to have their memory erased.

I: With the Memory Erasing Charm, yes. The report of ‘The Market Massacre’ were in the papers for weeks after the incident, if I recall. Headmistress Khanna: Right. Well, This death eater had a particular goal in mind. I was told that he kept on rambling about how he was gonna make new army, one to combat the remnants of the Order of Phoenix. He had planned on kidnapping Children with magical talent in order to build this order.

I: Fortunately, the Auror Shamus McKinley was nearby to save her. He not only saved her, but dispatched the dark wizard as well, yes? Headmistress Khanna: While this is true, it still had its ramifications. No one goes through that sort of experience the same. Lilian didn’t like to talk about where she came from or about her childhood.

I: Well, how about her years alongside you at Hogwarts? How would you describe that? Headmistress Khana: Our time at Hogwarts was actually rather mundane compared to the adventures of our other classmates. Lilian and I were generally the part of the plan that collected information and helped solve the riddles of the vaults, rather than actually fighting any of the curses there. Otherwise, much of her time was spent studying, trying to figure out new ways to apply spells and context of said spells, and honing her own personal abilities. Like I said, a rather average Hogwarts tenure for the both of us.

I: Alright. How about during the battle of Hogwarts? Or perhaps anything during then and your graduation of Hogwarts? Headmistress Khanna: The time before the battle of Hogwarts, I can't testify for. For a while, most of us fell out of contact as we moved on with our lives, trying to make a name for ourselves in our own fields. But…

I: It’s okay if you would like to avoid this subject. Headmistress Khanna: No no, it needs to be said. During the battle of Hogwarts, a lot of us were scared. None of us had been in this sort of conflict before, and those of us that had weren't ready for what we faced. Yet there Lilian was, setting up perimeters and directing people to the best suited jobs to help defend. She even brought in nearly a dozen golems to assist in the defense. We were lucky too, since those were the only things stopping the main host of trolls from climbing up the bridge. The battle itself is a blur, but when the dust settled, we all saw Lilian slumped against a wall, babbling on about equations and how many litres of blood she felt she had lost. She was missing her arm and leg, surrounded by a dozen or so dark wizards.

I: Thank you, Headmistress. I think that’ll be all for now. Headmistress Khanna: I appreciate the need to document Lilian’s life. She’d be too busy to actually sit down and write it herself, believe it or not.

~PERSONALITY~

Lilian is a very open minded individual. Creative and Intelligent, She will always see projects through to the end, even if she already knows that the result will be failure. Despite the innumerable amount of failures that she’s had, Lilian always finds a way to take joy from any situation. While she mainly focuses on her work, she is a rather quiet and shy woman despite her imposing stature and very apparent abilities. She doesn’t like to brag, nor is she prone to any outwardly negative emotions.

She does have several flaws though, first and foremost being her inability to cope with overly strong negative stimuli as well as a tendency to hyper fixate on a project at hand, often forgetting to eat and rest until her body physically forces her to sustain itself. (most common being her collapsing from exhaustion and sleep deprivation.)

MISC

Lives in the muggle world (London specifically)

Has family in both France and England

While not typically a fighter, Lilian has mastered the Patronus charm to astonishing success, manifesting three or more Wolf patroni with one casting.

While she is missing her left arm and right leg from the joints down, Lilian has since made prosthetic arms that are not only nearly identical to the previous limbs, they are far stronger than steel and well crafted enough to fool Muggles unless they closely inspect the hand in question.

Lilian married Merula nearly a year after the Battle of Hogwarts

In order to maintain hold of her tools while working and simultaneously casting spells, Lilian has mastered both the art of wandless and silent spellcasting.

Lilian owns a machine shop in London, making both Muggle and Magical items for multiple clients. She is allowed to do this through the employment of Squibs. This also allows her to take Auror Interns, teaching them how muggle technology works.

Lilian attempts to pioneer Golemancy, even attempting to have it recognized as an official practice of magic.

After Much convincing and reassuring, Lilian managed to get Merula to move to the Muggle world. Even then, this was only after several charms had been cast to help hide their magical nature from Ordinary Muggles. (Merula is particularly keen on cell phones.)

After several letters, Lilian agrees to teach several Magic Theory classes at Beauxbatons, much to the joy of several students and faculty. Lilian even demonstrates the magic and technology behind her prosthetics, inspiring the next generation of magic craftsmen and women.

#Biography #character bio #Lilian Le'reau #story #art by helgship #template by hogwartsmysterystory #this was fun to make #i finally made a full character bio

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yourperfectflaws · 4 years

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HYDRA’s Pet ; 02

Pairing: James Bunchan Barnes x HYDRA!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic/ Familial)

Series Summary: As HYDRA’s favorite experiment, you were trained to follow orders perfectly. But, when you’re taken from the only home you’d ever known by the Avengers, you find yourself more lost than ever. However, out of all the things that could have happened to you, you’d never expected him to be one of them.

Chapter Summary: Your sexy ass is locked in a cell underneath the Avengers’ Compound and you get an offer.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.2k

Author’s Note: As you can tell, I’m pulling shit from my ass at this point. Enjoy.

Prologue // First Chapter // Next Chapter

January 18th, 2017 ; Unknown

When you woke, you were in a grey room lying on a cot, out of your soldier state. You made an attempt to sit up but began to panic when you felt a metal choker around your neck. Since trying to pry it off was futile, you steadied your breathing and scanned the room.

The area was immaculately clean but extremely minimalist. There was an armchair underneath a camera in one corner and a small bedside table near the cot. A large, steel door sat across the room and from what you could tell it was thick and heavy. There was most likely a key pad on the other side and would not budge if you attempted to ram into it.

You tried feeling out for anyone’s mind with yours but you couldn’t seem to even feel your own. Perhaps it was the collar. It was strange being unable to hear the thoughts and feel the emotions of others.

You figured there was nothing you could do to escape so you lied back down on the cot and stared up at the ceiling, collecting your thoughts. The Avengers had taken you... but to where? Their tower? Their compound? Maybe you were in a special jail? That seemed likely. You were dangerous and therefore a threat.

It wasn’t long before someone entered, the sound of beeping— a code being punched in— and then the screeching groan of metal hinges. The man who stood before you was someone that you knew was your enemy. Captain America. He stood there, hands to his sides, and exhumed patriotic confidence.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Hello, my name is Steve Rogers and I am a part of the Avengers. I’m here to help you. Can you tell me your name?” He attempted to step closer but you hid behind your fists.

Statistically you had a 57% chance of beating him in a fight— the number would be much higher if your Commander were here— but not knowing what was on the other side of the door made your chances of getting past him exponentially lower. You realized that remaining silent would not be an option if you wanted more information.

“Where am I?” You asked in your best English. You only ever spoke in English when you were on missions. You could understand it better than you could speak or write it. Though, it seemed to get your message across. He smiled at you, which seemed nearly genuine.

“I could tell you... but you’re going to have to answer some of my questions first.” He sat down in the armchair that was underneath the camera and regarded you with a light smile. “You don’t have to be hesitant around me, I brought no weapons and I’m not here to hurt you.”

You could feel he was telling the truth so you lowered your fists but never your guard. There was still a chance that he was lying and you refused to let him catch you by surprise. He stared at you for a second before he spoke again. “Are you ready to tell me your name?”

“Project 103,” You said.

He sat there with pinched brows for a few seconds. “No, I mean your real name. The one that your parents gave you.”

“HYDRA is my parents.” You both reeled back once you said that, it didn’t feel like it was you speaking. Your voice had the same robotic tone as when you were in your soldier state. You felt like a puppet again.

“Well, since HYDRA only gave you a number, then why don’t I give you a name?” He, once again, smiled at you. You wanted to punch him in his perfect teeth. “How’s... Blondie? No? What about Angelina? Emily?” You stared at him as he kept on listing off these foreign names.

It was strange. In the nearly 70 years that you had been alive, no one had ever asked you what you wanted. No one had ever given you a choice. It was clearly a trick, some sort of ruse to lull you into a false sense of security.

So, you were presented with two options. You could either refuse to cooperate resulting in potential punishment or you could continue with your duties as an agent of HYDRA. You were beyond confused about what to do. Normally, your Commander would make decisions for you but seeing as you’re alone, you didn’t know what to do.

“...Daria ... Amy… Y/n—”

“Yes,” you said, not realizing what you were agreeing to. You wanted him to be quiet.

“Y/n? You like that name?”

“Yes.” You couldn’t care less what they called you.

“Okay, Y/n it is, then.” He shuffled his feet and leaned back in the armchair, his calf resting on his knee. “So, Y/n, you mentioned something about HYDRA being your parents. Would you like to talk about that?”

“No.”

“That’s fine, maybe another time. How about the serum? Do you have any extra abilities that maybe you didn’t have beforehand?”

You stared at him, puzzled, for a few seconds before you realized what he was talking about. He meant all of the tests that HYDRA had put you through. All the changes your body made in a short amount of time. All the strange things you could do.

“Yes.” You waited for him to respond but he just stared at you. You realized that he wanted you to explain, which filled your stomach with dread. “I am strong, fast, quick healing, smart, can see in the dark, and remember all the things I see and hear. I can enter minds of others.”

He paused for a second before responding. “Okay, so what I’m hearing is you’re strong and resilient just like me and you can see in the dark. You also have photographic memory and telepathy. Awesome.” He stood up and walked towards the door. “I will be right back, okay?”

“What about my question?”

He glanced back at you. “You’ll know soon enough, you have nothing to worry about.”

And with that, he left. The sound of the metal door closing rang throughout the room. You knew that you shouldn’t, something in your brain told you not to, but you found yourself drawn to the feeling of power and righteousness that he carried himself with. You began to doubt that he was a bad person. Though, you still hated his patriotic guts.

An hour or so later, he came back in and sat back down in the armchair. He stared at you for a few seconds before he spoke. “Well, I’m going to offer you an opportunity, Y/n.” He paused, most likely for dramatic effect. “We would like to recruit you for the Avengers.”

You could tell he was trying to gauge your reaction, but you simply stared at him with a blank expression. You were at a loss, you didn’t know what to do. being with HYDRA, you were given a direction but now that you were without your Commander’s Orders, you were lost. Though, it intrigued you to know why they wanted to recruit you.

“Why?”

That question seemed to throw him off. He paused for a second, collecting his thoughts, before he spoke deliberately. “Well, we believe that you will be a valuable addition to this team,” he said with a calm tone.

