#- ; Her first adventure would be drawing herself a set of wings! Which leads her to crashing into the main city where she'd meet Snap and co | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ollieofthebeholder · 3 years ago

Text

For We Are Afar With the Dawning: A RQG Fic

Also on AO3. Contains spoilers for Episode 207.

Augusta is floating. Both literally and metaphorically.

Mentally, she’s floating on a peachy-pink cloud of euphoria and warmth and happiness and contentment. It’s an absolutely perfect day, the kind of day she never gets to experience anymore. The sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the sun bright enough to illuminate the scene but not so bright to hurt the eyes, and it’s pleasantly warm without being oppressively hot. The gentle, cooling breeze brings with it the faint scents of something floral; Augusta’s never been all that great with scents per se, but she thinks it might be roses or something.

Physically, she’s in a rowboat in the middle of a glassy lake, lying on her back with her arms folded contentedly over her chest and her head resting on a lap that seems to mostly comprise of white illusion. Augusta herself is wearing a loose-fitting lawn shirt and a pair of trousers, her feet bare. A pair of oars rest in the locks on either side, but nobody is using them.

“You know, Gus, I think you’re going to have a curly crop when this grows out a bit.” Delicate fingers run through Augusta’s delightfully short hair. “You’re going to look quite rakish.”

“Just so you don’t try to get me to wear one of those dreadful outfits you were talking about that boy wearing in your book.” Augusta smiles. “Really, Lou, where’d you come up with that? Nobody actually dresses like that.”

Louisa laughs. “I wanted it to be really clear that there was no way Jo would ever fall in love with him. Why would she love someone who dresses like that?”

“You should have given one of the girls who came to the Christmas play a name,” Augusta says. “And a personality. And a reason to come back.”

“Are you suggesting I should have put you in the book after all? I thought you didn’t like publicity, O Best Beloved.”

“I don’t like being tied to my brother. Being tied to you is different.” Augusta punctuates this by reaching up and twirling a strand of Louisa’s dark hair around a finger.

Louisa swats her hand away, but she’s laughing again. “Are you going to row us back to shore at any point? Mary and Emma should be here soon. Your Sasha was going to take the carriage and go get them.”

“She’s not my Sasha,” Augusta protests.

“She could be, if you asked, I’m sure. You know we’re all just yours for the asking.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s not how this works.”

“You can’t tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you,” Louisa says relentlessly. “Having your own personal harem of beautiful and brilliant women. Mary for those delightful scientific discussions and Emmuska for solving puzzles and mysteries and Sasha for going on daring adventures and robbing tombs with and me for...well, when you want to be lazy and bored, I suppose.”

“Louisa May Alcott.” Augusta sits up and takes both of Louisa’s hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am. Right here. With you. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sasha and Mary and Emmuska and I love having them around...and you’re right, Sasha’s so much fun to go poking around places we aren’t wanted with. But if none of them were here, I’d be happy just the same. Maybe more so. Being with you?” She brings Louisa’s hands up and kisses them tenderly. “This is perfect.”

Louisa blushes beautifully, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to row back to shore.”

Augusta laughs. “You wound me. Right here.” She places one hand over her heart.

She’s joking, but suddenly, it feels like Louisa—or someone—has wounded her. There’s a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in her heart, and the last thing she sees is Louisa’s sparkling eyes and sweet smile before the world goes white.

It resolves after a moment. Now instead of sitting in a boat, Augusta is sitting on a rock in a clearing in a verdant forest. Looking up, she can see the night sky and the stars, so many stars, more than she’s ever seen, and the sweep of the Milky Way looks almost green. The moon shines down on the clearing and illuminates her.

Augusta looks down at herself. She’s wearing more practical clothes now—boots, trousers, tunic, leather jacket—actually, it’s a lot like what Sasha Rackett wore when Augusta first met her, nearly two years ago now, except newer and neater. Across her lap is a well-made crossbow.

A big beast swoops overhead, one Augusta can’t identify (she grew up in a city and the only kind of hunting really considered proper for young ladies of her station was foxhunting). A moment later, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth, and a figure pops out into the clearing, a short figure with outsize ears and a drawn bow.

“Wotcher,” the figure says. “Seen a big beastie go by here?”

“It went that way,” Augusta says, pointing the direction she saw the beast fly. “What is it?”

The hunter—she presumes—shrugs. “Dunno. Still haven’t figured it out. Haven’t caught it yet. Maybe once I do, I’ll know. For now I just call it The Beast.”

He doesn’t seem particularly put out by this. He has a hunt, and what exactly he’s hunting doesn’t seem to matter much; he’ll find the answers when he finds the beast. It’s something Augusta feels an odd kinship towards. “How long have you been hunting it?”

The hunter shrugs again. “Dunno. What year is it?”

Augusta tells him. The hunter draws in a breath, then nods. “Well, then...two thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

“Ah.” Augusta looks around her. “We’re dead, then.”

“Probably, yeah. Well, I know I am. You probably are too. What were you doing?”

Augusta thinks for a moment. “Dreaming.”

The hunter snorts. “Not the best way to go out.”

“It’s not like I chose to go out that way. I’d rather have gone down fighting.” Augusta sighs. “At least it was a pleasant dream, though.”

She touches her chest, out of habit, and has a moment of panic when she can’t find what she’s looking for. Frantically, she scrambles at her neck until she finds the fine chain, then pulls it out and breathes a sigh of relief when the heavy silver locket lands in her palm. Just to be sure, she pops it open, and Louisa’s eyes stare back at her.

Augusta smiles back at the picture, then looks up to see the hunter staring at her inscrutably. She coughs and closes the locket. “Sorry. Just...checking.”

The hunter reaches into his own clothing and pulls out a photograph, but doesn’t show it to her—which startles Augusta, as she didn’t think photographs were that old—before putting it back. “It’s important to hold onto these things. Until you find them. Everything dies, after all.”

“That...probably shouldn’t be comforting, and yet…” Augusta takes a deep breath. “Everything does die, doesn’t it? I don’t know that this is exactly her idea of paradise, though.” Then again, she hadn’t realized it was hers, either.

The hunter shrugs. “Probably not theirs, either. But they all connect. I’ve got a camp set up.” He gestures off to one side. “Check in there every few...decades, maybe. Just to see if they’re there yet. It’ll be nice to have a home to come back to, someday, but for now...there’s the hunt.”

Augusta considers that as she tucks the locket back into her shirt, then looks down at the crossbow on her lap. “I’ve never really hunted in forests before, but I’m not bad at hunting in general.”

“I’d be willing to teach you some tactics. If you’re interested. Just until we both find what we’re looking for.”

Augusta stands up, shoulders the crossbow, and holds out her other hand. “My friends call me Gus.”

The hunter grins, red eyes sparkling, as he accepts her handshake. “Grizzop.”

~*~*~*~

Sumutnyerl soars, buoyed up by a thermal, then banks to one side and swoops low, skimming over the grass. This is their favorite form; they love to fly, and it’s a perfect day for it.

Beside them, another eagle tacks and swoops playfully, then sheers off. Sumutnyerl beats her wings to gain a bit of altitude and follows. For a moment, they race one another straight up into the air. Then the other eagle dips backwards into a loop. Sumutnyerl screeches in delight and goes into a spiraling dive, weaving around the other.

They continue this sky-dance for several minutes before the other leads up to the branches of a tree; Sumutnyerl follows and lands on a branch, then transforms back. They’re already laughing with delight. “I never get tired of that.��

“Nor should you.” Oblaitko smiles warmly, their eyes soft and kind. “The day one grows accustomed to the gifts that have been given is the day one ceases to live and begins to only exist.”

“I mean doing it with you.” Sumutnyerl looks out over the rolling meadow. “I would that we could do this forever.”

“We can,” Oblaitko answers. “Our duties are...light. And not incompatible. We needn’t go back to the town at all. You can attend to the Garden, I to the River, and we can spend the rest of our time here.”

Sumutnyerl considers. The idea is...not unwelcome. She feels an utter sense of peace here, with Oblaitko by their side. More than that, they feel like herself, like an individual and not just part of a collective.

“I would like that,” they say at last. “Very much.”

Oblaitko tucks a strand of Sumutnyerl’s hair behind their ear. “As would I.”

“A bargain, then.”

“A bargain,” Oblaitko agrees. “We can ask permission in the morning, but I hardly think the Council will object. It will save resources, after all.”

Sumutnyerl sighs and leans their head on Oblaitko’s shoulder. They place their arm around her shoulders and pull them close, one hand idly resting over their heart.

For just a second, Sumutnyerl wonders if Oblaitko is concealing a blade, because they suddenly feel a sharp, stabbing pain in their chest. They look up in shock, but there’s nothing on Oblaitko’s face to indicate they’re doing anything...and then the world goes white.

When Sumutnyerl’s vision clears, they are no longer in the branches of a tree, but somewhere else, somewhere far too familiar. Awareness settles on Sumutnyerl’s shoulders as they look around the Garden of Yerlick, but not as it is in life—currently or under ordinary circumstances. The flowers bloom as they past, trees put out their hands like old friends, and the spirits of the dead are instantly visible, smiling and calling to them.

Ah. This again.

“Sumutnyerl?”

Sumutnyerl turns and smiles again. Oblaitko stands before them once more, not in the same form as a moment ago—no longer young, their hair white, their back bent with age and the weight of their position—but their eyes are the same warm, kind brown they have always been .Right now, they are wide with shock and not a little sorrow.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Sumutnyerl says.

“Sumutnyerl,” Oblaitko says again. “Why...how are you here? Like this? You—you mustn’t. It isn’t your time.”

“Perhaps not,” Sumutnyerl agrees. They touch their heart, where the phantom pain is fading fast. “I—I believe I may have been stabbed in my sleep.” Like Nik, they think, with a mingling of regret and anger.

“You will be given another chance.” Oblaitko states this quite calmly, as if it is a given fact rather than an opinion...or a hope. “The Garden needs you. Our people need you.”

“Perhaps I shall be given the offer,” Sumutnyerl replies. “And...perhaps I will accept. But...well. There is much that has happened. Perhaps if I am not needed...perhaps if my last great task has been fulfilled after all…” They hold out their hands. “Would you allow me to stay?”

Oblaitko takes Sumutnyerl’s hands, and stares into their eyes, and no other words are necessary.

~*~*~*~

Hamid knows, on some level, that he’s dreaming, if only because Zolf isn’t really one for parties. That doesn’t stop him from being happy, though. Hamid’s sleep for the past few months has been dreamless at best, teeming with nightmares more commonly, and occasionally non-existent at worst. A part of him has started to believe he’ll never have beautiful dreams again, so the fact that this is a good dream means he’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

And the others all look happy, too. Aziza sings beautifully, her eyes sparkling and face expressive, and her husband gazes on her with a proud, adoring smile. Saleh, his wife, and Hamid’s mother are listening to Oscar tell some story, gesturing dramatically with his drink, his other hand being occupied holding Zolf’s. Zolf has a faint smile on his face as he listens to a story he’s probably heard a hundred times—hell, it’s probably one he was there for, those are Oscar’s favorite stories after all—but that he never gets tired of hearing Oscar tell. Hamid’s father looks more relaxed and content than Hamid has seen him...well, ever since he started paying attention anyway, deep in conversation with Saira and Apophis. Azu, wearing the gown she and Hamid designed together for the opening of the so-called Bow Bar, is making a valiant effort at letting Ismail teach her one of the fancy dances he’s learned, while Ishaq enthusiastically does the same with Cel. Skraak and Grizzop have become fast friends, which Hamid isn’t surprised by, and he wonders what they’re talking about and if he’s going to have to help Zolf clean it up later.

Hamid dances. He loves to dance, almost as much as he loves to fly, and he doesn’t really mind that he doesn’t have a partner at the moment. As he spins, putting in one of the fanciest twirls he knows, he catches Sasha’s eye across the room and grins; she grins back and shoots him a double thumbs-up.

Hamid starts in Sasha’s direction. She’s so good on her feet, he thinks, she’ll be really good at dancing, and she’ll love it. Aziza’s just wrapping up the song she’s currently working on, and Hamid’s pretty sure she’s going to go into the aria from Act I of Carmen, which was her first leading role and one she’s quite proud of. Hamid knows with absolute certainty that Sasha will kill it at a tango.

Before he gets to her, he passes his mother and gets a kiss on the cheek. Saleh gives him a friendly poke in the chest as he passes, which actually hurts a lot more than Hamid is expecting, but he tries to laugh it off, especially as Saleh is laughing, too.

Zolf turns to face him. Letting go of Oscar’s hand, he reaches over and touches Hamid’s forehead with one thumb. He’s still smiling a little, and the look in his eyes is one he hasn’t given Hamid in a long time—not since the beach south of Calais, after they survived the storm sailing from Dover. It warms Hamid all the way to his toes.

“It won’t end this way,” he says, and while he sounds like he’s talking at an ordinary volume, Hamid somehow gets the feeling that nobody can hear Zolf’s words but him. “I won’t let it. Your heart’s too big to be destroyed by something like this.”

Hamid feels simultaneously stronger than he has in ages and like something’s being sucked out of his lungs. His wings unfurl from his back before he completely registers that the music is gone.

He blinks. Someone is holding him—it feels like Cel—and it’s dark. The memory of the lights dimming and then going out comes to him...and they’d been heading to the lab, he remembers, because of the tunnel, but what—?

Zolf’s voice comes from not very far in front of him. “Get in in the door, and get safe.”

Hamid blinks again. That’s an order, they’re in the field—he promised he would follow Zolf’s orders in the field, so even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he’s going to do what he’s just been told and he can ask questions once they’re all safe. Surely Zolf will be right behind him.

He takes in a breath to acknowledge his instructions—and sucks in a lungful of sweet-smelling gas. Instantly, he drops unconscious back into Cel’s arms.

He blinks and he’s at the party again. Zolf is still standing in front of him, smiling as he turns back to the conversation—did he leave for a minute? No, surely not, Hamid’s been here the whole time, he thinks fuzzily.

The song wraps up on a triumphant sting, and there’s a smattering of polite applause, and then just as Hamid suspected, the music starts up and it’s “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” from Carmen. He hurries over to Sasha and holds out a hand. “Sasha, come on, you’ll love this!” he cries.

Laughing, Sasha takes his hand and lets him pull her onto the ballroom floor. She’s a natural at the tango. Hamid would never have dared ask anyone else to do this dance with him; it’s a fiery dance of passion, usually, but this is Sasha and she’s just his favorite sister, as far as he’s concerned, even if she’s not his sister by blood. There’s no romance behind what they’re doing here, no heat. They’re just two kids having fun, really, laughing and taking increasingly flamboyant chances with the flashier moves.

He ends the dance by dipping her, somehow, despite the fact that she’s two feet taller than he is, but they’re both flushed and laughing and having a great time. It doesn’t even matter that they overbalance and fall onto the dance floor. Nobody’s really watching them anyway, which is just the way Hamid wants it right now. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention all the time. Not even most of the time.

“I like your wings,” Sasha says, poking one of them, and when did they come out? Hamid genuinely can’t remember. “This ‘cause you’re a Meritocrat?”

“I’m descended from a dragon,” Hamid corrects her. “I’m not a Meritocrat.”

“Good. But the wings are cool anyway. Do they work?”

“Oh! Yes. Want to see?” Hamid gets to his feet and manages—somehow—to pull Sasha up too. “I can cast fly on you and we can—”

“No,” Sasha interrupts, surprising him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and, oh, Sasha gives the best hugs. Hamid’s always suspected she would, but she’s always been iffy about being touched. If his wings hadn’t already popped out with joy—apparently—they would be bursting out now. He hugs her back just as tightly as she lifts him off the ground with the force of her embrace..

“Don’t you give up, Hamid,” she says in his ear. “Don’t you do it. There’s no dream so good it’s worth losing the whole world for. You get back out there and you fight to make the world this good. Because this right here? This is worth fighting for.”

Just a little of the euphoria peels back from the edges of Hamid’s mind, and he clings to Sasha a little tighter. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“’M always with you, mate. Just like you were always with me. We’ll meet again. But right now, you’ve got to go save the world for me.” Sasha pulls back enough to smile at him, and her eyes are wet. “Make it a good one.”

Hamid’s eyes snap open.

~*~*~*~

If you had asked Oscar even a year ago, he would never have described this as the most perfect moment of his life. He would have said that the most perfect moment he could imagine is a gala celebrating the opening of his greatest work, a play that will be talked about through the ages and mean his name lives on long after he does, resplendent in his finest clothes, a rapt audience listening to him declaim his opinions—finally being the center of attention for art instead of admin.

But no. He enjoyed that, yes, and he’s looking forward to reading the description of it in the newspapers. But the truly perfect moment is this one. Just a simple, quiet family breakfast the morning after.

Azu is at more or less the opposite side of the round kitchen table they’re using instead of the formal dining table, nursing a hangover bigger than she is; she’s got a glass of tomato juice and a cup of strong black coffee and isn’t really talking to anyone. Cel is scribbling on a piece of paper and muttering under their breath, probably trying to improve or refine the special effects they and the kobolds designed and built for the production. Zolf presides over the stove as usual, his beard done up in one of the intricate braids he only does when he’s in an especially good mood and his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Sasha stands a little way down the counter, beaming as she slices and chops meat and vegetables for him; she’s the only one Zolf allows to help him in the kitchen, and even then only on special occasions. Hamid sits to Oscar’s left, a pile of newspapers between them, his pre-breakfast snack actually half-forgotten at his elbow.

“The reviews look really good, Oscar,” he says, sounding almost as delighted as Oscar feels as he hands over the Times, folded back to the Arts page. “All the criticisms I’ve seen so far have been about the acting, not the play itself.”

“I told you to cast Barnes in the lead instead,” Zolf calls from the stove.

“Not my call, darling. I’m not the casting director.” Oscar reads the article Hamid is handing him, a broad smile blooming across his face as he reads. Hamid’s right, the reviews are glowing, and this is from a critic who’s notoriously hard to please. A particular phrase about halfway down the column catches his eye: Wilde’s masterful words and turn of phrase makes even Johnson’s leaden performance turn to the purest gold.

Turning a few pages on, Oscar opens the society page and is delighted to see that most of it has been given over to a description of the party celebrating the opening. There are even a couple of pictures accompanying the article, and Oscar very carefully folds the paper back so that one of them is more fully visible—Oscar at the center, smiling broadly and holding a drink in one hand, his other arm draped around Zolf’s shoulders, the others arrayed around him looking pleased and proud.

“Have you thought about your next project?” Cel asks, looking up from their notes.

Oscar shakes his head before Cel can launch into an elaboration of the question. “No, not yet. I think I’ll take some time to see how this one does first. It may have opened well, but that doesn’t mean it will end well.” He sighs, a bit dramatically but not entirely put-0n. “Things so rarely do.”

“Things rarely stay good the whole time they’re happening, but that doesn’t mean they won’t end well,” Azu points out. “We got here, didn’t we?”

“And you’ve earned it,” Hamid adds encouragingly. “Happy endings feel a lot better when you have to work for them.”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha tosses her knife into the air; it flips four times and then returns to her hand without her even looking at it, and she goes back to her chopping.

“Have a bit of faith, Wilde,” Zolf chides him.

Oscar smiles fondly at his dwarf as he sets aside the paper. Azu’s faith in Aphrodite is a certainty you can cut your teeth on, but Zolf’s faith in Hope is nearly contagious. Like their happy ending, Zolf has worked for his faith, he’s earned it, and it’s never betrayed him. It’s the only reason any of them are still here, really. It’s the anchor that kept Cel from spiraling with guilt, it’s the keel that steadied Azu when she doubted herself (not her god, never her god), it’s the beacon that led Sasha back to them. And it’s the only reason Oscar and Hamid are still alive, albeit with matching scars—

Wait. Where did that come from?

Shaking his head slightly, Oscar pushes away from the table and passes behind Zolf, touching him first on the shoulder, then the cheek. “I have plenty of faith, dearest. In you if nothing else.”

“Get away from my workspace,” Zolf grumbles, though without any heat.

Oscar smirks and moves down the counter towards the cutting board, ostentatiously reaching for one of the ingredients waiting to be added to whatever Zolf is preparing. Sasha jabs playfully at his chest to make him back off.

She’s too good at what she does to accidentally stab someone when she’s only pretending to, and she wouldn’t stab him, especially not with Zolf’s good tomato knife; she has too much respect for both Zolf and blades to do that. And yet, pain suddenly erupts in Oscar’s heart, as though she’s driven a blade far bigger than the serrated one she’s holding into his chest. He inhales sharply, and the world goes white.

For just a moment, it resolves itself into his flat in Paris from when he was in university, or something similar anyway, but then it swirls into a pink mist. He feels something solid holding onto him, something anchoring him firmly in reality, and warmth floods his entire being. He feels safe and protected and cherished, and it gives him strength.

His eyes open, and he finds himself lying more or less on his back. Zolf kneels next to him, one hand tenderly cradling his jaw, the other pressed to his heart, which hurts like anything.

“Wh—huh—?” Oscar tries to sit up, his mind scrambling to fit this dark and rather crowded antechamber or wherever it is they are in with the light and airy kitchen-slash-breakfast nook he remembers from just a few...moments ago? What’s going on?

Zolf’s face is pale, his blue eyes intent, and there’s a trickle of blood near his hairline that worries Oscar in a vague and distant way. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it before Zolf looks into Oscar’s eyes and says in a voice that crackles faintly with an emotion he can’t place, “Get the others out, and get safe.”

