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themousefromfantasyland · 3 years ago

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How the Tooth Fairy Became a Guardian

Extracted from Toothiana, Queen of the Tooth Fairy Armies, third book in the Guardians of Childhood series by William Joyce.

In this series, which served as inspiration for the DreamWorks' Rise of the Guardians, William Joyce managed to create one of the craziest and most epic origin stories for the Tooth Fairy. If I'm not mistaken, in one interview, he himself admitted how crazy it was, and how it was inspired by jungle movies he watched as a kid.

The bookworm bowed and told them, “The story of the Queen of Toothiana lies in volume six of Curious Unexplainables of the East.”

“Of course! I should have remembered that myself,” Ombric said, nodding. “Mr. Qwerty, please enlighten us.” (Ombric, the Wizard,and Qwerty, the literal bookworm, are characters that only appeared in the books)

The Guardians sat around the table while Mr. Qwerty began his tale.

“To know the story of Queen Toothiana,” he said, “you must first hear the tale of the maharaja, his slave Haroom, and the Sisters of Flight.”

“Sisters of Flight?” North interrupted.

“Sisters of Flight,” Mr. Qwerty repeated patiently. The image of a beautiful winged woman appeared on one of Mr. Qwerty’s pages. She was human-size, with long, willowy arms and legs and a heart-shaped face. But her wings were magnificent, and she held a bow and arrow of extraordinary design.

The Sisters of Flight were an immortal race of winged women who ruled the city of Punjam Hy Loo, which sits atop the steepest mountain in the mysterious lands of the Farthest East. An army of noble elephants stood guard at the base of the mountain. No humans were allowed to enter, for the mountain’s jungle was a haven for the beasts of the wild—a place where they could be safe from men and their foolishness.

Toothiana’s father was a human by the name of Haroom. He had been sold at birth into slavery as a companion for a young Indian maharaja. Despite being slave and master, the maharaja and Haroom became great friends. But the maharaja was a silly, vain boy who had his every wish and whim granted. Yet this did not make him happy, for he always wanted more.

Haroom, Toothiana's father

Haroom, who had nothing, wanted nothing and so was very content. Secretly, the maharaja admired his friend for this. For his part, Haroom admired the maharaja for knowing what he wanted—and getting it.

The maharaja loved to hunt and slay all the animals of the wild, and Haroom, who never tired of watching the powerful elegance of wild creatures such as tigers and snow leopards, was an excellent tracker. But he hated to see the animals killed, so when that moment came, he always looked away. As a slave, he could do nothing to stop his master. And so, with Haroom tracking, the maharaja killed one of every beast in his kingdom, lining the palace walls with their heads as trophies. But the one animal the maharaja coveted most continued to elude him.

In the mountain land ruled by the Sisters of Flight, there dwelled one creature that no slave, man, or ruler had ever seen: the flying elephant of Punjam Hy Loo.

The maharaja was determined to do anything to have one for his collection, but every time he tried to force his way up the mountain, the elephant army at its base turned him back. He realized that he must find another way to reach Punjam Hy Loo.

In those ancient times no man had yet discovered the mystery of flight. But after demanding advice from his wizards and soothsayers, the maharaja learned a secret: Children can fly when they dream, and when the Moon shines brightly, their dreams can become so vivid that some of them come true. Sometimes the children remember, but mostly they do not. That is why children sometimes wake up in their parents’ beds without knowing how they got there—they flew!

The wizards told the maharaja a second secret.” At this, Mr. Qwerty lowered his voice, and all the Guardians leaned closer. “The memory of everything that happens to a child is stored in that child’s baby teeth.

And so the maharaja’s wizards gave him an idea: fashion a craft of the lost teeth of children and command it to remember how to fly. The maharaja sent out a decree throughout his kingdom, stating that whenever a child lost a tooth, it must be brought to his palace. His subjects happily complied, and it was not long before he had assembled a craft unlike any other the world had ever known.

Meanwhile, the maharaja ordered Haroom to make an archer’s bow of purest gold and one single ruby-tipped arrow. When the weapon was finished, the maharaja ordered Haroom to join him aboard the craft. Then he said these magic words:

‘Remember,

remember,

the moonlit flights

of magic nights.’

And just as the royal wizards had promised, the craft flew silently through the sky, over the jungle, and past the elephants who guarded Punjam Hy Loo.

They descended from the clouds and flew into the still-sleeping city. In the misty light of dawn, the maharaja could hardly tell where the jungle ended and the city began. But Haroom, used to seeking out tracks, spotted some he had never seen before—tracks that could only belong to the flying elephant, for although they looked similar to a normal elephant’s, his keen eye saw one addition: an extra digit pointing backward, like that of a bird.

It did not take long to find the flying elephant, sleeping in a nest in the low-lying limbs of an enormous jujube tree. The maharaja raised the golden bow and took careful aim. The tip of the ruby arrow glittered in the first rays of morning sunlight. Haroom looked away.

Suddenly, there came an intense, cacophonous alarm, as if every creature of Punjam Hy Loo knew of the maharaja’s murderous intent. Charging down from the towers above came the Sisters of Flight, wings outstretched, with all manner of weapons at the ready—gleaming swords, razor-sharp daggers, fantastical flying spears with wings of their own. It was a sight so beautiful, so terrifying that Haroom and the maharaja froze.

Then the maharaja raised his bow again, this time aiming it at the Sisters of Flight. ‘Look, Haroom, an even greater prize,’ he exclaimed.

In that single moment Haroom’s whole life changed. He knew, for the very first time, what he wanted. He could not bear to see a Sister of Flight harmed. He ordered the maharaja to stop.

The maharaja paid his servant no heed. He let loose the arrow. Haroom blocked it. Its ruby tip pierced his chest, and he crumbled to the ground.

The maharaja stared in shock, then kneeled beside his fallen friend. Weeping, he tried to stop the flow of blood but could not. Haroom was dying.

The Sisters of Flight landed around them. The most beautiful of the sisters, the one the maharaja had meant to kill, approached them. ‘We did not know that any man could be so selfless,’ she said. Her sisters nodded.

With one hand, she grabbed the arrow and plucked it from Haroom’s chest, then kissed her fingertips and gently touched his wound.

Haroom stirred, and his eyes fluttered open. All he could see was the face of the Sister of Flight. And all she could see was the brave and noble Haroom.

He was a slave no more.

She took his hand, and in that instant her wings vanished.

The other sisters lunged toward the maharaja in fury. They raised their swords, and Haroom could see they meant to kill his former master. ‘He will no longer harm you,’ he said. ‘Please, let him go—send him on his way.’

The sisters looked from one to the other, then agreed. But they declared that the maharaja must leave all he brought with him. The golden bow, the ruby-tipped arrow, the flying craft of teeth, and Haroom, his only friend.

‘And one thing more. You must also leave your vanity and cruelty behind so that we can know and understand them.’

The maharaja was heartbroken but agreed.

The flying elephant glided down from his nest, and with his trunk, he touched the maharaja’s forehead, and all the vanity and cruelty went from him.

But once these things were gone, there was little left—the maharaja was as simple as a baby monkey. In fact, he even sprouted a tail and scampered away speaking gibberish, shrinking to the size of an infant.

His vanity and cruelty would never be forgotten—the flying elephant had them now, and an elephant never forgets. As for Haroom and the beautiful Sister of Flight, they were married and lived on in Punjam Hy Loo. Within a year, a child was born. A girl. Selfless like her father. Pure of heart like her mother. She was named Toothiana.

The child of Haroom and Rashmi (for that was Toothiana’s mother’s name) seemed to be a normal mortal child. As there were no other human children living in Punjam Hy Loo, her parents thought it best to raise her among other mortals, and so they settled on the outskirts of a small village at the edge of the jungle. The young girl was well loved and protected and lived a simple, happy life until she was twelve and lost her last baby tooth. That’s when all her troubles began.

“Troubles?” Katherine asked nervously. (Katherine is also another book only character. She is friend of the Guardians and future guardian herself, Mother Goose, guardian of the stories)

“Yes, troubles,” Mr. Qwerty said. “For when she lost her last baby tooth, Toothiana sprouted wings. By the end of this first miraculous day, she could fly with the speed of a bird, darting to the top of the tallest trees to choose the ripest mangoes, papayas, and starfruit for the children of the village. She played with the birds and made friends with the wind.

But while the children delighted in Toothiana’s new skill, the adults of the village were bewildered, even frightened, by this half bird, half girl. Some thought she was an evil spirit and should be killed; others saw ways to use her, as either a freak to be caged and paraded about, or to force her to fly to the palace of the new maharaja and steal his jewels.

Haroom and Rashmi knew that to keep their daughter safe, they would have to pack their few belongings and escape. And so they did, deep into the jungle. The village children, all of whom adored Toothiana, tried to persuade their parents to leave her alone. But it was no use. The grown-ups of the village had gone mad with fear and greed.

They built a large cage, hired the best hunters in the land, and asked them to capture the young girl. Among these was a hunter most mysterious. He spoke not a word and was shrouded from head to foot in tattered cloth stitched together with jungle vines. The villagers were wary of him, and even the other hunters found him peculiar. ‘He knows the jungle better than any of us—it’s as if he’s more a creature than a man,’ they remarked quietly among themselves.

But Haroom and Rashmi were as wily as any hunter. Haroom, knowing everything there was to know about tracking, could disguise their trail so that no one could follow it. And Rashmi, who could converse with any animal, enlisted their aid in confounding the hunters. Tigers, elephants, even giant pythons would intercept the hunters whenever they neared. But the hunters, eager for the riches and fame they’d receive if they caged Toothiana, would not give up.

Rashmi, Toothiana's mother

The children of the village were also determined to thwart the hunters. They defied their parents, sending word to Toothiana and her mother and father again and again whenever the hunters were stalking the jungle. Toothiana, wiser still, hid in the treetops by day, only visiting her parents in the darkest hours of the night.

After weeks of the best hunters in the land failing to capture Toothiana, the cunning villagers became more sly. They secretly followed their children and discovered where Toothiana’s parents were hiding. They left a trail of coins for the hunters to follow. But only one hunter came—the one they almost feared. It was then that the Mysterious Hunter finally spoke. His voice was strange, high-pitched, almost comical, but his words were cold as death. ‘Seize the parents,’ he snarled. ‘Make it known that I will slit their throats if Toothiana does not surrender. That will bring this child of flight out of hiding.’

His plan made sense; the villagers did as he suggested. They attacked Haroom and Rashmi’s camp. With so many against them, the two surrendered without a fight. They had told their clever daughter to never try and help them if they were ever captured.

But the Mysterious Hunter had planned for that. He shouted out to any creature that could hear, ‘The parents of the flying girl will die by dawn if she comes not!’

The creatures of the jungle hurried to warn Toothiana that her parents were doomed if she did not come. Toothiana had never disobeyed her parents, but the thought of them at the dubious mercy of these grown-ups filled her with rage and determination, and she flew straight to her parents’ aid. She dove down from the treetops, ready to kill any who would try to harm her parents.

But Haroom and Rashmi were brave and cunning as well. Haroom, who had never harmed a living creature, was prepared to stop at nothing to prevent his daughter from being enslaved. And Rashmi, like all Sisters of Flight, had been a great warrior. As Toothiana neared, they slashed and fought like beings possessed. Toothiana flickered back and forth, hovering over her mother and father, reaching for them, but she did not have the strength to lift them up over the angry mob. Rashmi thrust a stringed pouch into her daughter’s hands. ‘Keep these to remember us by. Keep these to protect yourself,’ she pleaded to her child.

'Now go!’ commanded her father. ‘GO!’

With a heartrending cry, the winged girl did as her father ordered. She flew away but stopped, unsure of what to do. Her ears filled with the sound of the vengeful mob falling upon her parents.

‘Go!’ shouted her mother.

Toothiana flew wildly and desperately away. And as she went, she screamed from the depths of her soul. It was the scream of two beings: human and animal. It was a scream so pained and fierce that it caused all the villagers who were attacking her parents to go briefly deaf. All except . . . the Mysterious Hunter. He screamed back to Toothiana. His was a scream equally unsettling—a scream of rage and hate that was more animal than human. Toothiana knew in that instant that she had a mortal enemy—one who she must kill or be killed by.

But for now she would grieve. She flew to the highest treetop and huddled deep inside its foliage. She had no tears, only the blank ache of a now-empty life. She rocked back and forth in a trance of disbelief for a full day and night. Then she remembered the pouch her mother had thrust into her hands. Trembling, she opened it. Inside was a small box carved from a single giant ruby. It was covered in feathery patterns, and Toothiana knew that the box had once been the ruby-tipped arrow that had nearly killed her parents. Inside this beautiful box was a cluster of baby teeth and a note:

Our Dearest Girl,

These are the teeth of your childhood. If you have them under your pillow as you sleep, or hold it tightly, you will remember that which you need—a memory of happy days, or of deepest hopes, or even of us in better times.

But one tooth is not yours. It is a tooth of amazing power, and from what being it comes from, we do not know.

Use it only in times of the greatest danger or need.

Your Dearest Parents

Toothiana still did not cry, not even after reading the note. She slept with her baby teeth under her pillow and took solace in the dreams and memories it gave her.

Toothiana stayed in the jungle. She began to hate her wings. Once, she had thought them wondrous things, but now she saw them as the reason for the death of her parents. Her grief and loneliness knew no depths. The creatures of the jungle did what they could to help her, by bringing her food and making her treetop sleeping places as comfortable as possible. The children of the village tried to aid as well, but they now had to be doubly cautious of the village grown-ups.

As for Toothiana, she became more and more convinced that she belonged nowhere—not among the creatures of the jungle and certainly not among the humans of the village. She was alone. When she was at her very saddest, she would take one of her baby teeth from the carved box she always carried in her mother’s pouch she now wore around her neck, and hold it until it revealed its memories.

As the lonely years passed, Toothiana saw that the village children lost much of their innocence and some of their goodness as they grew up. She began to collect their teeth, so that, in the future, she could give them back their childhood memories and remind them of their kindness, just as her own parents had done for her.

Soon the children, not wanting their parents to find out, began to hide their lost teeth under their pillows for Toothiana to find. And she, cheered by this new game of sorts, began in turn to leave behind small bits of treasure she had found in the jungle. A gold nugget here. A sprinkling of sapphire chips there.

But you can imagine the curiosity that is stirred when a five-year-old sits down to breakfast with an uncut ruby in her palm, or when a ten-year-old boy comes to the table with a pocket full of emeralds. Once again the hearts of the grown-ups filled with greed, and it wasn’t long before they forced their children to tell them how they had come upon those treasures. Soon enough they had laid a new trap for Toothiana.

One dark, cloudy night Toothiana flew to the village to make her nightly rounds. A boy named Akela had lost his two front teeth, and Toothiana had a special treasure saved for him: two beautiful uncut diamonds. But as she entered his open window, it wasn’t Akela she found. Instead the Mysterious Hunter leaped toward her. From behind his shroud of rags, she could see the strangest eyes. Close together. Beady. Not entirely human. And cold with hate.

Toothiana’s rage clouded her keen intellect. All she could think was, I must get rid of this . . . thing! But before she could act, a steel door slammed down between her and the Hunter. She glanced around with birdlike quickness. The room was not Akela’s bedroom, but, in fact, a cleverly disguised steel cage.

She was trapped! The villagers cheered as the Hunter hauled away the cage. His platoon of slavelike helpers pulled the wheeled prison away from the villagers and into the jungle. The helpers were as strangely shrouded as the Hunter who commanded them was, and seemed excited by the capture. The children wept, begging their parents to let Toothiana go free. But they would not. The Mysterious Hunter had promised them riches beyond their dreams when he sold Toothiana.

Toothiana flung herself wildly against the cage, like a cornered eagle. But it did no good. The Hunter and his minions traveled swiftly through the night, deeper into the jungle. They knew the creatures of the wild would try to help Toothiana, so they carried the one weapon every animal fears: fire.

Torches were lashed to the roof of Toothiana’s cage. The Mysterious Hunter himself carried the brightest torch of all. The animals kept their distance, but they continued to follow the eerie caravan and keep watch over Toothiana, waiting for a chance to strike.

After days of travel they arrived at the base of the steep mountain of Toothiana’s birthplace—the kingdom of Punjam Hy Loo. The great elephants that guarded the mountain were standing at the ready, shifting back and forth on their massive feet. Toothiana’s jungle friends had warned them that the Mysterious Hunter was headed their way.

The Hunter did not challenge the elephants. He ordered his minions to halt and made no move to attack. Instead, he held his flaming torch aloft. ‘I bring a treasure to the Sisters of Flight and the flying elephant king who dwell in Punjam Hy Loo!’ he shouted into the night sky. The sky was empty; there was no sign of either the winged women who ruled there, or of the flying elephant.

The Hunter called out again. ‘I bring you the half-breed daughter of Haroom and Rashmi.’ At this, an otherworldly sound—like a rustle of trees in the wind—was heard. And indeed wind did begin to blow down from the mountain. It grew stronger and more furious, with gusts that nearly put out the torches.

Toothiana knew instinctually that this wind was sent by the Sisters of Flight and that they did not trust the Hunter. She also knew that it was time to take out the box her parents had left her.

As the winds continued to rise, the Hunter grew increasingly nervous, as did his minions. They began to chatter in the oddest way, not in words, but in sounds.

Then a chorus of voices, all speaking in unison, rang out bright and clear above the howl of the wind: ‘Tell us, Hunter, why cage our child? Where be her father and mother? What trick of men do you bring us? What do you seek, you who seem of men and yet are not?’

The Hunter rocked on his feet, seething with undisguised hate. He held his torch high and stepped forward, leaning into the wind. The elephants raised their trunks but took a step back. Fire was a fearsome thing, even for these mighty beasts.

The Hunter laughed, then threw down his tattered cloak. He was no man at all, but a massive monkey. ‘A maharaja of men I once was,’ he screamed, ��and by your doing, I am now a king of the monkeys!’ Then his troops dropped their cloaks as well. An array of monkeys revealed themselves, all armed with bows and arrows.

The Monkey King shrieked above the roaring wind, ‘You ask about her parents? Dead! By my doing! What do I seek? Revenge! On all who made me thus!’ Then he threw his torch into the herd of elephants and grabbed a bow and arrow from one of his men. He had it drawn in an instant, aimed directly at Toothiana’s heart.

Before he could let loose the arrow, the wind tripled in strength. Toothiana knew what to do. She held the ruby box tightly in her hand. ‘Mother, Father, help me,’ she whispered furiously, clenching her eyes shut. She pictured them clearly in her mind, letting herself feel the bond they had shared so deeply, letting herself remember how much they had sacrificed for her.

Suddenly, she was no longer in the cage. She was no longer a single entity, but several smaller versions of herself.

Bow drawn, the Monkey King hesitated, bewildered. How can this be? He could not remember the power of love—even though it had been this girl’s father who had loved him best—and his own memories were now fueled only by hate.

So the world turned against him once again.

The Sisters of Flight circled overhead. It was the flapping of their wings that made the great wind. It grew wilder and stranger, like a tornado. Leaves snapped off trees. Dirt swirled like a storm, and the Monkey King’s torch blew out.

Now the only light came from the Moon, and no jungle creature fears that guiding light. In an instant the elephants stampeded forward. Toothiana’s animal friends attacked. Toothiana’s mini-selves charged the Monkey King. The monkey army screamed and ran.

The king tried to grab the Toothianas, but he could not catch them. Then all the fairy-sized selves merged back into a single being. Toothiana was mystified by her new power, but she didn’t think on it. With one hand, she grabbed the Monkey King by the throat. It was as if she now had the strength of a dozen. The Monkey King cried out in terror and pain.

For an instant Toothiana felt the rage within her swell. She would snap his neck and be done with him. But the little box glowed in one hand, and the memory of her parents made her stop. She would not end this monkey man’s life. Let the jungle choose his fate.

So she let him go.

He fell to the ground, and she did not look back as she flew up to join the Sisters of Flight.

As they sped away, Toothiana and her kindred could hear the creatures of the jungle do as they saw fit with the fallen Monkey King. And his cries could be heard all the way to the Moon.

Mr. Qwerty then shut his pages. The tale, as it was written, was done.

#rotg tooth #rotg #rise of guardians #guardians of childhood #william joyce

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rachelbethhines · 3 years ago

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Robin Hood and His Merry Band

list of characters for an original series I’m working on

Alan-a-Dale - the gloomy and cynical bard, the grumpy voice of reason who doesn’t give a fuck, wonders why he hangs out with these crazies, knows it’s cause they’re family to him but won’t admit it out loud, besties with Friar Tuck even though they never agree on anything, is clearly a bi disaster

The Archdeacon of Canterbury - The aging head cleric of the church of England. He supports King Richard but is becoming increasingly impotent because of his failing health. Still holds a lot of political power because of his title though.

The Azure Assassin - A deadly mercenary and rival to Robin Hood. Orphaned at a young age Azure had to steal to survive. She stowed away on a pirate ship at the age of ten and has spent the pass eight years studying fighting techniques the world over. They call her the Azure Assassin because her blue eyes are the last thing you’ll see before dying. She’s gained a modest fortune and fame as a spy and assassin, however she can never stay in one play too long due to her reputation getting out. Prince John has offered her a pardon and a place in high society if she brings in Robin Hood’s head. Shame she’s fallen in love with his brother Will Scarlet, as that complicates matters.

The Bishop of Hereford - Conservative asshole who supports Prince John’s rule and shares his beliefs on ‘bringing order to the kingdom’. Wants to usurp the Archdeacon as the head of the church. Is Friar Tuck’s and Sister Clara’s arch nemesis.

Dame Brianna DuBois - Also known as the The Black Knight, DuBois is loyal to the throne of England and whoever sits upon it. She’s Prince John’s personal bodyguard and unbeknownst to all a double agent for King Richard who is in hiding. However she is conflicted when her duty places her lover Yua in jeopardy. Yes, she’s totally a butch lesbian.