You began to realize that your Commander was waiting for you somewhere out there. So that meant that you had to find him. And, logically speaking, living with the Avengers— though they were your enemies— would be helpful in searching for him.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Do you mean that you’d like to be a part of the Avengers?” He asked with a slight tilt of his head. You blinked at him.

“Yes.”

“In that case, I will be back.” And with that, he got up and left the room. You stared at the door as it shut loudly, wondering what would be in store for you when he returned.

-----

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was much easier to write than the last one (ugh). Please don’t hesitate to let me know if I need to fix something and I’m always accepting constructive criticism.

Have a great day and stay safe!

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danielmouradjensen · 4 years

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Canterbury Tales - in a historical/social context

In this essay the reader will be enlighten with an extremely short introduction to Canterbury Tales and the skillful poet behind this unique master piece, written in Middle English. Due to the size and focus of the paper, the Pardoner’s Tale, the Parson’s Tale and the wife of Bath’s Tale, including the prologues, will be selected among the 24 stories in Canterbury Tales. It will therefore be these three tales, which will be placed in a historical and social context. The main question in the essay is, “Which historical events are worth mentioning when discussing, the three specific tales, in Canterbury Tales?”

In Canterbury Tales (1387 - 1400.), the readers are introduced with a variety of personalities, like the Pardoner, the Parson, the Clerk, the Knight and the Wife of Bath. These mentioned characters are all pilgrims heading towards Canterbury. The tales are not written in Latin or French, which were languages preferred at that time but in Middle English. The Canterbury Tales were meant for a specific group of people and not the whole population in England1. Reading aloud was regarded as a social event in the time Chaucer.

It is also presumed that Geoffrey Chaucer did not write to achieve the benefits of fame. Canterbury Tales were of course handwritten on various manuscripts because it was much later, more specific, in the year 14762, that William Caxton introduced the first printing press in England. When the tales, which are quite amusing, were written, it was in a time or period of war, sickness and despair. It is from within the tales that the reader learns more about the society in the late Middle Ages. It is worth mentioning, that Chaucer had an advantage among his peers, in that he was a member of the court of King Richard II of England (1367-1400).

Furthermore, it is quite important to take notice that Chaucer the Poet uses a light satirical tone when introducing the many characters, in the different tales. Geoffrey Chaucer, as the genius he was, created a persona who is himself, in order to be part of the tales. In Canterbury Tales, the author and the narrator merge - another unique feature in the tales.

The Pardoner’s tale, the Parson’s tales and the Wife of Bath

As promised, the three tales will be placed in a historical (social) context: the role of the Church in England, the Great Western Schism, the Lollards, and the Hundred Year’s War as well as the Black Death. The Peasants’ Revolt, in 1381, will unfortunately not be discussed in this essay. This historical event would be interesting in connection with especially the Knight’s Tale.

The Pardoner’s tale

But, sirs, one thing that slipped my memory when I spoke my tale: I've relics, pardons in My pouch, in England none could finer be, The pope's own hand entrusted them to me. If anyone devoutly has resolved To make a gift and by me be absolved, Come forth at once and meekly on your knees Receive my pardon. Or, if you so please, Take for yourself a pardon as you go--One fresh and new at every town--just so You offer to me, all the while we ride, Some pence and nobles that are bonafide. (l. 919 – 930, Canterbury Tales, “the Pardoner’s Tale”)3

Is the Pardoner a charlatan or a true holy man? Geoffrey Chaucer describes this character as a man more interested in selling relics and enjoy life’s pleasures than helping others of the goodness of his heart. As an example from “The Pardoner's Portrait”: “He'd make more money in one day alone Than would the parson two months come and gone. So he made apes, with all the tricks he'd do, Of parson and of congregation too.” (l. 703 – 706, Canterbury Tales, “General Prologue”)4. However, in line 708 Chaucer writes: “In church he was a fine ecclesiastic”. The theme in the Pardoner´s tale is that the root to all evil is money. And money is what the pardoner likes. A greedy man who speaks about greed. Again, it becomes evident that Chaucer does not find the Pardoner worthy of his position as a man of the Church. Because of irony, the reader has to read between the lines.

In the late Middle Ages many historical events occurred, among them was the Western Schism (1378-1417), which resulted in a slit of the Roman Catholic Church. During a very long period, rivalries for the papacy led to a deep political crisis within the Church. Even after the truce with France, in 1389, England continued, very firmly, to support Rome, not Avignon, and would not offer any real solutions to end the Schism5. In the tales, it is also from Rome where the church authority derives from.

It is here, it is very interesting to talk about the role or status of the Church in England, during the lifetime of Chaucer. Was the Church in England strong or weak? At the time of Chaucer, the church was weak due to the Western Schism, mentioned above, the Black Death (1346–1353) and greedy/selfish churchmen6.

In England, the Black Death, which almost killed half of the population and the Hundred Years' War (1337-1453), led to an increase of self-serving churchmen – like the Pardoner in Canterbury Tales. The people of England were in pain and needed help and guidance, which meant a great opportunity for greedy and self-absorbed men of the church to exploit it. To further elaborate on the Hundred Years' War, which Geoffrey Chaucer himself participated in, even more death and suffering befell the people of England. France was also hurting and bleeding. The long war did not only bring serious social and economic changes in the English and French societies but also affected the writing of Geoffrey Chaucer.

The Black Death had a huge impact on the English society as a whole, not only were people dying but the way they died was horrific. There is a line/phrase saying: “there were hardly enough living to care for the sick and bury the dead”7. The plague affected the economy, politics and religion. It also had an impact on culture and arts. What is quite interesting is that the plague as well as the Hundred Years' War actually empowered the people.

Geoffrey Chaucer knew because of his place in the higher classes, the realities of the church and the abuses of the clergy. This gave Chaucer the opportunity to use humorous irony in the tales. Making fun of the mischiefs of the clergy was not something new at that time8. In addition to this, Chaucer was acquainted with John Wyclif, theologian and reformer, which contributed to a harsher stand towards the clergy in England.

No institution in fourteenth-century England was so often the object of satire as the Church. The great organization, with its wealth, its power, and its conservative traditions, might have been expected to offer a safeguard against social decay; but the Church itself was a fruitful breeding-ground for the very things, which were disorganizing feudal society. (A Chaucer handbook, p. 35)9

Going in depth with the Pardoner’s Tale, Death has a vital role, and might be viewed as the plague, which, stated above, ravaged England. Death, or the personification of Death, was something that Chaucer’s audience could identify with. The Pardoner’s Tale is the only tale set during the Black Plague.

The Parson’s Tale

There was a good man of religion, too, A PARSON of a certain township who Was poor, but rich in holy thought and work. He also was a learned man, a clerk; The Christian gospel he would truly preach, Devoutly his parishioners to teach. Benign he was, in diligence a wonder, And patient in adversity, as under Such he'd proven many times. And loath He was to get his tithes by threatening oath; For he would rather give, without a doubt, To all the poor parishioners about From his own substance and the offerings. (l. 477 – 489, Canterbury Tales, “General Prologue”)10

In the Parson’s Tale, the reader is now introduced to a different character than the Pardoner. It is the last and longest tale in Canterbury Tales. The funny thing is that, the tale is not even a tale:

It is a penitential manual, a curious choice because nearly all such vehicles of religious instruction were prepared by the clergy or by mystics. It is largely derivative, using material common to so many treatises that only a few of the actual sources can be established with some certainty. (Sermon and Penitential in The Parson’s Tale and their Effect on Style, p. 125)11

The Parson tells the others that he does not want to amuse them and therefore he chooses instead a sermon. From the Prologue: “You won't get any fable told by me; For Saint Paul, as he writes to Timothy, Reproves those who abandon truthfulness for fable-telling and such wretchedness.” (l. 31 - 34, Canterbury Tales, “The Parson's Tale PROLOGUE”)12

He could definitely be viewed as a more positive face of the church, according to Chaucer, than the persona, which the Pardoner represented. It is also worth noticing that, from the descriptions in the Prologue, the Parson, the Knight and the Ploughman represent the three traditional spheres of medieval society13.

It could also be worth placing “the Parson’s Tale” in context with the Lollards. As mentioned before, Chaucer was in contact with John Wyclif, who was convinced that the Bible and God had the highest authority and that the clergy should not own property. He also translated the Bible into Middle English14, which made it a lot easier for those who did not understand Latin. The Lollards followed John Wyclif and in the beginning, his supporters were from Oxford University and the royal court but the “movement” became increasingly popular outside “the inner circle”. The Lollards were critical towards the Church, which of course made them quite unpopular with the established clergy. The monastic leaders were not keen to follow or abide the views of John Wyclif and his followers. During the Black Death, Wyclif saw many flaws and weaknesses in the Church. It was believed that Rome was the enemy, and that the devote Christian only needed the local pastor and congregation15. The Lollards also saw sacraments as fake, which meant the reformers wanted to change the core in the Catholic Church. Wyclif died naturally even though the Church wanted him executed for heresy.

There could also be links between Parson’s tale and the ideas of the Lollards. According to Frances McCormack,16 there could be some similarities with the vocabulary in the tale and that of the Lollards. As also stated in the beginning that Chaucer did not write to a large group of people, he had a specific audience (like the royal court) and among these members were those who, in one way or another, supported the ideas of the Lollards.