Before Oscar can question it, or protest, or even figure out what it is they’re supposed to be safe from, Zolf half-shoves, half-throws him through a door that’s barely open wide enough for him to get through. He slides a few feet until he’s able to at least drag himself on his hands and feet a little further into the room. Someone runs past him and takes hold of the door, but doesn’t close it.

Oscar blinks hard, shaking his head to clear it. There’s a sweet smell in the air and he almost sniffs at it, almost tries to see what it is, but then his eyes fall on the crumpled figure not far from where he is and it acts like a dash of cold water across his brain. Hamid. Hamid is flopped in a pitiful heap, his new wings draped across the floor, his eyes closed.

He was dreaming. Oscar realizes that in the same moment that he takes in Hamid’s unconscious (oh, gods, please let him only be unconscious, Oscar cannot have failed him a second time) form and the sounds of something that is definitely not making breakfast in the other room. He pushes himself to a standing position and looks around the room. It doesn’t take long to spot the tunnel Hamid spoke of, at the back of the lab. That must be both out and safe.

“Tell the others to follow us,” he calls over his shoulder to the person he now recognizes as Ada, hurrying over to Hamid’s side and hefting him into his arms. The wings make it awkward, but Hamid sort of nestles into Oscar’s arms. Thank the gods, he’s alive.

Oscar runs. He heads down the tunnel, the light fading behind him, but he can’t spare a hand to cast any sort of spell to help him, so he just gets as far as he can. There’s just enough light left for him to see the gate before he runs headlong into it, and he checks, then looks over his shoulder. The others will be coming any moment now, he tells himself. They just have to wait a moment.

He sets Hamid down on the ground and looks him over quickly. He looks...fine, really. A bit disheveled, but fine. Then Oscar notices the bloodied tear in his shirt. Underneath the rend is a scar so new its edges are still shiny, directly over Hamid’s warm and generous heart.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened. And, touching his own chest briefly, Oscar feels the same thing.

He checks Hamid over quickly, and even though he’s a bit rattled, he realizes that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is probably what knocked Hamid out; other than that, he looks fine. Oscar sniffs the air experimentally. It’s a bit fresher down here, so he should be able to…

“Hamid,” he says urgently, shaking the halfling, then slapping his face as gently as possible. “Wake up!”

Hamid’s eyes snap open. There’s a moment of disorientation before his eyes clear. “Oscar?” he says, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal as he sits up. “What’s—what happened?”

Oscar still has no idea, actually, except for one absolute certainty so strong he sensed it even in his dreams, maybe even before it happened. “Zolf saved us.”

The confusion on Hamid’s face melts into fierce determination. “Then let’s go return the favor.”

#ollie writes fanfic #rusty quill gaming #rqg 207 #207 spoilers #minor character death #grief mention #violence mention #augusta leigh (rqg)#sumutnyerl #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #oscar wilde (rqg)

22 notes · View notes

ordinaryschmuck · 3 years ago

Text

Why I (Want to) Love Tangled: The Series/Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure

Salutations random people on the internet who most likely won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

When I heard Disney was making an animated series based on Tangled, acting as a continuation from the original movie, my initial thought was, "Why?"

Sure, Disney is infamous for its unnecessary sequels of the story after happily ever after, with the many, many, many failures that follow suit. Even then, though, most of these continuations were movies that kind of have the potential to tell more of a story. But what more could be said about Tangled? Sorry to spoil a movie that's over ten years old at this point, but by the end of it: Rapunzel lost her golden hair, was reunited with her parents, fell in love, and lived happily ever after. Her losing the golden hair is the most essential part of that list because how can you do a series based on a Disney princess when her most iconic feature is gone? Then I found out that the series forced a way for her hair to come back, and my new initial thought became, "Oh man. This is gonna suck, isn't it?"

Despite the hesitation, I decided to give it a chance anyway. After all, I've been pleasantly surprised before. Things like My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, The Mitchells vs. the Machines, and even The Owl House (yes, really), were shows (and a movie) that I didn't think would be that special. Only to find myself enjoying nearly every minute. So after watching Tangled: The Series/Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure, I can certainly say I was surprised...but it was entirely for the wrong reasons.

And to explain how requires spoilers. So if you haven't checked the series out yet, I highly suggest you do it to form your own opinion. Just keep in mind that it's a bit of a mess, but it can be an enjoyable mess...sometimes...let me explain.

WHAT I LIKED

The Animation/Art Style: The series swapping from 3D to 2D might have been the most brilliant decision anyone could have ever made with this series. Usually, when an animated movie gets turned into a show, the most noticeable downgrade is always the animation. Whether it’s not as detailed or not as fluid, it's always subjective that the movie is better animated than the series. But by switching up the styles, the contrast becomes objective instead. 2D and 3D animation each have their pros and cons, so deciding which one is better is nothing more than a matter of opinion. So by changing the style, Tangled: The Series/Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure avoids getting complaints of being a downgrade from the original movie. It also helps that the art style of the series is really unique.

The best way to describe how the show looks is that it's like a coloring book brought to life. At times, everything looks like it was drawn and colored in with crayons, which sounds like an insult, but in actuality, it's one of the best features of the series. As much as I love most animated shows nowadays, I will admit, they all look a little too similar at times. Then here comes Tangled: The Series/Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure, which tries to incorporate a whole new style that successfully sets it apart from most shows.

As for the animation itself, it's really well-made! It's remarkably expressive when required, while the movements are really fluid during the correct scenes. Sure the fighting can be a little floaty during some action set pieces (yes, those exist here), but the dialogue and comedic moments are really where the series shines with its animation. I may have problems with the series as a whole, but I give credit where credit is due for the perfectly executed effort that I see in every episode in terms of animation.

Rapunzel and Eugene’s relationship: This was not something I was expecting to enjoy from the series. In the movie, Rapunzel and Eugene were fine. They were the typical Disney couple that worked off of each other enough that it was always entertaining, even if it was unbelievable that they fell deeply in love with each other after, like, two days. They weren't bad, but they weren't anything to go crazy over.

But the writers for the series said, "You know what, let's make these two adorable in nearly every scene they're in." And they are!

Even though I don't believe in their relationship in the movie, I fully believe it here. Both characters have a large amount of faith in one another on top of having endless love for their partner. Like how Eugene knew Rapunzel would be fine when taking out an airship or how Rapunzel couldn't bring herself to say a bad thing about Eugene when making Cassandra a sparring dummy of him. It's legitimately pleasant to watch, to the point where I put Rapunzel and Eugene in my top ten list of favorite fictional couples. They're that good to me, and it's one of the reasons why I don't jump on the bandwagon of shipping the two main female characters together. I'm all for LGBTQA+ representation, but give Cassandra her own girlfriend. Rapunzel's taken, and most of my enjoyment of this show comes from her and her man. So, you know, keep things as they are.

Cassandra (Seasons One and Two): Seeing how I've already mentioned her, let's talk about Cassandra, shall we? Because when making a series based on a movie that had only four prominent characters, with two of them being comedic animal sidekicks, you're going to need to introduce more members to the main cast to write more potential stories. And Cassandra, in Seasons One and Two (I'll get to Season Three), is a worthy addition. She acts as a strict straight man (I know the irony) who interacts well with Rapunzel and clashes perfectly with Eugene on occasion. She was passably entertaining in Season One and developed amazingly in Season Two. Her growing frustrations with Rapunzel's actions lead to a slow build-up that made her betrayal heartbreaking but somewhat understandable. And as for the results in that betrayal...yeah, I'll get into that later. For now, I'll just say that Cassandra was a pleasant addition to the main cast, especially when she was a part of the main trio, and she's yet another good surprise that the writers supplied for the series.

The Songs: The songs are...not going to be for everyone. Most of them are passable yet kind of generic, while others sound like they belong on Disney Junior (Looking at you, "Bigger Than That"). But when Tangled: The Series/Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure makes a hit, MAN, it is a home run. Numbers like "Ready As I'll Ever Be" and "Nothing Left to Lose" are sung phenomenally, orchestrated well, and are songs I can listen to on repeat multiple times. And "Waiting in the Wings" is not only something I consider to be the best song in the series, but it's also something I'd place as high up on Disney's best due to how f**king incredible it is. "Waiting in the Wings" is a powerful ballad that manages to be both tragic yet inspiring on top of how well it sums up Cassandra as a character. The writers may not always be on top of their game when it comes to music, but songs like these prove that they know how to earn that Disney name.

And that’s all I have for the likes...Oh boy. That’s not a good thing is it?

WHAT I DISLIKED

It Peaked at Season One: It did. It really did.

Season One felt like the writers had a grip on what type of show they wanted: A slice-of-life series with Rapunzel dealing with the issues of her kingdom with a meager threat of these black rocks growing in the background. It was all cute and well-balanced for the most part, but that all disappears in Season Two. Because now it's sort of about this adventure, but because Tangled: The Series/Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure set itself as a slice-of-life series, there need to be these small-scale stories that intertwine the grand narrative being told. The issue is that the story comes to a grinding halt one too many times as fans are forced to sit through these filler episodes that, while not all of them are bad, still feel like a distraction. And by Season Three, the series does feel more focused while having some slice-of-life episodes added to the ongoing story instead of distracting us from it. But the writing isn't as strong, there are several plot holes in the narrative (how did Rapunzel's sunstone get into her dress?), and there is way too much time going back and forth on Cassandra's morality. They claim that she's a villain while arguing that there might still be some good in her, and they continue this train of thought for nine episodes when it really could have been settled in two. For me, it's a bad sign for a series when the first season is the best one. Because if it's all downhill from there, what's the point of even watching?

It Tries to be Epic: This might have been the worst decision the writers could have made.

Now, here's the thing: I don't mind grand epic tales of adventure and battles against demons. If anything, I'm all for them...when it's appropriate and fits with the tone of the series.

Tangled: The Series/Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure suffers a similar problem Frozen II has, in which the writers felt like a big, life-threatening adventure was the perfect continuation of a meager, personal story about the relationships of characters. It isn't. If anything, it's completely missing the mark about what the original story was about. And sure, sometimes writers can succeed in telling personal stories through grand adventures. Just look at The Owl House and parts of Amphibia. But with those shows, it's established within the first few episodes that action and peril will be a series staple. With Tangled, while there was some action and peril, it's all very subdued compared to how high the stakes got raised in later episodes in the show. Especially in the series finale.

And, I mean, c'mon. You're making Rapunzel an action hero?

Judy Hopps? Yes.

Moana? Maybe.

Raya? Most definitely.

But Rapunzel? The character who’s all about optimism and seeing the best of others. That's the character you're going to morph into a hero that fights against an evil demon laid dormant for years? Did you even watch the original movie? Yeah, sorry, but I just don't buy it.

If you want to tell an epic story that gets the blood pumping for fans addicted to adventure, go for it! See where the wind takes you. But make sure to set that tone as early as possible while also making sure that it fits with the characters. If not, the end result is a series that feels like it's trying to be something it’s not.

Eugene is Kind of an Idiot at Times: It should be noted that Movie-Eugene and Series-Eugene are practically two different characters. In the film, Eugene was more or less the straight man, as he often questions the wackiness in the world around him and keeping Rapunzel grounded in reality. For the series, most of that personality got transferred to Cassandra. Thus making Eugene's new role in the series act as the egotistical imbecile. Sure, he had those moments in the film, but not as frequently, and it really pains me when the writers really lean hard into a minor aspect of his personality. Sometimes there are moments when Eugene acts like his original self. But it's all small scenes that are spread apart with entire episodes where he has half a brain cell. I'm sure some people didn't mind this change to the character, but as someone who adores the movie version of Eugene, I can't help but feel disappointed.

The Villains are the Worst: Now, I don't mean the one-off villains that show up, cause some chaos for a bit, and disappear at the end of the episode. Those are characters with fun personalities, occasionally cool designs, and do their job as villains of the week. It doesn't matter if their motivations are laughably simple, as their purpose is to be enjoyable characters above anything else. So I actually enjoy those villains...it's the ones that act as season-long antagonists that really grind my gears.

The purpose behind these types of foes is to build up how evil they are throughout the season. The issue is that the writers try to give these characters, or at least two of them, a point. To be fair, this can work. Just look at Killmonger from Black Panther and sometimes Karli Morgenthau from The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. You understand and probably even sympathize with the logic and reasoning these characters have. It's just that their actions couldn't be farther from what you would do. The problem with Varian and Cassandra is that they have the motivation, but it's not written suitably for the story.

Cassandra is a whole can of worms I'll get to in a minute, but Varian is someone I can easily discuss for a brief time. Because while I can comprehend his pain for having his father frozen in yellow rock, I don't think turning evil is the best decision to go with that character. Because A. Everything is his fault. He blames Rapunzel for not helping him, but even if she didn't have a crisis to deal with, there was nothing she could have done to stop it. His frustrations are not only unjustified, but given the fact that this wouldn't have happened if he listened to his father in the first place, it feels like him becoming evil is too drastic of a turn. And B. Varian worked much better as a supporting character rather than a primary antagonist. He was just this hopeful, if not a clumsy scientist who wanted to prove himself, who causes minor catastrophes due to not thinking ahead. Turning a character like Varian into a villain is a bit of a misstep because if the guy acts hilariously incompetent as a good guy, it makes little sense to have him be intelligent and ten steps ahead of Rapunzel when being evil. If he were to become more serious and careful when helping the rest of the main cast, I'd consider that character progression done properly. But becoming a villain is just an overreaction.

However, none of that compares with my issues with the main antagonist of the series: Zhan Tiri. This goes back to my problems with the series making itself too epic. Because if Zhan Tiri existed in any other show, I probably wouldn't have any problem with her. She's built up well throughout all three seasons and is kind of threatening at times. But she doesn't belong in a series based on a movie that dealt with a small, personal issue where it wasn't even the character who killed the villain in the end. It was her love interest and animal sidekick. Even if Zhan Tiri works well as a character, the fact that it doesn't feel like she belongs in the show makes her too distracting to enjoy. And that's why these villains suck. If not poorly written, they don't belong in a series that should focus on small-scale issues. And if you can functionally write an antagonist that appears for only one episode but flounder with ones that show up in several, well, that's just embarrassing.

Cassandra (Season 3): OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH BOY, do I have some words to express with this character. Like with Movie-Eugene and Series-Eugene, Cassandra from Seasons One and Two is frustratingly different from the psychotic IDIOT from Season Three. Basically, just take the issues I have with Varian, multiply them by ten, add them with some bafflingly stupid decisions, and you still wouldn't get how much Season Three-Cassandra frustrates me!

First off, her motivation...what the f**k were the writers thinking? The big reason why Cassandra betrays Rapunzel and motivates all of her misdeeds was that Cassandra's mother was Mother Gothal...EXPLAIN THAT LOGIC TO ME?! Because Cassandra should know what type of woman Mother Gothal was. She should know what Mother Gothal did to Rapunzel in the first eighteen years of her life. So how is Cassandra being abandoned by Gothal the central motivator to cut ties with Rapunzel, who is probably an even bigger victim in this scenario!? Seriously, Rapunzel was cut off from the rest of the world and treated as an unknowing prisoner because she was beneficial to Gothal. Cassandra was adopted into a household with mutual love and got to actually live her life. In no way does it make sense for her to be angry at Rapunzel.

Nor does it make sense that the writers try to play it off as a good thing in the song "Crossing the Line!" Sure, it sounds nice, but thematically, it gives across the opposite feelings that the audience should have. Because if Cassandra cutting ties with Rapunzel is meant to be tragic and awful, why is the music suggesting it's the best possible thing that's ever happened for the character? If you like the song, fine, but even you have to admit that it's thematic nonsense.

But, sure. Cassandra's evil now, and she considers it a good thing. Whatever. I'll take it as long as it leads to good stories...but here's the thing: In the penultimate episode before the three-part series finale, Cassandra asks a question. A question I would have never expected her to ask, despite everything that has happened in the last season. A question that was so baffling, I had to legitimately pause the episode to process the fact that she asked something so stupid. Because Cassandra, the character who is intelligent and grounded in reality, asked, "Am I the bad guy?"

I was honestly shocked to find out she was shocked! How, in the flying, everlasting, cock-a-doodle-doodling F**K does a person like her not pick up that maybe, just maybe, she isn't the hero in this story!? Call me crazy, but endangering the lives of people you once called friends and family, dressing in black, AND HAVING A GIANT EVIL-LOOKING TOWER MADE OUT OF F**KING SPIKES aren't qualities I would give to a hero!

If Cassandra was like Thanos, a character so wrapped up in his ego that he can't even notice how evil he is, I would understand. But she doesn't have an ego. Anger, yes. But for the most part, her personality is based on having logic and reasoning. So turning her into a villain and having her unaware that she's a villain is an act of lunacy that I am incapable of understanding. I don't know who's idea this was, but whoever is to blame...you've got issues.

>Sighs<...This series isn't good, is it?

IN CONCLUSION

I like the animation and some of the characters...but that's not enough. Tangled: The Series/Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure is a mess of a show that tries to do too much for a story that should have so little. Meaning that it's a D+ for me. I want to enjoy it and give it a higher grade, especially with how much I hear people praise this series. And if you do enjoy it, all the power to you. Your opinions are valid, even if I highly disagree with them. Because for me, this is a show that I won't get myself tangled up in again in the future.

#tangled: the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rapunzel x eugene #tangled cassandra #tangled varian #zhan tiri #what i thought about

32 notes · View notes

houseofhurricane · 3 years ago

Text

ACOTAR Fic: the pilgrim soul in you (1/1) | Lucien x Vassa

Summary: A missing-moments Vassien fic covering ACOWAR, ACOFAS, and ACOSF, in which, after a while, Lucien and Vassa fall in love.

A/N: I teased this for a while, and it's finally here. Additional notes and tag list at the end. I hope you enjoy 🧡

Who then devised the torment? Love. Love is the unfamiliar Name Behind the hands that wove The intolerable shirt of flame Which human power cannot remove. We only live, only suspire Consumed by either fire or fire.

-- T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding

The best story: that Lucien first sees Vassa at the lake, swooping over the water. That he’s entranced by her at this first glance, dazzled by the bird of fire, that he can sense the woman within nearly bursting to get free. Even in the form she was cursed with, Lucien might say, something about Vassa beckoned him from the first glance.

But Vassa would never let Lucien tell this story, because it is untrue. They first meet as the evening darkens, when Lucien has found the fire made by the Prince of Merchants. Before he spots the father of the Archeron sisters, he sees the strands of Vassa’s hair glowing red and golden in the firelight, generously curled and falling to the middle of her back. Then there’s the blue of her eyes, as bright and dangerous as the center of a flame. Her golden-brown skin, a shade or two darker than his own, luminous in the combined light of the fire and the stars, so that he can’t help but imagine how it would feel under his fingers.

His breath catches in his throat at what wells up in him, a feeling that is bright and dangerous.

Of course, she spots him seconds later, and then there’s a dagger at his neck, and Lucien is mercifully distracted. Vassa might be a young queen, but she’s clearly had experience with would-be assassins.

“I was sent by friends at the Night Court to try and break your enchantment,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm, but not so calm that she’s suspicious.

“I didn’t need faeries to set me free.” Her voice is lower than he’d expect, a rich alto, the words lilting with a musical accent. She does not growl the words, only tucks his hair behind his ears with her free hand, revealing the delicate arches, a gesture that lays him bare. But he does not think about his vulnerability. To do so would only increase the possibility of pain. Instead, he thinks that he’s surprised to feel callouses on her fingertips, decides to ask what would roughen a queen’s fingers at the nearest opportunity. Even then, he’s planning for a long string of moments with Vassa. “You aren’t the only beings who care about the saving of this world.”

At this point, Gabriel Archeron steps into the circle of light, and the resemblance to Feyre and Elain and Nesta is strong enough that Lucien blurts out their names, claiming he has news, and eventually the knife is removed from his neck.

Lucien makes himself a mix of charming and sorrowful as he tells the Prince of Merchants all that has happened to his daughters, trying to find a sufficient level of honesty that will not provoke unpleasant revelations later, while still convincing them to let him travel in their group. When he has finished and Gabriel has blinked away tears, which Lucien pretends not to see, he turns to Vassa.

“I was sent to make an entreaty to you,” he says. “My land will soon be at war, and the situation is grave. Hybern has been massing its armies for decades, and their spells are as formidable as the magic that binds this world together.”

“If your faerie armies can hardly withstand this onslaught,” she asks, in that thrilling tone that seems to emerge from deeper within her body than ordinary speech, the perfect ideal of a queen’s voice, “why do you expect that my human armies should go willingly to their own slaughter?”

“In my country, the High Lords and generals do not lead from the back of their armies. They fight on the front lines.”

“They have their own power to shield them.”

“Your armies would not battle on the front lines, majesty.”

She smirks at him, her teeth little moons in the firelight. “You sound quite naive when you speak on the workings of battle, emissary. You’re lucky that I have already promised my armies to your friends’ father. We ride to meet them at the coast.”

Lucien shoots a glare at Gabriel, who is smiling at the glow of the dimming fire.

“Queen Vassa flies by day, of course,” he says, the dry humor in his voice so perfectly balanced with graciousness that Lucien understands the reasons for his reputation. “Her wings are swift.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucien sees Vassa’s shoulders stiffen ever so slightly. Surely as a queen she is used to adulation.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to keep the enchantment?” Lucien asks the queen, as he turns back to the fire, trying to rile her a little further. Let her know what sort of journey this will be.

The change in Vassa, though, is apparent even to his half-gaze. The sudden tension in her muscles, a readiness that isn’t training but sheer terror. Her golden-brown face, a shade or two darker than his own, goes pale.