The Duke of Essex - Prince John’s adviser and right hand man. He only cares for power for power’s sake but is sneaky and conniving and willing to play the long game to get it. He prefers poison to swords, but is surprisingly good at hand to hand combat when cornered. Has a pet snake. It’s the only living thing that he loves.

Elenore of England - Prince John and King Richard’s sister and Maid Marian’s mother. She died when negotiations during a worker dispute turned violent. Unable to quell the people’s rage, she was stuck down during a riot. Richard, blaming himself for losing his temper and causing things to escalate has since tried to follow in her footsteps and become peacemaker. Prince John went the opposite route and blamed the ungrateful peasants (criminals in his mind) and resented Richard for even bothering to negotiating in the first place.

Friar Tuck - The jovial and optimistic heart of the team. He tries to keep everyone’s spirits up and believes that helping people is the ultimate expression of god’s love. Is a hopeless romantic and also very, very gay. He butts heads with more traditional leaders of the church often. He also has a not so secret crush on his best friend Alan.

Guy of Gisbourne - From pauper to nobleman, Guy is Robin’s opposite in everyway. He crawled up from the bottom rung by using and stepping on others and he’s always looking for the opportunity to climb the ranks. Don’t let his foppish ways fool you though, he is both a cunning and ruthless foe and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. His latest scheme however is to marry Maid Maiden and become next in line for the throne as Prince John has no other heirs save his ward.

King Richard - Good Richard the Lionhearted is no longer a bloodthirsty crusader in this alternate universe but a peacemaker. He wishes to end wars, not start them, however his more abrasive, uncouth, and impulsive nature can often clash with his loftier goals. Many feel the king would do better to stay at home and tend to domestic matters instead of concerning himself with the conflicts of other far off lands. At the start of the story he has disappeared on one of his diplomatic visits. In reality Prince John has stuck a deal with the king’s enemies and he is currently on the run.

Lady Tiffany - Little John’s little wife and the daughter of the Sherriff of Nottingham. She acts as the gang’s ‘man on the inside’ helping Robin Hood sneak in and out of places and feeding the team needed information. She’s stubborn and spoiled but also very kind hearted. She usually can get her father to give into her demands with just a pout and when that doesn’t work a full on tantum will do. She a woman who knows what she wants and what she wants is her man. Unfortunately daddy dreariest would never approve of their union and so Friar Tuck marries them in secret.

Little John - Robin’s best friend and right hand man. He’s a simple man who loves life’s simple pleasures, good food, good friends, and a good brawl from time to time. He adores his partner, Tiffany and would like nothing more than to marry her for real, in a real church, in front of the whole world. However their relationship must remained hidden from her father, the Sheriff, since the violent lawman would sooner see him hanged then have a thief for a son-in-law.

Lord Locksley - Robin’s and Will’s father. He is arrested for ‘not paying taxes’ but in reality it’s for supporting King Richard and secretly helping the displaced monarch. His arrest leads to Robin and Will becoming outlaws and the series kicks off two years later.

Maid Marian - Prince John’s ward and niece. Her mother died when she was young and her beloved uncle adopted her. Prince John is the only parent she’s ever known and she at first believes him to be a kind and just man. She’s completely oblivious of Prince’s John’s underhanded dealings and oppression of the poor and at first is skeptical of Robin Hood. However as the two grow closer, Marian learns how harsh the real world is and just how much her father figure has lied to her.

Miss Yua - Maid Marian’s lady-in-waiting and best friend. She’s the daughter of Sir Ivanhoe and longs to be a knight as well. She’s a stickler for rules and doesn’t trust Robin Hood and his gang of thieves. At first anyways, over time she too learns of Prince John’s cruelty and even becomes a victim of the tyrant’s schemes. Which puts her in direct conflict with her love, Brianna DuBois.

Much the Miller's Son - born as Midge the miller’s daughter, the young Much longs to be accepted as a boy. As such he’s ditched his dresses, cut his hair, and ran away to Sherwood Forrest in order to be free from society’s expectations. The rest of the merry band accepts Much for who he really is, but at only 13 won’t let him join their gang. He still winds up caught up in their misadventures anyways due to his refusal to listen to anybody, and his determination to get away from his overbearing mother.

Nurse Agnes - Maid Marian’s wet nurse and the closest thing to a mother that she has. Agnes believes in the ‘old ways’ and is very superstitious. She’s also very critical of royalty in general, but is smart enough not to say so out loud. She’s tried to raise Marian into a better person than Prince John, but eventually was dismissed once Marian had come of age. Since leaving the court Agnes has become the witch of the woods and a healer for the poor.

Prince John - The main antagonist. Prince John believes that he needs to bring order to the kingdom of England and feels like his brother King Richard has neglected his duties as ruler and placed the kingdom in danger. He'll do whatever it takes to protect the country including subjecting it’s undesirables.

Robin Hood - Leader of the Merry Band and archer extraordinaire, Robin Hood had to go on the lam when his father was arrest for ‘treason’. While his first priority was to keep his baby brother, Will, safe, the two of them met other outcasts in need over the years have built up an underwound network of rebels who fight against Prince John’s rule. Seemingly suave and cool at first, Robin is actually a bundle of nerves as he tries desperately to keep his friends and family safe...even if it’s mostly from themselves. His world is turned upside down though when he meets the lovely Maid Marian.

Sheriff of Nottingham - The spiteful and cruel sheriff tries to keep the small town of Nottingham under his thumb. He hates Robin Hood and his Merry Band with a passion and sees their continued exitance as a personal insult. The only thing that will deter him from his goal of putting those outlaws in their place is his devotion to his beloved daughters Tiffany. Who distracts him with her seemingly impulsive and shallow whims.

Sir Ivanhoe - A respected knight who once served under King Richard has returned home only to find that his king has not made the journey back as planned. He suspects that Prince John is up to no good, but is afraid to make any risky moves so long as his daughter Yua lives among the court. Her safety is the most important thing in the world to him.

Sister Clara - The resident nerd of Sherwood Forrest and the brains of the team. Clara had joined a convent in order to receive an education and to study science, however her experiments were frowned upon by more traditional leaders of the church, like the Bishop of Hereford. She’s since renounced her monastic vows and has joined Robin Hood’s Merry Band in the pursuit of science! She’s allowed free rein on the sole condition that she doesn’t blow up the camp. She still manages to blow up the camp, at least once a month. Still her inventions are invaluable to the team and she’s absolutely feral with her chim-bombs.

The Trapper - A mysterious hermit who sometimes visits the local pub. He’ll often corner patrons with crazy drunken ramblings and loves to give Robin cryptic prophecies and disjoined ‘clues’ whenever they run into each other. (turns out this is an act and he’s really a spy for King Richard)

Will Scarlett - Robin’s younger brother. Will was 15 when they lost their father and now at 17 wants revenge. He’s a hothead and is constantly picking fights with everyone and anyone. While he is dismissive of Robin’s overprotectiveness, he both loves and admires his brother. Even tries to emulate him in some ways. He also would like to think of himself as a smooth talking clever con artist and ladies man but more often then not his temper gets the better of him. Like most teens he’s obsessed with the latest fashion tends and loves to wear fancy clothes (that he’s usually stolen) He’s favorite article of clothing is his impractical red feathered hat. He’s in love with Azure and is best friends with Much.

#robin hood #robin hood and his merry band

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badatjokezz · 4 years ago

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Haikyuu!! Rare Pair Fic Recs

i’ve been so hype about some Hq rarepairs lately now imma list some of my fav fanfics, mostly OiSuga mwehehe....

(probably gonna add some more in the future)

Oisuga (Oikawa x Sugawara)

1. Stuck in the Middle With You by overlymetaromantic

It's not the kind of blossoming relationship either of them would expect, but maybe, just maybe, it could lead to something good.

1. In which Suga and Oikawa run into each other on a late night convenience store run.

2. In which Suga and Oikawa inadvertently switch bags and end up with the other’s uniform.

3. In which Suga gives Oikawa the lecture he doesn't want but probably needs, and Oikawa might accidentally be a little in love.

4. In which Oikawa won't shut up about Suga, and Iwaizumi plays matchmaker just to make him stop.

5. In which there is not a date, and Suga likes spicy things much more than sweet.

6. In which Karasuno and Aobajousai hold training camps in the same neck of the woods, and the trip back proves to be more revealing than it probably should.

7. In which there might just be a future to this after all.

(Dis is so fluffy i might die)

2. moving on (growing up) by _helios (neocitz)

‘I’ll do it,’ Suga says, walking into their prep school and dropping his bag on the floor next to Oikawa. He shoves the melon bun and drink forward into Oikawa’s hands, and stands there looking down at him because he knows that he needs to not chicken out.

‘You’ll do what?’ Oikawa looks up through his glasses, eyes wide and confused as the other students stream in around them.

‘The fake dating thing, I’ll do it.’

‘Fuck. Yes.’ Oikawa says with a fist pump.

(It’s been AGES since i read Fake/Pretend Relationship fic, this one is goood)

3. how strange, to be remembered by venusintwelfthFandoms

"He is not formed of the type of dust that makes up stars. Suga is not the type of person that stays in the mind of one like Oikawa Tooru, ten years later. He is formed of the type of dust you shake off, the type that settles into the ground."

Ten years after Suga last steps off a high-school court, Oikawa recollects a "Mr. Refreshing" in a post-game interview, and Suga is left scrambling.

(Cute one-shot, Oikawa still remember Mr. Refreshing from Karasuno)

4. all the small things by Authoress for lemedy

Sugawara Koushi.

Oikawa’s brain supplies the name of the person standing at the other end of the aisle before Oikawa can even register him, attuned to spitting out facts about other volleyball players on a second’s notice, even after all these years. Karasuno High vice-captain. 174 cm…no, more like 176 now. Skilled at raising morale and bringing an element of surprise to their strategy. Troublesome. Refreshing. Setter.

The enemy.

(Single Dad! Oikawa, cuuutee ugh)

5. Win Some by kingdra (aroceu) for Icie

Tooru does not have a problem, its name is certainly not Sugawara Koushi, and he is not going to the Karasuno practices just to watch him. Regardless of whatever Iwa-chan says.

(High school romane~)

6. Even as bright as you are? by BKAKCANON

That night when he goes to sleep, he includes "the safety of fairies" on his prayers, making a promise to whoever was listening him, that he'd protect all the fairies and keep their secret safe forever.

[Where Oikawa meets Suga when they are kids and Oikawa believes Suga is secretly a fairy and decides he has to protect his secret all costs.]

(This is basically matches my headcanon)

7. getting to know you by oisugasuga

Suga feels like he’s back on the court then, his heart thudding hard in his ears… so hard he almost misses what Oikawa says. Unfortunately, though, he doesn’t.

"My, my. What a surprise," Oikawa Tooru says. And then… "Hello, Mr. Refreshing."

(Haven’t finished yet but DAMN I LOVE OIKAWA AND SUGA IN HERE, single dad! oikawa, and Suga babysitting oikawa’s kid, def slow burn. Imma follow this fic till death)

8. Dear Reader by hyirule

No one seems to read the paper anymore. But Oikawa likes to for the sports section. One day he finds himself reading a section called "Dear Reader" and finds a submission he can relate to.

Basically messages sent through a page on a newspaper brings to unlikely souls together, who maybe have more in common than they first thought.

(Cannon compliant, simple and... refreshing(?))

9. rest by shicchaan

Tooru looks at the sleeping person beside him as he waits for the lights change into green. The growing fringe of his husband started to cover his eyes but he can still see the beautiful birthmark under the silver haired's left eye.

(Established relationship, fluff fluff!!!)

10. long is the road (that leads me home) by ichweissnichtauch

He thinks about himself, deleting contacts from his phone and throwing coffee cups away without even looking at the string of numbers scrawled in Sharpie ink underneath, and he’s tired of hiding, tired of carefully treading the lines he’d drawn for himself all those years ago.

Just this once, Tooru wants— he thinks he wants to be brave.

Oikawa Tooru is not a stranger to wanting.

(like... 20% Oisuga but i like the way this story follows the Cannon till he get to Argentina)

11. It's Always Been About You by mintycarrots

Every time Tooru had envisioned meeting his soulmate, it was a confession of love, filled with tears of happiness and a lot of making out. It would be a faceless petite girl that would support Tooru in whatever he chose to pursue and would understand when Tooru prioritized volleyball over all else.

It was never a boy on the rival team.

(Soulmate AU)

12. a play in three acts by venusintwelfth

"The first time Sugawara Koushi sees Oikawa Tooru play, he thinks that if he wasn’t so set on volleyball, he’d do well in theater."

the first seijoh x karasuno match through the eyes of suga.

(Kinda poetic i guess, well written af)

13. colors by dazeful

Sugawara Koushi's colorful life as an archer.

(this is like the perfect oisuga one shot ive ever read)

___

IwaSuga (Iwaizumi x Sugawara)

1. And so the moon cried by iwriteinpenFandoms:

The hillocks are the domain of unearthly creatures. Creatures of rot and fog, of music and dance. Like ghosts in the night they travel without leaving footprints, they disappear in a flurry of long dresses and pale hair. Those who are fated to see them risk curses far worse than death. You may hear them, a giggle in the wind. You may smell them, the smell of the fog rolling in through the trees. You should pray you never see them. Iwaizumi Hajime is a simple man. He works a simple farm job and enjoys simple things. After one morning where he woke next to a perfect circle of death and only the memory of brown eyes and cold hands, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the forest. Will the tales of his childhood play out with him at the center or will he have to disregard all reason?

(Danish Folklore AU)

2. Cry Just A Little by DreadfulMind

Suga was whistling a tune to himself as he opened the door to the bathroom, so he didn't hear the muffled crying through the door. But he could hear it clearly once he was inside. He heard the sharp sob of someone trying to stop.

"Iwaizumi?" He asked, "are you sure you're alright?"

(Simple but c u t e)

3. Generations by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor), mozaikmage

Professional sports blogger Sugawara Koushi writes an article about a volleyball match that bears special meaning to him and his former kouhai: a showdown between Kitagawa Daiichi and Yukigaoka Middle School, ten years after the teams faced off for the first time. He doesn't plan on capturing the attention of the world of sports journalism, and he certainly doesn't expect himself to end up having a thing for one of the coaches involved, one Iwaizumi Hajime.

(Time-Skip, I loved it)

___

KuroTsuki (Kuroo x Tsukishima)

1. Invictus by Chiru

Kuroo T. » So let me get this straight (gay?) Kuroo T. » You want me to pretend to be your perfect and fabulous boyfriend, so that your little freckled friend will stop trying to set you up with cute little highschool girls? Tsukishima Kei » yes Kuroo T. » Aha. Tsukishima Kei » you'll do it? Kuroo T. » I don't know. I missed the part where I get something out of it. Tsukishima Kei » you get to annoy me. Unfortunately Kuroo T. » Tempting, Tsukki, very tempting indeed.

(Fake/Pretend Relationship, some fluff, some angst, i read this in the middle of the night and cried, fortunately happy ending)

2. hold onto hope if you got it by nekolyssi

"Now, in the beginning of their third year of high school, the obnoxious hollering and incessant spirit of his teammates became normalcy to Kei. And now, normalcy is this. Weekly psych meetings. Pharmacy waiting rooms. Prescriptions. Refusal of prescriptions. More prescriptions."

(Not finished yet but yep prolly gonna put this one to one of those best haikyuu fics ive ever read. I wasnt so interested at first but i really like the idea of mental ilness etc, this is g o o d!!)

3. [KuroTsuki Fest Week 2017] Traces by Heartythrills

Kuroo’s disappeared for a little over a week now, and suddenly a 4 year old who looks like him appears before Tsukishima’s apartment.

(Age regression, fluff)

4. I swear by xArtemisx

Like the shadow that's by your side I'll be there

"What are you doing here, Tetsu? It's cold." Kei asked softly. Tetsurou smiled. Hearing his name came out of Kei's lips is always music to his ears.

"Nothing. I just came to think that whatever memory we make, may it be happy or sad memories, the bright moon and the starry night sky is always there to be the witness. Did you notice?" The alpha answered and Kei nodded. He also noticed it.

"Yes, I did noticed it."

(I love agony and sad ending....)

5. Honeybee by ClosetGoblin

Tsukishima has trouble sleeping one night during a Third Gym Camping Trip. So, he takes his acoustic guitar and passes the time with some music, and gets a visitor. Maybe he doesn't mind Kuroo's voice as he does the screeching that Lev and Hinata call singing.

(Simple but sweet)

6. Say You Like Me by the_madame21

It's been three months. And Tsukishima Kei is going to see Kuroo Tetsurou.

(light angst and.. s m u t. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamic)

7. trying to get to you by mytsukkishine

Everything came crashing down on Kuroo when Kei had left him alone with nothing but the moon shining down on him.

Wherein, Kuroo was struggling to move on and decided that he wouldn't mind being with Kei again.

(sad beginning? yes. sad ending? y e s. you’re a masochist? come get your juice)

8. Please Hold by ThemooncatFandoms

Kei was expecting Kuroo to do one of two things; Send a text to the office saying that they will have to call back another time and continue what they started, or excuse himself from Kei to answer the call, which was most likely. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Kuroo does neither of those things.

(short but hot. what’s hotter than quiet sex?)

___

Ushijima x Oikawa

1. This Insignificant Pride and Prejudice by Mysecretfanmoments, Pouler (poulerslashes)

Oikawa Tooru graduated high school with the burning desire to succeed in his college career. He'd hoped that might include taking down his arch-nemesis along the way, but when he finds that his college team hosts an offensively familiar face, he can't help but think that the universe might be conspiring against him. After all, what could be worse than playing on the same team as Ushijima?

(It was funny for me reading oikawa/ushijima fic with that “you should’ve come to Shiratorizawa” joke at first but somehow i found this one... endearing :3, cute poor ushiwaka)

___

Atsumu x Nishinoya

1. All the things I love about Yuu by KilluCoulomb

Atsumu Miya is fixated in Nishinoya. The way the boy acts, talks, plays. He Carefully observes from afar, but he slowly warms up to the Libero. Friendship becomes more and more intimate. Atsumu realizes Nishinoya is not that simple guy he met three years ago. And he loves it.

(pro volleyball players AU)

2. i'll see you then by noyabeans (snowdrops)

Nishinoya Yuu and Miya Atsumu build a rivalry and something more.

“Oh, it's Karasuno’s libero,” he says, mildly surprised to see Nishinoya’s face staring back at him from the brochure, grinning wide with his arms folded over his chest.

Contains spoilers for the current manga arc, up to chapter 380.

#oisuga #kurotsuki #oikawa x sugawara #kuroo x tsukishima #iwasuga #iwaizumi x sugawara #ushijima x oikawa #ushioi #atsunoya #haikyuu!!#fic recs

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persephonesfill · 4 years ago

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choke on me—chapter one

breathe me in (prequel fic)

chapter two

a/n: you all liked breathe me in so much that i got inspired to write a sequel! read breathe me in first before reading this fic. enjoy!

summary: After fending off an alien invasion, Tony Stark has one more obstacle to face; Steve Rogers. Steve believes that they have a connection which Tony is trying hard to ignore. After a moment of passion aboard the helicarrier, Tony can't seem to stay away from Steve as their lives grow ever more intertwined.

rating: Explicit, so explicit

warning(s): tony has self confidence issues but what else is new, heavy smut

—————

Romanov’s eyes narrow when Tony and Steve enter the briefing room.

The fact that they’re even having a meeting after a literal alien invasion makes Tony seethe. Bureaucracy never sleeps, he guesses. (He’s not pissed because SHIELD commandeered one of the rooms in his tower. Honest.)

Tony arches a brow at Romanov. She’s a clever one, she has to be for her line of work, but Tony’s clever, too. He knows that to beat her at her own game, he has to play into it.

“You’re late,” she says, in lieu of a greeting. Compared to the rest of them, she looks quite put together. Not a hair out of place, the cut on her forehead cleaned and bandaged. The archer—Barton, his brain supplies—sits with his feet propped on the table like a goddamn heathen. Tony doesn’t say anything, though. Barton’s eyes have a faraway look; the archer’s mind is on anything but social etiquette right now. Even Thor, who’s a supposed god, looks a bit winded with one hand on his hammer and the other propping up his face. Bruce is full-on asleep, not that Tony blames him, with a shock blanket strewn about his shoulders.

“Fury isn’t here yet,” Tony says, sounding like a little kid arguing with his sister.

Natasha hums, and her eyes flit over to Steve. “You two look friendly.”

Steve, bless his heart, blushes but doesn’t say anything, and Tony’s just reminded of how he looked when he came down Tony’s throat; head thrown back, mouth open, and skin flushed.

Tony swallows down the sudden lump that arose in his throat and scrambles to come up with something, anything, to not blow their cover. He doesn’t want it to get out that he and Steve had got up to something.

“I was being a good host,” Tony says. “Steve wanted to see the tower. Or...what’s left of it.”

“It’s ‘Steve’ now?” she says with interest, and Tony curses her. He walked right into that one.

Fortunately, Tony’s good at thinking on his toes. “Alright, you caught me, Romanov. I just spent the last half hour rocking Rogers’ world.”

Steve chokes, and Tony jams his elbow into his side. Steve coughs into his arm and clears his throat.

It’s got Romanov’s attention. And everyone else’s, apparently. Bruce is still sleeping, but Barton’s turned his eyes onto them, that faraway look receding slightly. Thor’s sitting up now, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

Romanov’s eyes roam from him to Steve and back again before she snorts.

Tony’s surprised she can even make such a noise.

“Fine,” she says. “Keep your secrets.” Somehow she makes it sound like a threat.

“You’re seriously gonna leave it, Nat?” Barton asks.

“You didn’t see them before,” Romanov says, leaning back into her seat. “Rogers wouldn’t touch Stark with a ten-foot pole.”

Okay, that fucking hurts, but before Tony can even open his mouth to argue, because what the fuck Romanov, Fury stalks into the room with his duster flapping behind him.

If Tony weren’t so pissed, he’d make a snide comment about Severus Snape.

“Are you two going to sit down, or should I reschedule this meeting?” Fury says.