The Wife of Bath’s Tale

She was a worthy woman all her life: At church door with five men she'd been a wife, Not counting all the company of her youth.(No need to treat that now, but it's the truth.) She'd journeyed to Jerusalem three times; Strange rivers she had crossed in foreign climes; She'd been to Rome and also to Boulogne, To Galicia for Saint James and to Cologne, And she knew much of wandering by the way. She had the lover's gap teeth, I must say. With ease upon an ambling horse she sat, Well wimpled, while upon her head her hat Was broad as any buckler to be found. (l. 459– 471, Canterbury Tales, “General Prologue”)17

Another very interesting character and pilgrim in Canterbury Tales is the Wife of Bath who sounds more like a modern woman and a feminist from the late 20th century than a woman from the late Middle Ages. This eccentric character, actually named Alison (line 804, The Wife of Bath's Tale PROLOGUE), is not afraid to speak her mind about former husbands, marriage and her sex-life. She does not sound like what a typical pilgrim should be and act. As an example, in the following quote, the reader learns what men’s “instruments” are actually used for:

That learned men I not provoke to oath, I mean to say that they were made for both--That is, both for relief and for our ease To procreate, so God we not displease. Why else should men into their ledgers set That every man yield to his wife her debt? And how can he pay this emolument Unless he use his simple instrument? That's why upon all creatures these are set, To urinate and also to beget. (l. 125 - 134, Canterbury Tales, “The Wife of Bath's Tale PROLOGUE”)18

She is one of the few women among the pilgrims, but she is not afraid to speak her mind and rebel against the patriarchal powers19. The Pardoner tries to interrupt her by flatter, but it does not work and she continuous:

The Pardoner spoke up immediately. "Now dame, by God and by Saint John," said he, "As a noble preacher on the case you'll pass. I almost wed a wife, but then, alas, Why buy it with my flesh, a price so dear? I'd rather not get married, not this year." "Abide," she said, "my tale is not begun! No, you'll be drinking from another tun, Before I'm through, that tastes much worse than ale. (l. 163 - 171, Canterbury Tales, “The Wife of Bath's Tale)20

In “Feminist Readings in Middle English Literature”, a very important point is made: “Recognition of the cultural meanings that are spoken through female voices can be a starting place for the exploration of forms of power and power relations in the Middle Ages.”21 The Wife of Bath (still looking for husband number six), is also a woman who has been on several pilgrimages. Furthermore, she is a woman who travels alone. In her tale, the readers learn about the knight, who rapes a fair maiden and as a punishment/challenge must answer what it is women what most of all. The queen who offers the knight a second chance is none other than Guinevere, the wife of King Arthur. What is important to point out, is that stories of King Arthur were quite popular at the time of Chaucer. Alison speaks of magic and magical creatures, which at that time, the established Church viewed as pagan beliefs. The tale begins with:

In the old days of King Arthur, today Still praised by Britons in a special way, This land was filled with fairies all about. The elf-queen with her jolly little rout In many a green field often danced. (l. 857 - 861, Canterbury Tales, “The Wife of Bath's Tale)22

When exploring the Wife of Bath’s tale in a historical context, it is also interesting to look at the Beguines in the mid and late Middle Ages. The Beguines were women who devoted their lives to God. In a time where there were more women than men, this specific life of a Beguine provided a safe haven for women without husbands.

The conclusion of the essay

When the Geoffrey Chaucer created the 24 spectacular tales, which were not only amusing and ironic/satirical, it was in a period of war, illness and despair. It is from within the tales and prologues that the reader has the opportunity to study the English society in the late Middle Ages. It is also worth mentioning, that Chaucer had an advantage among his countrymen, in that he was a member of the court of King Richard II of England (1367-1400).

A crucial religious and historical event took place in the western Christian world, which without doubt affected the religious thoughts and views of many people, in the different layers of the societies, in the late Middle Ages. The Western Schism (1378-1417) resulted in a slit of the Roman Catholic Church. During a very long period, rivalries for the papacy and/or authority led to a deep political crisis within the Church.

At the time of Chaucer, the church was weak due to the Western Schism, mentioned earlier, the Black Death (1346–1353) and corrupted churchmen.

In England, the Black Plague, which almost exterminated half of the population and the Hundred Years' War (1337-1453), led to an increase of self-serving churchmen – like the greedy Pardoner in Canterbury Tales. The people of England were in pain and were in seek of help and guidance, which meant a great opportunity for greedy and self-absorbed men of the church to exploit it. As mentioned in the essay, the Black Death had a huge impact on the English society as a whole, not only were the population dying but the way they died was unbelievable. There is a line/phrase, to further illustrating the Black Plague, saying: “there were hardly enough living to care for the sick and bury the dead”. The Black Death affected the economy, politics and religion. It also changed the culture and arts (including, the writing of Chaucer).

Placing “the Parson’s Tale” in context with the Lollards, makes som sense. As mentioned before, Chaucer was in contact with John Wyclif, who was convinced that it was only God and the Bible, which had the real authority. That the clergy should not possess property, which they indeed did. The Lollards were critical towards the Church, which of course made them quite unpopular with the clergy. The monastic leaders were not keen to follow or abide the radical views of John Wyclif and his supporters. During the Black Death, Wyclif saw many flaws and weaknesses in the established Church. Geoffrey Chaucer knew, due to his status and as member of the royal court, the realities of the church and the abuses of the clergymen. This gave Chaucer the opportunity to use humorous irony in the tales. Chaucer had an idea on how the clergy should act and was frustrated with how they actually acted, as an example the Parson vs. the Pardoner.

It is also worth recalling that, from the descriptions in the Prologue, the Parson, the Knight and the Ploughman represent the three traditional spheres of medieval society. Another very interesting female character and pilgrim in Canterbury Tales is the Wife of Bath. She sounds more like a modern woman and a feminist from the late 20th century than a woman from the late Middle Ages. She might even represent some women in this specific period.

Bibliography

Blades,William. The Life and Typography of William Caxton, England's First Printer - With Evidence of his Typographical Connection with Colard Mansion, the Printer at Bruges. Cambridge University Press, 2014.

Byrne, Joseph. Encyclopedia of the Black Death. ABC-CLIO, 2012.

Creighton, James Joseph. Chaucer's Presentation of the Church in the Canterbury Tales. Master’s theses, Loyola University Chicago, 1957

Evans, Ruth and Leslie Johnson. Feminist Readings in Middle English Literature: The Wife of Bath and All Her Sect. Routledge, 2005.

French, Robert Dudley. A Chaucer handbook. New York, 1947.

Manly, John Matthews. Some New Light on Chaucer. Henry Holt, 1926.

McCormack, Frances Mary. Author of Chaucer and the Culture of Dissent: The Lollard Context and Subtext of the Parson's Tale Four. Courts Press, 2007.

Palmer, J. J. N.. England and the Great Western Schism, 1388-1399”, The English Historical Review Vol. 83, No. 328 .Jul., 1968.

Rowland, Beryl. Sermon and Penitential in The Parson’s Tale and their Effect on Style. Florilegium 9, 1987.

Black Death: The lasting impact by Professor Tom James, last accessed Monday, October 24, 2016, http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/middle_ages/black_impact_01.shtml

General Prologue, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, english.fsu.edu/canterbury/general.html

John Wycliffe and The Lollards, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, http://sites.fas.harvard.edu/~chaucer/special/varia/lollards/lollards.html

The Pardoner's Tale, last accessed Friday, October 21, 2016, http://english.fsu.edu/canterbury/pardoner.html

The Parson's Tale PROLOGUE, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, english.fsu.edu/canterbury/parsonpro.html

The Wife of Bath's Tale, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, http://english.fsu.edu/canterbury/wife.html

The Wife of Bath's Tale PROLOGUE, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, http://english.fsu.edu/canterbury/wifepro.html

1 John Matthews Manly, Some New Light on Chaucer (Henry Holt, 1926), 76.

2 William Blades, The Life and Typography of William Caxton, England's First Printer - With Evidence of his Typographical Connection with Colard Mansion, the Printer at Bruges (Cambridge University Press, 2014), 62-63.

3 The Pardoner's Tale, last accessed Friday, October 21, 2016, http://english.fsu.edu/canterbury/pardoner.html

4 General Prologue, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, english.fsu.edu/canterbury/general.html

5 J. J. N. Palmer, ”England and the Great Western Schism, 1388-1399”, The English Historical Review Vol. 83, No. 328 (Jul., 1968): 516

6 James Joseph Creighton, “Chaucer's Presentation of the Church in the Canterbury Tales”, (Master’s theses, Loyola University Chicago, 1957): 13

7 Black Death: The lasting impact by Professor Tom James, last accessed Monday, October 24, 2016, http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/middle_ages/black_impact_01.shtml

8 James Joseph Creighton, “Chaucer's Presentation of the Church in the Canterbury Tales”, 11

9 Robert Dudley French, A Chaucer handbook (New York, 1947)

10 General Prologue, last accessed Sunday, Monday 24, 2016, english.fsu.edu/canterbury/general.html

11 Beryl Rowland, “Sermon and Penitential in The Parson’s Tale and their Effect on Style”, Florilegium 9 (1987): 125

12 The Parson's Tale PROLOGUE, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, english.fsu.edu/canterbury/parsonpro.html

13 Black Death: The lasting impact by Professor Tom James, last accessed Monday, October 24, 2016, http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/middle_ages/black_impact_01.shtml

14 John Wycliffe and The Lollards, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, http://sites.fas.harvard.edu/~chaucer/special/varia/lollards/lollards.html

15 Joseph Byrne, Encyclopedia of the Black Death (ABC-CLIO, 2012), 214

16 Frances Mary McCormack, Author of Chaucer and the Culture of Dissent: The Lollard Context and Subtext of the Parson's Tale (Four Courts Press, 2007)

17 General Prologue, last accessed Sunday, Monday 24, 2016, english.fsu.edu/canterbury/general.html

18 The Wife of Bath's Tale PROLOGUE, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, http://english.fsu.edu/canterbury/wifepro.html

19 Ruth Evans and Leslie Johnson, Feminist Readings in Middle English Literature : The Wife of Bath and All Her Sect (Routledge, 2005), 1.

20 The Wife of Bath's Tale, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, http://english.fsu.edu/canterbury/wife.html

21 Ruth Evans and Leslie Johnson, Feminist Readings, 2.

22 The Wife of Bath's Tale, last accessed Sunday, October 23, 2016, http://english.fsu.edu/canterbury/wife.html

#geoffrey chaucer #history #litterature

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the-queer-look · 5 years

Text

The bonds that tie

No one is ever late to finding out their sexuality. No one is ever late with coming out. Everything takes time, and for some people that takes longer than others. Cultural and social circumstances can have a huge effect on how and when we begin to understand and accept ourselves, and in some parts of the world, that can have a deeply negative impact on our sense of self worth. Nevertheless, being true to ones self leads to deeper, more positive connections with those around you.