“You said your people could free me,” she says, and though she tries to make her voice commanding, Lucien has politicked in every court in Prythian and cannot miss the terror laced into every word.

Against all his better instincts, he tells her: “We’ll free you.”

She turns his head so he can’t see it, but still Lucien can vividly imagine her smile, brilliant and sparkling in the night.

At first, Vassa thinks she will hate Lucien, the way he smirks and teases and generally makes it clear to everyone that he’s full of the arrogance of the High Fae. Then she realizes that, as much as she hates to admit it, Lucien is the most intelligent creature she’s ever met. His mind simply spins faster than any of her court advisors. He sees a thousand possible futures so clearly that her astrologers, famed on the continent for the accuracy of their predictions, would gnash their teeth in jealousy at his seeming clairvoyance.

It’s when Vassa begins considering his gaze with respect instead of annoyance that she knows her feelings have well and truly changed. Because Lucien’s gaze is unnerving in its omniscience: his russet eye sees everything visible, and his gold eye seems to pierce into an unseen world.

Sometimes, in the little sleep she snatches every night, Vassa dreams that Lucien Vanserra, emissary of the High Fae, can see straight into her heart. And though she begins these dreams afraid of what he’ll see, her weakness and fear and failure, at some point his lips quirk into the smallest smile, and Vassa wakes up feeling rested for the first time in months.

By day, it’s all Vassa can do to force the firebird to follow Lucien and Gabriel on the journey toward the coast and her army. The firebird’s mind is so different from her own, easily distracted and unable to parse experience into human comprehension. But the firebird’s eyes turn the world into a jewel box, and the firebird spends too much time staring at the glint of Lucien’s hair in the sunlight, sparkling every shade of red and orange and gold.

In the evenings, by the fire, Lucien’s gaze is not so piercing as it is in her dreams, and though she can admit to his masculine beauty, to her human eyes it is not as overwhelming as what the firebird sees by day.

By the fire, he makes sarcastic remarks that punctuate Gabriel’s stories, insisting that his daughter Feyre is even more brave and kind and stupid than her father lets on, that Nesta is a holy terror. Lucien does not say anything when Gabriel mentions the other daughter, Elain, only clutches his cup or fork a little tighter, makes his breathing too steady.

At a thousand endless state dinners, Vassa has learned to observe the tells of royals and ambassadors. She’s barely had a chance to use this skill outside of card games with her ladies-in-waiting, but now she’s sure that Lucien has met and desired this Elain.

It’s better this way, she tells herself. They are wartime allies. He will likely end up married to Elain Archeron and Vassa will get her curse broken by someone among the High Fae and she’ll reclaim Scythia and her rightful throne. Eventually, she’ll find a politically advantageous consort. Perhaps, once her rule is secure, she will take a lover.

Still, as they draw near to the coast, she finds herself laughing at Lucien’s remarks. He ducks his head towards her in little asides, explaining Prythian politics or making jokes so dry that her laughter nearly startles her. She realizes that, as much as she will always love Gabriel Archeron for finding her, for leading her away from Koschei, her eyes will always go first to Lucien.

Vassa tries not to think about what it means. A young queen cannot afford an ill-considered love affair. Still, when Lucien’s eyes, russet and gold, land on hers, she cannot force herself to look away.

For their first three days at sea, Lucien worries that Vassa will fall into the ocean when she transforms from firebird to woman. The minute the sun begins to kiss the horizon, he watches her flame-bright wings and braces himself to winnow if she cannot position herself safely over the boat.

Always, Vassa manages to land safely on the deck, and Lucien swallows his anxiety. In spite of all his good intentions, the fact that she’s surrounded by the Scythian generals who adore her, Lucien can’t help seeking her gaze, can’t help scanning the length of her body for any hint of harm. All he finds is Koschei’s curse wrapped tight around her, and then Vassa’s sapphire gaze on him, the flash of her bright smile.

He thinks of Elain and he does not think of Elain. Elain, the mate who does not want him.

One day soon, before they’re reunited, Lucien will have to tell Gabriel that his middle daughter is mated to the male he’s crossed the continent with. But instead he listens to the stories the Prince of Merchants weaves about his adventures, basks in the glow of his regard. Gabriel Archeron was born when Lucien was already centuries old and tired of this world, and still Lucien catches himself basking in his fatherly countenance.

He thinks, maybe even a miserable life with Elain would be better if he had such a father-in-law.

Then Vassa catches his eye, ducks her chin to whisper that Gabriel is certainly exaggerating, she’s been to the town he speaks of and the river is not nearly as terrifying as he’s making it out to be. In fact, she says, her voice low and lilting in his ear, she and her ladies-in-waiting crossed it with skirts in hand. Then, her whisper going so soft it’s barely audible, she makes a vulgar speculation about Gabriel’s virility, the kind of phrase that would make her generals shout with laughter.

Lucien can almost feel her full, soft lips against his ear, so that he has to force himself to let out a quiet laugh. The skin of his body feels too tight. His blood thrums inside him. Somehow he makes himself turn back to the meal, laugh again when she repeats her aside to Gabriel, now at full volume, her speculation now even more elaborate and ribald. As Lucien predicted, the generals roar their approval at their queen, and Gabriel flashes her an approving smile.

For just a second, Lucien finds himself wishing that Vassa had told him a different story, which would belong only two of the two of them, not a mere rehearsal of what she’d say to everyone dining with them. He pushes the thought away quickly, focuses on the plate in front of him, lifting the spoon to his lips.

Later, when Gabriel and the generals have retreated to their rooms, Lucien finds Vassa on deck, her head thrown back as she stares at the stars.

He should go to his room, cramped and dank as it is, but instead he stays watching Vassa. Despite the dark, he can see her bright eyes considering each constellation. He can hear the beat of her heart, louder than the waves.

He considers approaching her, asking her what she sees in the stars, if it’s beauty or some vision of the future that draws her. But Lucien is a mated male now, and although he’s sure the conversation would be innocent, increasingly, closer proximity to Vassa feels like a betrayal.

Finally, he forces himself to turn away, to walk to his room and bolt the door.

Elain could take a hundred years to want him. It doesn’t mean he can be in bed with another female (another woman) for that century of purgatory.

Still, maybe it’s the distance from Elain, maybe the sea itself has bewitched him, but even as he falls into sleep, he can’t stop seeing Vassa, luminous and sarcastic and brilliant, behind his eyelids. Imagining how she might feel if she were tangled up in this narrow bed with him.

They arrive in Prythian just in time, Vassa realizes later, once the sun has dipped below the horizon and she’s human again. She can only vaguely recall the sound of screaming, the iron scent of blood, the feeling of flesh under her talons. She had not known the firebird could attack.

Gabriel died at the hands of the King of Hybern, her generals tell her, and though she still walks through the ranks of her soldiers as she’d planned, she hardly registers the faces of the men and women who have guarded this world. She does not remember what she says to the wounded or to those who came out unscatched.

Afterwards, her hands are covered in blood.

She finds herself walking in the forest, not caring if she could be attacked. Surely any monsters have enough sense to fear the magic she witnessed on the battlefield.

Still, she startles when she hears the footsteps behind her. She whips around and there is Lucien, scratched but whole, golden even in the night, no matter the dark leather armor that covers his body like scales.

“You’re all right,” Lucien says, the relief in his voice so deep it’s practically a sob.

Vassa forgets all her reasons for keeping her distance as she launches herself into his arms, presses herself so tight against him that she can smell his citrus and sandalwood scent, hear the beating of his heart. So that the armor he wears digs into her cheek, her ear.

“There’s blood on your hands,” he says, reaching for her fingers, running his thumb over each digit. She tries not to shiver at the contact.

“I needed to visit the wounded. It’s a custom among Scythian queens, to thank their warriors personally. To grieve with them. But I have no idea what I told them. My people have not been at war since well before my reign.” Still, she was trained for this moment. She should have known.

He releases her fingers, his hands working up her arms, until he’s pulling her against him, his cheek resting on her head, the place where her crown belongs.

“No wonder your people love you,” he says.

A dozen sarcastic comments rise in her mind, but they are all wrong for this moment, when all she wants is to stay this close to him, held so tight that death and despair cannot come between them.

Eventually he says, “Your people will think that you were kidnapped by faeries.”

“If only they knew,” she tells him. “Do you think that I could speak with Feyre Cursebreaker tonight?”

Instantly he looks guarded, and then she remembers Elain, the faerie female who Lucien loves. She pulls herself away from him, just enough that she could step away if anybody found them in the woods.

“I think Feyre has been asleep for hours. Nobody is awake but the wounded and the healers and the guards.”

“Which one are you, then?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he says, and when he smirks at her, that flash of the teeth that mark him as High Fae, a thrill runs through her entire body.

Elain, she thinks, then says primly, “It is a queen’s prerogative to be wherever she likes, is it not?”

“There have been no queens in Prythian for thousands of years.” His hands are still on her back. His fingers are tangled in her hair, and if he wanted, Lucien could tug it, angle her mouth so as to be easily kissed. Instead he looks at her as if it’s the last time he’ll ever see her face. Maybe it is.

“You are quite a new thing, Vassa,” he says, after a moment or an eternity. She’s not sure.

It would be so easy to kiss him, she thinks, and Lucien is clearly honorable, more than even he realizes. He would never harm her, never leave her to be ashamed. If he accepted her kiss, surely something wonderful would begin between them.

But then she thinks of Gabriel Archeron, his warm gaze like a benediction on her, the kindness and bravery he showed when he rescued her from Koschei. The way he spoke of his daughter, Elain, the love that filled his voice when he spoke of her, the daughter he would never see again.

She finds that although it is easy to imagine kissing Lucien, his lips on hers, the opening of their mouths and her fingers searching for a gap in his armor, she cannot ask her body to make any of the required motions. Once, not so very long ago, she was well-schooled in honor.

“We should go back to camp. I’m tired.” It is the first lie that Vassa has ever told to Lucien. It will not be the last.

At political functions, much is made of conversations, tone and gesture. Even a too-long look can be made fodder for months of court gossip.

Even knowing this, even knowing he needs to make inroads with Tamlin, that at minimum all his emissary posts require him to converse with the members of the assembled courts, knowing the Night Court watches him, wondering when he will finally try and speak with Elain, Lucien cannot stop looking at Vassa.

Someone has provided her with a dress of sapphire silk and a diadem of gold and sapphire, has brushed her hair until it is practically a living flame falling riotous down her back. He has never seen anyone more radiant. No matter the ruined estate, the tense conversations, even if the whole world goes to hell in this meeting, it will have been worth it to see Vassa every inch a queen in this moment.

When he spots her talking with Jurian, Lucien can hardly contain his fury. He does not trust the man, no matter that he saved Feyre. Sometimes he barely trusts Feyre.

And when Jurian bends to press a kiss to the back of Vassa’s hand, Lucien has to acknowledge the feeling that’s hot inside him: jealousy.

It’s wrong, he knows, when his whole body shouts whenever Elain is near, his heart practically thumping out her name. Far from her, he was able to forget the effects of the mating bond, only the coldness inside him whenever she would not meet his eye.

Still, no matter how close Elain lets him get, he has never felt himself alight the way he did last night, when Vassa stood in his arms and let him pull her close. He has never scanned the horizon with worry that she will fall into the sea, never laughed at a single thing she’s said.

So although Lucien forces himself to let the conversation between Vassa and Jurian play out, tells himself over and over he might be good for her as if repetition will make him believe the sentiment, the moment Jurian steps away, Lucien strides directly to her side.

“I spoke with Feyre,” Vassa says, by way of hello. “She does not know how to break my curse.”

“Feyre has barely learned her powers.”

“Oh? Are you saying you can do better, One True Faerie?” She swats at him, fingers barely grazing his jacket. Still, he warms at the contact.

Smiling in spite of himself, he taps his temple, indicating his golden eye, the scars surrounding it. “I’ve been told I can see what others can’t, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t tell me that line has worked on a single woman.”

“Lucky for me that the females of my species are much more credulous than human queens.” He allows himself to bask in Vassa’s laughter, too loud to be dignified. “But now that we are in Prythian, there are others with the necessary skills. There are whole libraries that might be of assistance.”

He thinks, but does not speak of Helion as he summons his powers and takes another look at the curse, which is fashioned like a harness on her shoulders, crossing her clavicle and looping around her shoulderblades, Vassa’s heart surrounded by the trip of Koschei’s magic. The magical signature is foreign to him, a long and complicated sentence in a language not spoken in a thousand lifetimes.

“Jurian said there was a place for me in the human realms, if I wanted to take it,” she is saying, snapping him back to the present, the physics of the known world. “Do you think those faerie experts will remember me across the wall?”

“There is no wall anymore,” he says, rewards her with a low laugh when she rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re full of fairytales today, but I suppose that’s appropriate,” she shoots back.

“They won’t forget about you because I will constantly be reminding them that the human queen who saved their sorry selves is still bound by an enchantment.”

“For a moment I forgot how self-important you were.” In spite of her words, Vassa’s smile is sweet and hopeful, the kind of expression only humans wear. In all his long and miserable life, Lucien has never seen such a lovely smile. He hates himself for thinking it but cannot bring himself to turn away from her the way he should.

“There’s more I can do,” he says, breathing deep, letting the imminent mistake wash over him, like dangling his foot off a cliff. “I could stay with you and Jurian, if you wanted. If I wouldn’t be interrupting the two of you.”

She reaches for his hand and squeezes it, a squeal muffled between bitten lips.

“Jurian is a terrific ass and you’ll have to keep me from slicing him to ribbons.”

He’s so dazzled by the feeling of her fingers on his that he doesn’t even bother to look and see if anyone’s watching. For the first time he can remember, every thought leaves his mind.

Jurian would be the perfect man to marry, Vassa realizes within the first three days of their living together. An ancient warrior would not be a strange consort to a firebird queen. True, their arguments shake the walls, and his ideas are old-fashioned to an idiotic extent, and of course there’s the fact that Vassa cannot imagine herself ever falling in love with him. Still, he would be the right choice.

Far better, to be certain, than Greyson, Lord Nolan’s son, who at Vassa’s arrival is paraded with the pomp that would befit a king, not a minor aristocrat. She can tell that there was a sweetness to him once, but that it’s curdled, and what’s left to the boy seems now beneath her regard. She does not know how Elain Archeron once loved him. This fact alone makes her think less of the girl.

Then again, Vassa knows that she is inclined to judge Elain more harshly than she deserves. She tells herself that this is because of the dejected expression on Lucien’s face when he first returned from Velaris after the war, the way he goes quiet when she’s mentioned.

But in her secret heart, when she’s the only one awake in the Nolan manor, Vassa can admit that she’s jealous of Elain Archeron. She hates this emotion. It is not fair, it is not honorable, and yet Vassa feels jealousy wrapping its tendrils around her.

So when Lucien appears in the manor in between visits to the courts of Prythian, she is cordial. She is friendly. Sometimes she even allows her smile to break free, but only if he is telling her about progress towards the breaking of her curse. Only if the implication is that she could be free, and therefore far away from him.

More and more when she’s around him, Vassa feels as if her human self has merged with the firebird: unable to speak freely, bound by invisible chains.

If her arguments with Jurian grow a bit sharper and she smiles more wickedly when she bests him, well, between the curse that makes her a firebird and the heart that longs so furiously for what it cannot have, she cannot possibly be expected to have perfect forbearance.

Finally, there is an evening where Jurian goes to bed early and it’s only Lucien and Vassa in Nolan’s shockingly ample library, the last of the wine between them. Vassa’s cheeks are flushed from another argument with Jurian. Lucien had tried to read through it, but the history he’d selected was inaccurate and every time he looked up, Vassa and Jurian seemed to be grinning in spite of the heat and clamor of their words. They argue like lovers now, he kept thinking, the words spinning before him, turning nonsensical.

“Do you still think that Jurian is a terrific ass?” he asks, before he can stop himself, the wine stretching his words into a drawl. As if the question is unimportant. As if it is not dangerous.

“He’s exactly the kind of man my advisors would tell me to marry. Even my mother would have approved.” Her fingers, on the glass, have gone yellow-white from the strength of her grip. He cannot tell what she’s nervous about.

“I suppose he is miraculous, in his own way. As long as you enjoy going to battle every night.” A hint of the old smirk. Maybe it will unsettle her into revealing the truth.

For a few seconds, the room is still, so quiet he can hear the quickening thump of Vassa’s heartbeat. Weeks or months ago, maybe, Lucien would have been smug over his ability to rile her. Now he only waits to see what she will say.

“At least he’s not in love with someone else.” Vassa does not look at him, and for the first time since he’s known her, her blue eyes do not sparkle.

“I’m not--that is--” Already he has revealed too much. He can feel the heat of her gaze on him and now it’s he who cannot meet her eyes.

“I know about Elain. And I cannot...her father rescued me from Koschei. I will not dishonor his memory by stealing you away from her. No matter what I want.”

He thinks about saying, you have a high opinion of yourself, Queen of Scythia, the kind of thing he’d usually say to her, which would rob the moment of its tension, send them off to their separate beds. Likely, the usual jibe would set everything right. But Lucien has tried to play the dutiful suitor to his mate, has found her thoughtful gifts and has waited until her (their) heart warms, and still she cannot wait until he leaves her behind. Still his thoughts stray to Vassa. And the very thought of her with Jurian is worse than the guilt of leaving his mate for another. Let Elain take a thousand years to come around to the idea of him, let her break the mating bond itself, Lucien thinks, gulping down the last of his wine. She is not the problem. Probably she never was.

“I’m not in love with her,” he says, finally, the words like tumbling off a cliff. “She’s my mate. Chosen for me by the Cauldron. And if I could choose, Queen of Scythia, believe me that I would choose a woman who can win any argument, whose beauty is only eclipsed by her fierce intelligence, and who still has not told me how her hands, the hands of a queen, came to be so calloused.”

“In Scythia, women can be warriors. I’ve trained with a sword since I was seven.” The words are hardly a breath.

He rises from his chair. The book falls from his lap, lands on the carpet with a muffled thump, but he does not turn. He only looks at Vassa’s eyes, the blue deep and sparkling as the middle of the ocean, lit by the noonday sun. Vast and lovely and alive.

He waits for her to look away, but instead she stands up so that she’s right in front of him, the silk of her dress sighing against the toes of hits boots. He always forgets, until they stand close, that she’s nearly as tall as he is. How hard it has been to keep from kissing her, when her lips, the color of ripe berries, have been right in front of him for all these months.

Now, finally, his mouth is on hers, hot and sweet, her lips opening to his tongue, a groan escaping him because Vassa, lithe and lovely, is in his arms, so quick and urgent that he can’t remember whether he reached for her or if she embraced him first. Her calloused fingertips are on his wrists, his neck, working the buttons of his jacket until it falls to the ground.

“I do not want to ruin you,” he says, too far gone with need to blunt the words, trying not to think about the way his cock strains at the seams of his pants. Only the woman in his arms, flushed and disheveled and smiling as she rolls her eyes at him.

“I am the Queen of Scythia by birth and by my own desire. I cannot be ruined by anyone.”

He wants to believe her, and so he kisses her, stops only long enough to undo each button that fastens her gown, take a long look at her lean body, her small breasts that fit so perfectly in his palm, her muscles visible with each movement. Her golden brown skin is scattered with freckles, and he presses a kiss to each one until she tugs at his hair, hissing her frustration.

Between her legs, she’s molten velvet. He strokes her until her little sighs become moans, until her fingers scrabble to reach him, pull him even closer.

“Get inside me, Vanserra.” He nearly laughs at her approximation of a fierce growl, unraveled by the keening sound of desire, a mirror of his own. Still he holds himself apart from her, quirks a brow.

“Need I remind you how bastards are made, Your Majesty?”

“I’ve heard the tales about your contraceptive potions. If you want me tonight, stop stalling.” She crosses her arms over her breasts, and Lucien dearly wants to kiss the smug look off her face.

“I’m glad you’ve been studying our customs,” he says instead, pulling her down to the thick rug that covers the library floor.

At first, he tries to be gentle, but she pulls him closer, her eyes set on his, so that when he enters her with that first desperate stroke, he can see the moment of pain. He cups his hand around her chin, kisses her as he moves in and out, until she begins to pant against his mouth, saying please and yes until she goes stiff and ecstatic, and he follows her, need giving way to a roaring pleasure.

Later, she’s curled up next to him, weaving braids into his hair, and she says, “I know this is only for a little while.”

Before she can continue, Lucien scoops her up so that her body covers his, until he can’t see anything but Vassa’s face, the pensive look she can nearly hide behind her drooping eyelids, a languid smile.

“This is for as long as you’ll have me,” he says, pressing a kiss to her lips. “You are the one I choose, Vassa.”

They do not sleep for a moment of the night, and when she goes to meet the dawn, to become the firebird, Lucien holds tight to her hand.

In her dream, Vassa has fallen into the ocean and she cannot breathe. She tries to inhale the ocean water, she’s become that desperate, but her throat is closed, as if her drowning body has been filled with stones.

When she opens her eyes, the ocean is gone but she cannot breathe, and Lucien works frantically over her body, his eyes moving in every direction, his fingers moving through the air as if guiding a miniscule orchestra.

There’s a burning, raging and deep, where Koschei’s spell binds her. She feels the burning in her blood, as if the nature of her curse has changed and now she will remain a human queen, with the firebird doing battle inside her.

And the world is full of air she cannot breathe.