Tony grits his teeth but sits down (far away from Romanov), and Steve sits next to him.

They elect Thor to nudge Bruce awake, who looks at them with bleary eyes and his hair askew.

Steve places a big hand on Tony’s thigh underneath the table. It feels like a brand.

The meeting is agonizingly slow and painful, and Tony wishes they all would leave. Barton and Thor almost come to blows over what they’re to do with Loki, but in the end, they decide to let the Asgardian face punishment in his own land, far, far away from Earth.

“It’s not fair,” Barton hisses, his hand balling into a fist when Fury leaves the room with Thor on his coattails to collect his brother. “His daddy,” Barton spits out the word like a curse, “won’t punish him.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Bruce says, stifling a yawn. “Odin exiled Thor to earth when he disappointed him.”

“Banner’s got a point,” Romanov says. “I want him to pay, just as much as you,” she admits. “But how would we even go about punishing a god?”

“I have ideas,” Barton says, and Tony flashes back to Afghanistan, to three months of darkness and dampness and death, and he understands Barton’s rage.

“I’m sure you do,” Romanov says. “Pass them along to Thor and see how he takes them.”

“Or better yet, tell me,” Tony finds himself saying. Four pairs of eyes shoot to him. If he were a lesser man, he would have wilted under the sudden attention. “I’ve got a bone to pick with Reindeer Games, too.”

“Yeah?” Barton says, crossing his arms.

“Seriously,” Tony says. “Now that we know that beings like Loki and Thor exist, shouldn’t we be prepared for others like them?”

“Stark’s right,” Steve says. Tony tries to hide the surprise on his face. Were his blowjob skills that good? Steve squeezes his thigh in response. “Who’s to say that Loki was the last of them?”

Tony’s skin prickles. The others may have fought the Chitauri, but Tony had seen them and what lay beyond them. He had always been good at seeing the forest behind the trees. He had a feeling that they had barely scraped the surface with the Chitauri. There was something or someone more vicious, more bloodthirsty than any other foe they had fought combined.

All of the Avengers seemed to sober at that thought.

“Well, we’ll just have to be ready, won’t we?” Romanov says, her voice cutting through the silence.

“We also deserve a day off,” Barton says. “At least I do. I don’t know about the rest of you slackers.”

That defuses the tension in the room, just a bit. Bruce lets out a light chuckle while Natasha just rolls her eyes.

“Oh, please, if anybody carried this team, it was me,” Natasha says.

Steve’s hand leaves Tony’s thigh and slides up to the small of his back. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders as he leans back into Steve’s touch. Tony doesn’t know what Steve wants. He doesn’t know if their little triste was just that or if there was room for more. Tony doesn’t like not knowing things. But he’ll let Steve have this, for now.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t see anybody else carry a nuke on their shoulders into an interdimensional wormhole.”

He waits for the snide comments, the jeers, the disgust to cross their faces but instead...instead they laugh. And it’s not a laugh of derision; Tony’s heard enough of those to recognize them. These are real, genuine laughs.

“Fair,” Barton says, the corners of his lips quirking up.

“No, not fair! Only two of us can fly,” Romanov says.

“Can Thor really fly?” Bruce says. “I feel like it’s more of a controlled fall. He throws his hammer and lets the weight of it take him where he needs to go.”

“He’s in the air, he’s moving, as far as I’m concerned, it’s flying,” Barton says.

Tony and Barton end up arguing the semantics of flying over a finger of Tony’s best scotch, Bruce occasionally chiming in, Romanov and Steve looking on in amusement.

They’re annoying, Tony thinks. They’re annoying and loud and destructive and—

Tony is starting to like them. His feelings had always crept up on him like a lion stalking its prey, only pouncing when he least expected it. He was starting to like them, even Romanov, who he was still kind of pissed at for her earlier comment. But he didn’t blame her. Why would Steve want to touch him? Tony had practically thrown himself at him.

“He pulled you in,” his mind supplies, trying to be helpful. “He pulled you in, and he kissed the living daylights out of you.”

But maybe Steve had been desperate? Desperation drove men to crazy lengths, including sleeping with your...enemies? That wasn’t right. It held too many negative connotations, and despite their rough start, Tony didn’t think he would ever fight against Steve. Rivals? Or was that too petty? Just what the hell were they?

The state of his and Steve’s relationship (if he can even call it that) nags at him. The others start making their leave until Steve and Tony are the only ones left.

The boardroom feels like a matchbox with Steve so close to him with no buffer. Steve’s making himself useful and tidying up the papers and glasses strewn about the table. Tony pours himself another finger of scotch, lets the whiskey burn his throat on the way down. He needed something to ground himself. His eyes follow Steve’s every movement like magnets. Heat blossoms low in his belly when he remembers how Steve had touched him like he was nothing but a toy for Steve’s pleasure. The thought shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does.

Tony clears his throat, catching Steve’s attention.

“Some meeting,” Tony starts and immediately wants to slap himself. He should just get to the point. Why even bother with small talk?

“You’re telling me,” Steve says carefully. Always so careful. Except for when his hands are shoved down Tony’s pants.

Tony shifts in his seat and hopes that Steve won’t notice, but of course, when do things ever work out the way Tony wants them to? Steve’s eyes track his movements with all the purpose of someone used to analyzing situations. Is that what Steve thinks is about to happen? A battle?

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks, setting down a stack of papers.

“Sticky,” Tony says, deadpan. They hadn’t gotten the chance to clean off after their little...excursion on the helicarrier.

Tony expects for him to blush like he did earlier after his standoff with Romanov. But instead, the bastard grins at him.

“My bad,” Steve says. “Any other time, I’m pretty good at uh, cleaning up.”

Tony throws back the last of his scotch and tries not to think of Steve on his knees licking at Tony’s thighs and groin and—

It’s not working. But then Tony remembers Romanov; “Steve wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole,” and any desire he had dies. He should nip this in the bud now. They are absolutely not having a repeat performance.

“Good thing it was a one-off,” Tony says, hoping his voice comes off light and airy. “Otherwise, I’d be pissed.”

Steve’s smile falls, and if Tony didn’t feel like an asshole before, he sure as hell does now.

“Oh.”

“Just a little favor between two pals, right?” Tony says just to dig the knife in a little deeper. “Let him hate me,” he thinks. “It’s easier that way.”

“Right.” Steve clears his throat. “I, uh, guess I’ll get going.”

Part of Tony wants to latch onto his arm, pull him through the glass and the rubble of his penthouse suite, and into his bedroom and never let him go. He stomps that urge down with steel-toes boots.

“See you around, Steve,” he says as Steve makes for the door.

Steve pauses at the threshold and doesn’t look at him when he replies, “See you around, Tony.”

***

Life goes on. Tony reunites with Pepper. Tony’s mansion gets blown up. He loses Pepper for the final time.

And it’s fine, really. Being cool with terrorists blowing up your home and experimenting on you without your consent is a lot to ask of anyone, even if that person is Pepper Potts.

Pepper kisses him on the cheek, and Tony knows it’s the end.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he means it. Because Pepper is still his and he’s still hers, just not in the way they had originally wanted.

So, he’s single and homeless, technically, but overall it’s not the worst year of Tony’s life.

He thinks about rebuilding his mansion in Malibu, but something stops him.

“New York?” Rhodey asks him over Skype, curiosity twisting his features.

“Yeah,” Tony says, clutching a pillow to his chest. He’s currently staying at one of his vacation homes on the Amalfi coast. His bedroom has a perfect view of the sea. Every evening, he sits out on his balcony and tries not to think about how Steve’s eyes are the exact color of the Mediterranean at sunset.

“Malibu feels like an old chapter of my life. I think I’m ready for something new.”

Italy is lovely, but Tony is so lonely. He’s never been good by himself.

Within a month, the renovations on Stark Tower are completed, and Tony makes his move to New York.

It’s odd, living by himself again. Of course, Tony brought his bots with him, and he integrated JARVIS into all of his personal residences. Still, there was no Pepper to remind him of some upcoming awards ceremony, no Rhodey to get into trouble with. Happy went with him because wherever Tony went, Happy followed. Tony’s sure Happy would have followed him into battle if he could. But Happy doesn’t stay in the tower, and Tony doesn’t expect him to. He knows Happy has a life outside of chauffeuring (and he hasn’t missed the looks between Happy and Pepper whenever she’s in town. He’s happy for them.)

That’s when he starts collecting Avengers like a kid collecting those little trading cards when Tony was in college. Digimon? Pokémon? It was something that ended in -mon, he was sure of that.

Bruce shows up first, drawn to the idea of a bed to sleep in, a constant food source, and a (relative) lack of people shooting at him.

Bruce brings warmth to his tower, where there had been nothing but the coldness of electricity and steel. Sometimes when their research aligns, they’ll spend hours together in Bruce’s workshop. They’re good for each other, he thinks. Bruce gets him to eat a real meal and even stops DUM-E from putting motor oil in his smoothies. Tony gets him to open up. He wants to get to know the man behind the Hulk. For a moment, they’re at peace.

Then SHIELD falls.

Things get more complicated after that.

Steve and Natasha show up with Clint right behind them. They’re still healing from their injuries, but overall they’re okay. Aside from dumping hundreds of SHIELD/HYDRA’s secrets onto the world wide web.

Tony takes them in because, despite everything that happened between him and Steve, he did offer him a place to stay. Tony’s not that much of an asshole. He’s not going to retract on that offer.

Besides, his tower is enormous, and he knows it like the back of his hand; it takes nothing for him to avoid Steve without making it obvious.

However, Tony didn’t account for the sudden friendship between Steve and Natasha, the traitor. (He doesn’t know when she stopped being just Romanov in his head.)

Natasha must have been trailing him to learn his schedule because Steve corners him right as he’s leaving his workshop to head up to Bruce’s floor. His fellow scientist was making curry, and Tony didn’t want to miss out before the other Avengers (vultures) devoured it.

“Can we talk?” Steve asks, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets.

Tony stops in his tracks and immediately wants to do a full 180 back to his workshop and not come out for a good ten, twenty years. Stark Industries is in good hands, and Rhodey can take over for him the team, and he can live in his workshop like Gollum in his cave—

“Tony?”

His eyes snap up to Steve. Right. They were having a conversation. Tony’s self-loathing can kick in later.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Sure. Let’s head up here,” he gestures to the living area situated by the staircase. This floor of the tower serves as Tony’s second home, an escape from all of his penthouse suite’s showy glamour and the lack of privacy on the communal floors. The penthouse suite reminds him too much of Pepper, anyway.

There’s a small but up to date kitchenette off to their right done up in polished mahogany, tan stone, and black appliances for whenever hunger strikes. Tony heads to the left with Steve following behind him. His living area also functions as a bedroom of sorts. Tony had invested in a plush brown leather sofa from a high-end Italian furniture manufacturer. Sinfully soft and draped in luxurious throw blankets, it served as both a sofa and his bed when he couldn’t be bothered to take the elevator to his penthouse suite.

In a strange role reversal of the last time the two of them had been alone, Steve grabs onto his wrist and pins Tony down with his stare.

“We can talk right here.”

Tony swallows. “Okay. Sure. That works, too.” He looks down pointedly at Steve’s hand.

Steve flushes but lets Tony go.

“I’m sorry,” Steve starts.

“No harm done,” Tony says coolly. On the inside, he’s trying not to scream. He had forgotten that Steve’s hands were so big.

“I just needed to know…” Steve hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Did I...did I do something wrong?”

And that, that makes Tony blink.

Steve pushes on. “On the helicarrier...did I come on to you too strong? Because if I did, that wasn’t my intention at all—”

Tony holds up his hands. “Wait, what? That’s what you want to talk about? Steve, it’s been two years.”

“I know! I know it’s just...we haven’t spoken at all about...the thing, and you’ve been avoiding me ever since I stepped foot in this place.”

“I—”

“And don’t say you haven’t,” Steve says with a hard stare. “I’m old, not an idiot.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Okay. I guess you could call it avoiding.”

“Why?” Steve asks. “I’d rather you just tell me.”

Tony sighs. He’s too old to be having this conversation and telling Steve the truth would just be mortifying. “Romanov hurt my feelings, so I pushed you away before you could do it to me,” sounds pathetic, even to his ears.

“A half-truth then. A lie grounded in reality,” he thinks.

“You want to know why?”

A muscle in Steve’s jaw jumps. “Yes. I would.”

“It wasn’t your fault, trust me,” Tony says. “I just feel like maybe you didn’t want to jump headfirst into this,” Tony gestures between them. He won’t dare call it a relationship. “I came onto you out of nowhere and didn’t even stop to think about whether or not you were ready for...anything.” He’s talking in circles and what’s worse is that he knows he’s talking in circles. Every muscle in his body is taut, waiting for Steve’s reaction.

“You blew me off,” Steve says slowly, “because you thought I wasn’t ready for...this?” He’s taken on Tony’s terminology.

“You were fresh out the ice, Steve. I figured the last thing you needed on your plate was something like this while you were still getting used to the 21st century.”

“Tony,” Steve speaks his name so softly it feels like a caress. Tony wants to step back. He wants to put on the suit and fly to Malibu, to Amalfi, to anywhere but here.

“Tony, I don’t regret what we did,” Steve says. There’s a determined light in his eyes. Tony feels like the prey again. Steve has always made him feel like he’s being hunted.

“Okay,” Tony says, steeling himself.

“I want to do it again,” Steve says. “If that’s alright with you.”

Steve wants to do it again. He wants to fuck Tony again, and the scary thing is, Tony’s going to let him. Arousal pools in his belly as he lifts his head to look at Steve head-on.

“Okay,” he says. His voice already sounds wrecked. Desperate. Then Steve’s on him.

Tony hates how he falls into Steve’s arms as soon as his lips meet Tony’s. He had thought once would be enough, just enough to satiate the burning in his blood. He hated being wrong.

Steve’s kisses are sloppy, almost desperate, but if anything, it just winds Tony up more. It’s like he’s fallen ill, with a feverish heat spreading throughout his body in waves. His heart pounds so loudly, it nearly drowns out the words Steve murmurs when he finally pulls away from Tony.

Steve’s face is devoid of all masks, his lips cotton candy pink against his flushed skin.

“I did that,” Tony thinks with some wonder. “I made him this way.”

“What?” Tony says, only a little dazed, or so he hopes. Part of him flinches at the thought of Steve realizing just how far this well of desire he has building beneath his skin goes for him.

“Don’t run,” Steve says. His arms wind around Tony’s waist with all the finality of a lock clicking into place.

Tony swallows, his brain trying to parse through the hazy cloud of lust that had descended upon his brain. Steve’s eyes are big and so fucking blue, he almost can’t look at them directly.

“It’s like looking at the sun,” he thinks.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he finds himself saying.

“Just one more time. Just to get him out of my system.”

Steve’s eyes narrow like he knows exactly where Tony’s brain went, and isn’t that a terrifying thought that Steve can already read him so well. Steve doesn’t call him out. Instead, he kisses Tony.

Steve kisses him like a thief, all greedy and ruthless, stealing his breath away. Steve walks them backward until Tony feels his legs hit his sofa. They stumble onto the couch, Steve lying on top of him, eclipsing Tony.

Steve’s lips are on his again. He can’t get enough of Tony today, it seems. His tongue slips into Tony’s mouth, one of his hands running down his chest and into his pants. Tony arches into his touch, moaning into Steve’s mouth. Steve may be a thief, but in this moment, Tony is just as willing to give him everything he has.

Steve’s hands are so big and hot as they palm at Tony’s length. It doesn’t take long for him to harden in Steve’s grasp.

Steve works him over with quick strokes of his hand, breaking their kiss to murmur in his ear, “Come on, baby. Spread these legs for me.”

Tony did as he was bid, letting his knees fall open.

“That’s it,” Steve says.

“Can I?” Tony begins, unsure of how to continue. He’d never been shy during sex, but what he and Steve were doing, as much as Tony stomped it down, felt deeper than a simple hookup.

“Go ahead, baby,” Steve says. The pet name flows off his tongue like honey. “Tell me what you need.”

“I want to touch you,” he declares. “Let me?” He looks at Steve and hopes his eyes look wide and sweet. He remembers how Steve had snapped the last time he had looked at him like that, the bruising kisses and the hard, almost punishing way Steve had gotten him off…

Steve gives him a crooked smile. Tony’s not...disappointed, per se, but he wouldn’t have minded it if Steve had lost control again.

“Go ahead,” Steve says. “Whatever that big brain of yours has in mind.”

That’s all the permission Tony needs, and his own hands work at the fly of Steve’s jeans until he’s pulling Steve’s cock loose. Steve catches on quick and shucks his jeans down to his thighs. He yanks Tony’s sweatpants down in one swift motion. This is the most exposed Tony has been in front of anyone since his relationship with Pepper burst into flames. And listen, Tony knows he’s not ugly (he’d been named Sexiest Man Alive twice, up there with George Clooney and Brad Pitt), but Steve is the literal epitome of human perfection. It could just be the childhood trauma rearing its ugly head, but Tony feels small underneath Steve. Unworthy. Useless. He’s thrown back to the present when Steve rolls his hips and slides his cock against Tony’s.

“Come on, genius,” Steve says. “Work with me.”

Tony lifts his hips to meet Steve, and the hot slide of flesh against flesh leaves him gasping like a virgin.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses. “Just like that.”

They settle into an easy, almost instinctive rhythm, Steve thrusting, Tony rising to meet him. Their groins are slick with sweat and precome. Tony’s sure that if they had bothered to get some lube, they wouldn’t have lasted half as long. It’s like someone’s turned a dial up on his senses. Wherever Steve touches him, his cock rubbing against Tony’s, is like someone lit a bundle of matches. He’s so hot, he’s sure his skin is smoking. He can hear everything. The hum of electricity present throughout his tower if you listened hard enough, Steve’s muttered curses, the wetness of Steve’s cock rocking against his.

“One day,” Steve says, picking up speed. “One day, I’m gonna tie you to your bed just like this. Get your thighs all wet and slick and fuck you until you’re coming all over your goddamn stomach,” Steve punctuates his words with a hard thrust, and that’s it for Tony. One more word out of Steve’s mouth and he’s done for.

“Holy shit, Rogers,” he says, sounding breathless to his ears.

“I’m not done, sweetheart,” Steve chuckles. “How do you feel about toys?”

“Yes. Yes. Fuck, Steve, I could make them. Anything you want.”

And he finds himself meaning it. He’d give Steve the sun if he asked. He tries not to let that scare him.

“How about a nice vibrating cock ring, hmm? Slip it on you early in the morning. Maybe a long-distance remote to go with it, keep you hard and ready all day long.”

Tony bites back a cry, his cock jumping with arousal. “Fuck, Steve, yes, please, yes.”

“Then don’t run,” Steve says, his voice sounding all dark and gritty. “Don’t run, and I’ll give you everything you fucking want, just don’t run away from me, again.”

Afterward, Tony blames it on his approaching orgasm, but in that moment, all Tony can say is, “Yes, fuck, I’m staying right here.”

They come together, oddly enough. Steve’s teeth sink into Tony’s throat, and Tony’s throwing his head back as his come lands on both of their stomachs, and it’s so. Fucking. Good.

Tony’s floating. He didn’t know when his Italian leather couch turned into a cloud, but he’s floating with Steve kissing the bite he left on his neck.

They curl close together, uncaring of the mess cooling on their stomachs. If Tony has anything to say about it, there’s a nice joint shower waiting for them when they find the will to move. Steve places one final kiss on the bite.

Tony knows what it is. A marker. A claim. He’s Steve’s for as long as Steve will have him. Tony’s willing to indulge him. For now.

“Shower later?” he asks, his words thick and syrupy from post-orgasmic bliss and the sudden need for a nap. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at Steve’s handsome face. His perfectly coiffed blond hair is mussed. Steve’s skin has taken on a peachy, damn near radiant glow. “Nap first,” Steve says.

“Steve may have left his mark,” he thinks. “But I left mine.”

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel #mcu #stony fic #imperialstark fic #imperialstark writing #my fic #my writing #lemons #nsfk #lemon

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queenof-literature · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! Before anything I have to admit I found your stories and I LOVED them! And I just found out you were the author to those fantastic stories! I would love to read, from your perspective, how did our heroes met Wild! Or even better how all of them met! I’m sorry if this is a bother

Thank you that’s so kind! Not a bother at all! Sorry again about it taking some more time. I hope you enjoy!

Two months. It had been two months since a strange man introduced himself as Link and asked him to join him on an interdimensional quest. Because of course he did. The first few days it was just Link and him, and he realized he was the man that guided him on his quest to defeat Ganon, and therefore knew his secret. Link had jokingly taken to calling him ‘Pup’ so he growled and responded by calling him ‘Old Man’. They stuck with those nicknames for a few days, until they were transported to another Hyrule. There they met the gentle Hero of Sky, as he introduced himself.

Twilight didn’t mention the way Time eyed the Master Sword. This new Link had called them the Hero of Time and The Hero of Twilight. Apparently the sword told him. At first, the newly deemed Hero of Twilight had no idea what he was talking about, then Sky had told them who had forged the Master Sword. Sky himself. And he had joined without a second thought, although he did seem sad when he mentioned leaving his Zelda. And now they were an official group of three, with official nicknames. The very night they found Sky, they were taken to another new Hyrule. Hylia wasn’t wasting any time, it seemed.

Finding the next heroes was much easier. Apparently Time had had a hell of a time finding Twilight. Sky’s Master Sword seemed to whisper to him when they got too far off track, leading them through deadlands and tall trees. There they found the Hero of Hyrule. He was sweet and shy, not quite knowing what to do with his hands when he talked to them. It was obvious his Hyrule had suffered and he had grown up in the scars Ganon had left on the land. He joined, although he looked at all of them wearily.

The next had been the Hero of Legend. Twilight thought he was an asshole. He was snarky and blunt and rude. Twilight had a hard time keeping his cool around him. Time had taken him aside and told him the Hero of Legend had been on more quests than all of them, and had most likely seen many horrible things. That made Twilight more forgiving. He still didn’t like him.