- K

Name: Jacob

age: 32

occupation: Refugee Assistance

Location: Liverpool

Gender: Male

sexuality: Gay

My name is Jacob, Im 32 years old, Australian, from an Iraqi background, with Assyrian nationality, and I am a gay man. I like to think of myself as a very easy going guy, although a lot of people seem to misunderstand my personality and think of me as a snob, or make a point of saying how I am very quite. I think that is because I am generally a shy person, largely because of being self conscious about my accent, I’m worried about saying something wrong, or not speaking fast enough. I always need to translate what I want to say into english in my head before actually saying it. I’ve always had a love of helping people, which is why I work for a government program designed to assist refugees secure housing and establish their first initial accomodation in Australia, which I’ve been working in for the past five years. My initial degree was in IT, which I gained back in Iraq, but once I finished my degree I realised that I wasnt very passionate about coding and working with computers, I just did the degree to satisfy my parents, so I worked with a newspaper and became a journalist until I left Iraq in 2010. I lived in Istanbul for a couple of years before moving to Australia as a part of my journey as an asylum seeker. I’ve been in Australia for about 6 years.

Upon moving to Australia it was very challenging to find work as a journalist, with English being my fifth language, and the competition for journalism jobs in Australia being so high, so I began assisting people who’d gone through my own journey, first as an interpreter, and then moving into community services and case management, and I’ve now done a diploma in social housing as well, and currently completing studies in social work with the University of Western Sydney, hopefully next year.

I think I realised that I was attracted to men when I was about 14 or 15 years of age, but because back then in Iraq there wasnt any access to the internet, nor anyone that you could really come out to and talk with about it, I felt extremely abnormal. I thought that it was just me, and that I was different to everyone else, it was at a time when all of my peers had girlfriends, and thinking about getting married and stuff. I met my first girlfriend when I was 17, and fell in love for the first time when I was 21 back in ui with one of my classmates, but of course that didnt last. I always felt like I was going down the wrong path, because even though I was dating women like I “should”, I still felt attracted to guys. Eventually I got the chance to speak to people through the internet, and found out what being gay was, and realised that I wasn’t an aberration. It gave me the tools to discover who I truly am. I dated my first guy when I was 24, which was when I was able to accept it, and I’ve identified as gay since then.

I did feel very strongly that I didnt belong in the society over there, with LGBTQIA+ people not being talked about at all, and such a religious culture which openly hated gay people… Growing up in a muslim society was very challenging, as the only Catholic guy in primary and middle school, with a western name as well, it didnt make it any easier to come to terms with my sexual orientation. I was bullied quite a lot for the way I dressed and acted, for not having a girlfriend etc. And that challenge moved to my home, the struggle about how to let my family accept me, the isolation that you feel as you build up to coming out to your family… Being gay, and the youngest in the family, in a very religious, Catholic family was not the easiest.

Eventually, even after moving out with friends after graduation, I was still very close with my family and dreaded the idea of coming out to them, and the possible disconnect from those family ties. Because I couldnt think of anything worse than not being able to see my nephews and nieces, of spending time with my parents. But eventually I had to be selfish for once, and I came out to them in August 2018. It was really hard for them in the beginning, they were really shocked, but we had a serious chat a few days later. I just realised, they always knew but they kind of denied within themselves, because of them… I looked different to any other gay guy that they knew of… I didnt fit those stereotypes that they thought of. I just did my best to educate them and make them believe it. At the beginning they were saying “You’re only saying that because you dont want to get married” and all this kind of stuff. I had to give them examples of people that I’d introduced them to and tell them that they were actually past boyfriends for them to accept the fact that I’m actually a gay guy.

They were expecting, even though we live in Australia now, that coming out to everyone would get me fired, or beaten up at work. They had no idea about the anti-discrimination laws in Australia, they even asked me about whether there was any sort of gay community in Sydney. Obviously it was a bit much for them, they offered me church conversion therapies, they offered me medications, they asked me to go on a blind date with a girl that might change my mind, but obviously none of those were options. I’ve asked them to accept who I am, and if not then they can continue their lives without me in it. But it didnt actually take any longer than two weeks before they started inviting me to family gatherings again, and our relationship now is even closer than what it was before. I’m so much more comfortable being myself around them, I dont feel like I have to hide myself, and pretend to be straight anymore that I used to do before. My whole family is so much closer now and I’m very grateful.

For my fmily I’ve always been the rebel. I was the first to move out of home, even though I’m the youngest. All of my brothers were getting engaged and married and still living with my parents. I moved out when I finished my studies, and everyone was against it. There’s this stigma in middle eastern culture that a young man should not move out of his family home before he gets married, because that will ruin his reputation and morals, and will have temptation to do bad things. There’ve always been comments about the way I dress, because my fashion choices were not very accepted, I followed the western singers on TV and stuff. And when I had my first piercing, an eyebrow piercing when I was 24, my family didnt talk to me for about two weeks because they thought it was too gay… surprise! It got even worse when I got my first tattoo, my friends would say to me “you look like a homeless person” “you look like you have no morals” etc, etc. When I got my ears pierced, they started saying that “you look like a faggot” which was really harsh. But I’ve always wanted to do what represents me, not to follow a group f people or act like someone else. I want to present myself in a way that represents myself, and I have always felt free to change my looks or the way I dress.

Things have definitely changed about the way I dress and act since I came out. I feel like I’m out of my shell, especially at work, I no longer feel the need to try to blend in anymore. Luckily the diversity at my work is very broad, so looking different isn’t a big deal. So far out of nearly 50 staff, I’m the only that is openly gay, which means of course I was picked by the inclusion co-ordinator to become the LGBTQIA+ champion fo the office, so staff could approach me to ask for resources and assistance when they have clients in the LGBTQIA+ community. And now I have the pride flag on my desk and people get shocked when they see it, and I can almost see the question marks appearing over their head as they stand there. But yes, I am definitely more comfortable being myself at work, that comfort in being who I am has helped my relationship with my managers because it’s like being a bird, and you finally learn how to fly, that’s how it feels for me to be out.

please contact us if you would like to be involved!

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goodlucktai · 5 years

Text

so take another breath

good omens pairing: adam & warlock word count: 1465 title borrowed from “icarus” by bastille part 5 of the is there a better bet than love? series read on ao3

Warlock magicks up another ball for Dog and gives it a hard throw down the hill. The terrier tears after it like a mad thing, folded ear flapping in the wind, and Adam shades his eyes against the melting summer sun to watch him go.

“Nice one,” he says approvingly.

As far as Antichrists go, Adam is alright. He’s easier to get along with than anybody at Warlock’s school ever was, anyway.

Dog’s breakneck pace takes him past the stupid little picnic table Aziraphale miracled up for the afternoon. He closes in on the plastic ball where it rolls to a stop against a tree stump and snatches it up in victorious jaws.

Their parents are down there, too. Crowley’s lounging to one side, drinking two-hundred pound wine like it’s going out of style while Mr. Young talks his ear off about vintage cars, and Aziraphale and Mrs. Young are deep in enthusiastic conversation. It looks like they might be stuck in The Middle of Nowhere, Oxfordshire for awhile yet.

Warlock rolls his eyes and sits in the grass next to Adam.

The Them didn’t come along today. Warlock’s glad for it. He likes them well enough, and Pepper is cooler than all the rest of them put together, but he feels outnumbered around all four of them. Sometimes he feels outnumbered when it’s just him and Adam.

“What are you thinking?” asks Adam. It’s nice of him to ask, when he could probably just find out by looking a little harder than usual.

Dog is coming back, dropping the slobbery ball in Warlock’s lap and sparing him scraping together an answer for as long as it takes to send him hurtling back down the hill in pursuit once more.

He’s thinking it’s odd, that this life could have been his. He’s thinking it’s odd that he hates the idea.

If Adam hadn’t come along, if the Dowlings had been left alone, then Warlock would have been raised here, in Tadfield, as Albert or Baldwin or Oscar Young. He would have gone to school with Brian and Wensleydale and Pepper, and he would have had a mom who baked birthday cakes with his name written in crooked icing, and a dad who went over homework with him that neither of them understood and he maybe would have been a pretty happy kid. He maybe would have turned out like Adam.

But he wouldn’t have his parents. Even though Aziraphale can’t cook, and Crowley would rather climb the walls than look at homework for very long, Warlock would still pick them over the Youngs or the Dowlings. He’s pretty good at maths on his own, anyway. That's why he majored in it.

“I’m thinking it’ll be a miracle if the bookshop’s still standing when we get home,” Warlock says, leaning back on his hands. If he gets muddy, it will only take a thought to clean himself up again. “Considering who we left to look after the place.”

“Nanael’s there, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, but so’s Grem,” Warlock points out. It’s hard to say Gremory’s name without rolling his eyes and most of the time he doesn’t even try. “She’d start a fire just to have something to talk about later.”

“Bookshop’s fireproof,” Adam says matter-of-factly. “Made sure of that this time.”

Warlock looks at him sideways, weighs his options, then decides that it’s way too late to pretend he has a healthy dose of self-preservation in face of someone who could rearrange his entire existence with a blink.

“Fireproof doesn’t mean Gremory-proof. Those guys spend so much time reading weird grimoires they probably know plenty of stuff you don’t.”

The Antichrist tips his head back with a grin. “That’s pretty cool. Y’know, I could probably fix it myself. How many years have you been sneaking around behind their backs at this point?”

Warlock scowls. “None of your business.”

“I mean, I guess not.” Except Adam’s business is whatever he sticks his nose into and they both know it. “I won’t always be around, you know. A hundred years from now I won’t be able to offer again.”

“A hundred years from now we’ll have figured it out for ourselves,” Warlock snaps, sitting up straight. “Nanael’s close, I know they are.”

“I didn’t mean to fight,” Adam says peaceably. He never gets riled up. “I was just saying.”

Feathers ruffled, Warlock slumps back down again. “Well, quit.”

Dog was waylaid by a sausage that rolled under the picnic table. He’s begging for more scraps now. Adam brings his fingers to his mouth and whistles, which is something Warlock has never been able to figure out, and the Hellhound comes running right away.

He left the ball behind, so Adam just tussles with him for awhile. The terrier ends up in his favorite spot, pressed against Adam’s side in the sun-hot grass, a small and trusting thing.

“You wouldn’t have to be gone,” Warlock says after a moment, surprising himself. “You could still be here, if you wanted to be.”

“If I wanted to be,” Adam agreed. “I wouldn’t, though. Not when everyone I love is human. Not when they’d all be gone without me.”

He says it very easily, like it’s not even worth thinking about. Warlock has always envied how certain Adam is about everything, from as far back as the first time they both met, when Adam took one look at him and said in a self-satisfied way ‘you and I will be good friends.’

“You do, though,” Adam goes on. “Want to, I mean. You said ‘we’ earlier, when you were talking about the future."