She thinks, looking up at Lucien, his face now revealing a bit more terror but his hands as sure as ever, that this was always going to be the way that she died: curled up in her bed, looking up at Lucien. Only, she’d always thought that she would be old and wheezing, perhaps a little bored of even their great love, ready for a new adventure.

Now all she can think is that she should have kissed him the first day they met. That she’ll die so far away from Scythia. That she’d never thought her lungs, deprived of air, could burn quite like this, as if she’d inhaled fire instead of air.

She reaches for Lucien just as whatever binds her falls away, and despite the relief that overwhelms her, the air that floods her, Vassa realizes with horror that it was her own hair that coiled around her neck, long and thick enough to form a rope.

“It took so long to find the right unbinding spell,” Lucien says, holding her hand tight in his own. His voice is small, the voice of a lost child. “I thought--”

“I need you to cut my hair short,” Vassa says, her voice rough. Each word burns her throat. “Or Koschei will kill me with it eventually.”

There are others who want to kill her, of course. There are always rivals and assassins and foreign rulers who worry that she will conquer the world with her will alone. But no one other than Koschei could activate the curse, could transform her blood into fire. The rope of hair was only the visible manifestation of his powers.

“I know the unbinding spell now.” He dips to kiss her cheek, her temple, and she’s grateful he knows that he cannot kiss her mouth, rest his body on hers, nothing that impedes her breathing. “I can keep you safe.”

“One day you will have court business that keeps you away overnight.”

“And what if Koschei uses a blanket?” His voice is rough over the question and she realizes that he’s imagining the scene.

“If you’re away, I will sleep on an empty bed and Jurian will watch over me all night long. Now go fetch your sword,” she says, trying to make her voice sound imperious, to make him sarcastic and smirking again, her own Lucien.

One flash and the mass of her hair falls to the floor. What remains hovers an inch over her shoulders, revealing her freckled clavicles, the half-wings of her shoulderblades.

“You are lovely,” Lucien says, laying the sword on the ground.

Normally she would take advantage of his position, guide his mouth to all the places that make her go wordless, but now she only catches his gaze, lets him see the fear on her face. It’s one of the expressions she never lets anybody see.

“This curse will kill me soon,” she tells him.

“I will go to every court in Prythian until we figure out how to unbind you from the death-lord. I swear it to you.”

“Every court in Prythian has forgotten me. And why should they remember? In their eyes, my life will go past in a blink.”

“I will never let them forget you,” he says, smoothing her newly shorn hair away from her face, pulling her close beside him, so that she can hear each breath and thump of his heart. “I will make sure that you are free.”

She does not tell him that it’s no longer freedom she craves, exactly. That she wants to be bound to him the way she is bound to her country, to her people, tied by blood and right and strength of will.

Instead she presses her mouth to his and allows herself to forget, just for a second, how to breathe.

Because humans do not celebrate the old Fae holidays, Vassa did not mind his spending the Solstice at the Night Court, but in spite of this, Lucien spent each minute calculating the earliest moment he could return to her.

She’s still awake, curled up on a sofa in the library, when he returns from Feyre and Rhysand’s estate, bearing a piece of cake he’d secreted away in a heavy cloth napkin.

“I didn’t think you would return before tomorrow,” she says, looking up from her book of history, thick with politics and deception and warring.

Always, he is surprised by the bright blue of her eyes, even in candlelight. Always, he knows, deep in his bones, this woman will enchant him.

“I wouldn’t miss a single night with you if it could be helped. And I have not given you your Solstice gift.”

“I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts,” she says, her mouth puckering into a frown.

“You should know better than to always take me at my word,” he says, raising a brow, watching the indignation rise on her face. He lets the napkin fall into her lap, and then a smaller package, which he’d wrapped carefully this morning, while she wheeled over the manor grounds, wings aflame.

She lets out a little gasp at the sapphire earrings which will turn each ear into a lattice of sparkling flowers, bright against the red-gold curls of her hair. He’d contracted a master jeweler months ago, measured Vassa’s ears when she lay sleeping, so that the fit is exact. It’s the kind of jewelry a queen would wear, he thought, when he gave the earrings their final inspection.

One day soon, Lucien knows, Vassa will be free of the curse that binds her. She’ll go back to Scythia and reclaim her rightful throne, earn and accept and enjoy the love of her people.

“I will follow you, ” he says, watching her smile grow as she studies each flawless sapphire, not a single one as brilliant as her eyes, “when you go back to Scythia.”

“You do not have to lie to me,” she says, and her voice catches in her throat with an emotion too complex to name. “These earrings are enough.”

“I will follow you,” he says again, and kisses her before she can argue, pulls her close.

In the morning, he wakes before the sunrise, walks hand in hand with her through the forest, the silence between them comfortable as their bodies move themselves from sleep.

The moment before the sun passes the horizon, Vassa lets go of Lucien’s hand, and turns toward him. An instant later, the firebird circles near his head, swooping around the trees. Lucien almost thinks there is a spark of recognition in those blue eyes, as if he’s managed to lodge inside that animal brain, wedge himself inside the curse, the first step to destroying it all together.

When the wing of the firebird passes over him, he is startled to realize he feels no pain at the heat of the flame.

“You’ve realized, of course, that I love you,” he says, feeling foolish at speaking into the snow-muffled silence, knowing that the animal before him cannot speak, likely does not understand.

But the firebird extends her wings and, with a great cry, shoots up into the air, keening over the forest, her own sun, before returning to the place where Lucien stands, beholding her glory.

For the rest of the day, she will not leave his side.

A/N 2: I've been a Vassien shipper ever since I watched Lucien light up while talking to Vassa in ACOWAR, and I love how this ship has everything: intelligence, beauty, mutual snark, and no problem standing up to the Night Court. Though I have no idea if this ship will sail in the next ACOTAR books, I can't help but root for these truly immaculate vibes.

Tag List: @vassiensupremacy @vassienweek @lucienvassa @lantsov-vanserra @bookstaninthesoul @fireborne6 @flowerbirdsblog (I tagged you if you previously reblogged my preview of this fic -- please let me know if you'd like to stay on or be removed from my Vassien tag list.)

#vassien #vassien is goals #band of exiles #lucien vanserra #queen vassa #missing moments #mutual snark #mutual pining

15 notes · View notes

mintdrop · 4 years ago

Photo

Meet Nanami. A shy, selectively mute “witch” who spends most of her time tending to plants and making herbal medicines. She has a fascination with the ocean and occasionally daydreams about what it would be like to explore the waters. More info under the cut!

Basic Info

Real Name: Nanami Nami Age: 26 as of SHB Race: Dunesfolk Lalafell Sexuality: Bisexual Guardian Deity: Nophica, the Matron Main classes: WHM, SMN (purely for her familiar) DOL/DOH: BTN, ALC, a dream of being FSH Voice Claim: Nao Tōyama (Reina Prowler in Macross Delta, Chitose from Nisekoi, Lyria from Granblue Fantasy)

Personality

MBTI: ISFP Enneagram: Type 9 Wing 1 (The Dreamer) Temperament: Phlegmatic Alignment: Neutral Good

Nanami is soft; marshmallow soft. Introverted to the nth degree, she has no real experience in dealing with other people outside of those who have run a select few shops that she's patroned for years - and even then, she can't meet their eyes. She suffers from selective mutism, meaning words are few and far between in regards to anyone but herself for the most part. However, with enough time and trust, it's possible that you might hear an answer or two rather than see it with your eyes.

Because she knows that she can't function through life (alone or otherwise) without "speaking", Nanami is able to combine her magic with her aether to speak by drawing or writing in the air - she often chooses drawing, as it allows for quicker responses.

When observed from afar, Nanami's true character can be seen; gentle, and extremely caring of those around her. She handles plants and flowers as though they're her family, and more often than not will she end up somewhat red-eyed and sniffly when using a plant for herbal medicines.

Backstory

An orphan from birth, Nanami has lived her life in self-inflicted isolation. The other children of the orphanage were never very kind to her, given that she couldn't speak, was more interested in the weeds growing from the ground than the game they were playing, and often felt sick when in the sun. Of course, children can be cruel, and it would be a lie to say if she wasn't bullied because of it; this only led her to isolate herself more in the long run.

It was discovered at a young age that she was proficient in white magics, and thus spent a long amount of time training under E-Sumi-Yan to hone her skills; thanks to this, he is one of few people who Nanami is able to speak to normally, though only when nobody else is around. She now uses these magics in conjuncture with her "witch magic" to produce various potions and medicines to sell for income.

Nanami lives far within the woods of the Black Shroud, in a small cottage that she had built by herself. When adventurers, wounded or otherwise, would come seeking shelter and aid, she would offer it under few conditions; one, that they understand she would only be around them to administer care and meals. Two, that before they left, they repair a part of her cottage that was in disarray, as her own craftsmanship was fairly shoddy. Thanks to this, her cottage is much more stable than when it had been made.

Stats

Strength: 3/10 Offense: 5/10 Defense: 7/10 Speed: 4/10 Durability: 6/10 Accuracy: 5/10 Agility: 4/10 Stamina: 3/10 Teamwork: 9/10 Stealth: 2/10 Magic: 10/10 Healing: 10/10

Nanami is a healer in all forms of the word; from healing magics to shielding magics, and even homemade potions, she functions as a pure supportive role in the heat of battle. Of course, she'd very much prefer not to fight at all if possible, but she's well aware that that simply isn't the case in this world.

Because she often gets uncomfortable in the sun, Nanami is never found without a massively large hat to mitigate the effects - leading to a hard drop in combative accuracy, as the rim of the hat will often block the far off view. Her close combat skills are basically nonexistent, which can sometimes lead to her being more of a liability if she's unable to protect herself in time. To say she fears these scenarios more than death would be an understatement.

Other headcanons

Could probably sing fairly well if she didn’t suffer from psychological issues.

Has a floating ferret familiar named Ren and a fat cat named Mr. Pibbles.

Has a love/hate relationship with spring - she loves seeing the plants flourish, but hates the allergies that come with them.

Paints as a hobby, but she hides all her artwork in a loose floorboard because she’s embarrassed about it.

Somewhat good at figuring things out on the fly, but her anxiety leads her to second guessing herself almost instantly.

She loves fruits in all forms, especially in drinks.

Fell in love with the ocean after visiting Costa Del Sol once with the orphanage - she wants to visit again, especially on a clear night.

Blind as a bat; she can’t even find her glasses in the morning after waking up - Ren has to put them on his back and bring them to her.

She knows sign language! She just doesn’t use it often because her art conveys things easier to those who don’t.

Aesthetics

Scents: Baked apples, cinnamon, flower shops, rose water Colors: Grayscale, dark purples and reds Animals: Deer, crows, squirrels Clothing: Long dresses, cloaks, large hats, circle frames, long sleeves, layered shirts, long socks Others: Autumn leaves crunching underfoot, candlelight, the faint sounds of a piano from another room, bird calls, whispers

Mun Notes

First and foremost, I want to say that selective mutism isn’t choosing to be mute - honestly, the term is very poorly named, imo. The link the phrase directs to has a few examples that accurately describe Nanami’s condition:

Twenty-six-year-old Hannah is only able to speak with her parents. In other situations like school, where she’s interacting with a larger group of people who she is less familiar with, her words get stuck, and even though she wants to speak, nothing comes out.

For interactions with Nanami, I know it’s hard to portray her when she’s unable to speak, so people are free to have her talk in sets. But she’s very quiet/soft, and pauses a lot. Ellipses are her best friend tbh.

Her design uses a custom face dds that I edited from Mint’s that I don’t mind giving to people who want to pose her if they ask ;w;

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #lalafell #// nanami #thank you kiwi for letting me word vomit into your DMs about her and use this character layout aiheksjbfsd #she's been an oc for like.. a month or two but i felt like i neglected my other OCs too much and didn't want to introduce her #but now [jazz hands] fuck that! here is my second daughter

85 notes · View notes

heyyyharry · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 14: Masquerade

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which there are intruders in the castle.

Word count: 3.1k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N aka “Peach”)

Y/N had danced her third dance of the night with her third partner. The entire time, she'd kept searching the room for Harry. Where was he? It wasn't like him to promise that he'd be here and not show up. She blamed all the trauma she'd gone through for her being too guarded and anxious, yet she trusted her gut instinct, and tonight, it was telling her to be careful.

The crowd broke into applause at the end of another dance, and Y/N felt a tap on her shoulder.

"May I have a word with you in private?" Lance asked, eyeing Y/N's dance partner. The man took the hint and bowed goodbye to Lance and Y/N. Lance gave Y/N a mysterious grin as he gestured with his hand toward the door, letting her walk first.

"You seem anxious," he pointed out once they were alone in the corridor and the orchestra music became muffled.

"How anxious?" she asked, pulling off her mask.

He kept his mask on, holding his hands together behind his back. "Right now? Not as much as before." He offered a calming smile. "I'm sorry. Is this a bad time to talk about politics?"

"It's never a good time, but go ahead."

Lance hummed his agreement. "I didn't see Mary tonight. I thought Jo was supposed to keep an eye on her."

"She's being kept an eye on. Don't worry. Her room is being guarded," Y/N said, arms crossed. "What's wrong?"

Lance inhaled deeply, catching his breath. "She was to betray us. She was a spy for Calanthe. She told you to go to the North mountain because Calanthe wanted you to lead her there. She also wanted to find the lake. But her plan failed because the forest protected its secrets from outsiders like her."

Y/N's stomach dipped. "How long have you known this?"

"Weeks."

"And you decided to wait until now to tell me?"

"Look," Lance breathed, raking his fingers through his dark locks. "I was going to wait until after tonight because you'd gone through so much–"

"So what made you decide to tell me in the middle of my dance?"

Lance worked his jaw. For once, he was inarticulate. "This might sound stupid, but...it was my gut feeling telling me to tell you right away."

Y/N bit her lip. "So...why are you keeping this a secret? Why are you protecting the witch?"

Lance hesitated. "I don't want to hurt Jo..."

"Jo?" It took Y/N a moment to realize what he meant. Her heart dropped. "Oh, no, Jo...She was looking for someone tonight. I thought it was you."

"No," Lance chuckled, shaking his head. "Jo doesn't like me like that. Or at all."

"Everyone likes you."

"Is that so?" His eyebrow lifted in amusement. "Well, I'm very flattered, Your Majesty, but I don't think me being likeable could do much good for us. Calanthe has a plan."

"What plan?" Y/N scoffed. "Is there something else you're not telling me?"

"It's not a fact, just my speculation."

"Go ahead."

Lance rubbed his chin. "Well, I think George Wallace was murdered, but not by one of our people."

Y/N took a moment to let that sink in. "What are you implying? That it was a setup?"

Lance nodded, his eyebrows knitted. Y/N watched his grey eyes dance behind the mask as he observed his surroundings before lowering his voice. "They sent him here to kill him. He was the bait. No one would suspect Calanthe to sacrifice her most trusted advisor."

"Harry said the same thing," Y/N said and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"What?"

Her head shot up. She blinked at Lance. "What?"

Lance cocked his head to the side. "Is everything all right between you two?"

The question wasn't sarcasm with the intention of taunting her. Lance genuinely cared about her feelings despite his own. Knowing so, she could not help but think about what he'd said the other night and earlier on the dance floor. First and last dance...

No. She was overthinking again. She wasn't allowed to have these thoughts. This political chaos was already too much to handle. There was no time for personal business.

"Nothing is all right, Lance. You know that," Y/N answered with a soft sigh.

Lance nodded, his lips pressed tightly together.

Just as the uncomfortable silence threatened to creep back in, a guard showed up, gasping for air as he bowed to Y/N and Lance. Y/N thought to herself, 'Not another dead body,' and her limbs went numb as she remembered that Harry was nowhere to be found tonight. He could be anywhere in the castle. Who knew what could have happened to him?

"Your Majesty," the guard said between laboured breaths. "There are intruders in the castle."

"Where?" asked Lance, his fingers secured around his sword-hilt.

"The west wing," the guard said. "Commander Harry saw someone."

"Where's Harry?" Y/N asked, her stomach knotted. She unconsciously reached for the sword at her side, only to be reminded that she was wearing a ball gown, and there was still a dance going on behind those doors. She was stupid and careless enough to have gathered all the important people here tonight.

"The Commander went after the intruder, Your Majesty. We suspect there are more than one."

"Fucking idiot!" cried Y/N as she picked up her skirt and ran. She heard Lance telling the guard to keep the ballroom secured and make sure no one came and left. Then he chased after her.

If that idiot Harry didn't die tonight, she would kill him with her bare hands.

Harry wanted to skip the dance. People had been whispering about him since he'd returned, so he didn't want to draw more attention to himself by dancing with the Queen herself. However, he'd promised Y/N he'd be there for her, and he never wanted to let her down. And so he deliberately took a bit longer to get ready just to show up late and blend right into the crowd.

The castle was so quiet tonight with almost everyone being in the ballroom. Harry could hear the music all the way from his chamber. He took one last look at himself in the mirror before adjusting his mask and leaving for the dance. He was accompanied by a guard, which made him quite uncomfortable. Still, he knew it was all for his safety. Everyone must be careful after the murder of George Wallace.

"Help!" a scream tore through the night, causing both Harry and the guard to whirl around. A shadow dashed out of the darkness and crashed right into him. He caught the person with both arms and was terrified to find that it was a woman covered in blood.

Mary.

"Help!" she choked, tears streaming down her scarred face. Her hands were shaking as she smeared blood all over his shirt. "They're...they're dead! They wanted to kill me!"

"Who?"

"The guards," Mary sobbed, her face as white as the moon-washed floor. "They're dead! A man killed them and...was chasing after me! He had a weapon!"

"Take her somewhere safe," Harry told the guard, pulling Mary up to her feet.

"You're not coming, Commander?" the guard asked Harry.

Harry opened his mouth to answer when all of a sudden, he spotted a tall and slim figure lurking in the shadows of the corridor. It vanished in a blink of an eye. Harry knew it headed to the courtyard for there was nowhere else to go.

"There are intruders in the castle," Harry told the guard, his heart pounding. "Send backups. Alarm the King and Queen!" And without waiting for the guard or Mary to stop him, Harry ran after whom he assumed was the murderer.

He didn't stop until he was deep in the garden. The snow was falling peacefully all around while the beating of his heart accelerated. Thousands of tiny candles dotted ledges hidden throughout the topiaries. It would have seemed magical had the fog ever lifted. Now the little lights played strangely with the mist, creating shadowy phantoms, there one moment and gone the next. Harry gripped his sword with cold and numb fingers, overwhelmed with anxiety as he scanned his eyes around.

Suddenly, he became aware of another's presence behind him and swung his sword just in time to deflect the blow. The person stumbled back. A clang of metal on metal. A whoosh. Harry let out a gasp as he felt the cold tip of the blade at his throat. Meanwhile, he was holding his sword with an outstretched hand, pointing straight at Lance's heart.

"You," Lance said, catching his breath. He seemed relieved, which confused Harry.

"You!"

"Peach!" Harry and Lance bounced away from each other as Y/N rushed up to them. She looked beautiful in her golden dress, yet she also looked angry...

"Mind explaining what happened?" she asked before Harry could open his mouth. Lance put his sword away, assessing Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"Someone killed the guards outside Mary's room," Harry said, hating the way Y/N's face grew grim. "They tried to kill her but she escaped."

Y/N groaned as she hugged her arms around her chest, gooseflesh rippling over all that bare skin. It was far too cold to be out.

"You shouldn't be here," Harry said. Y/N's eyes sharpened furiously at him. He was expecting her to snap when a broken branch alerted the three of them.

"Y/N!" cried Lance, but he didn't react fast enough. Y/N had yanked the sword out of his hand and chased after the figure. Harry could see it a bit clearer now. It looked like a man wearing a dark cloak. He exchanged horrified looks with Lance and both sprinted after Y/N and the intruder.

"Show your face!" Y/N shouted as she studied the garden in silence. From where they stood, the ballroom, shining so brightly inside, could barely be seen. The orchestra's music echoed eerily in the fog. Y/N looked half-crazed. Her words came out in smoke. "Surrender and maybe I'll spare your life."

There were footsteps padding towards them, gaining speed, closing the distance. There was more than one person.

As they closed in, Harry spun around. He drew his sword and struck at eye level. A cry of pain answered him. Y/N deflected the blow and lunged with her sword, which met with the figure's blade which gleamed in the moonlight. Beside Harry, Lance was dodging every strike. He was quick, yet unable to fight back without a weapon.

Harry heard Y/N mutter something under her breath, her eyes met his for a second, and he could see the helplessness in them. She wanted to protect Lance.

Harry took down the man charging at him with a swing of his sword before thrusting it right through the one cornering Lance. Lance looked up at him, wide-eyed, breathing out smoke. He hadn't expected Harry to help him.

Y/N's sudden cry startled both men. They turned. Like a silver snake, the last intruder's sword shot out and caught Y/N in the shoulder. She fell with a hard thud to the ground.

"Peach!"

"Y/N!"

Lance and Harry bolted towards her. The murderer took that chance to flee, disappearing into the fence maze when Harry looked up. The heavily falling snow had covered all the footsteps like a perfect accomplice. The garden returned to its peacefulness as if there hadn't been a crime committed against the Queen.

"I'm fine," Y/N said, wincing as she held her shoulder. Red blood was trickling down her skin, staining the snow, bringing back to Harry the unpleasant memories of those nights in the woods. He was reminded once again that he could lose her any moment if they weren't careful.