Once again they were thrown into a different Hyrule. This time the Master Sword led them to a small blacksmith shop. There they met the smallest teenager they had ever seen. The Hero of Four Swords. They had no idea why the sword called him that, but they didn’t know the meaning behind each other's names at all really. Sky lived in the Sky, Legend had been on many quests, Hyrule saved Hyrule? Maybe Time saved a giant clock or something.

An hour later they were in a new Hyrule. Hylia seemed to be getting more and more impatient. This time they found the Hero of Warriors, or as Legend called him, Pretty Boy. Twilight could see why. He seemed extremely popular with women in his Hyrule and he knew it. But he had a quiet power to him as well. Eyes that said he has seen war and triumphed. That explained the name. Hylia let them rest for a day this time, before tossing them somewhere else. How many Links were there going to be? Twilight didn’t know how much he could handle.

They landed on a beach. More specifically an island, with a vast ocean that hit their noses with a salty smell. There they found the Hero of Wind. An enthusiastic and happy 14 year old boy. It sent a small stutter through his heart when he realized how young Wind was, but he seemed happy enough. Hopefully his adventure hadn’t scarred the boy too much. Warriors and Wind had gotten on like a wildfire, almost instantly gaining a bond that Twilight wouldn’t admit he was jealous of. Wind barley got to say goodbye to his family before they were thrown to another Hyrule. But this time, the sword didn’t speak. Finally they could focus on the mission Hylia was going to give them. They were a band of eight Links.

It had taken two weeks to assemble all of the Links completely, and it had been six weeks since then. Over the few weeks they had managed to form some team dynamics. Time was the unanimous unofficial leader that no one really questioned, and that was fine with everybody. Twilight and Warriors would both try to assist him in leading when they split up or when Time was busy, which caused the two to butt heads on more than one occasion. No matter how annoying Warriors and the other boys got though, he still felt a strong kinship with them. Legend had taken a subtle shine to Hyrule, and Sky and Four had gotten close as well. Twilight shouldn’t be jealous, after all he has Time. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, something was missing. He never mentioned anything, he didn’t know if the others felt the empty hole in their dynamic, and there was no way he would be the first to mention it. Twilight knew Time was aware something was going on, but what was he supposed to say? Twilight himself didn’t understand what was wrong.

It’s not that Twilight thought he didn’t belong, the others had included him in conversations and he has befriended all of them to an extent. There was just a missing piece that he couldn’t explain.

“Pup. I’ve been trying to get your attention.” Time stated, not unkindly, causing Twilight to shake himself out of his thoughts.

“Sorry, Time. I was just distracted. What’s up?” Time gave him an incredulous look, and Twilight noticed all of the other Links were looking at him as well. It was then Twilight saw a dark swirling mass ahead. Oh, a portal. When did that get there?

“Seriously Goat Boy? You missed an entire portal? You really must be out of it.” Warriors teased, but Twilight could see a hint of concern in his eyes.

“Yeah.” Twilight scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m just having trouble focusing today.”

“We’ll go through the portal and see what’s what.” Time thankfully changed the subject, though Twilight knew they were going to talk about this later.

The group gave affirmative nods and began cautiously wandering into the portal two at a time. Six weeks together had given them plenty of time to practice ehat worked best when facing a new world. Going two people at a time allowed them to better defend against immediate threats if they were right past the portal.

Twilight held his breath as he and Time went through the portal first, he always did. The portals all reeked of strange magic Twilight couldn’t place, yet still somehow reminded him of Midna. A lot of magic did...

What greeted him on the other side of the portal was slightly surprising. When he emerged, Twilight was immediately met with trees full of beautiful leaves, each a different shade of red, orange and yellow. Looking up, he saw they were directly under a natural arch beginning a canyon behind them. Looking behind them, he could see a brightly glowing blue structure on top of a tall rock formation that seemed to be a tower. What in Hylia’s name was that?

As the others emerged behind them, they were also slightly taken aback by the colors of this world, especially Hyrule. Twilight didn’t know much about his Hyrule, but he knew since he first visited that something bad had happened. Each of their Hyrules were beautiful in different ways, and this one was certainly no exception.

“Is this anyone’s Hyrule? Or are we in another strange one?” Time questioned, only receiving negative responses. “Guess we’ll have to find the threat in this one too.” Time ordered, but his voice was slightly wary. None of them had seen their Hyrules in awhile, and it was starting to wear on them a little. Twilight knew why it did with Time, he had a wife waiting for him. Wind had his family. And some of the others just missed knowing where to go and places of comfort.

They were all interrupted from their thoughts with a massive roar that echoed through the small canyon. Snapping their heads in the direction of the sound, they were met with a terrifying beast in the distance. He heard Legend shout something about a ‘Lynel’. It had the body of the horse, a huge face with beady eyes and two horns, and a long, proud mane. Before any of them could react, or ask Legend for advice on how to handle the creature, they heard the sound of an arrow being nocked, and a beam of light being launched at them.

“Move!” Time shouted, causing the boys to roll to the side just as multiple flames burst up right where they were standing, the portal disappearing now that they were all out.

“Run! We don’t have the supplies to take it on!” Legend yelled. The rest of the boys listened instantly, since Legend seemed experienced on the matter.

“They stop chasing eventually!” Hyrule yelled. Ah, seems he had them too.

They ran in the direction of the glowing blue structure, feet beating on the ground and hearts thumping with adrenaline. They heard the Lynel scream again, but this time it seemed out of pain. Looking back slightly, Twilight could barely see a yellow field around the Lynel that was… shocking it? Twilight stopped and turned around, the Lynel wasn’t focused on them anymore, it was looking around trying to find something, probably whatever had hurt it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Legend yelled as he stopped too, about to drag Twilight away. Twilight simply pointed at the Lynel. Right as the others looked at the beast, an arrow pierced its eye from the trees. Whoever was helping them was apparently a skilled archer.

“Do we help? What if they get hurt?” Sky asked, looking on with worry. Before anyone could answer, a lean figure launched out of the trees with a gust of wind out of nowhere, using an odd cloth to glide down. In a blink of an eye, the figure shot one arrow, then two, then three into the Lynel’s shoulders and legs. The Lynel roared in pain and shot a flaming arrow right at the figure.

“Look out!” Cried Wind. The stranger simply dissipated the cloth in a ripple of blue before landing directly onto the Lynels back.

The group looked on in awe and horror as their savior summoned a weapon twice the size of him from the odd slate on his hip, and began cutting into the back of Lynel, avoiding being bucked off. The Lynel charged forward and the stranger gracefully flipped off its back and summoned a small colorful shield encrusted with bright jewels. The group could now see him a little more clearly. He was relatively small and covered in a large cloak, hood drawn. His tunic was sky blue, a bit lighter than Wind’s shirt, and he wore simple brown pants and boots. His posture was powerful and elegant. None of them knew this man, but they could see he was in his element. This was a battle fought many times. At the moment he was just standing in a loose defensive stance.

“What is he doing?” Sky whispered fearfully. He wanted to thank the man properly, but he didn’t want to jump in the fight and get in his way when he had no knowledge of the creature's weak spots. The rest of the heroes all looked on nervously as the Lynel raised slightly on its hind legs… a threw a ball of fire from its mouth?

“Holy shit!” Twilight yelled as he ran forward trying to get there in time. There was no way he would make it in time, but the stranger was just standing there! Did he give into fear and freeze? Before Twilight could make it even 10 steps, he froze in astonishment as the man parried the fireball at the exact moment of impact, launching it back into the face of Lynel, who screeched in rage and anguish. Whoever this man was, was absolutely terrifying. Wreaking elegant havoc on the battlefield without batting an eye.

“Twilight!” Sky whisper-shouted, gesturing madly to the now unwrapped sword on his back. Twilight recognized the faint glow and looked on in shock.

“He could just be vital to our quest. We haven't met another Link for six weeks, I doubt we’ll meet one now. Wrap the sword back up though. We don’t want him freaking out if he has a connection to it and he sees you holding it.” Warriors told Sky, who nodded and wrapped the sword back in its cloth. They had found it was better to explain first, then show the sword.

The stranger ran forward again, sending arrows forward ahead of him that exploded on impact, fire rushing all around him and the beast. The beast charged forward and swung its massive sword, which the man dodged at the last moment, sending an impossibly swift attack to the Lynel’s legs. The Lynel was only just beginning to weaken, and Twilight can’t help but imagine how it would have gone if this stranger hadn’t shown up. Once again the Lynel spit fire from its mouth. The man’s stance grew sturdier and he readied himself for another parry. Only this time, the shield shattered on impact, still launching back the blast to the Lynel, but burning the strangers arm in the process, pieces of metal sticking in his lower arm. The group shouted in worry, but the man didn’t even hesitate, pulling another shield from his odd device, and launching himself at the Lynel again. He shot a final arrow into the Lynel’s other eye, and swept himself onto it’s back to deliver the final blow. The Lynel disappeared with a final roar, and the stranger began casually collecting parts left behind. It took the group a couple of moments to process what in Hylia just happened.

An insane hooded stranger just rushed into danger, jumped on a Lynel, rode it while hitting it, burned all the area around them, and defeated the beast single handed. And destroyed his arm! Oh wait. He destroyed his arm!

“That was amazing but are you okay!” Sky yelled rushing forward. The stranger whipped around as Sky ran towards him, the rest of the group following him. The man whipped out a sword, and pointed it in front of him, causing Sky to skid to a halt a couple of feet in front of him.

“Put the sword down. We’re just trying to see if you’re okay.” Legend huffed only to receive a slap upside the head from Hyrule.

“I’m sorry, sir. We didn’t mean to scare you. We are very thankful for you saving us, we just want to make sure your arm is okay.” Four placated. The stranger had a white knuckled grip on his sword. While he seemed confident in taking the Lynel down, this was a different stance. This was a stance that showed he was more scared of people than he was of a terrifying fire breathing monster ten times his size. The man simply gave a thumbs up and stepped back slightly.

“Wait.” Time stepped forward from the huddled Links, but not close enough to cause any more aggression with the stranger. “We apologize for running to you so suddenly. Thank you for saving us. We grew up sheltered and are very new to this part of Hyrule.” The lie they used to not alert anyone of their unnatural presence in new worlds slipped off Time’s tongue easily now. “I’m sorry to ask this of you after you saved us, but is there a place to rest around here? Perhaps we could buy you a warm meal as payment, and help you with your arm if you would allow us.” Time had a talent of calming a tense environment, like a true leader, Twilight mused. To their shock, the man didn’t speak, only lifting the hand not holding the sword, now bloodied and burned from the fight.

‘I can take you to the nearest stable. I don’t need payment.’ The stranger signed simply, trying desperately to keep the shakiness of his hand at bay.

“Thank you!” Wind called out, a beaming smile on his face at the idea of a place with a roof. Wind certainly didn’t mind being out in nature, but it had been awhile since they got to stay in a building. Maybe this stable had a place to stay along the road next to it! Maybe it was in a large town he could explore!

The stranger simply nodded and walked ahead. The Links sent questioning looks to each other and followed behind. Wind ran ahead to be next to the stranger to see his hands, but kept a respectful distance. “What’s your name?” Wind asked enthusiastically. Warriors smirked. That little shit was gathering intel.

‘Link.’ The stranger fingerspelled shortly. Wind glanced back at Time to confirm he saw correctly. They all could understand some sign, but some were far more rusty than others, and only Time and Sky to an extent could physically do sign.

“Hi Link! My name is Wind!” If the stranger saw the name as odd, he didn’t show it. Only nodding politely. He kept a brisk pace, still having a tense hold on his sword in his non-injured hand.

“Um. Maybe we should stop and take care of your hand? If you leave those shards in, it could get infected.” Four reasoned. Link simply kept walking forward.

“Just because you saved us doesn’t mean you can be rude.” Legend snapped. Twilight attempted to put a calming hand on his shoulder, only to have it brushed off. “Why don’t you talk to us? We’re not going to hurt you.” Legend knew it wasn’t that simple. To just reassure the stranger they wouldn’t hurt him wasn't exactly an airtight plan. But past experience made being ignored absolutely infuriating. The stranger’s grip on his sword only grew tighter as he continued to move forward. No matter how much the group tried to talk to him, the stranger wouldn’t respond unless absolutely necessary, and never verbally.

After about two hours of walking at a brisk pace, they had emerged from the small cliffs surrounding them and were approaching an oddly shaped building. Along the way, Link collected any mushroom or plant that crossed his path. He was certainly an odd man. He seemed constantly on edge with the eight of them there, but had no qualms about gathering strange and brightly colored mushrooms and shoving them into his odd looking slate.

The building they were approaching had a large head that looked to be a horse, and had the structure of a large tent. It looked strange, but also very homey. As they grew closer, they saw some Hylians for the first time in this gigantic world. There was what looked to be a guard of some sort pacing in front of a man at a counter. He must have been the owner. Some other men and women were heading inside. Along with the Hylians was a soft brown dog trotting around some goats and horses. With the small gasp Twilight gave, the group of heroes knew they would have a hell of a time getting Twilight away from this place. Sky’s eyes lit up as he spotted two cuccos among the goats, dashing off to hold them as Legend retched in disgust. The rest of the group laughed at his excitement, but Time could see twilight barely restraining himself from rushing off to pet the horses and goats and hold the dog in his lap.

The new Link pointed at the man at the counter, most likely gesturing to speak to him as he made his way to the fire with a pot placed above it. Time nodded and went to discuss sleeping arrangements with the excitable owner. Having no other job to do, Twilight calmly made his way to the small corral of animals, before losing all composure and sitting amongst the odd-looking goats and cooing at how soft they were. Looking back at the new Link, he was throwing something in the cooking pot, before making his way over to Twilight. Twilight felt excitement grow in his chest. Now that they were in a safe place, would this new Link finally talk?

But Link simply sat down in the animal pen a good six feet from Twilight, placing his sword on the ground next to him, and reached out to pet the excited dog who had all but tackled him as soon as he sat down. Once the dog calmed down slightly, Link began to remove shield shards from his arm, not even flinching at the pain of removing metal from his skin. Twilight was surprised, but figured he should be the one to start the conversion.

“We have goats like this in my H- where I come from.” Hopefully Link wouldn’t pick up on Twilight’s mistake. “I helped raise and herd them.” Twilight finished, looking up at the new Link. Link shook his head, then signed something Twilight didn’t understand. “I’m sorry, I know sign but I don’t know what you just said.” Twilight apologized. Link froze in surprise for a second, perhaps not expecting Twilight to know any sign at all. Then pointed to the sheep Twilight was petting and fingerspelling what he wanted to say.

‘Sheep.’ The word spelled out. Twilight’s eyes widened in realization.

“Oh! Are these sheep?” Twilight asked, continuing to pet the creature beside him. Link nodded. Twilight wished he could see Links face, the hood did a great job of obscuring it completely. He didn’t think asking Link to take the hood off would go very well, so he just paid close attention to the little head movements he could see. Link abruptly stood, seemingly finished with taking the shield shards out of his arm, and summoned a pink liquid from his slate thing, and drank barely enough to heal his arm. Twilight was surprised and slightly worried with how little he seemed to care about his own injuries, musing on this as Link made his way back to the cooking pot to stir whatever he was cooking for himself, perhaps a meal to further help his arm?

The group could finally relax slightly. Sky loving on the cuccos, Time and Twilight paying attention to the horses and sheep, Legend and Warriors quietly chatting and bickering under a tree, Hyrule and Wind off running around and exploring, and Four reading one of his books, evening descended upon them peacefully. Twilight noticed a movement in the corner of his eye, Link seemed to be waving slightly to gain his attention. Twilight nudged Time and began walking over there.

“You okay, Link?” Twilight asked once he was next to the man. The man scooted away from Twilight, apparently deeming him too close, before signing a short ‘dinner’. That one took Twilight by surprise.

“For us?” Time asked gently. Link nodded his head. ‘Rice.’ He finger spelled. “That’s very kind, thank you Link.” Time said with a smile. “Boys!” Time called, causing all of the Links to look up and Hyrule and Wind to come running back from the treeline. “Link was kind enough to make us rice for dinner.” Causing Link to sink deeper into his hood at the attention and thanks he received from the group.

“Wait.” Legend said, stepping forward.

“Legend.” Hyrule warned, but Legend ignored him.

“No, Hyrule. We don’t know who he is. We haven’t seen his face. He could be a sorcerer trying to trick us.” Although it seemed ridiculous for some of them, they could see where Legend was worried. Link’s hands twitched. He didn’t know why he wanted these men to trust him, but he did. So without letting himself think about it too much, he yanked his hood down and glared at Legend with as much force as he could muster.

The first thing they saw were the scars. Twisting and webbing from his ear to across some of the right side of his face, before disappearing under his tunic, where the group could only imagine how horrible it was under there. The second thing they noticed was how young he was. Only a year or two older than Wind, far too young to have those scars. They had been calling him a man, but he was only a boy. Something seemed to click for them. This only confirmed it, this was another hero. Another hero they had not known existed. Why had Hylia waited so long? The sword singing in his head only grew louder,and without thinking, Sky unwrapped the sword from its cloth, and Link freaked out. Picking up his sword and backing away slightly, a hard look in his eyes.

“Wait! Don’t panic I can explain!” Sky rushed. Wild froze, but still kept his defensive stance.

“We are Heroes of Courage, just like you. We come from different worlds and different timelines. Hylia has sent us here to ask for your help. There is an unknown threat, strong enough to require multiple heroes. It’s an infection, spreading across timelines and Hyrules. I’m sure it will infect yours too. Please, join us.” Time figured that with this hero, short and to the point would be the best way of going about this, just like Legend. The boy looked skeptical, and didn’t put down the sword.

“I know you know this is the truth.” Sky said gently. “The Master Sword tells you it is.” Link froze. This man could hear the Master Sword? He had to be a hero of courage, no one else could feel it. Link lowered his sword, but kept his guard up.

‘Can I touch it?’ Link signed. Sky nodded and reached the sword out, not letting go, but allowing Link to touch a hand to its blade. Instantly Link knew it was true. The sword spoke no words to him, but he could feel with all of his being that this was a part of his destiny.

‘Okay.’ Link signed simply.

“Okay you’ll join us?” Wind asked carefully, cheering loudly when Link nodded his head. The others smiled at him, although Legend looked slightly guilty. He could see the scars on the kid’s neck. Maybe that’s why he didn’t talk…

Time tried to put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, only to have him jump back as if he had been burned, and pull his hood up once again. Time looked upon the boy with sad eyes. This confirmed Link didn’t just not trust strangers. He didn’t trust anyone. After Link handed out the food, the group sat around the fire, Link staying far away.

“Holy shit! He can cook!” Warriors cheered.

“Tbish ish amashbing!” Wild yelled with his mouth full, getting a smack on the head from Legend.

“We’re keeping him.” Four stated simply.

“Four, you can’t just claim someone.” Hyrule stated.

“I just did.”

“Guys. He’s trying to ask a question.” Twilight chided. Immediately the group swerved around to see Link with his hands up.

‘Are you all named Link?’ He asked.

“Yes. We all have nicknames based on our hero titles. The sword gives them to us.” Time answered.

“Speaking of.” Sky held up the Master Sword as if preparing for a ceremony. The group of Links all leaned forward eagerly awaiting their new friend’s name. Even Legend perked up.

“Welcome, Hero of Wild.”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #breath of the wild #wild #Meet Wild #Twilight #Time #Warriors #legend #hyrule #wind #sky #four #lu #prompt #request #queenof-literature story #QoL Story

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willsimpforazula · 4 years ago

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Sokkla Month Day 7: Intimate

A/N: This is an ATLA + Fate/Stay Night (Unlimited Blade Works) crossover and this scene is inspired from S2, E10. Intimate memories count as intimate, no?

Saber - Suki

Rin Tohsaka - Azula

Emiya Shirou - Sokka

With that out of the way, leggo

-----

Sokkla Month Day 7: Intimate

Sokka's house

The mood was solemn, as the remaining two Masters of the 5th Holy Grail War debated on their plan of action. With the revelation that Archer, who Azula summoned actually turned out to be the Heroic Spirit version of Sokka and that he possessed a Reality Marble, and the shock of seeing him blasted to bits by Gilgamesh's attack still hung heavy on their minds.

Azula, who saw her servant looking very much like a porcupine giving up his life to save them.

Suki, who had to stand and watch the younger of the two Sokka's battle it out, the older and more cynical version blasting him again and again with round upon round of blades, delivering wounds that should have killed him hundreds of times over were it not for Avalon implanted within him.

As she finished bandaging the worst of his wounds, they all agreed that the Grail should be smashed into pieces, preventing anyone from ever trying to get their hands on it. Staring at the pendant in her hand, Azula exhaled and sighed "I never really had a wish that I wanted to be granted, just...I wanted to win it so that our family name could be held high."

"Sounds just like you."

"What-what do you mean by that!" she blushed, curling up into a ball before replying "A-anyways, we're getting ahead of ourselves." Just then, her stomach let out a low grumble, making her blush even harder.

"Hungry huh? I'll go fix us up something to eat. After all, I recall a certain someone describing 'hunger as an enemy', no?"

"Thanks." she mumbled, while it was now Suki's turn to blush.

------

Later that night…

After cleaning up the dishes, Sokka was about to turn the corner to his room when he heard hushed voices discussing something very important.

"....are you really sure, Suki?"

"Yes, I am sure of it. You have my thanks." Storing it for later, he pretended to not see them and walk off to take his shower. Fresh and clean, he pondered what could they have possibly been planning when he found his footsteps naturally come to rest outside her door. Summoning up his courage, he gave a few quick knocks when he saw light spilling from the crack. With a creak, a sliver of light beamed forth, before being occupied by a golden eye that belonged to an annoyed face.

"What do you want.?"

"Uh, did-did I piss you off just now? You seem to be in a really bad mood."

"That depends on what you say next."

"I-uhm, well-"

"You might as well come in instead of stammering. At least you can tell me your foolish ideas coherently."