A prickle of unease works its way into Warlock's stomach, the way it always does when he looks too far ahead.

He doesn’t think Aziraphale would approve of this conversation, given how much of Crowley’s existential dread (and Murmur’s general dread) that Warlock has inherited; but Aziraphale is down the hill playing human the way kids play house, and Adam probably wouldn’t let him overhear, anyway.

So Warlock says, “Of course I do. Your family may be human, but mine isn’t.”

Adam considers him, the shadow of something much older than the two of them in his eyes. “You can’t take it back once you make up your mind.”

Protective of the ones he loves, of his place in their lives, Warlock loses his temper. His words come out in a tone sharp enough it makes Dog lift his head.

“I don’t care what you say, Adam. You may have nearly ended the world or saved it or whatever, but you can’t boss me around. Crowley’s my Nanny and Aziraphale’s his angel, and the two of them, and Nanael and Grem and Murmur, are more my family than my mom and dad ever were. If I want to stay then I’m going to stay.”

The air is thin and dry, like brittle paper, heat building around them in a dangerous way. Adam’s curls are sticking up with static electricity from simple proximity to Warlock in a snit, but his expression is caught between amused and fond.

“I’m really not trying to fight,” he says. It bleaches the venom out of Warlock like a poultice, like the easiest thing in the world. Warlock resents it a little bit, at the same time he's grateful.

I’ll miss him when he’s gone, Warlock realizes. The thought settles in to stay, uncomfortably heavy, somewhere close to his heart.

He scowls anyway, and pulls up some grass just to feel the satisfying give beneath his hands, and they sit together in the silence of two almost-brothers who almost-entirely understand one another.

“You could stay if you wanted to,” Adam says after awhile, an unnecessary olive branch. “If you really wanted to, you could do it. You could stay forever. I mean, you’ve got a pretty good start.”

They were born at exactly the same time, and Adam will be thirty in another year, but Warlock is still nineteen. He rather feels as though he’ll be nineteen until he gets bored of it.

“I could make sure of it, if you’d like,” Adam offers kindly.

Warlock doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods.

Adam turns his hand, and reality turns with it, and they both feel a little bit better when it’s done.

“C’mon,” Adam says, standing with Dog tucked easily into the crook of his arm. “Mum made hummingbird cake.”

The heat has dissipated, typical English gray sponging across the sky and cooling all the sun-touched planes of the countryside. It won’t rain, not when it would ruin the picnic, but petrichor is thick and syrupy in the air as if it already had.

Warlock sinks into the chair next to Crowley, soaks up Aziraphale’s fond smile, and looks forward to the future.

#good omens #warlock dowling #adam young #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #the introduction of gremory and murmur whom im SO excited about #my writing #gomens fic #is there a better bet than love #yall nanael is here to stay

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blondecarfucker · 6 years

Text

Bed of Roses (Last Chapter - 21)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: THE LAST CHAPTER. I CANT FUCKING BELIEVE. i feel like before i start my thank yous i could give you some weird trivia on the story. i wrote the entire outline for the fic at a weekend shift at work, where i always have free time. i had some smaller ideas - them meeting at a bar and not seeing again, the whole kensingon-taxi-class thing from the beginning - but there was a sudden burst of inspiration and in like twenty minutes the outline was done, and very little has changed, i mostly just added some more details. also, i imagine the reader as alicia silverstone in the 90s?? idk. i just do. also, the reader thing with new york comes from the fact that i lived there for a while and i miss it so much, so thats why theres so much detail about places and stuff - its my form of revisiting my favourite spots there. also, will (REMEMBER WHEN) was written with sebastian stan in mind, and liv tyler (in her lord of the rings days) was poppy. i did too much research for this fic on queen history, and everytime i had to change something (especially in the first act) so the dates made more sense, it KILLED ME.

anyway, now the thank yous: SHIT THIS FIC IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT CHAPTER ON MY LIFE. its my first time writing such a long story without abandoning it, and my first time writing fiction in english, so i learned so much!! i was doing some research the other day, and the great gatsby is like 47k words long, and the first harry potter is around 70k words long - bed of roses is around 60k words long. this is crazy.

it's also my first story to get this many readers interacting with me, and i'm so grateful for you all!! i thought about thanking you all by name, but i dont want anyone to feel left out so i just want every and each one of you reading these words to know: if you read my story, thank you. thank you for giving me your time of the day, thank you for connecting with what i wrote, thank you for telling me in any way possible that you've enjoyed it. thank you. a writer must write, but theres not a lot of joy in talking to an empty room. you filled my small room with warmth and love and there's not enough words to express my gratitude for you all. thank you.

about my writing: i plan on FINALLY DOING THE MANY REQUESTS I HAVE IGNORED OVER THIS FINAL ACT OF BED OF ROSES - requests are still open, too! i'm also outlining a smaller roger x reader fic where she's one of the videographers on the news of the world documentary, so keep an eye out for that! i'm gonna open a permanent taglist for the requests (and eventual new fic), so if you want to be added, hit me up in the ask box/comments/inbox!

anyway i'll finally wrap up this chapter's note cause you have the final chapter to read. enjoy my loves

Words: nearly 4k

Warnings: none??? part of their dialogue is inspired by some of my favourite movies and books like her and the wife and almost famous and before sunrise and the fault in our stars and eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and maybe more I DONT KNOW ITS BEEN AN EMOTIONAL RIDE OK I CANT EVEN REMEMBER WHERE DID I PULL THIS FROM EXACTLY. some errors too cause i didnt revise it completely my bad im crying ok

ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

Chapter 21

Roger lit a cigarette in the train cabin, and tried to open the top window, the one you can usually pull open.

"Rog, it's not gonna open, you know", you told him as you watched him fiddling with the glass.

"I guess you're right. Hope you won't be bothered by the smoke", he said, taking a puff.

"I won't if you share it with me", you answered, and with a half smile on his lips, Roger lifted the cigarette to your lips, and you breathed in the smoke while looking at him through your lashes.

"Don't look at me like that. Especially if the cigarette smoke is going to leave the cabin sultry and hot", he told you, and you laughed.

"Yeah, and we won't do anything about it", you said, trying to make yourself more comfortable in your seat.

"And why is that?", he asked, batting his lashes innocently at you, you you lightly elbowed his ribs.

"We need to do something else, something we've been ignoring the whole trip", you said, and he raised his brow. "We need to talk about us", you told him, and he breathed out, smoke coming out of his nose.

"I guess you're right again", he said, then slid a bit down on his seat.

You didn't think much about talking about your future with Roger while in Paris, so now has to be the time, on a train that will take you to London and to a whole month of Roger being away, promoting News Of The World.

While in Paris, you never talked to Roger about the future, and talks of the past where subtle - you talked about how you felt with the development Doctor Who took over the years, but didn't think much about the fact that you were separate during years of the show.

You enjoyed the city, but most of all, you enjoyed each other's presence, not only going to museums, churches and castles around you, following them up with fancy dinners and walks along the Seine, but you also spent time inside the room, in your pajamas, ordering take out from restaurants you found on the phone book, having a hard time trying to speak french as Roger tickled the sole of your feet and kept trying to distract you.

You would always remember the peace you felt as you ate cheap chinese food on Roger's shirt on the balcony at night, the Eiffel Tower shining over your meal and Roger's electric blue eyes as he hummed early David Bowie's songs under his breath, or how at home you felt sitting on the couch, Roger on the floor with his head on your lap, his soft strands on your fingers as you tried to braid them while watching re-runs of I Dream of Jenie, Roger focused, trying to understand the french dubbing until he noticed what you were doing.

"Babe, are you trying to braid my hair? Think I'd look better if I'd look more girly?", he said, moving his head back so he can look at you.

"Yeah. Always thought so, but I'll have to keep imagining, since your hair is too short to braid", you pouted, and he laughed.

"Don't you like my new hair, then?", he asked, pouting back, and you moved your head to his level so you could press a quick kiss to his lips.

"I love it, Rog. Especially cause since it's shorter, it looks even messier after I pull it", you said, and he smirked. "My favourite look of yours is when you're all dishevelled after sex", you winked, teasing him.

"That's my favourite, too", he said, turning completely around and pulling you in for a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck.

But now, while in the smoke filled train cabin, you needed to make a few things clear.

"I've been avoiding this for a reason", he said, looking out the window, and you raised your brow, waiting for him to explain. "I have this weird, innate fear of you telling me it's all good but you don't want to see me again, or something", he said, and you gave him a half smile.

"I don't want to do this, Rog. And I won't do it", you told him, and he sighed in relief.

"Even though loving you is a bit complicated, I'll admit. Especially if you're me", you shrugged, and he turned to you, confused.

"Let me explain. I loved your idea for a bed of roses, a few days ago, cause it can exemplify our relationship so well. The roses feel so good against the skin, the smell is so intoxicating, it looks so beautiful - maybe too beautiful, ethereal, even. But then there's always a few thorns here and there, and they hurt so much when they lodge themselves on my skin, but I'm so intoxicated by the whole experience that I don't mind - I convince myself that it's nothing, and even that it's already part of me already, cause the thorns fit so perfectly on me, on my little stabs made by myself, by my own insecurities", you say, and he stares at you.

"What I'm trying to say is that every minute that I'm with you always distract me from the issues that come with being with you - the fact that there's a few expectations that come with being your serious girlfriend, be them always travelling with you while we're young, or eventually staying home once we have kids, knowing that you'll eventually cheat on me with a younger version of myself, while I'm too tired of taking care of the babies to even think about my sexual needs", you said, and you watched him frown.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this-", he started saying, but you cut him off.

"Let me finish, I promise it will get better", you said, fixing your posture as you start again. "But the thing is, I love you. I always have, ever since I started talking to you, you always trying to outflirt me, always seeing me as your equal. You desire me, but you also listen and see me as another human being, you never back down or ignore me if I challenge one of your beliefs, and you never treat me as a trophy-wife-to-be", you say, and you can feel your eyes fill with tears, but you're smiling. That's what you always loved about Roger. He smiled back at you.

"And because I love you, I don't want to deny myself the pleasure of being with you. I'd rather be in a bed of roses than in an empty bed - or worse, a blank bed, someone being there just so it's less cold at night. I want to be with you, Rog", you say, and he pulls you in for a hug, and you hold him back for a few moments before pulling away and looking at him in the eye.