Lance put an arm around her as he helped her stand up. Harry tore his sleeve and wrapped the piece of fabric around her wound to temporarily stop the blood. His heart ached as he watched her bite back the pain. Blood had stained her beautiful dress. Then, Harry noticed that Lance was looking at her with the same agony in his eyes. It was like looking into a mirror. Harry and Lance both hurt the same.

"Y/N!"

"Your Majesty!"

Jo and five guards finally showed up. Jo gasped into her palms when she saw that Y/N was bleeding. "Oh, Y/N, you're hurt!"

"Took you long enough!" Lance snapped at the guards. "I would have had all of you beheaded had something bad happened to the Queen!"

The guards muttered their apologies which were silenced by Lance's raised hand.

"I don't think they wanted me dead," Y/N spoke. She sounded strangely calm for someone who'd just been stabbed. "If they did, they would've killed me already."

"They're here for the witch. They knew she betrayed them," Lance said.

"Betray?" Jo muttered.

Lance's expression shifted. Harry reckoned that Lance hadn't meant to let Jo find out this way. Harry wasn't sure he was more shocked by the news or Jo's reaction to it. He had never seen her so genuinely hurt by anyone that wasn't Y/N.

"She was a spy for Calanthe," said Y/N, seemingly too in pain to acknowledge her friend's pained expression. "Don't worry. We'll take care of that."

"You're not going to...hurt her, are you?" Jo said, her voice wavering.

Lance placed a hand on Jo's shoulder. For the first time, he was showing sympathy with a servant. "We're not. Don't worry."

Jo nodded, yet the uncertainty was etched on her face as she wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist, escorting her back inside.

Harry lit a candle beside Y/N's bed. She was lying on her back, watching him. Her shoulder had been bandaged. It didn't hurt as much as before yet she could not shake off the fear she'd felt earlier in the garden. She wished she'd seen those men's faces. She believed they were the Monks. Calanthe had either sent them here to kill the witch or to light a match that would start a war.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hand placed over of hers.

"About what?" she chuckled. "Tonight wasn't your fault."

"You came to the garden to find me."

"Yes, I did it by choice." She squeezed his fingers and cracked a reassuring smile. "I can take care of myself. Don't you worry. I'm brave."

"I know," Harry sighed. "Brave people tend to get themselves in trouble."

Y/N snorted as she rolled her eyes. "Trouble follows me everywhere I go. So many people have wanted me dead. But look at me now. I'm the Queen, and I'm not losing my crown to anyone. I'm not letting them take my father's kingdom."

Harry exhaled, a smile playing on his lips. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she said.

There was a knock on the door. "Y/N?"

"It's–"

"Lance," Harry said, his expression unreadable.

The door creaked open and Lance poked his head into the room, looking surprised to see Harry there. "I'll leave," Lance said.

"No, I'll leave," Harry said, smiling at Y/N. "Goodnight, my queen." Then, he kissed her hand and got up to go.

"Hey," Lance stopped him halfway through the door. "Thank you for earlier."

"No problem," Harry replied. With just that, he was gone, shutting the door on his way out.

"Glad to see my fake future wife still alive," Lance said as he made his way to the bed to sit down at Harry's previous spot.

Y/N let out a light laugh. "I'm sorry I took your sword."

Lance squinted his eyes in amusement. "Yeah, and still, you managed to get yourself hurt."

She scowled at him and punched his shoulder as a joke. He pretended to wince in pain before busting out laughing. "Sorry." Lance cleared his throat, suppressing a grin. "How's your shoulder?"

"It hurts less. Thanks for asking."

"It wasn't like you to be so careless," he said.

Y/N pursed her lips. "I was distracted."

"By?"

"I was...worried you'd get hurt," she mumbled. Even without looking at him, she could still feel his notorious smirk growing wider.

"Don't let that happen on the battlefield," he said. "I can take care of myself, with a sword, of course. But you should always remember that the enemy wants your head more than mine."

Y/N swallowed hard as Lance reached out his hand. She watched him ponder for a second before gathering enough courage to place his hand on top of hers. Just like Harry had before. Harry's touch had been natural and comfortable. As for Lance, she felt him turning into a bundle of nerves.

"You're too good for me," she said.

His eyes danced as he chuckled. "No one is too good for anyone." Then he sucked in a breath. "I hope we'll both be alive after this."

"We will," she said even though she was unsure.

"What will happen then?"

"We get married. For our kingdoms."

Lance's smile faltered. He clenched his jaw and looked away, his fingers sliding off hers. "We don't have to if Calanthe's dead," he whispered.

"Our people expect a wedding."

Lance shook his head and switched his gaze back to her. "Forget what the people want. What do you want, Y/N?"

"I can't just forget what the people want. I'm their queen."

Lance's lips slightly parted yet he said nothing more. It was hard to tell if he'd run out of arguments or simply didn't want to start.

"Let's try to stay alive and find out," he said with a thin smile. "Goodnight."

She watched him get up, looking rather weary. The complete opposite of the charming king he'd been at the dance.

"Why did you say it was our last dance?" she asked before he reached the door.

He looked over his shoulder, lips curled to the side. "It was a joke. Because you said you didn't want to dance with me, which I hope was also a joke."

"It was." She gave a small smile. "I loved dancing with you."

"Good," he said, weakly. "Rest well, Y/N."

"So do you," Y/N said.

As quietly as a shadow, Lance slipped out of the room.

#tctm series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles

90 notes · View notes

rayne-storm · 3 years ago

Text

AUgust 6 - Gaming

Title: MOON QUEEN

Fandom: Hyperdrive

As always, Hyperdrive belongs to my beautiful and talented BFF @rad-infiniitum / @starburnedfarrago

This was just super fun to write, and although the logistics as presented are just absolutely whack, I hope you enjoy!!

She smiled as she hit the buttons with routine familiarity, starting her stream. She smiled gently as she addressed her followers and her little intro video played.

There was her channel name: STELLA-PY , and the letters rearranged themselves to some bubbly synth music to: LETS-PLAY and faded out to reveal the title card for the game that she was tackling today.

"Good afternoon, guys! It's me, Stella-Py!"

"Py" in this case was pronounced "Pie," and the comments she had received about the similarity mixed with her heavier frame were old news long ago. She kept herself in a small frame at the corner of the video, just because she knew she tended to make silly faces playing spookier games, and if anyone really got a sense of her size from that, she applauded their eye for detail. Any hate got pretty quickly removed from the chat thanks to a friend who maintained it, and her lovely (if few) fans.

"Today, we're doing something new and short, while I recover from the awful, awful fetus monster. This is one you guys have been telling me to try!"

She pulled up the application on her computer, and a solid wall of blue illuminated her screen. From the wall, white letters in a vintage font appeared one by one to reveal:

"QUEST FOR THE MOON QUEEN"

Stella smiled and let the elegant chiptunes that came after the letter play for a moment before starting to speak again.

"That's right, folks! Quest For The Moon Queen was published seven years ago to itch.io by an anonymous, indie developer that only called themself 'BL00 SCR33N.' It's remained relatively obscure since then, which is a shame because it looks so cute! From what I've seen, this is an adventure game where the player is this adorable little knight, trying to rescue and woo the titular Moon Queen. I'm super excited to get into it, and please make sure to put asterisks before any spoilers to hide them!"

She paused to let the chat catch up, answering a couple of questions about her day, how the baby cow was doing, and when she would do a baby cow reveal (the poll for the baby cow name was still going, Moomin being the leader by far). The chat satisfied, she hit ENTER on her keyboard, and the screen slowly darkened.

First came a little tutorial.

There was a little blue knight in front of a white screen, and little floating text walked the player through the various movements they could do. It was relatively simple, arrow keys to move, space to jump, and a couple of keys or mouse clicks to shoot a little spark.

After the tutorial came an adorable side-scrolling adventure where the little blue knight jumped over hurdles and shot sparks at bees and little black boomerang-like shapes.

Three levels of slightly increasing difficulty later, there was a boss fight.

The boss was labeled "THE DICTATOR" and a chiptune-version of ABBA's "Voulez-Vous?" played. The knight grew a little taller, and was faced suddenly by a giant black tarantula with a hundred glowing red eyes.

The sparks were ineffective, and Stella began to panic when she noticed a small sword icon. Interacting with that froze the boss and brought up an option screen:

"CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON"

MY STRENGTH

MY SPIRIT

Well, wasn't that unique?? Stella immediately chose to fight with "SPIRIT" and the scene dissolved into a cute little cutscene.

The little knight stood before THE DICTATOR, trembling only slightly in the presence of the fierce enemy.

"I must go!" The knight proclaimed in chiming little chirps

"But why?? You have served me loyally all this time!"

"I must find my own path, and you must care for your fallen kingdom."

The scene dissolved again, and the spider rolled over, defeated.

Stella felt there was more to the story, but could only really comment on how sweet that was.

"This is such a cute little game! You guys are the best, and if anyone has any idea how to get in contact with the person who developed this, please let them know that I love it so much!!"

The next levels were water-themed (of course), leading up to a new boss fight:

THE EXILE.

This boss was a massive squid, with pink tendrils that acted as hair. The blue Knight's sparks again were ineffective, and again Stella was presented a choice:

THE EXILE HAS REPLACED YOU. CHOOSE YOUR REACTION:

COMPASSION

CRUELTY

Stella again went for the softer route, and again, the screen dissolved.

Surprisingly, the squid-like creature shrunk to being smaller even than the Blue Knight.

"I am afraid, Knight."

"Why are you afraid? You have everything you could ever want, now."

"Because I am so small, and this world is so big."

The knight knelt and gently hugged the little creature.

"Take heart, EXILE, for there are many large things, but there is only one of you. Develop your skills, grow your talents, and the world will bend for you."

The EXILE bobbed happily, nodding.

"Thank you Knight! Good luck on your journey!!"

The EXILE swam away, and the Knight progressed.

So it went, with such bosses as:

THE CORINTHIAN, an eagle dressed like a glam-rocker, who the Knight could either PLUCK or APPLAUD. Applause led to the Knight clapping and giving the creature a CD to sing along to.

a giant troll THE BEAST that offered a stealth option to SNEAK around or SLAY.

THE PRETENDER, a shadowy silhouette of a woman, and the Knight could choose KILL or KINDNESS. Kindness led to the Knight patting the shadow on the back, and with each little pat more of the sprite filled in until the shadow became a dark-skinned woman in a space suit.

Finally, about two hours of play later, the knight was jumping on clouds and was faced with the final boss:

THE DEMON.

This boss was a massive metal insectoid, and Stella waited for the choice to appear, but a minute of waiting led to her health being knocked down halfway, and a message popping up:

NOT EVERY BATTLE HAS A SOLUTION. DRAW YOUR SWORD AND FIGHT.

That felt… wrong.

The chat was exploding to fight back as the monster hit the Knight, but she just couldn't.

Tears in her eyes, she removed her hands from the keyboard.

The health bar was knocked down to zero.

NOT EVERY BATTLE CAN BE WON the screen proclaimed, as it began to fade.

Suddenly, a shower of pink and green lights fluttered down.

The chat began to go crazy. This, it seemed, had never been discovered before. Everyone always fought the monster, and gained a trite little victory screen, the little Blue Knight doing a little dance.

This was something completely new.

NOT EVERY BATTLE CAN BE WON.

BUT SOMETIMES LOSING YOURSELF ALLOWS ANOTHER TO LIVE.

The metal shell of the boss began to melt, and out floated a beautiful woman, pale-skinned with pink and green hair, and nearly translucent green wings that shimmered and glowed.

She floated down to the body of the little fallen Knight and kissed his head. The knight slowly stood.

"Thank you, Blue Knight, for your compassion. Thank you for setting me free. You do not have to hide yourself any longer."

The armor melted away from the knight, and an adorable little creature with blue skin, long ears, and yellow eyes remained.

The descriptions of the characters changed. The Blue Knight became THE REGRETFUL SOUL, and what once was THE DEMON became…

THE MOON QUEEN.

"Thank you, my lady," the REGRETFUL SOUL chirped, and they took each other's hands.

The MOON QUEEN scooped up the little creature, and began to fly up the screen with him. As they reached the top, they turned and faced the screen.

THANK YOU, PLAYER, FOR ABSOLVING OUR GUILT AND SETTING US FREE.

The screen faded to black, and Stella initially thought it had completely ended. She was about to exit out of the program (still sobbing), when a little message slowly flowed up from the bottom:

TO LUNA.

I LOVE YOU.

-NEIL

Stella couldn't help crying harder, and blubbered out her closing spiel. The chat still kept going absolutely crazy, some claiming that this was a hacked copy of the game, or that they totally knew about the secret ending. Suddenly a new kind of message began exploding:

The game was gone.

It wasn't on itch.io, or any other site that the chat could find.

What in the world…?

Stella figured that she would deal with the implications of that later, saying goodbye and logging out of her stream.

She gave herself a few more minutes to cry before she heard the soft ping of a new email.

She sighed and opened it, ready to be assaulted by some kind of anger (per usual when she streamed), and was surprised to see the sender was going by "BL00 SCR33N."

She opened the message, and it simply read:

"You saved the knight and the Moon Queen. Congratulations. Want to meet up?"

After that was a phone number.

This was a terrible idea.

She called.

#au gust 2021 #rayne writes #my writing #fanfic #Hyperdrive

4 notes · View notes

umnvatra · 4 years ago

Text

take me with you [zhongli]

fem! reader, fluff.

word count: 2.2k words

warning: contains spoilers of 1.1 story quest, "A New Star Approaches".

notes: wanted to post something before Zhongli's banner officially gets released in game! To my fellow travelers who are pulling for him, goodluck. Ad astra abyssosque. May the archons be with you. I haven't written in a long, long time so i apologize if the fic seems rushed or smth shdjdjsjdj

The winds on the harbor are as gentle as ever, brushing his hair lightly as he stood waiting. For some reason as always, he couldn't stop his heart from beating fast in his chest, anticipation eating away at him. It gave him the urge to pace back and forth, but he held himself back. It's been awhile since he's felt an emotion this strong before.

The feeling of awaiting someone's return.

Unconsciously, he held a hand up to his chest, where he could feel his own heart beating wildly. Calm, he thought to himself. Well, he supposes that it couldn't be helped. He missed you so, so much after all.

He knew he could not come with you on your adventures. As much as it pained him to part with you, he had a job at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and you had a quest to fulfill. However, on your time away from him, he could not stop feeling anxious, worried, and most of all, melancholic. Your presence was something that he got used to, to the point where going on everyday without you made him feel as if something was amiss with his day.

When the silhouette of The Crux appeared on the distance, he felt his heart beat faster and he finds that he couldn't stop himself from smiling. Finally...

Without thinking, he immediately steps down into the docks of the harbor, awaiting for the ship to set anchor in Liyue.

The sight of you and Paimon's floating figure appears on top of the ship, with Beidou following shortly after. He could see you waving at him enthusiastically from afar, making his smile widen more than it's supposed to. It's silly, of course. How Zhongli himself acted so differently around you.

When the ship drew nearer, it seemed that you couldn't contain your excitement anymore as you immediately climbed the sides of the ship and jumped, your glider spreading its wings as if they were your own. Zhongli couldn't help but chuckle at the surprised exclaim that came out of Beidou and Paimon at your actions, but it didn't seem like you cared. After all, you had your eyes on him. The pixie immediately followed after you dejectedly as the captain couldn't help but break into an exasperated smile.

He came closer to the edge of the dock, spreading his arms out. He already knew your habits. And if so, he knew that at this moment, you wanted him to...

"Catch me!" You shouted, before retracting your glider. As you fell towards him, Zhongli had already readied himself for impact only to catch you on his arms in time. He struggles to regain balance for a little only to have laughter erupt from you both, your arms automatically wrapping around his neck.

After a month, you have finally returned from Inazuma.

"You lovebirds sure missed each other that much, huh?" Beidou teased, stepping out as The Crux anchored. She looked highly amused at you and Zhongli as she made her way towards you both. Zhongli gave her an appreciative smile in return.

"Beidou. Allow me to express my gratitude for escorting [Name] back safely to Liyue," he says, to which the woman playfully rolls her eyes.

"Oh, don't sweat it. Besides, it was fun to bring [Name] aboard the Crux," she says, casting a grin towards you. "She is... a strong spirit. I gotta say, i'm impressed, Zhongli. The electro archon had lifted the Vision Hunt Decree because of [Name] over here."

At that, Zhongli's eyes strayed back towards your face, who now gave him a shy smile. A feeling of pride bloomed in his chest, and he couldn't help but smile warmly down at you. "Indeed, she is."

"Well! I'll be going to get dinner for myself then. I heard that Xiangling will be cooking in Wanmin today. See you two lovebirds," Beidou said. Paimon lets out a sound of dissatisfaction as she places a hand on her stomach.

"Uuuuugh. Paimon is hungry too. I could really really use some food right now," she says, looking towards you for approval. Zhongli sets you down on the ground as you dusted yourself off.

"Right. I'm hungry too," you say before casting a glance at Zhongli. For some reason, you felt shy around him right now. He looked handsome and elegant as ever, and you looked a little disheveled from your trip from Inazuma. Anywho, his beauty is still enough to make you flustered. "Zhongli? Do you want to come with us?"

"Let it be my treat," he says, making you and Paimon look at each other hesitantly. Before any of you can question him, he brings out a wallet that, surprisingly, had mora in them. "I bought mora with me this time."

"Just so you know, i don't have all day," Beidou calls out, catching all three of your attention. You and Paimon look at each other excitedly before nodding.

You intertwine your fingers with Zhongli's, giving it a squeeze. He looks at you then, and couldn't help but notice the new bandages and scratches that were on your body. You smelled like sea salt and the earthy tones of wood, but he did not mind. In his eyes, you still looked as beautiful as ever. Especially when you smile at him so lovingly like that.

"Let's go," you said softly, tugging his arm.

In order to celebrate, Xiangling overdid herself by whipping up a deliciously cooked Adeptus Temptation for you and Zhongli, and Tianshu Meat for Beidou. Paimon gets the to share with you and Zhongli much to her dismay, as she absolutely does not like how both of you dote on each other and feed each other occasionally. The four of you dine together, laughing and conversing with each other with Xiangling constantly popping up to join in on the conversations too. It was quite a strange sight to behold, having the captain of The Crux dine with the consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and the Traveler who aided in saving Liyue from Osial.

None of you cared though. Especially Zhongli, who was basking in the present, feeding you food and gazing at your face from time to time. Even with you here, his heart trembles with such longing.

When you're finished eating, Beidou ruffles your hair and laughs at the sight of your pout. "Unfortunately, i have to go and tend to some business now." She sighs. "Sport, take good care of yourself. And you too, parlor man. I'll see you two when i see ya," she says, clapping a hand on your shoulder. Both of you bid her goodbye and watch as she disappears amidst the throng of people in the harbor.

Zhongli takes your hand in his and smiles. "Should we go then, my dear? You look like you need some rest."

You flush at the nickname and nod, squeezing his hand again. Paimon sighs quietly behind you, a hand on her head. Oh bother, here you both go again.

And just like that, you all make it back to the guesthouse where Zhongli stayed in. As soon as the door closes behind him, he eyes each of the scars and fresh bandages on your form.

"...And that's Paimon's cue to leave," she says, looking unamused as she fades into trails of constellations. You let out a light laugh at her comment, making the tall gentleman near you relax visibly at the sound. Perhaps you should apologize to Paimon someday for making her the unintentional third wheel on your relationship.

"How was it?" Zhongli asks, clearly referring to Inazuma.

You squeezed his hand, excitement evident in your eyes as a large smile appeared on your face.

"You wouldn't believe it. Inazuma.. it was... crazy," you said.

He leads you towards the couch as you tell him animatedly about your adventures in Inazuma. Raiden, how her rule affected the people in Inazuma, the technology they had, and about a certain vagrant who turned out to be a Fatui harbinger. He carefully combs and unknots your messy hair with his own fingers, listening attentively to your stories. In his mind's eye, he could picture out your journey in trying, and surviving Inazuma. All the piece of history, the emotions of the shogun herself, and the power of the seemingly innocent Harbinger stood so clearly in his head. By the time you were recounting your battle with the fatui, your voice was already slightly hoarse from the amount of talking you've done.

Your adventures always sounded enjoyable and full of wonder to him. With your goal, you are slowly uncovering each and every mystery there was to find in Teyvat. Although you expressed some sadness about the gnosis of the electro archon, Zhongli kisses the crown of your head tenderly, his actions so genuine that it made you relax immediately.

"You've already done the best you could. I am sure the thought counts to Raiden," he says, drawing soothing circles on your palm. You turned towards him with a smile before suddenly enveloping him into a tight hug. He gets taken aback at first, but he slowly relaxes and hugs you back just as tight. He inhales your scent and holds you close, the emotions that he'd been holding off for so many weeks finally spilling over.

"I... missed you," he says into your hair, voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. You chuckle, the vibrations running through his chest and his stomach.

"I missed you too. You have no idea how much i.. couldn't stop thinking about you when i was in Inazuma," you said, your voice becoming low. "When i was trapped in there, i was afraid for a moment. I thought... i couldn't see you anymore. But then i repelled those thoughts away. I told myself that if i fought hard enough, i could see you again for sure."

He squeezes you. That was certainly a terrifying possibility. One that he only realized on his days apart from you. He almost berated himself from letting you go too easily. After all, he knew how dangerous Inazuma was.

But there was no need to worry anymore, as you returned to him safely. Alive. And healthy.

"I wouldn't want to imagine what would happen if you could not come out..." he confesses. At his words, you run your fingers through his hair in hopes of comforting him.