"I trust you figured it out that you're going to fight Gilgamesh."

"Well, no actually. But I'm still going to do it regardless. I just feel like, like I've got the best shot at taking that King of Heroes down a peg."

"Then you must have figured out Archer's Noble Phantasm."

"Yeah that's a negative on that one." he sheepishly replied.

"Are you kidding me?!" she shouted. Shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose, she continued "Regardless, the only reason Goldie even considered both of you a threat was that with enough mana, either of you could actually stand a chance at beating him. It's also the reason why he called you both 'fakes'."

"But with my current reserves, I'm fucked if he starts pulling out all the stops. Ten of those Phantasms maybe, but that's like pushing it. Any higher, and I am toast."

"At your current mana reserves, definitely. But, there's one option we could try. Basically, you and I form a pact that allows us to share mana between us. It doesn't matter if you can't supply enough, I can, which means you can summon and sustain a Reality Marble long enough to kick that bastard's ass."

"That's a good idea. So how do we do it?"

"Well…." she breathed deeply, her cheeks turning as red as her trademark turtleneck sweater, "I-I-I'll have to transfer my Magic Crest onto you."

"I can't take something that important away from you! I mean, is that your entire family lineage's lifetime of work?"

"To win the most important fight of my life requires giving it my most treasured possession, as much as I hate to see it. Law of equivalent exchange, the first thing they teach new mages. Wait why are you staring at me like that?!"

"N-nothing! It's just, I was in awe of you and-and it made me realise just why I fell for you the way I did."

"This is hardly the time to talk about such things! But-but I guess, you, uhm, could let it all out if-if it makes you feel happy."

"But will you feel happy?"

"On one hand, I wanna see you just how deep the grave you're digging is. On the other hand, well-let's just get back to the task at hand okay!" she blushed for what must be the tenth time that night. Somehow, every other sentence that came out his mouth either had her seeing red or making her heart flutter and face pink.

"Azula?"

"What?"

"N-n-nothing. Let's get it started."

"Alright then. Just tell me what to do."

"Take off your clothes." she mumbled, covering her face as she faced the wall.

"What?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Are you sure?"

"Ju-just do as I say alright!" In a small still voice, she added "I-I-I'm going to be taking mine off too, it's only fair."

"Don't get the wrong ideas, unless you don't plan on celebrating Father's day. " she threatened.

"Okay okay, got it!"

"Then why the long face?" "For the transplant to succeed, both of us need to be in a deep state of rapport."

"I see."

"Do I need to take my pants off too, or is just the shirt okay?"

Snatching a rolled up poster, she began to assault him viciously while yelling "What the fuck do you think, you moron!", her face approximating the dye of her turtleneck at this point.

-----

Sitting on her bed, with both of them topless and the lights turned off, he could sense her rustling as she turned to him and said "Let's begin.", placing hand on his bare chest. Inhaling deeply, she started to utter her incantations:

Gib dem wandernden Vogel das Trinkwasser

Der von langen Weg kommt

Benutz den Vogelrahman

In dem der Schlüssel nicht angewendet wird

Ich spinne den Regenbogen in neuem selbst

Heisses Wetter, Regen

Wind, Schnee, Krieg, Ende, ununterbrochen

Nimm an, ohne anderer Meinung zu sein, ohne zu fallen

Es nimmt an, ohne zu fürchten

Ohne zu zweifeln

As he felt his circuits come alive and intermesh with hers, his eyes fluttered open in shock for the briefest of moments as now he and her were now forming the most intimate of bonds between mages outside of coital bonds. For all intents and purposes, they might as well be married. Meanwhile, Azula poured all her concentration into completing the transplant, beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead.

Sieg im Freund, der auf eine Reise entfernt geth

Suddenly, he found himself reading through her most closest memories, ones that she kept particularly close to her heart.

A headstone.

Clouds.

A rainy day.

A priest, handing over a strange looking knife to a young girl dressed in a kimono.

A hallway in school.

Sunset.

An empty courtyard, save for one person doing high jumps over and over again. There were many more, but they all flickered past him at the speed of light. With a start, he woke up to find her cuddled right up against him, her head nestled comfortably in his chest. Seeing her so peaceful, he decided to let her be and crashed back on the pillow, an arm snaking around her waist protectively.

Feeling a warm body next to hers, Azula jumped up in shock, grabbed the nearest pillow and covered herself as she flicked on the lights.

"Why didn't you wake me?!"

"Sorry! Did it work though, the transplant?"

"Of course it did. So flawless there's nothing else to do, so precise there'll be no side effects. So perfect that even that worthless fake priest would say 'Azula, you've done a fantastic job.'", her voice muffled by the pillow.

Turning to examine the upside down geometric fish pattern on his arm, he asked in slight amazement and awe "So this is it huh?"

"Stop gawking like a child, you'll get a fly in your mouth you know?"

"Thank you Azula. Really."

Noticing her golden eyes couldn't look at his, he asked concernedly "What's wrong?"

"You saw it, didn't you?"

"I didn't see anything, promise! My eyes were closed the whole time!"

"That's not the point, you-you-grr!" she exclaimed, ruthlessly smacking him with the pillow that she had been using to cover herself, not caring if her top was coming loose from her assaulting him as her eyes started to water.

"Ow! Ow! Sorry! It's not like I had a choice!"

"The next time I'll make sure to dig every last one of your embarrassing little secrets, you hear me!"

"Okay okay! Calm down Azula, we can talk about this later right? Right?"

"I suppose." she reluctantly huffed, her arms folded.

Giving her a light peck on the cheek, he held her close and replied "Let's get some sleep, we've got a big fight ahead of us."

"Fine, but I get to be the big spoon." "Sure."

Wrapping her arms around him, she snuggled up against him and sighed contentedly as Sokka pulled the blanket over them.

#fate #unlimited blade works #crossover #avatar #sokkla month #day 7 #azula would make a perfect tsundere don't @ me #sokkla

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dumb-hat · 4 years ago

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Character Sheet - Evander Winsome

—————- Link to blank template!

Rules: Things in brackets are meant only as guidelines, to be erased and your answers written in place of. Things separated by | are for bolding and italicising.

Tagged by: No one! I saw this reblogged by @mooglemeet, so I went ahead and grabbed it directly from @bluespiritfire. Link to the blank template is up above! Tagging: No one specific/anyone who wants to. Feel free to tag me back so I can see it!

Name: Evander Winsome Age: 26 Pronouns: He/him Birthdate: 12th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

~~PLACE OF ORIGIN~~ Race: Hyur From the First: Interracial heritage:

Hometown/city: Limsa Lominsa Current residence/popular haunt:Ul’dah

~~APPEARANCE~~

Favourite/commonly used clothes:

Any difficulties with magical/physical disciplines? Nothing in particular

~~RELATIONSHIPS~~ Parents/Legal Guardian/Parental Figure: mother | father | aunt and/or uncle | grandparents | adoptive | foster | mentor | family friend/godparents | other Siblings: One older brother; deceased Children: None that he knows of Romantic: single | unrequited | crushing | dating | engaged | married | divorced/separated | widow/widower | recently split | it’s complicated (I mean, not to him. To him, it makes total sense. Well, most of it does.) | other (…) Friends: Evander tends to befriend and trust people fairly easily, though it can take him a bit to really open up. Once you’ve hit that point, you’ve likely got a friend for life. Rivals/Enemies: To the best of his knowledge, he’s left these all behind somewhere or other, thanks largely to his restless need to wander. That said, there’s surely a few lurking in the past and there’s always room for more, of course!

Any special gestures of affection they have with people in their life? He’ll often make complaining noises about paying for drinks and dinner, but he’ll do it every time and would be slightly hurt if people didn’t let him.

How are they dealing with the most prominent of the above? How does it affect their in day-to-day life, if at all? Poorly, typically.

~~ODDS AND ENDS~~ Notable Weapons He doesn’t have any particular bond with any of his weapons, really. He sees them as tools, and ones that he uses only reluctantly. He sometimes enjoys tinkering with the ones he builds, but that’s more of a hobby than anything.

Notable Mounts He has various vehicles and machines he likes to fuss over and drive around, but he’s particularly fond of his SDS Fenrir.

In addition to his chocobo—a particularly stubborn beast named Doreen—he’s also fond of his battlesheep, Doctor One and a colossal crab he’s dubbed St. Barnabus.

Notable Minion/s Besides Doctor One and St. Barnabas, Evander is especially fond of various clockworks, automata, wind-ups and models that he’s put together. His favorite is a drone modeled after a Magitek bit that he’s named Valencia.

Keepsakes/Mementos

A pendant in the shape of a swan, a few too many flasks

Chronic Illnesses or Disabilities Evander lives with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. I’ve written about it a few places, most notably at length here and in brief here. How do they deal with these? Depends on the day, really. This isn’t really a thing he has a name for, so it’s not a thing he can easily address. He’s got a sloppily slapped together set coping mechanisms that work about half the time, if he’s lucky. Other than that, he mostly hopes for good days full of things he can convince himself he’s interested in.

Education Level He likes it when people underestimate him, so he’s not always quick to admit to the formal Ishgardian education afforded to him by the family that took him in when he left Limsa Lominsa. He’ll often try to pass it off as eclectic, self-driven studies... Which, admittedly, also played a big part in shaping him.

Habits There’s a lot of excess in his life. He drinks too much. He eats too much. He stays up too late, too long, and then sleeps too late, too long. He’s almost always got a flask or four on his person, and he often finds that he’s picking up the dinner or drink tab wherever he goes.

Other Nothing immediately springs to mind, but I’m sure there’s like a dozen things I should put here. This thing has been sitting in my drafts for god-knows-how-long, so I’m just glad to finally get it out there.

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virlath · 4 years ago

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environmental lore ~ Dirthamen and Falon’Din

Part 1 - origins and the four armed statues Part 2 - their alliances Part 3 - the origins of humans

===

Part 2 - their alliances

There is a lot of environmental foreshadowing surrounding Dirthamen and Falon’Din in DAI, which is interesting considering they were extremely mysterious in previous games. Among these are many hints they worked closely with Fen’Harel, Mythal, and Andruil at some point in time.

The most solid evidence for this are the mosaics within the elven ruins in Trespasser, which is only safely accessible using Mythal’s passphrase.

The mosaics are clearly old, but you can definitely see they represent Dirthamen, Mythal, Fen’Harel, and Falon’Din in that order.

A double raven standard is also clearly seen within the weaponry used by the freed slaves, indicating Dirthamen actually helped the rebels either in secret or even as a leader in battle.

Two archer statues surrounding the eluvian leading out of the ruins also suggest Andruil was similarly involved in their alliance.

Evidence for this alliance is further strengthened through Falon’Din and Andruil’s shared symbolism of the owl, which is also seen as a terrible omen of loss by the Dalish.

Andruil would send her messenger, the owl, to show the People the way, and they would follow him to where the land was blessed.

Always keep an eye out for the noble owl. You never know: Andruil might have a message for you.

Falon'Din sought someone to be his messenger and companion. The wind was swift, but Falon'Din refused to chain it. The People were loyal, but could not live where Falon'Din walked. Then the owl came to him and said, "I am not cowed by darkness. Let me serve you who also has no fear of night." Falon'Din accepted gladly, and took the owl as his servant, who thereafter helped Falon'Din guide the People through the passage of the Veil.

I theorise the symbol of the owl was in fact Falon’Din himself, flying between the Void and the real world to pass Mythal’s verdicts on to Andruil so she could deliver judgements in the form of her hunts.

Falon’Din’s mastery of the dark and shapeless worlds and airless skies also fits in line with Andruil’s hunts in the Void, which is otherwise known as the place of nothing. I believe Andruil and Falon’Din’s journeys both inevitably led to the Void, simply because that was the only place judged culprits could hide from Mythal’s justice.

This also brings to mind the puzzle we find at the Darvaarad in Trespasser.

“One sees the hunter, one flees from it, one hunts it in turn, one outwits them all.”

Or in other words...

“The owl(Falon’Din) sees the hunter(Andruil), the halla (Ghilan’nain) flees from it, the dragon(Mythal) hunts it in turn, the wolf (Fen’Harel) outwits them all.”

Personally, I think the riddle strongly hints at a fallout between Andruil and Ghilan’nain, either due to conflicts of interest in their duty to Mythal, or on a more personal level as Ghilan’nain was once considered “beloved” by Andruil.

My current theory is that Ghilan’nain hid in the Void after the event with the Sinner in an attempt to raise a coup against Mythal. Mythal sought Falon’Din and Andruil to bring her to justice, and so they hunted her while Dirthamen tried in vain to stall them/protect her, either out of love for her or because she held a secret he didn’t want getting out (perhaps their relationship was the secret, and Ghilan’nain was cheating on Andruil with Dirthamen).

This results in Dirthamen getting neutralised by Fen’Harel to resolve the situation which was spiralling out of control, but this is all a distraction by Ghilan’nain to lead Mythal’s allies away from her so she can be cornered and “killed”. We don’t yet know the movements of June, Sylaise, and Elgar’nan, so it’s unknown if they also had something to do with orchestrating Mythal’s death.

Whatever the case may be, I think it’s likely Dirthamen was backstabbed by Fen’Harel because Dirthamen’s pose in the fade mimics Solas’ unfinished fresco- both he and Mythal feature a sword sticking out from their back. However I don’t think Solas acted out of malice in both cases, but rather out of regret and perceived necessity.

Consequently, my current theory is that the owl statue in DAI solely represents Falon’Din and Andruil is represented by the archer statues.

The owl statues are also always seen carrying a circular object, of which I believe to be an eluvian/elven artifact to transport or imprison criminals hunted down by Andruil.

Owl statues can also be found at Skyhold, which is interesting in itself because it is strongly hinted at that Skyhold is where Solas created the veil.

The owl can be seen in the Great Hall, as well as in your own quarters which I think is kinda creepy considering the underlying symbolism.

What’s even more interesting to me is the painting above these owls. It clearly shows the Inquisition logo, but the art style is similar to many other artworks we find around Ferelden, meaning it is likely older than the Inquisition itself, and possibly even painted by the Avvar. The mountain in the artwork seems to be a reference to Belenas, a mountain that may have been the original location of Arlathan before it became the Black City.

The art is similar in style to the artwork in the stables mysteriously depicting Dirthamen and Ghilan’nain.

Another notable example of this art style can be found on the mayor of Crestwood’s house.

The symbolism of this artwork is peculiar, because it shows lightness and darkness divided, encircled, and guarded by a raven and a wolf- animal symbols representing Dirthamen and Fen’Harel respectively. The circle comprises of twelve equal divisions with a weeping sun in the centre. Solas’ tarot cards also features twelve stars, three of which are disintegrated. A very peculiar coincidence...

The owl statues also feature prominently at Suledin Keep, which I think was once Falon’Din’s stronghold based on the statues and symbolism found there.

The red lyrium mist emanating from the entrance is particularly foreboding, especially since Falon’Din is the master of darkness and shadow- themes also associated with the Void and the blight.

The People swore their lives to Falon'Din Who mastered the dark that lies. Whose shadows hunger Whose faithful sing Whose wings of death surround him Thick as night. Lethanavir, master-scryer, be our guide, Through shapeless worlds and airless skies.

──Song to Falon'Din, found in the Temple of Mythal, author unknown

In fact in most areas where the owl statue is seen, death is also often associated with it. The best example of this can be seen at the Knight’s Tomb, where they flank a beheaded Mythal statue with a skull in place of it’s regular head.

While it’s clear the owl is strongly linked to Falon’Din, Dirthamen is a lot more mysterious. Dirthamen’s most beloved animal is the bear, however he doesn’t seem to have any clear statue depicting himself in the main game. In fact, at the Temple of Mythal his mosaic is flanked by two owl statues.

If you do the rituals, Falon’Din’s mosaic can also be seen next to Fen’Harel and Mythal next to the owl puzzle, however no depiction of Dirthamen can be found.

Similarly at Dirthamen’s lost temple, no mosaic or depiction of Dirthamen can be seen, however there are green mosaics of Falon’Din and one red mosaic of Ghilan’nain. And most interestingly of all, the locked inner sanctum shows two gilded statues of Fen’Harel, which is not something you would expect at a temple dedicated to Dirthamen.

This is further evidence to me Dirthamen and Fen’Harel were once close allies, and this is compounded by the fact the imprisoned high keeper in the temple awakens from an elven artifact. This is the same artifact Solas uses to measure the veil, and also an item he constantly describes as an “artifact of his people”.

But to sum it all up, I think the Vir Dirthara in Trespasser best displays these web of alliances because it is also one of the few places Dirthamen is represented in the form of a raven.

Mythal was the adjudicator in the center, and Fen’Harel was her wingman ensuring her day to day ran smoothly. Falon’Din was the messenger who travelled between worlds, passing Mythal’s judgements to Andruil who in turn hunted judged culprits. Dirthamen represents the ravens at the edge of the scene, monitoring events in the background and keeping tabs on everyone in the shadows, much like Leliana’s role as spymaster.

It is interesting to me that Dirthamen is portrayed as a raven instead of a bear though, because his ravens are described in current known lore as his bound minions, not as true allies.

Nevertheless, raven statues can be found in the Fade in the main game, as well as seemingly random locations such as Redcliffe.

Raven statues can also be seen in the Crossroads, right before these magical red eggs that trigger the visibility of new pathways to different floating islands.

Considering the fact Dirthamen/Falon’Din are considered twins that walked the shifting paths beyond the veil, I think this is further evidence these raven statues do in fact represent Dirthamen.

===

Part 1 - origins and the four armed statues Part 2 - their alliances Part 3 - the origins of humans

#dragon age #da #dai #environmental lore #dirthamen #falon'din #fen'harel #mythal #andruil #evanuris #da theories #drabble

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 32: Martin

They’re right. Jon Prime can’t see the colors of fear like Tim can. It’s something between a shock and a relief to all of them, but especially to Jon. Less pleasing is the news that, apparently, the one in the Institute who can see marks is Jonah, although Jon Prime admits he doesn’t know how he sees them, or even if he actually sees them or just Knows they’re there.

Tim gets very dramatic about this, but Martin suspects it really does bother him more than a little.

They won’t let Tim push himself to experiment, but he does a couple of carefully controlled and supervised peeks at objects and statements. Martin and Martin Prime are both extremely vocal and vehement in their opposition to him going up to Artifact Storage to have a look around, and even Sasha agrees it would be a really terrible idea. Jon makes it unanimous by declaring that Tim has met his quota of bad decisions for the year and begun borrowing against the next. Tim gives in gracefully enough.

He cheers up some when the first Sunday in Advent passes—not that any of them are churchgoers, but it’s a convenient way to mark the start of the season—and they’re able to decorate their house for Christmas. Martin hasn’t celebrated, really, since his grandfather died, and Jon even longer ago than that, but it’s hard not to join in with Tim’s enthusiasm. Jon finds a sprig of mistletoe and hangs it over the door; Sasha teases him about it, then evidently regrets it when it touches off a mini-lecture about its history as a protective plant to ward off witches and demons.

Martin finds himself staring at it every time they pass through the front door. It’s just a silly superstition, of course, but if he thought it would work, he’d deck out every door and window in the place. From the fact that he comes back from lunch one day and sees Tim with a search page called up for protective plants and charms, he suspects he’s not alone in that.

As the calendar goes over into December, they’re all beginning to relax somewhat. Jon is less neurotic; Sasha is less secretive and a bit more open about what she’s doing (emphasis on a bit). Martin is able to keep himself from overcompensating for his shortcomings (or, as Jon insists on referring to them, perceived shortcomings), and Tim hasn’t done anything catastrophically stupid in three weeks. Even the Primes seem more relaxed. Jon Prime is getting progressively stronger; he still says he has trouble thinking down in the tunnels, but he’s able to move around without needing to sleep for two days afterward. Martin Prime seems less worried about him, seems being the operative term. Martin knows it can’t last, but he hopes they’ll at least get through the new year before they have to start really worrying about fears and monsters and cops and bosses.

He should really know better by now.

Martin assumes the footsteps on the stairs belong to Tim or Sasha. He cut his lunch a bit short because he was expecting a callback regarding a statement follow-up, which he’s just ended, and he assumes it took longer than he anticipated. He looks up, ready to pass on the information, but the words dry up in his throat at the sight of the person striding towards him. Solid, with well-defined muscles and a blonde crew cut, the woman looks a good deal like the description of the assassin in the Jeffrey Archer book he did his last school report on, but despite being in plainclothes, she screams cop. This, then, must be Detective Alice “Daisy” Tonner, and Martin has no idea why she’s here.

Her eyes narrow when she spots Martin, and he shrinks back instinctively from the intensity in her eyes before he gets a hold on himself. He hasn’t, he reminds himself, done anything wrong. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his voice only squeaking a little.

“You’re Martin Blackwood?” she demands.

“Y-yes?”

“The Martin Blackwood?”

If this were any other situation, Martin might respond with a paraphrase of that line from one of the Hitchhiker’s Guide books, he can’t remember if it’s the second or third off the top of his head: No, just a Martin Blackwood, don’t you know I come in six packs? That, however, would be tantamount to suicide. Then he remembers that the Primes got pulled over. “I’m the Martin Blackwood that works in the Institute, yes. Can I help you?”

Daisy—it’s impossible to think of her as anything else—eyeballs him, then grunts. “Detective Daisy Tonner. I need to talk to the Head Archivist.”

“Yep. Of course. Right this way.” Martin jumps to his feet, nearly toppling his chair over backwards, and starts towards Jon’s office. “Uh, can I get you a…cup of tea or…?”

“I’m fine,” Daisy growls.

The small, furry mammal of Martin’s inner being flattens its ears and crouches in the grass, desperately hoping to avoid being seen, and Martin swallows hard. “R-right. Um. This way.”

He leads Daisy over to Jon’s office door and opens it cautiously. He’s pretty sure Jon isn’t recording, at least not on the tape recorder, but he’s usually careful anyway, especially since none of them knock anymore; Jon’s asked them to stop and they’ve decided, collectively, not to ask questions. Yet.