"But also because I love you and I want to be with you, Rog, I don't want us to try to fit into this type of relationship I just mentioned. I don't want you to make me the other woman, either, when you eventually find someone so you can settle down, if it's not me" you said, rubbing your nose. "I guess I want to settle down with you, eventually, as we planned before, but this whole thing - living together and cheating if we're away for too long - it kills me, and I think it kills you, too. I respect you too much to want to cheat on you again, cause if I ever do and you never find out, I'll lose respect for you, and the same thing will happen if you cheat on me and I don't find out. And these are ugly truths, but this isn't our first time together; we know each other, we need to think about this", you told him, and he nodded.

"And I need to make it clear that I'll never be a simple rockstar housewife - I'll never be able to quit my job and look out for the kids while you travel the world and I make them lunch. I'll never be able to sit down on a dinner table on some award show with you and when someone asks me what I'll do, I'll smile as I say I'm a king-maker. I'm not", you said, firmly.

"And I'll never be satisfied with dumb spa and shopping trips as you do the actual work when we travel. If I have to live this life, I'll resent you, and I don't want that. I like being domestic with you, but this type of forced domesticity will poison us again - we're both too wild, too career-focused, for this. We've always been similar", you said, and he gave you a smile as you sighed. "I guess that's all I have to say", you shrugged, and he laughed. "Not much, right?", he said, running his fingers on his hair, pulling the strands back.

"Guess it's my turn now", he said, and you nodded, encouraging him. "When I saw you again, at the pub, there was so much that I wanted to say. I mostly wanted to apologize - it got lost as I got infatuated with you again, and tried to get you in bed - you know, usual stuff", he winked, and you laughed.

"But yeah, I kept looking at you while you updated me on your life, your skin glooming under the stars and the moonlight, and I couldn't stop thinking about all the things I wanted to apologize to you for. All the pain we caused each other. Everything I put on you. Everything I needed you to be or needed you to say. Cause no matter what - even if you had decided on never seeing me again after all this - I'll always love you, because we grew up together. And you helped make me who I am", he said, moving strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I just want you to know that there will always be a piece of you in me, always. Whatever someone you become, wherever you are in the world, however this" he said, pointing his finger to the two of us "works out, in whatever form it might take", he said, sighing "I'll always send you love. Before being anything else to me - and I hope to God you're always something more - you'll always be my friend, to the end", he told you, and the tears were already streaming down your cheeks. His cheeks soon mirrored yours.

"And now, after you so eloquently told me all your fears about our future, I need you to know something else, too", he said, as you wiped the tears under your eyes. "I always loved you for being the way you are. You always challenge me, you always make me work harder, try harder, to be better. And it's not even something you force me to do; I just follow your lead. The way you look was what first got into me, I won't lie, but the way you are is what made me stay. It's what will always make me stay", he said, a genuine smile on his lips. He made you feel warm, like the sun.

"You're the smartest person I know, you're funny, you enjoy sex, you're unapologetic, you're proud of who you are, even proud of your insecurities. And you have such a huge importance in my life: you made me who I am. Whatever way you want to make us work, I trust you. I just want to be with you, in whatever form it takes", he said, smiling, and then getting up and opening his bag.

"I forgot to give you something", he said, pulling a string out of the front pocket. You recognized the red glimmer. It was the heart necklace. "It's still yours to keep. Even though it's not in its original glory, it will always be yours. The necklace and my heart", he said, and you couldn't help but smile at him.

"Always so cheesy, Taylor", you said, joking as you moved your hair to the side so he could put the necklace on.

"You always loved it", he winked, and you laughed. "I do", you said, smiling.

"So, what does it all mean? Where are we?", you asked, and he shrugged. "Wherever you want us to be. I just hope that you keep me around", he told you sincerely.

"I will. So, we're not going back to our old ways, right? We're not back at sharing a flat and stuff", you said, and he nodded. "Sure".

"And you're going to spend a month away, all around the world. I don't want you to feel pressured not to cheat", you said, and he nodded again.

"Yeah, and you're back in London, starting a new job. I don't want you to be worried, too", he said.

"So, maybe no exclusivity, this time? At least not now. This is still debatable, in the future", you said, and he agreed.

"Makes sense. But I'll have a hard time desiring anyone but you", Roger said in a low voice, and you laughed to break any mood that might have settled. You needed to get things clear before making out in the train cabin.

"Me too, Rog. But I don't want to create any expectations of loyalty because we know each other too well, and I don't want a stupid fight to break this thing we're building together", you said.

"It's a good idea. So, no titles, too? I can't call you my girlfriend?", he said, and you laughed.

"You can, if you want to", you told him, and he pulled you closer to him.

"Good, cause I want to call you that on the News of the World launch party, that I'm hoping you'll go as my date", he said, pressing a kiss on top of your head, breathing in your fruity smell.

"Of course I'll go. I need to see the boys again", you told him, and he laughed.

"So you're not going for me, then?", he pouted, and you laughed again.

"No, I'm just going so I can meet Deacy's kid", you told him, and it was his turn to laugh.

Once you got to London, Roger offered to go to the airport alone - he had to get on his flight, and he was late. He knew you had to go home and get ready for work tomorrow, but you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

He looked relieved when you got on a cab with him to Heathrow.

"Big day tomorrow, huh", he said, rubbing your arm.

"Yeah, I still can't believe I'm finally going to work at the British Museum. It's so surreal, it feels like a dream. Like I'm living someone else's life", you said, looking out at the window, the early sunday morning reminding you of fresh starts - you were in the middle of one.

"Well, it's your life, and it's your job, cause you deserve it, babe. I never met someone who worked so hard to get where they want", Roger said, smiling, proud.

"I did. You and the boys", you said, and he huffed. "Guess you're right. Me and that pack of idiots, we turned out okay", he joked.

Once you got to the airport, you followed him to his gate.

You were feeling nervous - you had him for a week, and now it's time to say goodbye again.

You're both aware that the rest of the band is already waiting impatiently in the jet, but you can't help it - you hug him, dropping your luggage on the floor, and he does the same, the hug soon turning into a kiss as you rub your hands on each other's body, as if you're trying to remember how every inch of the other feels like, as if you're both about to disappear.

But the airport worker clears her throat, and you break the kiss, looking at each other longingly.

"Don't say goodbye", you beg Roger, putting your hand on his lips as he opens his mouth.

"See you soon", he says between your fingers. You smile at him, grateful he found a way with words so you're not repeating the same old goodbyes.

"See you soon, Roger", you say, hugging him again for a few seconds, just trying to capture every detail - his smell, the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours.

And once he has to go into the jet, you go to the glass wall, and you can swear you see some familiar faces from the windows of the jet.

But before you can focus, soon Roger's well known face takes over the window you're watching, and he puts a hand on the glass.

You can't help but think about the last time you did that with him, him being on your place as you were inside the plane, moving to another country, your heart weighing down on you, filled with doubts.

But now your heart warmed you up, filled with joy and love, and you could feel Roger's crystal heart on top of your chest. He was right. There would be always a piece of him on you, too.

Epilogue: News of the World Launch Party

"Y/N! You're back!" Brian's voice welcomed you to the ballroom.

You squeezed Roger's hand - it was the first time you saw the band in years, and you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous about it.

"Darling, you're really back! We thought Roger was getting high too often and hallucinated a week in Paris with you. But I guess you did come back to him", Freddie said, hugging you by the side as he held a glass of champagne on his other hand.

"I'm back with him only so I can see you all again, of course", you said, winking at Roger as he pretended to be offended.

But then you heard Deacy and Veronica scream your name in unison, and you turned to see them.

"So you're really back!!" Deacy said, but your eyes were on the baby boy on his lap.

"This is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life.", you said, trying to get his attention. Roger looked at you, adoringly, as you moved your eyes to Veronica.

"Ronnie!! You're so big!" you said, trying to hug her through her belly. "It's coming out in a few months! It's a boy, Michael. Someone our young Rob can play with", she said, and Roger frowned.

"I could swear it was a girl", he said, and John smiled. "Maybe next time", he said.

"Hey, Bob. Do you want to play with me? C'mon", you said, and he motioned to go to your arms. You picked him up as he started playing with your hair.

"You'd be a good mom, Y/N", Veronica said, and you got tense. "God, Ronnie, don't even joke about this", you said, and Roger chuckled. "It's a sensitive topic at the moment", he explained.

"The moment will take quite some time, you know", you told him, the youngest Deacon pulling your earring before playing with the crystal heart on your neck.

You talked to the boys and Veronica for a while, updating each other, but no one brought up how you and Roger got back together. It just felt natural - no need to question.

You stayed with Roger for the whole night - behind the cameras as he did press, by his side during dinner - where he was back at his old ways, teasing you lightly with his hand under the table. You felt good in his arms, getting back into his life.

He was interested in getting back into your life, too. He came back to London last night, and went straight to dinner with you. You were trying different food, and now was time to try Indian food.

As he ate his Chicken Tikka Masala, dipping the naan in the sauce, you invited him for a party your bosses would be throwing next month to celebrate a new exhibit.

He gave you a bright smile. "I'd love to be your date, my love", he said.

And after the Deacons went home - Robert was asleep on his father's lap - the party got louder, the dance floor more full. You could swear you saw an angular face that could only belong to Bowie pick someone to dance - was this Princess Leia? - but before you could process the whole situation, Roger pulled you to dance.

"Thought you didn't dance, Mr Taylor", you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tried to slow dance to All The Young Dudes, by Mott The Hoople.

"I don't dance very well, indeed. But it's just an excuse to be so close to you in public, and God, I'm dying to call you Ms Taylor", he said, and you chuckled.

"Take it slower, Rog", you told him, and he leaned in to rest his head on the curve of your neck. "And why do you want to be close to me in public? Is it still one of your weird fetishes?", you joked, and you felt him laugh against your skin.

"No, it's just that you've been killing me with this dress of yours, and you've been killing a lot of the guys here, too. Could swear I saw Bowie checking you out", he told you, and you gasped.

"Taylor, don't even joke about this. I'd have a heart attack", you said, and he laughed. "You'd leave me here for Bowie, is that it?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Of course not. I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he might acknowledge my existence", you said, and it was his turn to laugh. "The only eyes I really like to feel on me when I look away are yours, Rog", you said, and he gave you a quick kiss.

"Okay, had enough of trying to dance. Let's get some fresh air", he told you, and you followed him to the balcony.