He wouldn't say that he'd let you go so easily again though.

"I would never let that happen. When i faced off with the harbinger, all i had to think about was my brother... and you," You said, making him break out into a smile again. Empowering. Your words always empowered him. No matter how simple.

"Where is your next destination?" He found himself asking, even though he already had an idea.

You break away from the hug, staring at his intense amber ones.

"I have to go to Sumeru next before the fatui can stir up problems again," you respond, your eyes set in determination. Zhongli nods his head in understanding. Of course the shogun directed you next to the Archon of Wisdom next. It was only natural.

"Then... could you take me with you?" He asks, voice almost sheepish. He looked expectant and openly searched your own reaction, but before you can even respond, he opens his mouth again and the words stumble out. "I find that without you here, i get rather... lonely. I feel that something is amiss— " he pauses, exhaling. Goodness, he wasn't good with expressing his emotions.

"...And i decided that i wanted to take on your journey with you. To fight alongside you, no matter what happens. I want to explore what Teyvat has to offer with you, even if it's dangerous, i- oof —"

He gets interrupted by you enveloping him into an incredibly tight hug that made him feel as if his bones were going to get crushed. Zhongli fidgets uncomfortably, not used to you hugging him this tight when you speak again.

"I thought you'd never ask," you murmur, smiling into his skin. For a long, long time, you'd been worried that you'd have to leave him always just to reach the rest of the regions. Of course you knew that being in a relationship while having a quest such as yours was going to be one full of hardship.

But everything is okay, especially when Zhongli carefully breaks the embrace and cups your face with his hands slowly.

He already made arrangements and talked with Hu Tao. She was willing enough to let him go of his position on the parlor. Leaving Liyue would possibly make him homesick, as he knows no other region like the back of his hand other than it, but he knew that he wanted to go with you no matter what, or where. And he was prepared to take on this journey with you.

It would be of no easy task. He knew an adventure could mean so many things. Joy, rage, curiosity, conflict...

And yet he wanted nothing more than to go with you. And possibly even come with you to your own world.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss that would mark his gratitude.

From the entirety of Teyvat, up until the stars.

#genshin impact #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #genshin impact fanfiction #i'm so so sorry for not making the reader gender neutral djdjdjdusjjskd my biggest fear is slipping up on the pronouns 😭😭#and for clarification some of the inazuma parts are made up by me #this is for my fellow zhongli simps out there #this will be my catalyst as well #goodluck to us 🤡

18 notes · View notes

katherinewilliams221b · 4 years ago

Text

For A Greater Good 8/18

gif not mine just the text

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7]

It was a busy night; full of nightmares and scares. Flavia Hodges didn’t sleep a wink all night, and consequently, neither did Kate. Around four o’clock in the morning, she fell into the bed next to the teacher’s, only to be woken up two hours later.

Cassandra Steiner shook the young healer’s shoulder until she opened her eyes. As if a rock were strapped to her chest, Kate slowly stood up and put her palm to one eye to get the sleep away.

“Have you spent the night here?” She only answered Cassandra with a nod and looked up to see that Professor Hodges was still sleeping.

“I couldn’t leave. She had nightmares all night, screaming, keeping us all awake. She said she didn’t want to teach anymore, she was quitting, and she’d tell the headmistress today.”

Cassandra tapped her fingers on her thigh. “Anything else?”

Kate looked down, “No.” Steiner nodded before leaving her side.

She decided not to comment that she thought Flavia was trying to pronounce Karkarov’s name, keeping the information for Astrid Rhode.

“I don’t want to give her more calming draught,” Kate began as she stood up, “I’m worried that...”

When she reached Flavia’s side, she removed some silver curls from in front of her ear and came over to inspect her neck. She pressed her eyes tightly, still struggling to keep them open, and looked again.

“Miss Steiner?” She said over her shoulder. Cassandra returned to her side with an almost exasperated look.

“Now what’s going on?”

“Look at this mark. It’s a bruise, but look closer.” Kate stepped aside to make room for her, and the mediwizard ducked to her level.

“It’s like a little hole. From a puncture...” Cassandra hummed, and after checking that she had no more marks, she got up to talk to Kate.

“Well, this is the ultimate proof: it was intentional and someone tried to kill her.”

“The foam coming out of her mouth didn’t convince you?” Steiner threw a fake smile at the comment, not too pleased with the sarcasm.

“You know what? Take the rest of the day off. And tomorrow, too. Come back on Monday.”

Of all the things Kate expected for her to say, that wasn’t one of them. Steiner kept talking but only heard that she was also giving another mediwizard a day off.

“If you leave now, you’ll get to breakfast before the kids.” With that, Cassandra turned around and set about ordering some untagged bottles.

Kate stood and watched Cassandra before slowly walking to the door. With one last look and a wrinkle between her eyebrows, she left the hospital wing and, without bothering to go through the dining room, decided to go straight up to her room.

She skipped lunch, too, having slept through the afternoon; she saw no daylight that Saturday because when she woke up, storm clouds were stalking the castle, leaving everything in darkness.

The respite Cassandra gave her, apart from being confusing and somewhat suspicious, also proved to be very convenient; Kate took advantage of that afternoon to recover her strength, which was rapidly beginning to run out.

She escaped to the kitchens without being seen, read the first of the stories in Corentin’s book, put her notes in order in her notebook, and was able to enjoy an afternoon without those bulky uniform skirts, sighing with relief when she could dress up in Charlie’s T-shirt and simple jeans.

She had also taken the opportunity to visit headmistress Rhode’s office, but she had left in a hurry to her class. She said that if she wanted to talk to her, she should go the next afternoon.

When her eyes got tired of reading in the dim light of her candle, she put her cape on the desk and placed the book and notebook right on top. With a quill, she traced part of the outline of the objects on the cloth and while looking at the parchment Corentin had written; she spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining herself with a needle.

The next day, rested but not quite composed, Kate evaluated her options. She put her uniform back on, and with her new pockets sewn into her cloak, she armed herself with her notebook and book and set off on her adventure.

After breakfast, she walked through the halls, stopping to ask where the herbology class was being held, and after several confusing and contradictory directions, she left the castle.

The storm that finally decided to fall the night before had left the skies clear and cold, and Kate was grateful for the magical properties of her uniform that kept her from freezing.

She stopped short when she realised where she had ended up around the corner. The outer corridor where Corentin showed her the mark of Grindelwald. Only this time, she appeared at the other end.

With her head tilted to her right, she looked for the number 82 plaque that indicated the herbology classroom. It didn’t take long to find it, and when she arrived, she turned to look around.

There were few people outside. From where she stood she could clearly see the column with the mark, the quidditch field in the distance, and part of one of the lakes surrounding the castle.

The door was open, and she ventured inside with a determined step.

She was not sure what she expected to find. It had a blackboard that occupied an entire wall, a desk with a pile of books on it, and student desks that were facing it.

She went over to the desk and started opening drawers. A quill and several scrolls were all she found.

Then she inspected the books, the same ones Flavia had dropped that fateful day. She opened the one on top of the pile.

She could not resist raising her eyebrows at the innocent, and in her opinion, boring contents. She remembered the lessons with Professor Sprout and how they spent the days with their hands buried in pots.

“Do they learn anything from this? It doesn’t even have enough drawings,” she said under her breath and immediately chuckled as he imagined Corentin excited by some good illustrations.

She closed the book and sighed thoughtfully. There was no indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

“Let’s see,” she began moving to the board. She raised one arm and pretended to write. “I am Flavia Hodges, professor of herbology. I’m in my boring class, with no... posters or pictures, with my boring books and my bored students.”

She walked over to the desk and picked up all the books and immediately put them back down.

“Okay, you were carrying them with magic, weren’t you? So you should have been concentrated and just thinking about that.” She said to no one.

With a gesture of the wand the books raised in the air and Kate took them to the door, she went out and she continued through the corridor recreating the steps that Flavia must have done.

“There’s no one now, but at the time, I was walking among a wave of students and teachers who come from here to there.”

She looked at the column and switched the books to the side to see it better and went on her way.

“So I keep walking with my books, where am I going? To the library?”

She reached the end of the corridor and saw the stairs leading up to the castle where she and Corentin went.

“I go up those stairs and immediately collapse.” She turned to see the long road she had travelled. “And something happened between the classroom and the stairs. But what?”

She turned again, but she crashed against a firm body. Distracted, all the books fell to the floor.

“Hey! Where are you going in such a hurry?” Kent Jorgensen was standing in front of her with smiling eyes. “Were you going to return the books to Corentin?”

Kate made all the books back into an orderly pile as she thought about how to answer.

“Yes. Yes, exactly.” Jorgensen nodded.

“It’s very kind of you to help Flavia with everything that’s happening to her. Cassandra told me that you took the day off today and since I found you, perhaps you would like to join me,” he nodded towards the quidditch field.

“Today is game day, quite an experience.”

“Better not. I must take these books and... I don’t want to leave Professor Hodges alone. I know it’s my day off, but...”

“Nonsense. You deserve a break, and Cassandra can handle herself. So do these books.” He shook his wand and the mountain of copies rose in the air and made their way to the stairs; the door opened, and they disappeared inside the castle.

“Come on, you’ll have fun.” He said as he started to walk.

Kate sighed and followed in his footsteps, thinking that attending one, and only one, of the games would be enough to fulfil the promise she had made to Charlie and thus answer any questions he might have.

They walked together in silence, only accompanied by the sounds of screams and laughter that became more and more audible.

“No wonder there’s no one in the castle, everyone’s here.” Kate said as she arrived at the field.

“Oh, yes, we take it very seriously. First-year students are training now, but then the real game starts.”

A man with deep brown skin and the roundest eyes Kate’s ever seen, was in the middle of the field and when they were spotted, he raised his hand to greet them in their direction with a big smile.

Jorgensen reciprocated both the greeting and the joyous expression.

“That’s Sheyi Mawut, the coach, the best one!” He corrected, “He played for the Tchamba Charmers, do you know the team?”

“Yes, my b... yes, I’ve heard about them.” She cut the sentence before she could mention Charlie, and luckily the teacher was so engrossed in watching the man that he ignored it completely.

“Why don’t you find a seat, I’ll say hi to Sheyi.” Jorgensen said without looking at her, and started off on his way to center field.

Kate watched as the two chatted animatedly, patting each other on the back and laughing together.

While climbing the stairs she dodged several boys and girls until she finally found a free place in the last row.

It was hard to think that the calm and wise looking Professor Jorgensen would have behaved so irrationally; accusing Libor Marek of stealing his ingredients. If it was true, Kate didn’t know.

At all times, she had to be reminded that everyone, including her, played a part in the plot she was in and no one was who they said they were.

She was about to close the book after reading the last word, when she heard a voice beside her.

Taking advantage of the sun and the wait, Kate reached into her cape and pulled out the Tales of Beedle the Bard, opening it for the second story: The Fountain of Good Fortune.

“Excuse me, you’re the healer who treated Professor Hodges, right?”

Kate looked up and found a blonde girl whose face was familiar. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“My name is Vic. You asked me for help when she was poisoned...”

“Yes, it’s true. Can I help you? Are you all right?” Vic shook her hands and her head.

“It’s not that, it’s just...” She sat down next to her and kept whispering, “I thought I should tell you that Professor Hodges didn’t accidentally fall down the stairs.”

Kate slammed the book shut and leaned over. “She didn’t?”

“I didn’t see it, but my best friend told me she saw the main staircase turn into a slide and then disappear.” She paused before adding, “In other circumstances I would have thought it was silly, but...”

“I understand. Thanks for telling me.”

“I really don’t understand. Why would anyone want to hurt Hodges? The only enemies she can have are her 15 students... if you can call them enemies…”

“Only fifteen?” Kate asked in surprise.

“Yes, herbology is only taught in the first year. Then it is an elective, but generally no one is interested. Popular lessons are Dark arts; with Rhode, advanced duelling and potions.”

“Yes, I know that...”

More and more people gathered in the seats in the stands as the centre of the camp was cleared. Coach Mawut, in his black and gold robes, flew in surfing style, picking up the quaffles that had been in use.

“The game is about to begin; The Screeching Eagles vs. the White Manticores, it will be exciting! No one has a chance in winter against the Manticores. By the way, I went to return Professor Hodges’ glasses.”

“I know. I saw them, thank you.” With a smile, Kate and Vic said their goodbyes and watched her go down the stairs looking for a seat next to her friends.

At that moment, Kent Jorgensen returned to her side.

“What a character Sheyi is,” he said with a mischievous smile, “every time I try to watch them practise the reverse pass, they just happen to be over.” He shook his head, still smiling, and didn’t notice Kate slipping the book under her cloak.

In a burst of courage, she thought perhaps she could test the waters with Jorgensen.

“I have been informed that Flavia did not stumble on the stairs.”

The professor kept looking at the field. He didn’t even change his expression. Though uneasy, his mind was under control.

“Glisseo.” He simply commented, “It’s a spell to turn stairs into ramps. I was there, a small group of students were laughing, I imagine it was a joke gone wrong.”

Kate made no further comment on this and consequently, neither did he.

Sheyi Mawut stood in the centre of the field and introduced the teams, who shot out boasting of their manoeuvres in the air.

Kate calculated that the time she could stand watching a game without Charlie playing was thirty minutes. However, she had to watch the seventh graders circle in front of her for another hour and a half.

The most interesting moment occurred toward the end of the game, where the commentator announced that The White Manticore seeker had gone out in search of the snitch behind the mountains.

She smirked as she understood the all-white uniform of the Manticores and that when they rose higher than their opponents; it was difficult to keep track of them with the characteristic snowy peaks of the area in the background.

Kate sighed with relief when the phrase 250 to 210. The White Manticores win! End of the game. Echoed around.

It took a long time to descend from the stands; the crowd was walking in its own good time and as they waited, Kate took time to admire the views.

She watched from afar as the coach congratulated the champions and spoke animatedly to any student who approached.

He chatted with a boy, and immediately they both climbed on their broomsticks. Kate looked at the ground to avoid tripping as she went down and missed how the boy went upside down in the air.

Once downstairs, she said goodbye to Jorgensen, but before she could make her way back to the castle, a cry caught his attention.

The boy practicing with Mawut was writhing in pain on the floor, his broom was on the floor and Sheyi kneeled by his side.

Kate shot out in his direction and knelt down beside him.

“He fell on his arm.” Mawut’s tone was calm and comforting. Kate raised the boy’s arm, and he hissed when she gently twisted it.

“It’s just crooked. Luckily it wasn’t very high.”

“How do you know it’s not broken?” asked the boy in a shy voice.

“Because if it was, when I turned it you would have tried to break your broom over my head.” The boy giggled at the comment, and Mawut and Kate exchanged a smile.

“I’ll bandage it now, but we must go to the hospital wing and get you something for the swelling.” After some bandages appeared in the air and were tied to his arm, Kate looked at him and asked him to stand up when she noticed a purplish shadow next to his eye.

“How did this happen?” He turned his head violently and covered the side of his face.

Mawut and Kate grabbed him by the armpits to help him up.

“Micael! Come here right now!” All three looked up and the boy’s panicked face didn’t go unnoticed.

Leron Angelov dashed towards them and wrestled with Kate to get Michael out of her grasp.

“What have I told you...?” He angry-whispered. Angelov grabbed him by the ear and pulled him to himself.

“Release him right now, please.” Kate’s tone was sharp and definitive. Angelov ignored her and pushed his son to walk in front of him. Kate chased them across the lawn.

“He must go to the infirmary at once! Professor Angelov!”

Leron turned so violently that Kate’s first reflex was to squeeze her wand and aim it at him without lifting her wrist from her hip.

“You decide nothing. Mind your own business.” He marched behind his son and they grew smaller as they walked away towards the castle.

A reassuring hand rested on her shoulder and tapped several times. Mawut smiled empathetically and set about collecting the brooms that had been left behind.

After forcing herself to eat a sandwich at lunchtime, Kate tried to talk to Rhode again.

So far, everything seemed normal; the students were agitated about the exams that were just around the corner, but not about any intruder or unwelcome presence.

And the teachers... she couldn’t say anything about it. The truth was that she had had too little contact with them to draw any conclusions. She wasn’t sure that their being calm was a good sign.

“We need to talk.” Rhode announced from her chair when she saw Kate come in.

“I agree...”

“Me first, if you don’t mind.” She shifted in his seat and put her arms over the desk while Kate sat on the other side. She handed her a scroll to look at.

“This is the resignation of Flavia Hodges. She signed it a few hours ago and I’ve already stamped it.”

Kate looked at the document and then at Astrid, waiting for the next sentence.

“In view of the murder attempts she’s been suffering, I think this is the best option.”

“I think she meant to tell me it was Igor Karkarov.” She left the scroll on the table and waited for the headmistress’ reaction.

“Karkarov?” Her eyebrows immediately raised, and she interlocked her fingers in front of her.

Kate shrugged and shook her head. “I suggest increasing the security of the castle. Someone called the British Ministry for him, probably Hodges.”

“She would have warned me...” she thought for a few seconds and with a sharp inhalation continued, “Besides, that Ministry employee came before the attacks on Flavia began.”

“But what if he’s here? I mean, Karkarov arrives, someone sees him and warns the Ministry to come and get him, but he can’t find him and the man is still in the castle.”

Rhode opened one of her drawers and pulled out a blank parchment sheet.

“I’m going to write to Albus. I refuse bringing any more people from the Ministry into my school. Hodges will be transferred in a week or two, after which we’ll put guards on it if necessary.”

“I don’t think it’s right to leave Hodges alone if someone wants to kill her...”

“Until the time of her departure, she will be accompanied at all times. Now, I must wait for Dumbledore’s advice and in that time find a new herbology professor. If possible, by tomorrow.”

Kate sighed and got up from her seat. Understanding that the director could not give her any advice on how to proceed, or act on Voldemort’s alleged mole, she went to the door to let her work.

She was about to turn the knob when an idea was planted in her brain. And it took root. It would be hard to get rid of that plan.

Too irrational. Too risky.

But maybe...

Kate turned around and asked,

“Why does Flavia Hodges have her students’ textbooks?” Astrid looked at her curiously.

“All subjects have copies of the books for those students who don’t want or can’t afford them. Usually only students from wealthier families buy them.”

Kate hummed and slid back into the chair. “I need to get closer to the teachers and... you can say no, but...”

“What do you propose?”

“To be the new Herbology teacher.”

[Part 9]

A/N It just occurred to me that if you want to be tagged I can start a tag list, just say it and it’s done <3

#charlie weasley #charlie x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley x ofc #charlie weasley x mc #hphm #hphm fanfiction #durmstrang series #mc #charlie weasley fanfiction #kate williams #durmstrang #charlieweasley #for a greater good series

28 notes · View notes

matrixaffiliate · 4 years ago

Text

Bourne

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

Chapter 15

Ginny thought she'd done rather well the last few days at avoiding Mr. Potter. Her heart had proven itself untrustworthy that night at the willow trees. And if she wasn't watchful, her mind would go back to the feeling of his body brushing against hers, his closeness as he leant into her, his fingers nearly intertwining around her own, the way it had all set her afire.

But she wouldn't allow her foolish heart to trap her in a lonely life. No, there would be other options, especially while she stayed with Ron and her future sister-in-law. Ginny would just have to hold her heart in check until she had chance to meet other gentlemen in Godric's Hollow. While the Potter's were certainly nothing like the Dursley's, Ginny knew a man who had traveled as much as Mr. Potter wouldn't be happy staying close to home.

A voice in her head suggested that maybe, if Mr. Potter was willing to throw the social norms to the wind for her brother, perhaps he wouldn't be opposed to letting a wife come along on his adventures. But Ginny knew better than to believe those wild notions. There were plenty of gentlemen that would lift their brothers, but they turned a blind eye to the plight of the women in their lives. Ginny knew better than to hope for anyone to bring her closer to her dreams.

But even with all her resolve, Ginny still found herself returning with Adair to where she had felt the closest to Mr. Potter, to the grove of weeping willow trees.

They were captivating, and something about the way their branches grew up, out, and then down was fascinating. She walked up to the same tree that Mr. Potter had led her to her first evening at Potter Manor and ran her hands across the hanging branches like the strings of a harp, imagining the music that would play if they were.

"Good afternoon, Miss Weasley."

Ginny spun to find Mr. Potter and his valet approaching.

"Mr. Potter," she curtsied and tried to hold on to her resolve to avoid him. But his smile and the intensity of his stare was pinning her to the ground beneath her and she couldn't have moved if her life depended upon the action.

He closed the distance between them and a part of Ginny's mind tried to find the words to excuse herself, but the part of her that wanted this, wanted Mr. Potter, simply dismissed it all and kept her rooted to her spot by the tree.

"I trust you're enjoying your stay?"

"Yes, thank you." Ginny finally managed to force her eyes down and she gained some of her resolve back. "I suppose I ought to return to the house."

He held out his arm to her, "May I accompany you?"

Ginny braced herself and took his arm, trying to cling to her resolve not to be swayed by her natural attraction to Mr. Potter.

It did her no good. The moment she touched his arm her mind was brought back to the moments of intimacy from the previous night, both at the willows and at her door. And as her feelings on the matter rushed her in a whirlwind, she felt all logical thinking being caught up and thrown away from her present mind despite her best efforts to hold on for the sake of her future.

"Miss Weasley," Mr. Potter began to lead her back to his home, "You mentioned your interest in seeing the trifles I've brought back from Europe. I'd like very much to show them to you if your previous sentiments on the matter have not changed."