Jon looks up from the spread of papers on his desk and smiles, but it fades quickly. Martin can only imagine what his face must look like. “Martin. Is everything all right?”

“There’s a Detective Tonner here to see you,” Martin answers.

He is in complete agreement with whatever emotion Jon’s face is attempting to convey as he shuts the folder and shoves the papers aside. “Ah…send her in.”

“Okay. I’m, um, there’s something I need to run down,” Martin says. “U-unless you need me to stick around.”

Jon seems to understand. Of course he does. “No, I should be all right.” He doesn’t sound completely sure. “Make certain your phone is on you, though.”

Martin doesn’t bother pointing out that the tunnels don’t get service. “Right.” He steps out and nods to Daisy. “You can go in.”

Daisy doesn’t thank him, just pushes past him and shuts the door. Martin stands still for a moment, trying to shake the creeping feeling of dread, then turns and heads for the trapdoor leading to the tunnels.

Something I need to run down. Jon told Martin, after Melanie’s visit, that he liked that as a code phrase for ducking into the tunnels, so they’ve all been using it lately. Usually it’s to ask the Primes a question or clarify something, sometimes just to check up on them and see if they need anything. Jon and Sasha are taking it in turns to map out the tunnels, too—they’ve almost finished the first level. Maybe. Tim and Martin, on the other hand, occasionally go down just to get some relief from the constant pressure of the Eye.

It’s interesting, Martin thinks as he clicks on his torch and descends the steps, how differently they react to the tunnels, or more specifically to the effect of the tunnels on them. Tim embraces it, and Martin suspects he would spend all his time down there if he thought he could get away with it, but he usually goes down at least once a day, if only for a few minutes. Sasha finds it kind of exciting, not being able to just ferret out the tunnel’s secrets easily, but the problem is that she’s addicted to the mystery of it. Jon is in a weird place; on the one hand, he also wants to know everything about the tunnels that he can, but on the other, he’s already starting to get to a point where if he stays down for too long, he winds up drained and shaky. Both he and Sasha are under strict injunctions not to spend more than an hour a day in the tunnels, and privately, Martin thinks that might be too long for both of them.

And Martin? He’s in a weird place, too. He does like the comfort of not being constantly watched, and of knowing that he can ask people how they’re feeling and know he won’t accidentally compel them to answer, and if he’s being honest, it’s one of the two places in the world he feels completely safe and relaxed (his mind skips away from actually acknowledging what the other place is). At the same time, though, he feels…guilty. Like he’s abandoning someone who’s depending on him.

With a sigh, he leans against the wall of the tunnel for just a moment, then straightens up and heads down to the Primes’ “room”. The door is open, and Martin can just faintly hear Jon Prime’s voice. It’s too low to make out the words, but when he cautiously pokes his head around the doorframe, he sees the Primes sitting up against the wall of the room, their battery-operated camping lantern lit and casting a soft golden glow over the pair of them. Martin Prime’s head rests on Jon Prime’s lap, and Jon Prime absently tangles the fingers of one hand through his curls. In his other hand he holds a book, and he’s reading aloud in a low, soothing voice. Martin almost wants to duck back out again, sit on the floor outside the room, and just listen for a little while.

But Jon Prime glances up as he turns a page, sees him, and makes a small noise of surprise. “Martin. I didn’t see you there. Is everything all right?”

“M-maybe?” Martin feels his cheeks go hot. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I—”

“It’s fine,” Jon Prime assures him. He keeps his voice low, and Martin wonders if Martin Prime is asleep. “Come on in. What time is it?”

Martin points his torch at his wristwatch, just to be sure. “Almost one in the afternoon. I just—it’s maybe not an emergency. I can come back—”

“Sit.” Jon Prime sets the book aside and glances down at Martin Prime. “How are you, love?”

“I’m fine. It’s fading fast,” Martin Prime replies. He starts to sit up, but Jon Prime stops him with a hand to the chest. “Jon…”

“Relax. Rest. You don’t need to—you’re fine.” Jon Prime looks up at Martin. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, ‘course not.” Martin comes into the room and automatically makes sure he doesn’t shine the torch in Martin Prime’s eyes. “I just…I just wanted to let you know, I guess. Daisy just turned up.”

Jon Prime sucks in a deep breath. “Oh, God.”

“She’s just here to deliver the next tape, though, right?” Martin asks. Anxiety suddenly grips him. He shouldn’t have left the Archives, no matter what Jon said. “She won’t hurt him, will she?”

“N-no.” Jon Prime doesn’t sound too sure. “She didn’t hurt me this time around…not physically. But…in theory, yes, she’s just dropping off the next tape. I accidentally compelled a statement out of her—I hadn’t yet learned I could do that—and made her rather angry, but…well, let’s hope it won’t come to that.” He takes a deep breath. “Then again, she did encounter us. Who knows what she’s thinking.”

“Christ, I should’ve stayed up there. I-if Jon’s going to—God, he’s going to be exhausted after, and none of us are there to cut the statement.” Martin sucks in a breath. “And he’s alone, if she does anything—I’ve got to get back up there.”

“Go easy,” Martin Prime cautions him. “And don’t break the door to his office down. She might…you won’t be the one she takes it out on.”

Martin takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Um, d-do you two need anything?”

“Some paracetamol, maybe?” Jon Prime asks. “We’re getting low.”

Martin winces and glances at Martin Prime. “Migraines?”

“Mm-hmm. Hadn’t had one in a while. I kind of thought I outgrew them, but…” Martin Prime gestures vaguely at his head. “Been bad for the last week or so.”

“I’ll be back later with some aspirin,” Martin promises. “Works better for migraines. M-maybe some of that ginger tea, too? We’ve got a ton of it.”

“Thank you,” Martin Prime says with a soft smile. “Be careful.”

Martin hums in agreement, then heads back to the stairs.

By his watch, it’s been no more than five, ten minutes since he came down into the tunnels—not nearly enough time for Jon to take Daisy’s statement, and Tim and Sasha probably won’t even be back yet. He climbs the stairs, head bowed in thought, pushes the trapdoor open, and steps out into the Archives.

And flinches.

Elias—Jonah—stands next to Martin’s desk, hands clasped in front of him, patiently waiting. His piercing grey eyes are fixed on Martin as he stands, half-in and half-out of the tunnel.

“Martin,” he says calmly. “I wondered where everyone was. Surely you don’t all go to lunch at the same time—have you been exploring the tunnels on Institute time?”

Martin panics slightly. He swallows hard, and he knows his knees are shaking as he climbs out and lets the trapdoor close behind him. “I-I came back from lunch a bit early to take a phone call. Jon told me t-to go ahead and take the rest of it once the call was done.”

“In the tunnels?”

Martin swallows hard. He’s usually fairly good at coming up with a plausible lie to cover something he shouldn’t do, or at least of distracting people from the fact that he needs to lie. But somehow, he doesn’t think he’ll manage it. Not completely.

“I’ve—I’ve been putting some things together,” he says. He manages to take a step closer, then another, until he’s by his desk and not far from Elias. Definitely closer than he wants to be, but it seems important that he do it like this. “Making connections.”

“Have you now,” Elias says blandly.

Martin takes a deep breath. He’s got to give Elias just enough of the truth to make it plausible, but not let on how much he knows, and most importantly, he can’t let Elias know the others know, too. “I’ve been thinking about the statements. One in particular. That woman who ran into Gerard Keay and the—the burn victim. There’s something he said to her, something I can’t stop thinking about—‘For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.’ I wondered what that meant, and—and then I started thinking. You know, I-I feel like—we all feel like—we’re being watched a lot down here, a-and I know it’s not CCTV or anything because there aren’t any cameras down here, but that’s what it feels like—like someone’s peering over our shoulders all the time. And that statement had a lot of eyes in it, you know? There was even an eye pressed up against the camera for just a minute on the footage we looked at.” He swallows hard. “When I go down in the tunnels—I don’t feel that. I can think down there, because I don’t feel like someone’s looking at my thoughts a-and judging them. It’s not just the woman’s imagination, o-or a crazy delusion. There is something that watches us. It might even be called the Beholding. A-at least, that’s what I’ve been calling it. And it’s here. I think it’s watching the Institute. All the time.”

There’s a brief silence, during which Martin swears he can almost hear the Eye blinking. It’s fond of you, Martin Prime said, way back in the beginning of all this, and Martin desperately hopes that’s true. Or at least that it’s fond enough of him to keep Elias from knowing how much he’s withholding. Then, suddenly, he realizes that’s going about it the wrong way and starts instead hoping that the Eye is curious enough about how this interaction will play out to keep Elias from knowing how aware the Archives team is.

“That’s very clever of you, Martin,” Elias says after what’s probably no more than a second, but feels like an eternity. “How long have you known all this?”

Not thought you’ve known, Martin notes. Known. Interesting. And frightening. “A while. At least since the Jane Prentiss attack. I-I was alone a lot, I had time to think, so…I did.”

Elias hums slightly. “I see. And what are you going to do about it, exactly?”

“Wh-what? I mean…” Martin flounders slightly and casts an involuntary glance in the direction of Jon’s firmly shut office door. “I-it’s not like I can—what do you mean?”

“I mean, Martin, do you intend to keep this knowledge to yourself?” Elias lifts an eyebrow. “Or do you plan to tell Jon?”

Sadly, there’s no right answer to this question. Martin tries to summon up his train of thought from back when Martin Prime first started telling him about all this. What would he have done if the Primes hadn’t been there to tell Jon? “I—I have to. He gets upset when we keep things from him, a-and he’s paranoid enough as it is, so if he thinks I’m keeping secrets…I promised I wouldn’t anymore. W-we all did.”

“Of course.” Elias’ voice drips with soothing insincerity and makes Martin’s skin crawl. “Will he believe you, though?”

“I’ve got—I can show him the connections I made,” Martin says. “He can be a bit skeptical sometimes, but he’s not stupid. A-and we’ve all seen enough, done enough, between Jane Prentiss and the couple of things we’ve been able to verify and—I at least have to try.” He swallows. “I don’t think he’ll be skeptical about this.”

“No,” Elias agrees, which surprises Martin. “I don’t suppose he will. And I’m sure your evidence is very convincing. But what will you do if he doesn’t believe you?”

Martin licks his lips and tries to shrug. “Protect him, I guess. As best as I can. If I’m right, he’ll find out the truth eventually on his own.”

“Oh, you are.” Elias’ frank admission makes the breath catch in Martin’s throat. He expected Elias to prevaricate, or attempt to convince him he was imagining things, but…no, no, this is definitely more frightening. “You’re absolutely right, Martin. And I’m sure, as smart as you are, that you’ve gone over a number of other statements beyond Ms.—Saraki’s, was it?—and found even more connections to support your theory, so you know this goes well beyond the Institute.”

“I-I…yes?” The more Elias agrees with him, or seems to praise him, the more frightened Martin gets. Which is probably the point.

“Mm. I wonder, though, if you really understand the implications of what you’ve discovered. There is so much more to this than you realize, Martin, and I wonder if you realize how harmful telling Jon would be.”

“Why? Because he’ll ask the wrong questions?” Martin asks before he thinks about it. “If Jon—he won’t quit or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not now. He’ll, he’ll look into things, start investigating. If I don’t have answers for him, he’ll try to find them on his own—that’s not a bad thing. What do you think will happen if I do?”

Elias jerks his head back slightly a split second before Martin tastes the static on his tongue and realizes what just happened. He tries not to let it show on his face. He’s fairly certain he isn’t supposed to know about that, and there’s no reason anyone would suspect that the Beholding gave them spooky knowing powers. Certainly he’s not supposed to have them. Hopefully his reaction doesn’t show on his face.

It doesn’t seem to. Elias gathers himself quickly. “You’re getting emotional, Martin. Just calm down.”

Martin isn’t sure if he’s relieved or alarmed that Elias seems able to resist his compelling. Then again, he’s not all that powerful. “I’m not emotional! I-I’m just—I was asking.”

“Of course Jon will try to find answers. But please understand that some of those answers…may not be in his best interest. Or yours, for that matter.” Elias leans slightly forward and meets Martin’s eyes. “Allow me to give you an example.”

Martin can’t stop the frightened gasp that rips itself from his throat as Jonah’s—there’s no denying in this instant that they belong to Jonah Magnus—eyes bore into Martin’s. The world seems to go black and white with a green wash and fill with static, and the thoughts fill his mind, thoughts and sights and memories not his own—

Her name on his lips is almost like a curse, and she lets one of her own fall as she sets aside the can and looks into those eyes, and she needs no prompting from the Eye to know what he has come to do. Even as they talk, as they both try to taunt each other and figure out who has the upper hand, she reaches into her pocket and fishes out the lighter, Gerard’s lighter—she never should have left the boy behind, but maybe it’s better this way—flicks it on. One little spark, and it will all end for him. But he reaches into his own pocket, pulls out a dark and ominous object, primes it, aims it at her. It comes to this, to which of them can ignite faster. She dares him to do it. He fires. She feels the impact, gasps and collapses, and for a moment, she wishes she had made other choices, she wishes—but no. She is dying, but in all she has done, she has kept safe that which she swore to keep safe. Still. She thought it would hurt more.

—and the color rushes back to the Archives, all the grey sucking into Jonah’s eyes as he blinks and straightens back up, adjusting his suit jacket with an imperious tug. Martin is pressed back against his desk, clutching it behind him with both hands and barely keeping from crumpling to the floor. His face is wet and his breath coming in short pants and gasps, and he realizes he’s sobbing, not sure if it’s with sorrow or fear. Maybe it’s both.

“Knowledge can be dangerous, Martin,” Elias says, as calmly as if he hasn’t just made Martin experience the death of a fiery old woman from inside her own head, at the hands of the man in front of him. “Do keep that in mind.” He turns to walk away, then pauses and glances over his shoulder. “Oh—and I would be cautious who I shared that knowledge with, if I were you. Jon isn’t the only one who would require proof, and I rather think Detective Tonner might have cause to suspect you had…ulterior motives in making such a wild and bold claim without evidence to back it up.” With that, he strides out of the Archives.

He passes Sasha coming in on his way out, or at least Martin’s pretty sure it’s Sasha; all he can see right now is a blur as he tries without success to get his sobbing under control. It’s definitely Sasha’s voice that speaks next, sounding worried. “Martin?”

“I—I’ll be right back,” Martin manages to choke out. He turns and bolts blindly from the Archives in the direction of the washroom. Once there, he locks himself in and slides down to the floor, buries his face in his arms, and cries.

It’s one thing to know Elias Bouchard murdered Gertrude Robinson. It’s another thing to experience it, to feel her dying moments imprint on him—what she felt in the moments leading up to it. And now he knows what it feels like to be shot, wonders if it felt like that for Martin Prime. God, he hopes he never has to deal with that again.

He takes a deep, shaking breath as the sobbing finally subsides and wipes at his face, then gets up to wash the tears and snot off. Once he’s done, he studies himself in the bathroom mirror. His eyes are reddened, his skin bears the too-shiny look of being freshly scrubbed, but it’s the best he can do. Hopefully it’ll be enough. He takes a deep breath and heads back into the Archives.

He gets there just as the door to the main corridor slams, making him jump. From the fact that Jon is frozen halfway across the Archives and Tim is over by their desks with Sasha, Martin guesses it’s Daisy leaving. Jon sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then turns and freezes. “Martin! Are you all right?”

Tim turns, his face creased in concern, and takes a step towards him with his arms already stretching out, but Martin shakes his head quickly. “Don’t—not right now. Please.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want a hug. He does, desperately. After what he’s been through, he can admit what he shied away from when he first went down to the tunnels—that the safest place in the world is in Tim and Jon’s arms. But he also knows that if he gives in and lets either of them touch him right now, he’ll fall apart. He’s just managed to get himself back together, and they still have half a day to get through, somehow.

Sasha holds out a mug—his mug, or at least the one he usually uses, the cobalt blue one with the raised pattern that looks like a cable-knit sweater, which happens to match the one he’s wearing today—brimming with tea. Martin accepts it with quiet thanks, then manages to sit down before he falls over. Tim pulls out his chair, turns it around, and straddles it, resting his chin on the back; Sasha sits down at her own desk, but doesn’t fire up her laptop yet. Jon hovers nearby, his face creased with anxiety and exhaustion in equal parts. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Martin lies. He’s never felt less fine in his life, but he’s also not sure Elias isn’t listening; even if he’s not lurking right outside the Archives, he could be watching Martin, waiting to see how he’s going to bring up his “theories”. “I was—exploring the tunnels. While you were talking to Detective Tonner. Sorry for sneaking around on you.”

Jon looks confused for a split second, then suddenly seems to understand. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t been down there myself. We all have. In fact, I think we’d best just leave the trapdoor unlocked in the future. I’d like to have a complete map of it anyway. But please, all three of you—don’t go down alone. Certainly not without telling anyone. Take a companion if you feel the need to explore.” He slides off Martin’s desk. “Tell you what. Why don’t we all go down there right now? There’s nothing going on at the moment. We’ll take an hour and look around a bit. Together.”

Sasha grabs a piece of paper, writes BACK IN 60 MINUTES on it, folds it into a tent, and leaves it up on their desks, then gives Jon a charming smile. “Just in case Elias comes down to visit.”

“Right. Bring your tea, Martin, come on.” Jon strides briskly over to the trapdoor, which Martin didn’t lock when he came out.

Tea. Martin opens his desk drawer and pulls out the bottle of aspirin he keeps there, slips it into his pocket, and grabs the box of ginger tea off their station before following the others down into the tunnels. Tim waits for him at the foot of the stairs, makes like he’s going to put his hand on Martin’s back, then evidently remembers his earlier request and instead takes the box of tea out of his hands. Martin nods gratefully.

The door to the Primes’ room is still open. Jon pokes his head in the door. “Sorry to bother you, but I didn’t want to wait until after hours.”

“Two visits in a single day. I’m honored,” Jon Prime says dryly. He’s smirking a little, but his expression falls when he sees Martin come in the room. “I am now concerned.”

Tim hands over the box of ginger tea. “That makes…four of us. Five if Martin Prime there wants to join in the concern.”

“Sure. I love worrying,” Martin Prime says, his head still resting in Jon Prime’s lap. “I’m guessing it’s not your Jon we’re worrying about? Unless he’s more upset by Daisy’s statement than you were.”

“No, it’s Martin,” Sasha replies. “I came back from lunch just as Elias was leaving and Martin was—” She catches herself.

“Having a bit of a breakdown,” Martin replies softly.

“Oh, God. Already?” Martin Prime sits up abruptly, then winces, evidently regretting it.

“Have a seat. All of you,” Jon Prime instructs. He studies Martin in obvious concern. “What did he say to you?”

Martin pulls the aspirin out of his pocket and shakes it once before handing it to Jon Prime. “It’s…I don’t know where to start. He was waiting for me when I got out of the tunnels.”

Haltingly, clutching his tea in both hands and staring into its depths, he tells the others the whole story—Elias’ questions, his own half-truths. Sasha’s eyes brighten when he mentions accidentally attempting to compel Elias, and she turns to Jon Prime, whose lips are set in a thin line. He shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking, Sasha, but it won’t work. He’s strong enough to resist you. I tried, once, with all the force I have…he answered me, but only because he wanted to.”

“So it’s like Zone of Truth? He can choose to fail the saving throw automatically?” Tim frowns. “That’s unfair.”

“Well, he’s had two hundred years to practice, Tim.” Jon Prime turns back to Martin, and his expression is grim. “I don’t imagine he was pleased with that. What did he say about that?”

“He didn’t mention it,” Martin replies. “I—I think I managed to not let on that I realized I’d done it? He just told me to calm down. Th-then he said…he said there were some answers that may not be in our best interest, and…” He takes a deep breath. “He showed me Gertrude’s death.”

“He what?” both Jons shout in unison.

Tim lets out a string of Italian hot enough to blister paint and starts to stand. Sasha grabs his pant leg and tugs him back down, but even she looks pale in the lantern light. “Showed you. How? Put the pictures in your head?”

“Not pictures. More than video, too. It was like…like VR, o-or—I don’t know how to explain it.” Martin’s voice shakes, and he has to set the tea mug down before he breaks it. “I-it was like I was Gertrude Robinson. I-I could, I could feel what she was feeling, I had her thoughts, a-and I was listening to her talking with Elias—with Jonah—a-and then he…she had a lighter, I think she was going to burn the Archives down, and he had a gun, and she was telling him to shoot her or leave her alone, so he did.”

Jon Prime closes his eyes tightly. “‘Thought it would hurt more,’” he murmurs.

Martin Prime rubs his chest absently. “She must have a higher pain tolerance than I do.”

“It wasn’t physical pain she was talking about,” Martin says. Something clicks into place and he knows it with a certainty he’s felt about precious little else in his life. “It was the emotional pain, the knowledge that she was dying, that her plan failed. That the Fears were still out there and Jonah’s plan could still succeed.” A stabbing headache, not quite a migraine but similar in intensity, hits him directly between the eyes, and he closes his eyes, rubbing at the spot.

“Christ, Martin,” Tim breathes. “Will you take that damn hug now?”

“Y-yeah.”Martin manages a smile as he opens his eyes again and Tim’s arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him close. Jon reaches over and grips his hand hard; Sasha rests a hand on his other arm.

“God.” Jon Prime looks shaken. He clutches Martin Prime’s hand like a lifeline. “I-I always just assumed…”

Martin shakes his head slightly. “From what I could feel, she was—there were some regrets, but I don’t think actually dying upset her all that much, and I think that kind of surprised her.” He sighs. “Not that I was doing all that great. A-and then it all stopped, and I just…I’m pretty sure I was crying before all that, but I hadn’t noticed. Elias told me that ‘knowledge can be dangerous’, and then said I should be careful about who I shared the knowledge he’d just given me with.”

Tim tenses, but Martin Prime just sighs. “In other words, he thought your first instinct would be to tell Daisy he killed Gertrude. Only there’s no proof for that, so she would have assumed you were covering up for Jon.”