As the cold, fresh air brushed against your exposed skin, you heard the first notes to Tiny Dancer, by Elton John. You walked to the balcony, leaning in and taking in the view of London at night.

Roger soon took you into his arms, hugging you from behind, and you felt safe, his body heart making you warm in the cold evening as he jokingly whispered "Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man" into your ear, and you scoffed. "Slower, Taylor", you told him, and he laughed.

"However you want it, babe", he said, now paying attention to the view, focusing on the feeling on you in his arms again. Finally.

But oh how it feels so real

Lying here with no one near

Only you and you can hear me

When I say softly, slowly

"I could die right now, Y/N. I'm just... happy. I've never felt this type of happiness before. I'm just exactly where I want to be", Roger said in his husky voice, and you nodded lightly in agreement.

Because in Roger's arms, you feel home. You feel what you hoped to feel for years - what got you to move to London in the first place. You feel like you belong.

---

1988 Special

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

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firjii · 5 years

Link

Words: 2231

Fandom: Tomb Raider (Video Games), Rise Of The Tomb Raider - Fandom Rating: General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Lara Croft, Jacob (Tomb Raider) Tags: hurt/comfort, friendfic, referenced injuries, injury mention, anxiety, survivor guilt, spirituality (canon compliant) Summary: Exhausted, injured, and slightly delirious after escaping one of Trinity’s bases, Lara finally has a chance to pause and recuperate in the relative safety among Jacob’s people. As she reflects on choice and duty, she confesses some of her frustrations to Jacob.

[o hey waddup, first new fanfic in 10 months and it’s a totally random thing that absolutely no one asked for XD XD]

Plain text version under the cut.

Lara’s legs folded awkwardly and she sank onto the pallet harder than she expected to. She banged the back of her head against the shack’s timber wall in the process.

“Easy,” Jacob murmured. He clunked a cup of stew on a table and rushed over to her a little too late.

She rubbed her head, but the movement that it required of her arm made her flinch. A very stifled groan sounded deep in her throat. “It’s alright. I barely hit it. It just surprised me.”

He crouched. “Sit still. I would have checked your injuries sooner, but we could only stay in one place for so long.” Jacob checked her eyes and pulse in silence.

“Could you help if something was wrong?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” He prompted her to move her head. “We have much of the knowledge we need, but not always the tools to do something about it.” Satisfied with the range of motion in her neck, he stood and retrieved the stew. “Here. A crossing like that would have broken any spirit. An empty stomach won’t help.”

Despite the seasoning in the stew, she ate blankly, as if forcing bland or undercooked fare into her mouth.

“You’ll need time, too.”

Lara shook her head as she took two more meager mouthfuls and meekly poked at the remains of the cup’s contents with the wooden spoon. “You saw what Trinity did. We don’t have time.”

“There’s enough left for you to get your bearings. You’re little use to anyone if you can’t even stand without swaying.”

Lara set the food aside and dug her fingernails into the shack wall. Her mouth twisted with the effort, but she stood. She squared her shoulders and straightened until she was at her full height, her frame a little lacking before Jacob.

Jacob raised an eyebrow.

Lara’s face greened. She locked her knees, but her exhaustion simply traveled up to her shoulders.

Jacob braced her as her knees failed. He guided her back down to the pallet and knelt. “When was the last time you rested?”

She propped herself against the wall. “It’s alright. Give me two or three hours. I’ll be fine.”

He moved away from her and slid onto his feet. “That’s not what I meant.”

She blinked with effort.

A ghost of a chuckle escaped him. “It’s not a difficult question.”

Something flickered and half-formed in her eyes but disappeared sooner than it had surfaced. “Your people live off the land. You worry about survival above all else, because even if you’re willing to die for your purpose, someone needs to stay alive to guard that purpose. And out here, any mistake can be your last. Sometimes the choice is between –” She swallowed with effort. “Sometimes victory doesn’t exist. Sometimes success only means cheating death another day. Some of the world calls that a harsh life, but you do what you must. And so do I.”

She frowned. Travel’s heaviness made the journey to her own question scattered, but it willed itself out of the shadows after another moment. She wasn’t sure why she was thinking about it, but now that it was here and she had a moment, she indulged herself.

Had she been speaking English? Had Jacob? Each language she knew lived in a different corner of her concentration, but with everything inside her drenched in panic or blood or sweat or grime or all of them put together, every thought had a hazy sheen protecting it. Who were these people, aside from the descendants of the Prophet’s followers? Where had they come from? What would they be now if they weren’t eking out survival here?

She sighed so hard that her torso crumpled a little. “Deserts and mountains aren’t forgiving. Armed helicopters aren’t forgiving. My hunt isn’t forgiving.” Her forehead danced as she pushed the words out.

“‘Forgiving.’” His eyes squinted for an instant. “You confuse mistakes with tragedy.”

“They’re not always different.” She clenched and unclenched a hand several times in empty air as she searched for words. “When was I supposed to rest? When can anyone?” She waved an arm, but the gesture was pinched.

Jacob bent his head down and aimed a scowl at his boots, but he kept his silence.

“It shouldn’t be so hard to understand. Your people have made a life here. Not everyone could have done the same. Sometimes your enemy is winter. Sometimes it’s a wolf or a bear. Now it’s Trinity. But your fight never stops.”

“Hmm,” he grunted in accord. “Apparently, neither does yours.”

“You’re –” She swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re protecting here other than yourselves, but it’s something you’re all willing to die for.”

“We have no choice.”

“What makes you think I do?”

“Lara, we came here because we were forced to, and we stay because we must. You decided when and how to start your path.”

Lara closed her eyes and rubbed her face hard.

“But I –”

Lara’s eyes whipped up to him.

He took a moment to choose his words. “I don’t think you decided to be on a path to begin with.”

She shook her head weakly to herself. “Well.” The single word escaped on a single anemic chuckle. “Here we are.”

He nodded. “Here we are.”

Her jaw tightened. She nodded dejectedly. “And after all you’ve been through, I had to bring more trouble here. I’m sorry.”

“I wouldn’t be free if you hadn’t found me.”

“But you’re not free. None of you are. You can’t leave, even if you want to. And Trinity knows you’re here because of me.”

“This is hardly the first time someone has hunted for our secrets. They already knew. They would have come anyway.”

Lara shifted and shook her head again.

Jacob grimaced slightly. “For now, all is well enough. You should sleep.”

Lara’s mouth opened and closed mutely several times, her outward stubbornness weakening each time. She nodded and crumpled down onto the pallet, but as her full weight met with it, a jolt went through her limbs. A strangled howl left her.

Jacob guided her as she sat up. “Let me see.”

She chuckled. “If your people used money, I’d bet everything I have that you’ve seen worse. And I have – quite a lot to bet.” She pulled up the back of her shirt several inches, wincing all the while.

Jacob stared. Silence surrounded the shack. “Some of these are old.”

Lara snorted. “Old enough to not hurt anymore, but not old enough to forget.”

“And a different story behind all of them.”

“Different parts of one story.”

Jacob considered the freshest of the injuries. Three bruises nearly the size of her fist loomed near her spine. A dozen or more small lacerations, most barely closed, pocked her back. Remarkably, her ribs seemed relatively unscathed. “There’s nothing much to bandage here, praise be.”

She murmured agreement.

“But are you always this unlucky?”

Lara scoffed and pulled her shirt back down. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” She turned her head halfway around to glance at him. “If it was, I wouldn’t be awake to tell you that. Sometimes you hit your mark. Sometimes you don’t.”

Jacob nodded as his eyebrows soared. “And sometimes you shatter a rib or paralyze yourself when you misjudge a jump. They’re only bones – nothing very important, hmm?”

Lara winced at the sharp words spoken so softly from a kind throat. No, not exactly a kind one, not entirely. Earnest, exhausted, fierce – and all hiding under the same question that took shape again.

Jacob sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I am.” Her voice was pale and small.

“I don’t have enough herbs here to treat them. I’ll send someone out to gather more. For now, rest.”

Lara’s eyes became heavier with each blink, but she forced herself to remain sitting upright. “I think I stopped resting the day my father left me.”

Jacob nodded minimally. He gazed out the open door at some faraway point for a long moment. “Then sleep.”

She sat awhile longer before she gave in to her exhaustion and inched her head down onto the pillow. With a great deal more wincing and flinching, she shifted onto her side.

Jacob lingered, unmoving.

Lara stared at the corner of the shack. “How do I finish this?” Her jaw barely moved as she pushed the words out.

“Some things in life are never over. They only move into a different season.”

“But how can I fix this before that happens?”

Lara went on staring listlessly. Jacob scowled. “Who said that you needed to?”

Unsatisfied with her head’s placement on the pillow, she wedged a forearm under her face. “It’s different when there’s blood on your hands.”

“You don’t just mean Trinity.”

Her face suddenly bore signs of suppressed contortions or twitches. “Nothing is ever just one thing.” She grabbed for a shaking breath. “Everything feeds into everything else. It’s like a stream that joins a river that-”

“Stop,” he cut her off, though his voice was scarcely louder than hers. He took her free hand.

Lara frowned lightly at the gesture for an instant but didn’t pull her arm away. She sniffled.

“You can’t solve any problem in a single day – not when they’re problems like yours and mine. Trouble often comes to us easier than answers do.” His head bobbed up and down with each word. “There’s little point in pretending otherwise.”

“I wish everything was that simple.”

“There’s nothing simple about it. You shouldn’t blame yourself for not knowing what most don’t know. Many souls spend their entire lives looking for that one truth.” He swallowed somberly. “And anyone who finds it has paid dearly for it. We both know that.”

Jacob held her hand in both of his, lowered his head, and closed his eyes.

She shifted slightly to get a better look at him. “What are you doing?”

A string of noises bubbled from him – words whispered carefully and almost too softly to hear.

It was a prayer, or something very close to one – of course it was, that was only fitting given his people’s heritage – but –

It only sounded like noise. Which language was it? Her forehead knotted. She made herself still and listened. Surely it wasn’t that difficult to piece out.

Except it was. Jacob repeated the words over and over, small variations gradually overtaking the phrases.

The ideas in the scrolls and fragments she’d found poked a crack in her lull as they came flooding back to her. Truth like liquid, being born to every language, hardened fanatics repaid with generosity instead of generous vengeance–

No, that wasn’t right. It couldn’t have been.