Ginny thought that if perhaps she could let go of his arm then maybe she could refuse him, or more precisely refuse herself. But with him so close, and her feelings flinging all sensical thought far from her mind, Ginny found herself wanting the contact, the time, the conversation, and most dangerously of all, him.

"I suppose I could spare a few moments," Ginny kept her eyes fixed on the grounds around them, mostly to assure herself she wasn't completely giving in to his spell.

"Would you have those few moments presently?"

Ginny bit her lip and nodded, forcing herself to keep her eyes away from his. "Yes, I would."

"Splendid," Mr. Potter sounded pleased, and perhaps a bit relieved, which only confirmed to Ginny that he was indeed hoping to court her. That confirmation only served to heighten her anxiety on the matter. She knew the importance of not encouraging his interest, but she was unable to do anything more than remind herself of it, for her interest in him would allow no other action but to follow Mr. Potter.

They walked in silence through the grounds and the house to a room on the ground level in the East wing.

"This is where my family keeps the trinkets we bring back, at least the ones that can't be planted or worn."

Ginny followed him into the room and looked with wide eyes at the treasures around her, sharing an astonished glance with Adair. Trinkets would be the last word she would use to describe what was kept in this expansive room. Statues made of beautiful green stone, marble, and blown glass. Wooden carvings ranging from gondolas to elephants. Paintings of Mr. Potter's grandfather, his father, and himself, garbed in the costumes of far-off countries. And so many other items Ginny couldn't have named if she tried.

"Which of all these are yours?"

Mr. Potter led her to one side of the room with tables covered in items small and large, aligned in rows, "This area hosts most of my finds."

"What is this?" She picked up one of two curious wooden disks that seemed to be a pair.

"They're from Spain, they make a clapping noise when you press them together." He picked up the second one and demonstrated for her.

Ginny smiled at the sound. "What are they used for?"

"The women dance and they hold these in their hands adding to the music with them."

"That must be a sight to behold." Ginny made the clapping noise and smiled.

"It was quite impressive," then he chuckled, "Though I must say not quite as captivating as yourself."

"Are you quizzing me, Mr. Potter?" Ginny set the little clapper down where it had been.

"Not at all Miss Weasley," He took her arm, "The comment was not made in jest."

Ginny didn't intend to look up at him. She had intended to keep her eyes on anything but him. But something about the way he spoke to her, the comforting, secure tone of his voice, it pulled her neck up to look at him as softly as if it had been his own hand to slide his fingers along the curve of her neck and under her chin to guide her eyes to his.

"Thank you."

He stared down at her, his face suddenly going unsure as he continued to look down at her, a small smile on his face.

"Was," her voice came out a breathless whisper and she cleared her throat, "Was there more you wanted to show me?"

Mr. Potter nodded but he didn't turn back to the table, instead, he shifted his arm dropping hers so that his hand could slide the length of her lower arm and hold her fingers in his.

Ginny felt her breathing grow labored and she couldn't manage to pull away from him.

"Miss Weasley," he stepped closer and Ginny realized that the dark had made this experience the first time less potent, for this time Ginny wondered if she might faint from her inability to draw a full breath.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Ginny could barely hear her own voice.

"Harry dear?"

Ginny pulled back with a gasp just as Mrs. Potter came walking in.

"Ah," she smiled brightly at Ginny, "I didn't mean to interrupt your tour of our family's collection. I'll only be a moment." She turned to Harry, "I just wanted to let you know that Miss Granger and her parents have agreed to join us for dinner tonight. I thought you'd be pleased."

"Thank you, Mother," Mr. Potter nodded, "I'm looking forward to it."

Mrs. Potter smiled, "Yes, well, I'll leave you to it then." She nodded to Ginny before walking out the door, leaving them alone with Adair and Harry's man.

And as Ginny looked at Harry, she knew she was not going to be able to pull away anymore. Her heart had won, but at the expense of all her dreams and most probably her future happiness as well.

#Bourne #harry x ginny #regency au #regency england au #harry potter x ginny weasley #harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #hinny fluff #references to jane austen #romance #fluff #period romance #muggle au #harry potter au #harry potter fanfiction

7 notes · View notes

windup-dragoon · 5 years ago

Text

【Ｅｃｈｏｅｄ　Ｍｅｍｏｒｉｅｓ】

Hien x Kiri

Word count: 2596

Previous: Shattered Memories

“𝘚𝘩𝘩…” 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘏𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧. “𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦… 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩. 𝘐𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵?”

Mismatched eyes fluttered open, the memory on repeat beneath closed lids beginning to drive her into madness. It was the tone of his voice, the weakness and helplessness of it that brought her around at last, back to the realm of consciousness. The imagery left behind, blood in the wet sand, the light in his eyes fading beneath heavy lashes; a tainted nightmare.

But the Ruby Sea was no longer the scenery she would awaken to. Nor was Hien cradled in her arms asking for one last look at her. Instead it was familiar Doman interior that greeted her, washed in warm golds and rosy red hues. Sunrise or sunset. She couldn’t be sure which, this room had been different than the borrowed room Hien had given her during her stay. Not that she spent much time there these days.

The thought of Hien, the memory still fresh in her mind, brought urgency to her still exhausted body. Every muscle ached and sang with pain, every movement to rise from her futon a new protest that nearly drove her to tears. But she couldn’t simply lie here and do nothing. Know nothing. Was Hien here in Doma with her? Had he been left on the beaches at the Ruby Sea? With each thought rising to the surface, bubbles from the depths of the ocean of her mind, her heart struck hollow beneath her breast. All the what if’s left unanswered made her stomach ill.

“Lie back down.” A voice thundered at the entrance to the small room.

Kiri, who had somehow managed at the very least an upright position with a terrible knot of pain twisting at her side, arched a brow at her unseen guest. “Yer a creep, outside waitin’ for me to wake.” She spat between gritted teeth. Not quite angry at the male outside her doorway but at herself. The pain was beginning to make her head swim, the light pouring in through the window across the room little more than a blur of color beneath a layer of tears.

“Or perhaps I know you well enough to know I cannot leave you unattended. Your own guts would spill at your feet before you even chanced the thought to rest.” The door at last slid open and revealed to Kiri her Scion companion, Isho. His perpetually annoyed features looked severe today, his gemstone eyes cold despite her lack of proper vision. He was quiet as he closed the door behind himself and strode into the room.

The dragoon brought her eyes down to her shaking hands and frowned. “Always wondered what my insides looked like, y’know?” It wasn’t for the pain that she trembled beneath her covers. The dagger like sensation in her chest, just shy of piercing a lung, had nothing to do with the frightened rabbit beat of her heart. Kiri clutched at her blanket and fought against the nagging thoughts dwelling in her mind.

Isho stood in silence, watching his friend. “Well?”

“What?” Kiri practically snarled although it did little to intimidate the Raen.

He folded his arms across the expanse of his chest.

“The fact you haven’t mentioned anythin’ ‘bout him says a lot, y’know.” There was a quiver to her voice. She felt it on her lips, felt the way it tightened her throat just thinking of him. Briefly, Kiri found herself wondering what sort of funeral they would hold for Hien. The last of the Rijin clan and lord of Doma...

“Ye of little faith.” Isho snorted. “He is hale and hearty.”

Where once ice ran through her veins, stilling her heart and slowing her breathing, warmth began to blossom anew at her companions words. Her heart felt as if it were soaring on the wing beats of butterflies as she lifted her gaze once more to Isho.

“Doubt my abilities again,” Isho drawled as he sat beside her, “And next time I will not provide succor in your hour of need.”

Despite the wave of relief that washed over her, a part did not deny wanting to strangle Isho for drawing out the conversation as he had. He was one of the first of her companions to know of her relationship with Hien, albeit it did not exactly take a scientist to see it. Instead, he had waited for her to ask about him herself, curious to see how she would react. Had he not seen she was miserable with guilt and sick with worry?

“Isho, you bloody c-”

“Those women, Kirishimi.” He interrupted, voice level and cool as always. It drew Kiri out of her mixed feelings of joy and anger, back to reality. “Who were they?”

She had all but forgotten the duo who had been the cause of all this unnecessary drama. The roegadyn woman with a cleaver for an axe that nearly split her lance in two, and the mage with an abundance of magical spells under her belt. Kiri let her head tilt to the side, silver hair falling across one cheek as she tried to conjure their shared conversations out on the beaches of the Ruby Sea. She could remember the sting of rain in her eyes and the splash of salt water in her open wounds, but the words the Roegadynian woman spat all muddled together now that the excitement had passed.

Isho, keen on Kirishimi’s own confusion, sighed. “They knew you. No one ever recognizes you as the Warrior of Light.” It sounded like an insult to Kiri but Isho was not wrong. One look at her and people sloughed her off as a common adventurer out for thrills.

While Kiri’s brow furrowed, she spared Isho a curious glance. “They did ask for me, didn’t they? The pirates passed that missive on ta’ ya’, remember?” Although true, Kiri couldn’t help but to feel Isho was still onto something. The insults the Roe had slung at her as they fought, the way her red eyes bore into her with the fierceness of a heated blade...

“Who did you piss off?”

“Hells if I know.” Kiri attempted a shrug but found the action painful and winced. Again she squeezed shut her eyes, not against the ache but to better recall the memory of the women. Lani and Edea. “... She knew my name. A-And said somethin’ ‘bout wantin’ my end?”

Isho’s face scrunched.

“Not my arse! Clearly she wanted me dead by her hand, no one fights like that without intention ta’ kill.” The dragoon pulled her hand down her face before letting her mind drift back to the memories. If only the Echo worked on herself, this would have been easier to remember. Yet the more she persisted, the more her mind gave way. Lani’s voice began to fill every part of her memory; the roar she cried out and the snarl that left the thunderstorm sounding like a mewling kitten.

“I know all about you! Kirishimi Yasuragi, a famed Warrior of Light! You won the hearts of those in Eorzea, even Ishgard and their silly lil’ dragons! Now a champion of Doma as well, from what I hear. Greedy lil’ shite, aren’t’cha?”

“What do you want?!”

“I want yer end. Yer story should have ended that day.”

Kiri withdrew from her thoughts with ice in her veins.

“I’m not sure this is allowed in Doman custom, Kirishimi.” Isho blurted out as the two of them filled the hallway leading to Hien’s chambers. It had taken the better half of the day and all throughout lunch to convince the raen that she was well enough to see Hien. But it was evident in the scowl across Isho’s features that he didn’t believe any of it; especially when he was left carrying her instead of letting her limp herself down the corridor.

“Which part? A couple o’ Scions kickin’ down a Doman Lord’s bedchamber door or us waltzin’ ‘round the kienkan without stated permission?” Kiri practically sang with laughter, or as much humor as one could muster with a broken rib and other injuries.

“Both.” Isho replied with a snort, clearly less amused than his companion. His features only darkened as Kiri reached up to pinch his cheek. “Stop.”

Outside the chamber door the two stopped. The Dragoon in his arms reached out with all her might to the last barrier that kept her from Hien but Isho reeled her back.

“Typically I would not feel the need to state as much but do try to behave yourself. Should his injury develop complications or stitches come undone, it will only sully my name.”

“What’re ya’ accusing me of here?” Kiri shot the man a miscolored glare of red and blue, her cheeks blossoming with abrupt warmth.

Without giving an answer Isho adjusted the dragoon in his arms, allowing himself enough movement to slide open the door at last.

Inside was dark, curtains drawn over the windows to repel the afternoon light, the only source of faint light being a couple candles set upon a nightstand alongside a metal washing basin. No doubt to keep the injury clean and free from infection.

Although Kiri knew the layout to his chambers better than her own apartment in Shirogane, from this angle it felt foreign. She felt a shyness overcome her, perhaps a bit of guilt for disturbing him when Hien needed rest. Even with aide of the candles, flickering as they were in the thick shadows, she could scarcely spy his figure occupying the large bed. The bed they often shared in secrecy, though it was of little secret to anyone really.

If not for the rustle of fabric and a stirring, Kiri would have assumed Hien to be asleep. But at their unannounced entry, the young lord rallied himself and sat upright against his pillows. Even in the lingering darkness, Kiri could see his movements were strained and weary. She swallowed as her throat grew tight.

“Lie down.” Isho commanded without a care of the social standing his patient carried.

Hien chuckled. “Aloof as ever, I see. I hope to one day see you smile rather than scowl at me. Now then, to what do I owe this visit?”

“Receiving life threatening injuries does little to improve your chances,” The raen remarked flatly while he strode further into the room. “I come delivering a gift. If you rather not accept it, I shall see to it that it is cast into the river at once.”

As they moved closer, Kiri could see the dark bags beneath Hien’s eyes and the tired smile painted on his pale lips. He must have been sleeping before they barged in; she could see it in the way he tilted his head to Isho, half curious and only half awake. But when they came into the light at the side of his bed, Hien wheezed, a mixture of a surprised chuckle and slight discomfort.

“Kirishimi!” The prince immediately cast aside his blankets, making as if to stand before Isho shot him a glare that froze him solid.

Hien was shirtless beneath the covers, only bandages secured tightly around his middle and around his left shoulder. The thickest layering of wrapping just along his abdomen. The stab wound itself, no doubt, hidden just beneath the fabrics. But despite her staring, Hien only shook his head and adjusted himself to open up a spot for Kirishimi to lie beside him.

“The kami be praised,” Hien breathed with boundless relief evident in his voice, watching as Isho lowered the dragoon unto the bed with caution. “You’ve awaken at last. I was beginning to worry...”

“Your concern is wasted on her.” Commented Isho offhandedly. Neither paid him no mind.

Kiri felt her stomach sink at Hien’s words. He had been worried about her? Did he fear she would leave behind a body and return to the First as the other Scions had? A repeat of Ghimlyt.

Once Isho had settled her beside the recovering prince, Hien wasted little time pulling her against himself. His arms drew around her middle, careful to avoid causing her pain.

In return she embraced him, her cheek coming to rest against his shoulder. “I thought you’d be gone if I woke up...”

Hien hummed with a soft chuckle while brushing his fingers through her silver locks and down her back. “You haven’t seen the last of me, I promise. If anything, I simply received a new scar for you to admire.” He teased, pressing a light kiss to her head.

Isho groaned, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. “Bah. Do not come to me with more scars. Either of you.” With that as his parting words, the tall raen took his leave of the lovers, minding to close the door on his way out.

When at last they were alone, Hien sighed. “I am afraid he doesn’t much care for me.”

Kiri attempted a chuckle. “That’s just how he shows affection. Trust me.”

“Is that so? He certainly had some choice words to say when you had yet to come around.”

Her lips curved at the thought. Isho storming around the Kienkan, cursing her name to the Twelve and any other gods that were eavesdropping. But that was how it always was with Isho. Even to Az’hala who had once cried when he thought the Au Ra was truly regretting the decision to allow his company. He may have been as cold as a statue but he truly did care, in his own ways. It warmed Kiri’s worried heart to hear Isho had shown this side of himself to Hien. He no longer saw Hien as just another political figure but perhaps as just another member of their tiny little squad of misfits. Their shared family.

Kiri buried her face against the slope of Hien’s neck, despite the protest of her aches and pains, breathing in the familiar scent of him that she once believed she would forget in the coming years without him.

“I’m sorry ya’ had to get involved,” Murmured Kiri after a moment of silence while the two embraced one another.

“Truly?” Shock filled Hien’s voice, raising a brow while he pulled her away to better see her features. She too must have looked as exhausted as he, his eyes lingering on scratches and cuts that littered her face. “If I had not arrived when I did, you’d be clean in two. That womans strength could have sliced a boulder as if vegetables for dinner. Kiri, it wasn’t your fault.”

Slowly, even as she looked away from his pale green eyes, he brought his thumb across her lip, cupping her chin and lifting her to meet his gaze once more. He wore a smile for her, tired as he was, a smile filled with warmth and tenderness.

“Those women were after me, Hien. Doma nearly lost you ‘cause of me.”

“I nearly lost you.” His words, while soft, still held conviction. “Again, mind you. How many times will I suffer losing you?” Without another word Hien brought his forehead to hers, his eyes closed as if willing her to understand his own pain. “You have my word; as long as you’ll have me, I will fight at your side.”

“... I love you, Hien. Thank you.”

---

“𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩. 𝘞𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥.”

#|| Untold Stories #|| Tiger Prince & the Stray #Hien x wol #Hien x Kiri #Hien Rijin #FFXIV writing #oh hey more word vomit #my favorite #:3c #if you haven't read Shattered Memories I suggest doing so #as it leads into this

31 notes · View notes

lunarending · 4 years ago

Photo

Crescent Flare? *name undecided* just went through some shit and cut their hair so I had to draw them after listening to this song which will kill you if you know their backstory.

Their story starts in the middle of another story, one of their mother(s) and father. Their first mother, Tara, is a werewolf who died sacrificing herself for her friends and then had her memory wiped by the demon lord that is their father, Lorezoth. In doing so Tara descended to the Abyss become a demon as well. In the regular world her other mother, Ember the Phoenix, fought with her companions to get Tara back. Before they could do so, Tara had become pregnant with Lorezoth’s children. In an attack from a feuding demon, she was nearly killed and only one of her children survived. She look for a way to bring them back and found a way through the ashes of a phoenix. Despite not remembering her lover, Ember, she sought her out and was surprised to find her extremely willing to help. She pleaded with Tara to stay, but Tara was no more. She had been given a new name, Luna, and was a new person in her memories.

They two parted ways as Ember continued to chase, but Luna was set on her demonic life. Her two unborn children were returned to life, but also infused with the energy of the phoenix. She named her first that never died Neva, as a traditional werewolf name. The next was Crescent, named after her new life as a demon and given some bits of phoenix spark. And the last, who inherited the most of the ashes, was named Ash as a way to pay at least some respect to Ember. Soon after, she regained the memories of her family and her friends, and "Tara" was back. When her old friends came to the Abyss, she made the decision to kill Lorezoth and claim his demonic throne so no other could use its power.

A few years later and the team of friends settled down to raise their children and even have a few more. Tara would go back and forth between the Abyss and their home, bringing her children with her. Ash was mostly free to be what ever they wanted and had the power to do so, even deciding on being a girl rather early in her life. Neva resented being forced to move around so much and was rather adventurous and rebellious though still accepted picking up some skills from Tara. Crescent however didn’t know really what she wanted, she had magical potential in the phoenix, though she never could use it. Tara taught her to care for others and told her of powers that she could inherit from the demonic side, even asking how much she would be willing to give up for her family.

Once the three were grown up, Neva began to want to go her own way, and being rather sheltered, most of the other descendants followed. The next day everything went wrong. They ran into trouble at a festival and rushed home to tell their parents who could easily fix the problems. What they found was and empty castle with Entris, Ember’s wife, now a statue and Ember reduced to an egg, waiting to be reborn.

Lorezoth had other children.

Darius sought revenge for Tara killing his parents. The descendants knew where a cure for petrification could be found, but on the way Darius’ assassins killed Neva. Crescent was ready for this moment, she felt the bonds that tied her to her sister pull and let her arm turn to stone in exchange for a second chance for Neva. A moment later, Ash was struck through the chest with a bolt, and Crescent once again was pulled on by her bonds, this time letting her eye turn to stone as well.

As their journey continued, she expanded her bonds to the other half siblings. Something not everyone was comfortable with, but accepted that an eye lost is better than a life. When they found the plants that would cure their other mother, Darius was already there surrounded by assassins. After moments of fighting, flaming wings brightened the forest as Ember arrived. She made a deal with Darius, who leveraged her young toddler. But upon taking them, the creature that was leading the assassins did something. Something that absorbed Ember and all of her power. The descendants fought back, but were no match. Before any could truly die, Tara, from wherever she was, revealed she had the same power as Crescent saving two of their lives.

In escaping, the descendants sought a dangerous path that could lead them to a cure. Things went smoothly, but Jin, her half brother, was called by his goddess to hunt down the monsters in the caves. In accepting, he laid down his life to slay the beasts, but instead Crescent choose blindness rather than to lose him. And so, she continued the journey, one working arm and eyes of stone.

Now, after months of learning to live without sight, she met an old friend. A sister of Darius, Verrick, who sought to help them. Crescent was excited to have a new friend in the journey, that is until Verrick casually mentioned Tara’s “grooming.” Unphased by the subject matter she explained how everyone knew Tara was "grooming” the three of them to be demonic regents and replace the others. That these powers are something a demon is meant to learn, not inherit. In shock, Crescent grappled with their identity after having wanted to be like Tara their whole life. They cut their hair, tried to find a new name, and argued with her whole family as she attempts to put aside their old identity.

That was my attempt at wrapping up 2 years of D&D, so there is a LOT missing, especially the other 5 characters. Hope it was easy enough to follow lol

#crescent?#the other 3 trans characters kept their gender neutral names #idk they're still figuring it out #dnd #dungeons and dragons #art

3 notes · View notes

bounty-of-apples · 5 years ago

Text

Save Our Souls, They're All The Worth We Have Left

Relationships: Tomomi/Canach

Characters: Luna, Ashal, Tomomi, Canach

Tags: Minor Character Death (mentioned)

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149831

Summery: At the afterparty of Tomomi and Canach renewing their vows to celebrate 5 years of marriage, Luna gets rather drunk and starts telling stories about her and her brother's adventures.

“He must have been… Well, not much past being a sapling and I remember,” Luna giggles into her drink, her attempts to take a sip disrupted by her laughing, “I found him scrambled up a tree chucking water down at a very unimpressed Stalker who was clawing at the bottom, like a human flicking water at their misbehaving house cat!” She tilts sideways to lean on Ashal as she cracks herself up again, missing and nearly falling off the seat she’s perched crosslegged on – only the quick reactions of her twin saving her from face-planting the floor.