“She said they know I didn’t do it,” Jon murmurs. “They got the CCTV footage cleaned up…”

“Then she’d have blamed me,” Martin says softly. “Not that I would have told her anyway. I’m not stupid. But—”

“But he knew that,” Sasha completes. “I bet he was trying to convince you to tell her. Put the idea in your head. Maybe he thought you’d do it to prove him wrong…”

“And then either you or Jon would get arrested,” Tim says harshly. “Or worse.”

“Probably worse,” Martin Prime agrees. “He—” He suddenly freezes, his spine stiffening. “Oh.”

“Oh? What ‘oh’? I don’t like that ‘oh.’” Tension creeps into Tim’s voice.

“Tim, have you—looked at anyone on the team?”

“L—wh—no,” Tim sputters. “You mean with my—? No! I promised I wouldn’t—a-and that’s, that’s invasive, I don’t—why would I do that?”

“Because I’m wondering how many marks you all have. Separately and individually.” Martin Prime takes a deep breath. “If Jonah knows your Martin is developing powers…”

“No,” Jon Prime breathes. “No, he—he wouldn’t, it won’t—it wouldn’t work that way.” He pauses. “Would it?”

“If they’re all reading statements? Why wouldn’t it?”

Martin feels the other three draw closer to him, all of them managing to huddle in a group together. It’s Jon who finally asks, his voice full of trepidation, “Why wouldn’t what work?”

Dread runs down Martin’s spine as Martin Prime seems to meet each of their eyes, despite his blindness. “If you all have roughly the same number of marks, and you’re all developing powers from the Eye…Jonah might be considering whether or not he has to actually use your Jon for his ritual. Or if he could use one of you instead.”

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #emotional cruelty cw #mind manipulation cw #canon-typical Elias Bouchard asshattery

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dragonheadskilax · 3 years ago

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Gonna annotate about Leon’s entire character to y’all because he’s so so good, and every time I see someone say he’s a bad character for crushing on a man who doesn’t like him back i’m >:(

An archer born in a Zofian town. His manner of speech and conduct are unmistakably similar to a young lady's. He grew up care-free thanks to his parents and their laid-back environment. He was often teased for his effeminately good looks, and he always responded with a test of skill--which he would win, improving his reflexes. He joined the army to search for someone he could devote his heart to. When Valbar decided to accompany Celica, he naturally tagged along, and provided much assistance during the journey. He has a frank personality, saying what's on his mind; he's also the type of person who wears his heart on his sleeve. After the war, he became a merchant and it's said he lived a free and happy life.

The area of Zofia do follow Mila who is known as the goddess of love so considering how Leon is sappy and having the title “True of Heart”, Leon would totally be into lovecore aesthetic.

He may act feminine, use female gendered words in other languages, and would call himself a maiden, but as far as everything else he’s crude and mean and doesn’t hold back on filtering himself even if he’s talking to a kid.

Leon left home when he was young, so considering how this game series does have a thing of making 15 year old kiddies soldiers I’m guessing he left home at around that age.

To ‘wear your heart on your sleeve’ means to be honest and openly show your feelings or emotions. He’s painfully honest and drop hints he’s not straight.

"...Blerg. I don't like sea travel, and it sure doesn't like me. I'm nauseous, I'm sunburned, and I'm wind-beaten. I look like death's damp leftovers. But YOU look fresh as a daisy, Priestess! What's your secret? ...What? Nothing? NOTHING?! But you look like a dew-dappled angel! Augh, that's so annoying... Well, youth is great and all, but don't expect it to last."

There’s that painful honesty.

He sure does focus on his looks. He’s 24, smh Leon don’t think that you’re not gonna last past 30.

"Great. We finally get off that infernal boat, and now it’s the desert. Are you doing this on purpose, Priestess? Is it personal? *sigh* I want to get out of here before I dry up like a mummy. If I turn hideous and Valbar abandons me, it’s your fault. …What did you say? …Valbar isn’t the sort to judge people by their appearance? You think I don’t realize that? I know him FAR better than you! Gods, it really throws me when you’re so rational and correct…"

Still trying hard to get noticed by Valbar.

I like how he’s saying this particular line to a 17 year old, like chill, dude. Be nice.

"When I was a kid, there was this guy that I was head over heels for. He’s the reason I enlisted, actually. Just so I could stay close to him. He died in the first battle we fought. I cried so hard, I thought my eyes were going to float clean out of my skull. Valbar saved me from that. Every time he saw me, he’d take the time to say something. Cheer me up. What can you do with a man like that but fall in love? You’re thinking I’m a tramp, aren’t you? Well, I’m not. It’s hardly my fault that the world is full of wonderful, lovable people. Such a thing really motivates one to get out there and save it."

He made a big decision to leave home and enlist to follow a guy.. Now that he fell in love with Valbar he’s doing anything to follow him, too. I guess what’s different is it had been an unrequited love, even when it was suggested that Valbar knew about it it remained as a crush. Leon loves him at a distance so then he wouldn’t get badly hurt as he once had.

Him saying he’s not a “tramp” is a bit of info I like because people tend to wanna characterize effeminate gay characters as being touchy and wanting to peek at lotsa guys (which isn’t bad but there’s more than one type of guy), but not Leon, he’s more of a yearning for a soul mate kinda guy. He’s not big on lots of physical touch unless he really likes ya. "Hey, hey, now. No more of that." “I'm a friendly fellow, but not the touchy-feely type. All right?"

talking to Valbar “Heh heh. But it's fine. Emotions come in many forms, and as you say, there's no point in hanging on. I'm still glad I have these feelings, and nothing will change that.”

A crush is totally different than being in a relationship so like... I don’t like it when people say he’s a bad character for it. It totally happens to like someone but they don’t swing that way. In Leon’s case he keeps the crush because it feels safer and sappy to have it. Even if he tries his darnest to let Valbar get the hint he Loves loves him, when nothing happens he just accepts that.

talking to Valbar “Just realizing I've been a fool for feeling sorry for myself. Compared to what you've gone through, my worries are nothing.”

Despite the ol’ “keeping his heart on his sleeve” thing Leon has a knack of keeping negative feelings to himself. Probably the type who wouldn’t admit it because it doesn’t feel as big of a deal compared to other’s. This guy needs a hug so bad.

Kamui: “Oh, you're a laugh riot. But anyway, what do you think makes a good man?”

Leon: “Hmm. That's not easily summed up in a few words, but... for starters, he should be kind, strong and mature... while maintaining a boyish innocence. He also needs to listen, but be ready to tell the hard truths when necessary.”

Kamui: “Oh, come on. No one's that perfect.”

Some people take their conversations as being odd or random information or just to express again on how Leon’s gay but I wanna turn more attention on Kamui’s motive for asking in the first place. For someone who tries to not make people take him as gay, and explicitly so in the manga, he sure do wanna know what Leon’s type is if he’s got his eyes on Valbar.

Kamui is kinda right that no one could be perfect but Leon had been describing Valbar, when like,, they’re not even in a relationship… Leon honey… don’t hurt yourself like this. This leads to their next conversation;

Kamui: It's about… what you said before. So what would you do if Valbar ended up being.. the opposite of your ideal?

Leon: Well, that's an absurd question. But in the interest of humoring you and passing the time... Well, I suppose I'd set off looking for a man who met my perfect ideal. A journey like that might actually be kind of... fun.

Kamui: I think that's the first time you and I have agreed on anything.

Kamui could probably tell that Valbar isn’t ever going to return the kind of love Leon wants, and tries to learn what Leon’s thoughts are about that. Because even if he says he doesn’t care much about anything he seems to care about Leon. On the battlefield given his specific quotes for Leon and in these conversations. Kamui tells how his luck went south ever since joining in this journey and he’s only sticking around for the money, but that job he was paid for was done a long time ago at his recruitment quest. So he seems to hang around anyway for his sense of completion on things it seems.

The word ‘journey’ is like music to Kamui’s ears considering his history. It would be a fun writing idea actually of them traveling across Valm picking guys to speed date, well, like in the manga lmaooo but wider ranged.

This would be the first time Leon speaks nicely to Kamui instead of being standoffish and harsh. Kamui sounded really relieved for that. Then when Leon says he doesn’t like him that way Kamui instantly tries to back track lol

"Hello, Kiran! I've prepared some tea. Would you care to join me? I must admit, I was anxious when you first summoned me here. Ugh, don't laugh—it's rude! I may not look worried, but I have my fair share of concern, same as anyone else. Anyway, you've proven yourself more than capable, so I suppose I don't mind sticking around. To be honest, I am eager to return home... But that can wait, I think... Care for another cup?"

He says this when level 40 in FEH. So by this point he’s well acquainted with the player. Him admitted that negative feeling is once again that thing he has of keeping feels in to not seem it’s a big issue. And him wanting to go back home…. boohoo..

(If Valbar lives) Welcomed into the One Kingdom's Brotherhood of Knights, Leon remained at Valbar's side until an injury ended his fighting career. He then took up work as a merchant in the city market, where he lived free, happy, and dauntlessly true to himself to the last.

He better keep that good happy ending 👊

(If Valbar dies) Dealt a grievous blow by Valbar's death, Leon disappeared for a time before returning to join the One Kingdom's Brotherhood of Knights. There, he fought with the strength of a hundred men, and later served as an instructor to new recruits, contributing greatly to the order.

It’s messed up to think of Leon losing someone he loves again….. He should not go through all that again… Where did he disappear to.. Did he turn himself from twink to a bear to take the place of what would’ve been Valbar’s job if he lived (since Valbar ending would’ve been him becoming the instructor)

#dragon talk

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jfsindel · 3 years ago

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Hello, Gorgeous (Rated Explicit) Recap - Updated 7/28/21

To everyone following!

Please check out my story “Hello, Gorgeous” here! I will try to update as much as possible if you’re following along!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904442/chapters/65652934

If you’re joining us, this is what happened so far:

Main Storyline:

Champion Lance and Team Rocket Executive Proton are still living together.

Lance, in midst of trying to avoid Proton, worked out in his home gym. However, he injured himself falling backwards on a bike chain and his wound bled severely. Proton saw Lance become weak and took over, stopping the injury and cleaning it up.

During this, Proton made a statement that he would have oral sex on Lance and Lance questioned it. It was revealed that Proton may have been the waiter at the restaurant where Lance received oral under the table. Proton gets Lance off the topic by giving him said oral in their bedroom, sending him to sleep.

Lance has a vivid dream about being on a dating game show with versions of himself and Proton. He awakens, upset at himself, before going downstairs. Proton has cooked dinner, but it is undercooked. Proton becomes upset and Lance offers to take him out.

The two go to an all night diner and talk. Proton finally reveals small bits of his past. The two leave and after a conversation in the car, Proton tells Lance why he tried to kidnap him in Lavender Town years ago.

They drive towards the home and Lance experiences car trouble. He finds nothing wrong but the two wind up in the backseat. Proton gives permission to have penetrative sex but can't get relaxed enough. They engage in different kind before getting caught by a police officer. The officer writes a ticket and Lance believes his career to be over.

Unbeknownst to Lance, the officer was executed on Proton's order twenty minutes later.

Meanwhile (Major Side Characters):

Archer - he’s still juggling his fiancé (captive’s???) “condition” and planning a wedding while attempting to keep it secret. Petrel has made it aware that he is aware of Archer’s “darling”. He’s highly suspicious of Proton’s activities and have made it a point to figure out his Executive’s mysterious actions. He’s also extremely annoyed that his darling’s “disappearance” has made it a massive public fascination, complete with documentaries/podcasts/shows/internet videos that debate about where she “went”. He’s under some stress.

Steven - Now tasked with handling the League audit, he’s enlisted his ex-girlfriend, Roxanne, to help him. His feelings for Roxanne have grown since her arrival (and physical connection to him) at the Plateau. He is still looking for the mysterious sender of the black diamond to crush them under his heel (for fun, of course).

Petrel - He’s doing well and he’s having fun. He’s Petrel, not much gets to him. He’s taking his polyamory husband/wife to Archer’s wedding, so that’s nice! Petrel is a great husband. I hope they have lots of fun drinking and eating on Archer’s dime! They’ll buy the “happy” couple a great gift.

Decker - Poor guy got trapped with his stalker for a three day weekend of...uh, bonding. I hope he makes it through.

Dirk - The police captain is searching for the missing three League agents and has grown suspicious of Lance’s behavior. He is attempting to speak to Lance directly without League knowledge.

Dennik - The psychiatrist is unfortunately roped into this mess and assisting Dirk. He only wanted to help Lance, but no good deed goes unpunished. He still doesn’t know who changed Lance’s orders to stay home orders.

Otherwise (Minor Side Characters):

Kotone - Still a kid, still loves Lance. She’s sort of in denial about the age difference and insists he’s...well, available.

Silver - Loves Lance, but damn, don’t tell anyone! Be cool! He’s more realistic.

Ethan - dude, give Kotone up already. It’s fine.

Roxanne - she only wishes she could give Steven up and slap him again.

Karen - she’s not making fun of Lance, which honestly, she looks forward to.

Decker’s stalker - definitely the murderer in the murder/suicide pact.

Coldwell - he hates dragons. Also hates being woken up. He murdered the cop.

Aerodactyl - he’s a cutie dragon, hates strangers, likes to eat, and doesn’t like Coldwell.

Philomena - dead af

#Champion Lance #executive proton #executive petrel #team rocket #pokemon #fanfiction #M/M fanfic #m/m romance #yaoi #executive archer #jfsindel #fanfic #writing #Lance #proton

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thepandapopo · 4 years ago

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Promises - A Sylvix 2020 Holiday Fic

Summary:

When Felix learns that Sylvain has never had the chance to truly enjoy the Yule holiday (or any holiday for that matter), he makes it his personal mission to correct this injustice.

Felix just really wants Sylvain to know that he's loved. What better way than to melt down his favorite sword into an engagement ring?

Posted for A Very Sylvix Holiday 2020

Warnings: N/A. Rated T for vague mentions of sex.

Sylvain/Felix #Sylvix Fluff | Proposals | Family/Found Family #sylvixholiday 4300 words https://archiveofourown.org/works/28086762 I hope y'all like my sylvix holiday oneshot! As usual kudos, likes, and RTs welcome :) I hope I can share a little joy with all of you this holiday.

It was no secret that Sylvain and Felix grew up together. In fact, it was something that the older boy liked to remind their mutual friends every chance he got how adorable little Fe used to follow him around like a lost duckling, clinging to him whenever something or the other inevitably made his eyes mist with tears.

But in all his years growing up with Sylvain, the full force of Sylvain’s absolute joy over the Yule holiday never really came up until the year after the war ended, only a few months into his official ‘move in’ to the Fraldarius castle and the freedom that came from saying a long overdue fuck you to Margrave Gautier, whom – Dimitri assured – was on the fast track to being unseated so that Sylvain could finally take over and begin peace talks with Sreng.

“You’re acting like you’ve never celebrated Yule before.” Felix deadpanned as he watched his boyfriend (and new housemate) string tinsel along the hallways, complete with a mistletoe at every door.

Instead of a reply, Sylvain merely stuck his tongue out at him in an eerily reminiscent way that made Felix’s head spin with memories of two younger children in days long past.

He never really got an answer as to Sylvain’s strange behavior.

The Yule holiday season came and went, and it was only halfway through the next year on a sleepy summer morning that Felix learned why in one of their rare early morning pillow talks.

“What do you mean your family didn’t celebrate holidays?”

A warm huff of breath tickled the hairs atop his head, “it’s exactly like it sounds, Fe. My family wasn’t exactly the type to sit around a dinner table and chat amicably. The only time we celebrated was when we were with company or if my father wanted to rub elbows with other nobles and sniff out a marriage candidate for me.”

Felix is very glad that his face is buried in Sylvain’s chest so that he can’t see the fury in his eyes or the way that his eyes scrunch against a familiar sting when the truth squeezes his heart in a death grip.

His arms must also tighten unconsciously because just as soon as Felix makes some absent calculations on how long it would take to ride to Gautier and castrate Sylvain’s father, the warm strong arms around him are pulling him in tighter in reciprocation and a large hand tangles itself into his unbound locks.

“It’s fine,” Sylvain mutters, lips moving in a whisper across Felix’s forehead. “After all, I’ve got you now, don’t I? Holidays are for spending time with family at home and you are my home, Fe.”

Well, fuck him three way to Ailell if the fool isn’t right. Sylvain’s home is with him, here in Fraldarius castle. Here in his room, in his bed, and in his arms.

And fuck it all even more if Felix doesn’t make every holiday from that day forth the best damn holiday Sylvain has ever had to make up for his lost childhood.

Which is exactly how Felix finds himself standing in front of the stall of his favourite blacksmith in Fhirdiad later that year on the first snowfall of the season.

(It is very important that he does not go to a blacksmith in Fraldarius for this particular task because Goddess forbid Sylvain catch wind of this secret order and bother him about it.)

The weight slung across his hip is a familiar one – the well worn scabbard an extension of his own body and the sword sheathed inside a friend that carried him through the war, but more importantly, also the savior of Sylvain’s life too many times to count.

It only seems appropriate that it continues to accompany them throughout their future together.

“Lord Fraldarius!” The blacksmith greets heartily when he ducks under the entrance flap. “Or should I say Your Grace, now?”

The heat is sweltering inside, but it is easily overshadowed by the thrill and excitement of seeing the wide assortment of sharp blades strewn about for display. But alas, that is not what Felix is here for and he cannot bring home any evidence of what he is up to.

“No need for formalities, Than. Just Felix is fine.”

“Well then, young master Felix, what can I do for you this day? Another sharpening? Or perhaps a new blade?”

It’s all very tempting, but that’s not the reason why Felix has laden his gold purse with a hefty sum before coming here today.

“Actually, I was hoping you would be able to take on a custom request for me…”

----

It takes exactly 53 days before Than finishes his order just in the nick of time when Sylvain and Felix travel to the Kingdom capital with an invitation from Dimitri to spend the holiday with him, Byleth, and basically every other friend from the war that he can send a missive to.

It’s easy enough for Felix to slip away to the blacksmith’s once again while Sylvain is busy catching up with Ashe who chatters non stop about the booming success of Dedue’s Duscur cuisine, much to the embarrassment of the quiet giant who looks like he is torn between wanting to change the subject and basking in the praise of his ‘close friend’ (Sylvain snorts at that one because anyone with eyes can see how smitten Dedue is with the archer and vice versa).

It’s even easier to conceal the little velvet box underneath the layers and layers of wool that protect him from the bitter winter winds that Faerghus is known for.

What isn’t easy, is dragging Dimitri and Annette away to tell them his intentions because the last-minute invitation from their King throws off his entire original plan.

“Oh Goddess! Felix, it’s beautiful.” Annette gushes and peers at the silver band nestled snugly within the ring box cushions.

He’s not too sure about beautiful – there are other things more fitting to the word, like the very man he wants to give this ring to – but he does know that it is breathtaking in its own simple way.

The silver shines brighter than any gem and catches the light no matter which way it is turned. Etched onto the surface of the band in delicate handiwork are swirling lines weaving the symbols of Fraldarius and Gautier together to become something wholly new, something wholly Sylvain and Felix.

“There’s more.”

Gently, Felix pulls the ring out to show his two soon-to-be accomplices the detailing on the inside.

“Don’t bend it,” Felix glares a warning at Dimitri as he places the ring on the outstretched palm of his king.

“I promise I will not,” Dimitri chuckles, but Felix can hear the nervousness buried underneath in a way that only an entire lifetime of friendship can uncover. Regardless, the boar does not close his hand or pick up the seemingly tiny ring dwarfed in his palm, choosing instead to rotate his whole hand so that him and Annette can peer at the graceful cursive inscribed on the inside.

In Life and Death

“I…” Felix swallows the lump of emotion in his throat before continuing quietly, “I had it made from the sword that I used throughout the war.”

Both of his friends gasp at his admission, the crackling fire in the hearth flickering shadows across their faces that twist their face into a deeper shade of shock.

“But Felix,” Annette chokes, “You loved that sword. It was your favourite sword.”

Beside her, Dimitri nods emphatically, “I believe the very words you had said were ‘I will take this sword to my grave’.”

“You carry it around everywhere whenever you travel.”

“Indeed. I have rarely seen you without the familiar scabbard by your side.”

“You literally visited the blacksmith every moon during the war to make sure the blade was upkept.”

“The number of late nights you’ve spent sharpening-“

“Enough.” Felix hisses at them. “I get it, already.”

It’s another heartbeat of silence before he can muster up the courage to verbalize the emotions that are currently running through him; that have always thrummed in his veins whenever Sylvain is by his side.

“It’s… it’s because of how important that sword was to me that I wanted to re-forge it into something that I could give to Sylvain.”

Golden eyes turn down to the floor and Felix has to fight the visceral urge to scuff his boots against the floor like a boy who was just caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or in Felix’s case, with his hand on his father’s ceremonial swords mounted high above the fireplace, requiring both him and Glenn to even reach it.

“He still thinks I’m going to disappear someday and become a mercenary.”

It stings to say out loud, but it’s the truth and Felix will be damned if he ever becomes so much of a coward that he cannot even face the facts in front of him.

A shaggy lock of blonde hair falls from Dimitri’s half updo as he shakes his head. “I’m sure Sylvain doesn’t think that, Felix. You told him that you had decided against that and he believes you.”

But that’s not how Sylvain is. Felix knows that even if Sylvain tells him that he believes that Felix is here to stay, there will always be demons and ghosts lingering in the darkest corners of his mind, whispering poisonous words and you’re not worthy of love’s in his heart.

“He does, but I know him. He’s still scared; I want to give him this to prove that our promise is more than just dying together.” It is more. It is so much more. “It’s… it’s about living together, too.”

Felix does not elaborate further because he doesn’t need to. Despite Dimitri technically being his oldest friend, Sylvain was always his closest and it is no secret that Felix would fight a hundred wars just to see him happy. In fact, fighting to rebuild a world where crests no longer ruled over everyday life was one of the biggest reasons why he had fought to begin with.