Legend and myth and history had a way of bleeding into each other. They could keep each other alive through all of mankind’s best efforts to annihilate them. The more contentious they were, the more they mirrored and mimicked each other and the vaguer the lines became, perhaps only to make it more difficult to erase anything. If just one of them was protected, the others could be salvaged – but sometimes it took many generations to recover even one piece of it. Lara had many. Jacob’s people had many, too – anyone who had endured through as much as they had wouldn’t have willingly forgotten what had forged them.

She couldn’t just sleep. She didn’t even try. Instead, she breathed and listened. Jacob’s prayer cycled around again and again, his earnestness never faltering. Yet still he only whispered – and still she couldn’t untangle the words.

It was so different from all the running. Too much running. Too much flailing. Too much clawing to hold on. One thing after another after another. Bad trailed bad. Luck chained on and on by its own devices or will until it left indentations everywhere, in everything.

What was that language.

A few rogue tears escaped and rolled down her face. Her patience was as ragged and fickle as her physical body was just now. It would all make more sense if she would just sleep – if she could sleep.

She’d managed it in subzero temperatures and howling winds with little shelter. Why was it so far beyond reach here, of all places? The valley was a climatological marvel, temperate for Russia. The air had the smell of early autumn. Lara dimly heard the sounds of life in the village as the moments passed: conversation, cooking, wood being hammered, fresh-forged metal singing as it was tempered into tools or shapes. But for all the energy that their way of life demanded for the simplest tasks, Jacob’s people had an inner stillness, as if their closeness with nature allowed their presence to augment it.

Those noises were easy to ignore. Jacob’s words weren’t, even if she didn’t know what they meant. They called out to another time and reached out to something that didn’t exist anymore – except for him, it did, as if he could drag it out of the lost depths of so much endangered culture at will. For what purpose? That wasn’t the point. It was as real as the lives that these people-of-myth had made through stubbornness, through stoic duty, through agonizing trial and error.

Her eyes finally became too heavy to prop open. Jacob’s prayer flowed on and on. Her last thought floated loose like mist rising from a lake.

Which language was it?

Did it really matter?

#firjii on ao3 #friendfic #tomb raider #rise of the tomb raider #lara croft

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sunshineandfangs · 5 years

Text

Viaggio/Cuore Malato Sequel Teaser pt.3

Luiza did indeed yell at me lol. And I am easily swayed into writing more stuff when people are so enthusiastic. Also I felt kinda bad for my cliffhangers.

Viaggio | Cuore Malato | Sequel pt1 | pt2

Warning: minor violence, FEELINGS, some fluff at last

---

Caroline watched with wary eyes as Ni-Klau-Niklau-he paced back and forth in front of her, a wild and frenzied air about him. After he bit her so brutally (again) she wasn’t expecting to survive, no more resurrections left. Game over. The aching part of her, the part left bleeding from his betrayal twice over, felt almost relieved.

And yet she wasn’t dead. He had stared at her as if he was seeing a ghost, literally shoved his blood down her throat to cure his venom, but had laid her with utter gentleness on a bed. Mood flipping again, he had torn out the carotid of a human he had snatched, spraying blood across her face and the room.

She had surprised herself with her control, somehow knowing she could resist if she really wanted to, but that same stupid, aching piece of her wanted answers. So she had lapped up the blood dripping down her lips, drank deeply from the poor convulsing man on the floor, needing the strength.

And now she watched him pace. His erratic behavior actually gave her a measure of confidence, though she cursed herself when her instinct was still to reach for his hand.

He froze as she touched him, burning a hole in the wall he was still facing, seeming afraid to look at her.

Her lips parted, her tongue clumsy as she stumbled over how to address him. “Nik,” she uttered at last, her heart foolishly settling on hope, “please, help me understand what’s happening.” She spoke as she did centuries ago, pointedly using the old Tuscan dialect.

---

Her hand was so warm in his, newly transitioned or not. And for all that he craved answers, he was running like a coward when it came to finally getting them.

He whipped around, wide-eyed as she spoke to him in a dialect he hadn’t heard in centuries. Her voice sounding as sweet as it ever did. And his mind raced as he registered her flawless accent, recalled that a few moments ago she had yelled at him in flawless English.

His fear and pride was a solid pit inside him, one he swallowed to speak to her, voice hoarse.

“896 years, 4 months, and 18 days ago I killed The Five,” he carefully moved closer to her and reached to touch her cheek, feeling relieved when she let him and didn’t flinch away. “Realized I killed you as well under the Hunter’s Curse. For 52 years, 4 months, and 9 days you came to me, haunting me with well-deserved vitriol.” His fingers trembled slightly as he traced the line of her jaw, the shape exactly as he remembered, the same lines he had drawn over and over. “I thought you would return to me at first, my blood in your system, but you never did. ...How are you here, Caroline?”

---

One didn’t remember the death dates of insignificant people. Nor did men like Nik or Klaus express such genuine vulnerability as a ploy. She slowly lifted her hand to press against his, skin to skin to skin.

“I was born here, in this time,” she added, clutching his fingers as he made to pull away, eyes pleading. “October 10th, 1992 in Mystic Falls General. The things I told you, they were true, just re-framed to fit a time I suddenly found myself in. You can find all my records here if you search for them, I didn’t lie to you if I could help.” She squeezed his hand, absorbing the stunned expression on his face, waiting for it to turn to anger or disbelief. “And nothing I did was a plan or scheme or plot. It wasn’t my intention to fall through time, fall in love with you. And it was absolutely not my intention to leave you, Nik.” She offered a wobbly smile. “Trust me, if it were my choice I would have stayed to yell at you for biting me like that.”

---

Her claims were insanity and yet he wanted them to be true with a desperate fervor. And oh, how she sounded like his Caroline. Not just her voice but her words. That daring audacity and blunt honesty. The easy way she could speak of love.

Everything about her pulled at his recollection. Her scent: citrus and vanilla, with hints of honey. The way her golden curls framed her face. The blue glint of her eyes. His fingers twitched. The way her skin felt against his.

“How can this be?” He rasped, needing her to prove it.

---

Caroline’s newly dead heart found the ability to pound away like a hummingbird, rapid and powerful. She could feel each beat thudding in her chest, an incredible awe filling her that they might both be telling the truth.

Her hope made her brave.

She interlaced their fingers, sliding their joined hands from her jaw to her temple.

“I don’t know how, but I am the Caroline you remember. I swear. Let me show you?”

She lowered her mental barriers, waiting to feel his presence. Trusting that this version, 896 years older but still carrying her memory, would not hurt her.

---

Klaus sucked in an unnecessary breath, feeling the gentle pressure of her mind. The warmth, the love, the affection. The way it seemed to wrap around him as he carefully prodded at the access she was granting to him.

He fell forward into the memory she offered up, eyelids fluttering as he too recalled the moment.

---

Caroline fiddled with her hair as she bit her lip, feeling a bit incredulous about what she was about to ask, to offer. Well aware how much it went against everything she had been taught.

“What is it like to feed?” She blurted out before she could lose her nerve, fidgeting more when Nik stared at her in surprise.

“Like the most potent rush you can imagine. Why? Are you offering?” He meant it as a tease, and was visibly taken aback when she said yes.

She blushed under his wide-eyed gaze and looked away, finding it easier to speak to the nice tapestry in the corner.

“It-it just seems like it could be very intimate. And well, I trust you not to hurt me and I just thought that maybe I could try giving you some of my blood. You know, just to see what it’s like. I mean you don’t have to of course! Oh, god what if I taste bad or so-”

Her rambling was halted as a finger pressed against her lips, the rest of his hand gently cupping her chin and encouraging her to look at him. She reluctantly turned her head, feeling flustered as she met his gaze.

Relief and warmth washed through her as she took in his soft expression, his hand seeming to caress her cheek of its own accord.

“I am honored, Caroline,” he said quietly, but no less powerfully, “by your trust in me. And if you wish me to, then I would happily accept your offer.”

She smiled, feeling her heart rate spike in anticipation. “Okay, then. Um how should we do this?”

His hand fell from her cheek to wrap around her waist, both his arms embracing her as he stepped backward. She followed willingly, listening to the almost purr his voice had fallen into.

“This will be more comfortable for you if we sit.” As he spoke, Nik settled back into one of his plusher chairs, motioning for her to turn. She did, letting him guide her to sit in his lap, resting her back to his chest. One arm banded across her stomach to keep her from falling, while the other gently combed back the hair from the right side of her throat.

She tilted her head to make it easier, relaxing in his arms. The hand on her stomach twitched as his voice rumbled against her back. “Oh, Caroline, the things you do to me...”

His lips were soft, nearly tickling the sensitive skin of her neck as he pressed kisses up and down the line of it. The pace slow and sensual before eventually they settled on one spot, nipping and sucking with still blunt teeth.

Caroline panted slightly, unable to help the stirring of arousal as she leaned into him. At some point her eyes had fluttered shut, and she didn’t bother to open them again, focusing instead on the feel of him surrounding her, his scent, the way her neck tingled from his touch.

The point of his fangs descended tracing a short line before halting, sliding with almost no resistance through her skin. It didn’t really hurt, feeling more like a firm pressure.

And then he was pulling back slightly, unplugging the small punctures as he drew her blood. Her breath hitched, unable to describe the sensation, but god did she like it. The two moaned in tandem, Nik delighting in the taste of her, the spice of her arousal the high of her trust, she reveling in the feel of him, the intimacy.

He drank slow, luxurious mouthfuls, tongue swiping out to catch the drops he missed. An eternity and an instant passed before he pulled away, his own blood sealing the wound until it looked like a faint bruise.

“Thank you, Caroline,” he murmured against her, lips brushing where he had just bitten her.

---

Their eyes opened simultaneously, Klaus’ chest giving an odd twinge at the old trust shimmering in her eyes.

“That’s how I want to remember you drinking from me, Nik. Please, don’t smother such a lovely memory again.”

“Caroline,” was all he could manage, her name laden with a million different emotions, none of which he could express.

It really was her. And he was self aware enough to know he didn’t deserve her, that in a day or so he would investigate every bit of her story, needing to know the how’s and the why’s.

But for now he just wanted her. So he took her. Cradled her in his arms as he blurred to his bedroom, curling around her on his sheets as he buried his nose in her hair.

---

List of current and upcoming sequels here.

#Klaroline #KlarosummerBingo #Klaroline Fanfiction #Klaroline Drabbles #My Writing

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