He wanted to build a world where Sylvain was free to be… just Sylvain.

Turns out fighting an entire imperial army and a whole legion of crazy cultists is a lot easier than arguing with Sylvain’s demons.

“Oh Felix,” Annette sighs wistfully, “He’s going to love it.”

Felix certainly hopes so, because if he doesn’t, Felix is not only down one extremely well crafted blade, but more importantly it proves that maybe Felix doesn’t know Sylvain as well as he thinks he does.

Dimitri nods his assent, “It suits you both. Even if he didn’t, which I find impossible, he will love it simply because it is coming from you, Felix.”

If his self discipline was ever in question, it is long cleared based solely on the fact that Felix is still standing here under the awed gazes of his king and irritatingly fond friend despite how much every vein in his body screams at him to run literally anywhere else, just to get away from their scrutiny and out of the limelight. But his purpose in dragging Dimitri and Annette away is twofold and he has merely completed the first part of his goal, leaving the second most important bit still hanging in the air.

Taking a deep breath, Felix fills himself with the same steely determination that he brings whenever he steps on the battlefield.

“I’m going to need your help.”

----

Felix hates balls. But Sylvain likes them, and Felix likes making Sylvain happy so somehow Felix always ends up going to them.

Will you dance with me, Fe? Sylvain always asks with that stupidly blinding smile that makes Felix’s heart feel three times too small for the amount of love he feels for the man. And even though he wants to say no, there isn’t an ounce of will in him to actively go against something that clearly means so much to Sylvain.

Each time without fail Felix ends up being twirled around on the dancefloor to the lilting notes of a waltz – or maybe it’s the quickstep? Not that it matters since Sylvain’s leading is graceful enough that even Felix can keep up.

Which is exactly what he banks on.

“Come on, Fe! You owe me a dance still.” Sylvain tugs the flute of champagne from his hand, slipping his own calloused fingers through Felix’s and drawing him gently towards the open floor.

In the sea of Faerghus blues and whites, Sylvain cuts through the slowly diminishing crowd of the Yule ball like the blazing dawn of a new day tugging Felix along by his heartstrings.

He must make a face, because soon enough he’s being bombarded with pouty honey browns and Felix is drowning and completely at the mercy of the man before him.

“Just one.” Felix huffs. He has to put on a show of his usual reluctance after all. Otherwise Sylvain will start to become suspicious.

Sylvain winks like he’s in on a big secret, “just one.”

(They both know it won’t be just one.)

From across the room, Felix nods subtly to Dimitri who is following them with watchful eyes, and immediately, the King disappears to put into motion their grand master plan. If all goes well, Annette should also be on the move rounding up all their friends and entreating the small string quartet to play a half dozen more songs, just enough for the remaining stragglers to retire for the night at the encouragement and behest of Dimitri, before ending the evening with one final song request.

Felix barely has enough time to quickly run through the rest of his plan in his head before warm hands circle his waist and tug him closer into a lungful of citrusy bergamot and earthy pine.

The weight of the small box in his pocket is heavy, but the way Sylvain’s eyes melt into warm chocolate and the encompassing warmth of belonging make Felix feel like he’s walking on air. The world falls away to nothing around them and Felix knows with a surety borne from walking alongside this man for his whole life, that Sylvain is also here in this moment with him.

I love you.

I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

I never want you to feel lonely ever again.

His heart is pounding but Felix does not know if it’s from nerves or from the suddenly overwhelming need to let Sylvain know just how much he is loved.

Steps flow into more steps, and yet it feels like no time at all passes before the world comes back into focus as the first lilting notes of Felix’s requested song (communicated by virtue of Annie) fill the room.

As planned, the hall is almost entirely empty now save for their close friends who loiter around the sides. A flash of bright orange in his periphery tells Felix that Annette is busy running proxy and filling their companions in on the plan.

Goddess knows what Dimitri is up to. Though Felix has a sinking suspicion that the stupidly soft-hearted boar is probably sniffing away happy tears somewhere behind a glass of sparkling cider.

The music swells and that is Felix’s cue.

“Sylvain.” He doesn’t dare speak any louder, lest he break the spell that they are under.

Hazy brown eyes focus slightly, even as Sylvain gives a distracted hum in response.

“I…” Goddess, why are words so hard? “I… I know that you never got to enjoy Yule or any other holiday really when you were growing up.”

“Hm?” Now he has Sylvain’s full attention. “Felix, are you still thinking about what I told you in the summer? It’s fine. Really. I have you now and that’s all that matters.”

“But it’s not okay,” Felix grouses out, still dancing. “It’s not okay that you were robbed of happiness so early in your life. It’s not okay that you never understood what it was like to be loved until we basically beat it into your thick skull at the academy.”

Insulting Sylvain is definitely not how Felix wants this to go, but he relaxes a little when Sylvain merely laughs, “that’s one way to tell me you love me, Fe.”

“I do.” Felix says, almost defiantly as he raises his gaze to meet Sylvain’s stunned one. “I love you more than you know and more than you believe, and it’s because I love you that I promise that I will make up for all those years that you should have been happy – I’ll make every year better than the last.”

It must look so odd, Felix thinks, how the more determined and steelier his face gets, the sappier and lovestruck Sylvain’s expression becomes.

“Fe,” Sylvain’s breath washes over Felix’s face as he presses a soft kiss to his lips. “You already make me so happy. Everyday with you is worth everything I’ve gone through and more. I truly… I truly don’t deserve you.” When Sylvain pulls away, there is a sad smile tugging at his face and a distant part of Felix wants to smack it right off.

“You do deserve me.” Felix snaps. The music is slowly dying away now and his voice comes out louder in the growing silence of the hall than he intends, but his heart is beating a mile a minute and there’s no stopping now, and so Felix decides to hurl himself headlong into the deep end.

“You deserve so much, Sylvain. So much more than I can give you, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try.” Felix pulls them to a stop in the middle of the dance floor and gathers both of Sylvain’s much larger ones in his.

He doesn’t dare look up at the love of his life, but their lives are so entwined that Felix can picture with crystal clarity the look of growing confusion and wide eyes that is surely adorning Sylvain’s expression.

“Sylvain Jose Gautier.” Felix likes the way the name rolls off his tongue, but he would like it even better if there was another name added to the end. “You are the biggest fool I’ve ever met. You throw yourself into danger to protect those that you love, yet you never consider yourself worthy of love in return.”

Felix builds enough courage now to look up at Sylvain to see the startled wild confusion grow in his eyes.

Eyes that widen even further as Felix sinks down to one knee with his hands still cradled in Felix’s left, as his right reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a simple velvet box.

“I know,” Felix swallows the lump in his throat and tightens his grip on Sylvain’s hands which are now physically trembling, “I know that you’ve never thought that you would be happy. That you deserved to be happy. But I want to prove you wrong.”

There are tears running down Sylvain’s face now as his mind finally puts the pieces together and the reality of the situation fully dawns upon him.

“I never want you to feel like you aren’t loved ever again. I never want you to feel lonely or like there is no one out there who has your back. I never want you to feel like your life is conditional and that you have to cripple who you are just to be accepted.”

Goddess. Sylvain truly is an ugly crier. Blast him for looking so handsome anyways even with his nose scrunched up and fat crocodile tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“I love you, Sylvain, and I want to spend the rest of our lives proving it to you, so will you marry me?”

The beat after the metaphorical ball drops is painfully long, but when time resumes again, Sylvain’s knees buckle beneath him and he collapses in a sobbing heap, his body leaning into Felix like he is touch starved and Felix holds the warmth of home in his arms.

“You-“ Sylvain’s voice is hoarse as he chokes the words out through his tears, “You… want to marry me? Marry me?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.”

(Across the room, Dimitri has to hold Ingrid back from throwing a cup at Felix’s head)

“But, it’s me! Felix, I’m a mess. How could you ever want someone as broken as me?” There is desperation in Sylvain’s eyes, but it is wild, like Sylvain himself doesn’t know if he’s desperate for Felix to just take this last out he’s providing or to reassure him that yes, this is really happening and yes, Felix really wants to marry him.

“You idiot.” Felix huffs fondly, reaching up a pale scarred hand to gently thumb away the nonstop tears on Sylvain’s face. “I’ve wanted you since we were children. I will never stop wanting you. You might be a mess, but you’re my mess.”

Felix withdraws his grip slowly and finally opens the velvet box clutched in his hand. He doesn’t hear so much as feel the sharp inhale from Sylvain as he reveals the glittering silver ring nestled in the soft cushion.

“Do you remember the sword that I carried with me throughout the war?”

Sylvain scrubs his eyes and nods, “Yeah. I remember. Why? What happened-“

Brown eyes widen almost comically again and Sylvain stares at the ring with his mouth agape.

“Felix. Felix, don’t tell me…”

“If this doesn’t prove how serious I am, then I don’t know what will.”

“But Felix, you loved that sword.”

Felix doesn’t even pause to think before he retorts, “You truly are a fool if you think that I love a sword more than I love you.”

Felix does not expect for Sylvain to burst into sobs again, but rather than the irritation that he’s sure he would have felt under different circumstances, the only thing Felix can feel right now is warmth and love blooming in his chest.

“Sylvain,” Felix feels a small smile tug at the corner of his lips as he brings his hand up to frame Sylvain’s tearful face, “will you marry me?”

The crooked wobbly smile that graces Sylvain’s face next is one that Felix will remember for the rest of his life. It is the same one that he’s seen only a handful of times, but he knows what it means and Felix swears that he will dedicate the rest of his life finding ways to silence the demons and bring out that smile again and again and again.

“Yes.”

----

Neither of them remembers much of the celebration after Felix slips the ring on Sylvain’s finger.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of bottles upon bottles of champagne (the good stuff, according to Ashe who may have had a peek in the cellars) and laughter and congratulations.

But most importantly, it passes with Sylvain being surrounded by the people who have risked life and limb for him, and Felix hopes that this is at least a decent start to spending the rest of his life making his future husband happy.

---

It is only much later that night in the aftermath of rumpled sheets and whispers of pleasure that Felix succumbs to the incessant voice at the back of his mind, itching to ask what he already knows but wants reassurance of anyways.

“Did you… was this Yule better than last year?” His breath ghosts over the red hairs on Sylvain’s chest, stirring the owner to shift away ticklish and shuffle so that he can look down at his fiancé.

“Yeah, it was. It was absolutely wonderful.” Sylvain’s voice is quiet when he answers. Quiet enough that the sincerity of it strikes Felix through the heart and stirs the butterflies in his stomach. Above him, he can feel Sylvain’s muscles shifting as he examines his new engagement ring in the moonlight and Felix pointedly does not point out the fresh batch of tears that well up in Sylvain’s eyes when he finds the inscription carved on the inside.

Felix nods his head once in a jerky movement, the abruptness a stark contrast to the curl of satisfactory success blooming in his gut. Good. That’s one year down and an entire lifetime to go.

“I keep my promises, you know.”

He doesn’t need to say it, but the part of him that is finely tuned into the entity that is Sylvain tells him that these are words he needs to hear regardless of how difficult they are tripping up and out of his mouth.

“I promised that I would make up for all those shitty years that you never got to celebrate properly.”

Sylvain huffs a laugh into his hair, “well, you’re off to a strong start. I believe you also promised me that you would make each year better than the last.”

He’s teasing, but Felix hears the small sliver of shy hope that toes the open space between them timidly, almost as if the fool didn’t just hear him say that he keeps all his damn promises.

It will be a long and hard battle before Felix can officially claim victory over Sylvain’s doubts, but he’s no stranger to war and this is one that he already knows the outcome of.

“I will,” Felix whispers into a sweet kiss, “I promised.”

---

It comes as no surprise that Felix stays true to his word.

Either Felix is the most brilliant strategist in all of Fodlan or Sothis herself watches over them, for in a fortuitous twist of fate, the next Yule seasons brings Sylvain and Felix a beautiful baby girl that they lovingly name Sophia Gabriella Fraldarius-Gautier.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX Please follow me on my Twitter if you want to know my fic progress, when I put up new content, and sneak peeks!

#A Very Sylvix Holiday #sylvix #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem #fire emblem 3 houses #sylvain jose gautier #felix hugo fraldarius #felix x sylvain #SOFT FELIX #emotional sylvain #proposals #found family #holiday fic #fluffy goodness #popo writes #sophia gabriella fraldarius gautier #Sophie AU

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autistic-girl-academic · 4 years ago

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Cookie Run OCs

gdi apparently one of the cookies in cr kingdom is named licorice cookie so screw it i’m biting the bullet and posting my half-baked (ha) oc ideas now even if some of them have already been taken anyway. sorry there’s no art bc i’m terrible with digital stuff and can’t access a scanner to upload my drawings. there are almost certainly going to be more to come later because this game refuses to leave my brain.

Black Licorice Cookie: The powerfully astringent flavor of black licorice certainly isn’t to everyone’s taste - and that’s just the way Black Licorice Cookie likes it! This daredevil of a Cookie loves nothing more than testing her limits, so she’s always on the lookout for something to get her adrenaline pumping. That doesn’t mean she isn’t without her sweet side, however, which comes out most strongly when protecting her precious little sister. Get between them at your own risk!

Red Licorice Cookie (Sibling): Don’t mess with my little sis if you know what’s good for you!

Mustard Cookie (Trust): Nobody else gets me like Mustard Cookie does!

Kiwi Cookie (Friendly): Hey, I’ve got an idea for some cool bike tricks!

Roll Cake Cookie (Friendly): Going for a ride in that road roller and smashing things is such a rush! WHOO!

Initially I had the mental image of her as a Cookie with a web design and a spider pet, but then Truffle Cookie came out, so now I pretty much picture her skill being that she runs a Ninja-Warrior-style obstacle course or something. Maybe her pet could be a black cat instead?

Red Licorice Cookie: Between the fruity fragrance of her signature red hair and her sweet, outgoing personality, it’s no surprise that this Cookie is so popular! Red Licorice Cookie is a champion at gymnastics with plenty of fans, and performing with the ribbon is where she shines the most. She and her older twin sister might be as different as night and day, but their bond is as strong as a thousand strands of licorice twisted together!

Black Licorice Cookie (Sibling): I’ve got the coolest big sis in the world!

Cheerleader Cookie (Trust): Cheerleader Cooke is my BFF!

Yoga Cookie (Friendly): She’s helped me train to be much more flexible for my routines.

Skating Queen Cookie (Admiration): I can’t believe I actually got her autograph!

At first I imagined her as being a sort of epic version of Cheerleader Cookie, performing double dutch with a few friends much like the cheer team. Her pet would be a charm bracelet.

Oatmeal Cookie: Every day at the crack of dawn, this dutiful cowgirl is already hard at work, keeping a watchful eye over her herd with the help of her trusty steed, Raisin. If even a single cow goes missing, Oatmeal Cookie won’t rest until she’s got them home safe and sound. The tricks she can perform with a lasso will certainly knock your socks off! And when the sun starts to set, you can hear the sound of her yodeling from far across the plains.

Peanut Butter Cookie (Family): I’m the luckiest Cookie alive to have such a beautiful gal as you...

Knight Cookie (Friendly): You sure know how to burn the breeze!

Adventurer Cookie (Friendly): Nice hat ya got there, pardner!

Space Doughnut (Tension): Hey, stop spookin’ my herd!

Her skill would probably involve dodging obstacles on her horse while catching some runaway cows, and her pet would be a cowbell.

Peanut Butter Cookie: There’s nothing better for a boost of energy than some delicious, nutritious peanut butter! And forest ranger Peanut Butter Cookie definitely needs that energy, as she spends every day traversing the woods to keep them safe. Whether she’s helping Cookies who have gotten lost find their way home or rescuing woodland critters from danger, you can always depend on Peanut Butter Cookie. She’s especially fond of younger Cookies and enjoys teaching them wilderness survival skills.

Oatmeal Cookie (Family): She and I pack each others’ lunches every day.

Pancake Cookie (Friendly): Be careful climbing trees for those Acorn Jellies, dear!

Cream Puff Cookie (Friendly): I’m sure you’ll get that spell right next time, hun.

Fig Cookie (Trust): They’re always eager for me to tell them stories.

Fire Spirit Cookie (Tension): You keep those flames away from the forest, you hear?

You can probably tell by now that I’ve put like 0 thought into any of my Cookie OC’s skills. Anyway, her pet would be a bear that she helped when it was a cub, who shows up to help her by smashing obstacles.

Coconut Cookie: The Tropical Soda Archipelago has a long history of telling stories through traditional dance. Coconut Cookie comes from a long line of those dancers, and Cookies will flock from every island to watch her perform. Crowned with a garland of bright yellow coconut blossoms, she moves with the utmost rhythm and grace. It’s said that she practices every day so that she can bring peace and good fortune to the islands.

Mango Cookie (Trust): My best friend since we were little - I remember his very first boat!

Ananas Dragon Cookie (Admiration): The Dragon honored my ancestors by praising their dances.

Soda Cookie (Friendly): Going for a ride on the waves is the best, isn’t it?

Squid Ink Cookie (Friendly): Poor little thing, there’s no need to be shy.

My first thought was for her to make a sort of bubble shield out of coconut oil, like Lemonade Cookie but without the magnetic effect (maybe slower energy drain instead?) - I’m still undecided about it though. Her pet would be a bunch of coconuts who make coconut milk potions. Also, I picture her being related to Artichoke Cookie, but he’s not in Ovenbreak...YET? (pls devsis)

Honeycomb Cookie: Out in a charming little cottage atop a hill lives Honeycomb Cookie - and her many hives of Jelly Bees. Years upon years of working with the bees has allowed her to understand them so well, it’s almost as if she talks to them! If you happen to arrive on her doorstep, you can be sure that she’ll treat you to some delicious tea sweetened with honey and send you on your way with a basket of homemade treats.

Herb Cookie (Family): My cute little grandson certainly inherited the family green thumb.

Spinach Cookie (Trust): Oh, how sweet of you to bring me a basket of vegetables, dearie!

Fairy Cookie (Friendly): Ah, you’re so small I mistook you for another bee.

Matcha Cookie (Friendly): A bit of a strange one, but it’s nice to have some laughter over tea.

Not sure what her skill would be, but I think her pet would be a queen Jelly Bee that grows from a baby to an adult as you collect more jellies.

Souffle Cookie: A chef famous for turning simple Jellies into extravagant and delicious meals. Though he can come off as strict and a bit intimidating, he truly does care about creating good food for every Cookie who comes to his restaurant. Souffle Cookie is quite the perfectionist, so if a recipe doesn’t come out as planned, he tends to sulk so badly that even his fluffy chef’s hat deflates! But it never lasts long before he throws himself back into his work with renewed passion.

Sparkling Cookie (Trust): My cooking and your juice is the ultimate combination!

Sandwich Cookie (Admiration): To create such simple but delicious meals...C’est magnifique!

Mala Sauce Cookie (Friendly): Just watch, I’ll create a meal more than spicy enough to satisfy you!

Dr. Wasabi Cookie (Tension): I am NEVER using your syrup as a ‘secret ingredient’ EVER again!

Again, not sure what his skill would be, but maybe his pet could be a spoon. Sous-chef Spoon?

Rainbow Sugar Cookie: Sugar Cookie was always painfully shy and never considered herself all that important. However, everything changed when she met Rainbow Puff, a creature who begged for her help in protecting the happiness of Cookies everywhere from the wicked Dark Puffs. Bestowed with a magical wand, she becomes Rainbow Sugar Cookie, chasing away darkness with prisms of joyous light! RAINBOW...BEAM!

Pink Choco Cookie (Trust): The two of us would make a perfect team!

Wind Archer Cookie (Admiration): Wow...what an amazing warrior...

Sandwich Cookie (Friendly): She makes the best toast as a snack on the way to school!

Dark Enchantress Cookie (Rival): I won’t let a villain like you make other Cookies suffer!

Pomegranate Cookie (Tension): Why are you helping the Darkness?

Originally her name was Glitter Cookie, but then Shining Glitter Cookie got announced. In any case, she’d pretty much be an epic version of Wind Archer Cookie, fighting a big ‘boss’ monster once enough little ones were defeated with her magic.

Jack-o-Lantern Cookie: Trick or treat! Wait, is it Halloween already? The answer doesn’t really matter to this young Cookie, who loves trick-or-treating so much that they never take their costume off! If you don’t have Jellies to give, then get ready for a mischievous trick! But if there’s one thing they love more than getting treats, it’s sharing them with friends, so don’t be shy and join in the fun!

Candy Corn Cookie (Trust): My bestest trick-or-treating buddy!

Devil Cookie (Admiration): WOW! What a great costume!

Apple Cookie (Friendly): Here, candy apples!

Onion Cookie (Friendly): Trick o- um, please don’t cry...

Vampire Cookie (Tension): Hey, don’t fall asleep when I’m trying to trick you!

I thought I was in the clear with this OC when we got Truffle Cookie for Halloween...but then Pumpkin Cookie was an NPC later, lol. At least the name was an easy change. Their skill would basically be like a slower version of Chestnut’s, where you go up to houses and trick-or-treat.

Candy Corn Cookie: This Cookie used to be a scarecrow who stood in the middle of a big field of candy corn. However, they wanted to travel the world, so one night they wished upon a star...and miraculously, their wish was granted! Bursting with curiosity, Candy Corn Cookie is full of questions about everything they see. They still have a habit of chasing birds wherever they go, though.

Jack-o-Lantern Cookie (Trust): This ‘trick-or-treat’ thing is really fun!

Alchemist Cookie (Admiration): Wow, this Cookie knows lots of things!

Blueberry Pie Cookie (Friendly): Ooh, what’s in all these ‘book’ things?

Mocha Ray Cookie (Friendly): Cookies can really live under the sea? WOW!

Carrot Cookie (Tension): Aw, I don’t wanna go back to the farm yet!

Candy corn apparently used to be called ‘chicken feed’, so their pet would probably be a chicken. Again, not sure about the skill.

#cookie run #cookie run oc #cookie run ocs

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