“Alright Luna, that’s probably enough alcohol and embarrassing stories for now.” Tomomi takes her drink from her and steps back as she tries to grab it from him, once more only saved from falling by Ashal’s hug pulling her back. “You’ve drunk enough for three Norns and I think you’ve given my squad plenty material to use against me for one night.”

She slumps back into her seat and pulls a face so childish, one his squad did not expect from her. It looks out of place on their Commander, most of them have only met her a handful of times, and its always been before, during, or after battle when she is high authority.

“Fine…” She drags the word out and sounds as if she’s ready to sulk, until something in her posture changes and her voice drops softer. “What if I tell you about the time he saved my life.”

His squad had started to gather themselves to leave, but she had definitely caught their attention again. They settled back into their places, spread across the floor in-front of her seat like she was a carer getting children ready for bed.

“It must have been, what, six years ago?” She looks up at Tomomi for confirmation, but he says nothing. He’s sat down with his squad and his husband, who’s come to join them after curiosity got the better of him. Tomomi has pressed himself into Canach’s side, seeking comfort from him before the story has even been told. “It was before the Pact had been formed, I was rising in the ranks of Whisper while my brother did the same within the Vigil. I knew what I was going into I wouldn’t be able to manage with just Trahearne, Tybalt, and myself,” Luna’s voice catches on Trahearne’s name and most of the people listening bow their head for a moment in memory of their late Marshal. All except Aurora, who’s gaze snapped up again at the mention of Tybalt – he was an old friend of hers but it had been so long since she had contact from him. “So I contacted Warmaster Laranthir and requested Tomomi and a handful of other soldiers he could spare to accompany us to Claw Island.” Luna reaches out to Ashal sat beside her and grips her twins hand tightly before continuing.

“We made it there in good time. We knew an attack was coming enough of Zhaitan’s spies had been found loitering nearby that we were well aware it was only a matter of time. Watch Commander Talon had become regrettably complacent in his time on Claw Island and didn’t think it was necessary to listen to us. We tried to warn him. We tried to save everyone… There was only a few at first, few enough that the Lionguard didn’t need our help to take them down. We cleared the beach with them anyway, and maybe thats where we went wrong. That fight was over so quickly Talon was even more sure of his decision that Claw Island was incapable of falling. But then came the ships.” Tomomi stands and walks away from the group, choosing to talk to the other members of Dragon’s Watch rather than relive the battle within his sister’s story.

“Built from bone and rot, they rose from the water bringing the stench of death with them. Their catapults bombarded us with corpses. Most of them stood up to fight, but a few just hit the ground and coated the floor in a thin layer of flesh. We fought off as many as we could and managed to sink one or two of the ships but it made no difference. The walls were overrun, we had to fall back. Talon was a stubborn fool who wouldn’t call the retreat, said that Claw Island had stood for nearly a hundred years and how they couldn’t fall. Took a fatal blow before he realised his mistake. I’m not saying he deserved to die, but out of everyone we lost that day, he’s the one I miss the least. A lot of good people could have survived if he’d swallowed his pride.”

“The Lionguard rallied in the courtyard with the few Vigil I’d brought, drawing the attention of most of the undead while Trahearne, Tybalt, Tomomi, and I fought our way around the edges to reach the beacons. At least if we all fell that day, Lion’s Arch would be warned and ready to fight. We made it, and with all the beacons lit we made the foolish mistake of feeling hopeful. With all our remaining forces gathered in the courtyard, it felt like we could fight our way out without having to lose anyone else. There was already so many good soldiers laying dead by our feet. That was when it arrived. We weren’t ready to face one of the dragon’s champions, no one had any idea what it could do. It came from the skies, crushing one of the outer walls as it landed and letting in the undead that were trapped behind it still. But the worst part was its breath. It spewed corruption like it was Zhaitan itself, crippling and blinding our soldiers as we struggled to retreat. And those of us that had already fallen… The corruption wove its way around their corpses and dragged them into servitude. We found ourselves facing people that mere hours before had been our companions.” As she talked, Luna’s glow had faded to a dull, almost sickly colour, which was made all the more obvious by her twin at her side glowing as brightly as any sylvari in the low lighting of the night should be. On hand was still tightly holding onto Ashal, and with the other she had pulled an amulet off from where it hung at her neck and was gently rubbing at the back, a habit anyone who knows her will have seen her do before when she starts to reminisce.

“Those of us who were unaffected did our best to carry the wounded, but it was clear we weren’t going to get to the ships at the rate we were moving, and it did not seem like the winged beast would let us sail even if we did make it. And then… Tybalt stoped and at first I thought he was hurt. But he turned to me and said that he haven't always lived bravely, but he thought he’d like to die that way. He asked me to believe in him. I trusted that bastard so much, he’d been my partner since I joined Whisper and the chaos we’d gotten ourselves into and out of with the other at our back… Of course I believed in him. He turned and he ran back towards the fighting, closed the gates behind him. Last I heard from him was his shout that he wouldn’t let them have us, and the fiercest battle roar any charr would be proud of. I tried to go back for him. Tried to run in after and take him with us, but Tomomi held me tight. He wouldn’t let me go and dragged me back to the ships along with the rest of the survivors, we barely had enough people to fill one ship, let alone the eight moored there.” Luna stands, a little wobbly from the remaining alcohol in her system, but the stance she takes is one they recognise. It’s a far cry from their captain’s sister sat telling embarrassing stories that she had been earlier in the evening, this is now their Commander stood before them once more, ready to address the soldiers that fall under her lead.

“I would have died with Tybalt that day, if Tomomi hadn’t forced me to retreat with them. I’d never have been here to see the Pact be formed, let alone take command beside Marshal Trahearne. But I can’t help wonder what could have been if Watchmaster Talon had listened to us in the first place. If there’s one thing you take from this story, be it that hubris will not only get you killed, but will get everyone around you killed as well. Or perhaps a fate worse than death, should there be dragon’s corruption involved.”

With that final statement closed, she gives a half bow and leaves them, her wolf having moved from where he was resting on the outskirts of the party to take his place by her side once more as she returns to her own tent. The mood is sufficiently brought down and Tomomi’s squad find themselves unwilling to part ways, instead finding comfort in each other’s presences and choosing to move their bedrolls out under the stars so they can all rest together.

Ashal departs not long after they set themselves up, moving off after her sister to see how she’s faring, and leaving Canach alone to think on the story he’d just heard. His husband had never even shared the information that he’d been at that first fateful battle, and it occurs to him now why he goes so quiet and uncomfortable when Aurora mentions her charr friend, the mechanic. Still, these are thoughts for tomorrow, and he sets off to find his husband so they may enjoy the comfort of a long night in each other’s arms and let what tomorrow brings be the problem of the future.

#tyriaslibrary #gw2 fan submission #gw2 sylvari #gw2 writing #tybalt leftpaw #canach #luna #ashal #Tomomi #canach/tomomi #the twins #My writing

8 notes · View notes

introvertllux · 5 years ago

Text

Draft of Black Clover OC x Zora Story/Fic Finding My Place

Cover constructed by me by the designs of the characters i made through piccrew using the following online creators.

(To create my OC)

1. https://picrew.me/image_maker/196205 by Stawberry

https://strawberrycreampiefluff.tumblr.com/

https://twitter.com/mrythevixen

(To create and image of Zora)

2. https://picrew.me/image_maker/280380 by domo_ura

Twitter: @domo_ura

Genre: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Comedy-Drama, Anime, Magic, Fan-fiction

Warnings: 18+, depictions of mental health (depression). (Please do not read, if you may be triggered).

I got the idea to do this character oc bio in the form of a wiki page. Let me know what you think!

Battle ProwessTrivia

Jayne’s favorite things are to spend time in her mother’s garden.

Jayne loves to draw, write, deep and intellectual conversations, adventures, alone time, and reading.

Jayne is an introvert.

Jayne’s love language is quality time.

Jayne hates small talk, gathering in large groups, conflict, manipulation, cruelty, and insensitive, inconsiderate people.

Jayne’s favorite colors are Black, Olive Green, and Pink.

Jayne’s best friends are her Noelle and her aunt Sol.

Jayne enjoys sweet things.

Jayne is a very good cook.

Personality

Jayne is an insightful, soft-spoken, reserved, passionate, and mysterious young women who is described as an “old-soul”. Jayne is guided by her deep set of personal values. Her personal values are intensely idealistic and aide in her to clearly imagine a happier and more perfect future for her kingdom. Though idealistic, she is able to turn her idea into plans and execute the efficiently and effectively.

Though soft-spoken, Jayne has very strong opinions and will fight for what she believes in. She is decisive and strong-willed but will rarely use that energy for personal gain.

Because she is a reserved introverted, “old soul” she finds it challenging to be social. However, Jayne does find it easy to make connections with others as a result of her being to speak in a warm, sensitive language, rather than with pure logic and fact (like her parents).

As a result of Jayne being very insightful, she can a particular knack for see beyond others’ disguises and is able to interpret others’ intentions quickly. Nonetheless, Jayne still values and needs time alone to decompress and recharge, and not to become too alarmed when they suddenly withdraw (sometime for a few days).

Romance seems to be something Jayne struggles with as she is not very social, and her mother has a huge distrust for men. If she were to enter a relationship, to find someone with whom they truly connect too. Jayne is a very sensitive person which is her greatest weakness. She is highly vulnerable to criticism and conflict. Her unstable emotions frequently conflict with her magic, parents, and friendships. She dislikes her motives being questioned.

Appearance

Jayne is and 17-year-old girl with a slender curvy body. She is short with brown skin and brown- greenish eyes. She is often seen wearing her set of armor (due to her mother). When she is not in her armor she prefers to be in comfortable clothing. She wears he Ombre hair in in a slick down style with a braid (the braid being an ode to her mother). Her hair is naturally curly and prefers to wear it in a messy or neat bun or curly.

Jayne is beautiful and is considered to be so (unknown to her) due to may fearing her parents. She is called the mysterious beauty by many people.

Biography

Jayne was abandoned and cursed when she was three months old. She was cursed with the inducement curse, causing her to be emotionally unstable. The full affect her curse is set to take place on her eighteenth birthday. The curse will activate her full abilities letting out darkness and chaos, resulting in the destruction of the world. She was found by Charlotte Roselei shortly after Yami had saved her from her curse.

Charlotte raised Jayne in secret only allowing Sol, Yami, and Julius to know that she is her daughter.As a result of Yami respecting Charlotte he been there to help and assist Charlotte with Jayne aide in keeping her hidden.

Relationships

Charlotte Roselei

Although Charlotte is her adoptive mother, Jayne sees her as her only mother, often addressing her at “mama” or mother. Their relationship is often filled with conflict under the surface of course, especially since Jayne usually avoids conflict. As a result of this, Jayne desires to separate herself from her mother, when she is fully an adult. Because Charlotte is logical she is not very sensitive to Jayne’s emotions. Charlotte often shows Jayne tough love which feels critical and cold to her. Jayne does not share the values as her mother and often rejects them.

Jayne admires her mother’s strength and intelligent. One of her favorite qualities of her mother’s is her stubbornness which she seems to have as well. Jayne dislike her mother’s ability to be honest. She feels that if her mother would be honest a lot her problems would be solved.

For example, she was honest about her emotions she would be able to understand her daughter more. If she were to be honest about her emotions about Yami she would be able to express, her love and gratitude to him for helping with her curse and helping to raise Jayne.

Jayne wants her mother to be happy and believes that once Yami and her get together they can be a family. Jayne enjoys quite moments with her mother, especially in their garden. Though they don’t share many things in common, they both care deeply for one another and are extremely loyal to one another. Although see may not see or realize it Charlotte has been working tirelessly with Yami’s help to find a cure to Jayne’s curse.

Yami

Yami has taken Jayne under his wing and seeing her as his own even allowing her to call him “pops” or “papa” in public. People do not question this due to their fear of Yami. Many speculate it may be due to some type of mentorship between the too. Although he is the exact opposite of her, Jayne cares very deeply for Yami.

Yami is playful, patient and open-minded when it comes to her.

As a result of Yami’s personality he is open and accepting and wants Jayne to everything possible to give them the best chance of learning what they need to know to live in the world. Yami tends not to set hard boundaries for Jayne because he wants her to be able to explore and make mistakes and choose a better way the next time.

Even though his parenting style is less structured than Charlotte’s, Yami has the ability to discipline Jayne if and when needed.

Jayne and Yami conflict seem to steam from his lack of emotional engagement. Yami likes to bond through physical activities which sometimes uninterests Jayne. Just like her mother she would love if her father would engage emotionally with her.

She admires her father’s strength and willingness to accept and treat people equally.Jayne is aware that Yami knows of her mother’s affections towards him and is very annoyed of the cat and mouse game he is playing in attempts for her to openly admit her feelings.Jayne is able to understand inability to share his emotions but still loves him anyways.

Sol

Jayne love her aunt sol. Jayne is able to connect emotionally with her. Jayne always has fun with her aunt anytime she’s around. Sol inspires Jayne to take chances that she normally wouldn’t take. Sol often help give Jayne a little more freedom when it comes to Charlotte.

Julius

Jayne loves her uncle Julius. Their personalities are very similar. They spend long hours talking and laughing together because their ways of thinking are similar. Jayne takes an interest in his hobby of magic discovers and is happy to see he is interested in her magic abilities. However, they differ socially as Julius is more extroverted and Jayne is not.

Noelle

Noelle and Jayne are best friends despite that not always being the case. They did not get along due to their conflicting personalities. They both bond over their lack of ability to control their magic and the relationships they share with their families. They also bond over feeling like outcast and their crushes.

Asta

Jayne finds Asta to be amusing and hardworking. She values their friendship and hopes that he and Noelle end up together. She admires his hard work and dedication despite his lack of magic.

Zora

Zora at first believes that Jayne is stuck up due to her appearance and decided to take her down a peg. However, when speaking to her he realizes that she is the opposite. They fall in love quickly. Their relationship is intense and electrifying. Jayne highly disagrees with his values and treatment of people who do and don’t abuse magic. She does not entirely write him off as a villain like most. She tries to advise and encourage him to take another solution/route.

Their personalities lead to many of their arguments along with the high disapproval of him from Jayne’s mother.

Battle Prowess

Dark Magic

Reinforcement Magic

Restraining Magic

Abilities

Enhanced Reflexes

Immense Durability

Immense Magic Power

Mana Zone

Equipment

Grimoire

Sword

4 notes · View notes

tcrmommabear · 5 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas Cinder!

@deadbonessinderhellaton, yours hit me like a golf club, and I was simply at its whim.

It’s rare when one prompt speaks to me so strongly. Two at the same time is almost unheard of. Yours (sort of) has three prompts.

How did Haru end up running the Bureau? + Faustian Bargain/Deal with the Devil + “Ghosts are like relatives”

I struggled so hard with this, until the format finally hit me. And then yours was done and I wanted a full fic. I hope you enjoy this as much as I had writing it!

Cobblestone was cold. Cobblestone was familiar.

Cobblestone was pressed against her cheek and that’s not exactly where it should be.

Where should it be? Where should she be?

Images popped into mind, bubbling forth from somewhere familiar but blocked. Names, places, words, feelings. A slideshow before her eyes, leading her to where she needed to be.

Horror crashed through her.

“No!”

***

“Baron! Watch out!”

She yanked him arm, fire singeing her hands as it roared past them. They pressed up against the wall, listening to the dragon inhale, rumbling growl rattling through their bones.

They glanced at each other. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, hot and jittery, and she couldn’t stop the wide grin she gave him. His own almost matched the intensity of hers, breath heavy.

“That’s one way to get his attention,” she joked. His grin grew wider.

“Well, we’ve certainly got it now.”

***

She settled her life in places that she could. A goodbye note here, hints of life there.

A tearful goodbye with her mother that didn’t keep. She inserted herself into her life as much as she could, all the way up to the end. Sat on the couch, like she was a teenager again, coming home from a date or a party.

Instead she came home from life or death situations.

Except the second one wasn’t even an option.

***

She strained to hear, effectively pinned into place.

His voice was there, it was just out of reach, and she couldn’t stop him.

“... Everything. Do you swear on that?” he asks, voice colder than she had ever heard it. Harsher, demanding, authoritative.

“Don’t-!” she screamed out, but the words muffled against her lips and barely cut through whatever was holding her back.

They looked at her, two faces eerily similar. Except for two little horns curling from the one on the right’s temples. That one gave a splitting grin, flesh cracking. Cheshire.

Devilish.

It was in front of her, and she caught it all in full, watched the head tilt. The voice warped, familiar cloaked in nightmares. Turned its body to give the other a hand to shake, head still locked onto her.

“Do you swear?” he demanded again, hand just hovering out of reach.

The other forcibly clasped it, giving it a shake.

“Every damn day,” it told her.

***

“Look out!” she roared, dashing towards the young woman almost caught in flames and hissing liquid.

They tumbled to the floor, rolling as she shielded the other with her body. She wanted to howl as acid sunk into her flesh, but only grit her teeth. She could already feel herself knitting back together, bare back against the elements with the fabric of her jacket and shirt gone.

“Miss Haru…” the young woman whispered in horror, reaching up to wipe away at remnant acid still fizzing away.

“Don’t!” she blurted, catching her hand before it could touch it.

A roar sounded off in the distance, the beast running after another prospective meal. Haru slowly sat up, then stood, and finally reached down to help her client up. They glanced at each other, Haru looking around the corner to see if she could spot their monster.

“I’m so sorry Miss Haru,” the woman sniffed, drawing Haru’s attention,” I should have been more careful, you got hurt-.”

“Stop that,” Haru interjected, gripping the other’s shoulders, “you stop that right now, Miss Noelle. That thing can’t hurt me in ways that matter, and I would protect you again in a heartbeat. You’re the most important one here.”

Noelle stared up at her, and Haru briefly panicked as she saw the starstruck look appear in her eyes. Cursed herself for being too much like-.

“Chicky!” Muta slid suddenly into Haru’s line of sight, coming from a different path of the maze.

“Muta!”

“Chicken Wings has got its attention, but we gotta move,” he bellowed, rushing up and pushing the women along.

Then Toto flashed overhead. Then the beast crashed through the maze and found them again.

“Oh fuck.”

***

“Shit! Fuck! God dammit! Fucking fuck fuck!”

Another book crashed against the wall, falling to the floor and slumping with its other abused brethren. The other two in the room didn’t say anything, just watched their de facto leader curse and destroy her home.

At least, her forced home.

“Haru…” Toto spoke up, softly. A book thumped near his head. He had the decency to flinch just a little.

“Don’t even try, Toto!” she screamed, fisting the cloth of her long skirt between her hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks, matting the soft brown fur. She wiped at the furiously, releasing the now-wrinkled skirt.

Muta crossed the room without a word, pulling her roughly into his arms. She didn’t fight the hold, sinking into it with a choked back sob. He rubbed circles into her back, humming lightly until she could breath a little easier.

“I can’t… He’s gone… How do I-”

“I know kiddo,” he interrupted, “I know.”

***

“Oh,” she mumbled, pulling her hand away. It came back red.

Panic or bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t tell which. She looked up at the others. They were shouting. Calling. Baron looked so scared. She gave a loopy smile. Giggled, because what else could she do?

“Well, that’s not good.”

***

She settled into routine. Easy enough.

Wake up. Dress. Tea. Paperwork. Read. Attend to clients. Drink. Sleep.

It was a pattern, an easy dance she knew the steps by heart. She was just missing a partner.

But she couldn’t stop.

The Bureau needed someone.

She just didn’t want it to be her.

***

She made the mistake of changing into lighter clothes when she became too hot. His breath caught in his throat, scanning over the myriad of scars she’d gotten over their adventures.

“Oh, right,” she laughed, tugging her shorts down in the hopes it’d hide everything, “it’s pretty surprising to see.”

“You’re… So delicate, Haru,” he breathed out, touching the scar she’d gotten from the Devil’s claws slashing her back., though his eyes were glued to twisting flesh of her thigh. When the dragon decided she’d make for a good snack.

“Comes with being human,” she replied, shivering as he pulled his hand away. Her own hand ran up her arm, feeling the bumps and odd feeling flesh.

“Right.”

She didn’t like the look on his face.

***

“Well, case closed,” she declared, dropping the file into the stack with finality.

Next followed the clunk of a wine bottle onto the desk. Her desk, she had to remind herself. The original wasn’t coming back anytime soon. So, hers from now on.

She poured into her tea cup, swallowing a mouthful of milky tea and wine. It was disgusting, but she couldn’t be bothered to get another glass. She only had two of them left, after all these years. Curious dogs, natural catastrophes, and Muta to be blamed for her losses.

She sank back in the chair, rubbing at her temples in the hopes it would spare her the migraine. Immortal lifespan, mortal aches and pains. They just couldn’t haunt her like they did before.

“To another helped client,” she toasted the air, which quickly began to fill with the sounds of a commotion. She grimaced, turning the chair away from the door and raising her feet on the desk. Not her division.

“To another year of searching,” she finished. Another mouthful. And the same tolerance for alcohol after all these years. It was a special occasion tonight. The first in a long time she didn’t wake up and forget where she was.

The commotion grew louder outside.

***

“You’re going to need to be more specific, lass,” the witch grumbled, his eyes narrowed.

She slammed her fist on the table, standing to pace.

“I told you! Baron took me to Castle Wyvern. He pinned me with his spell, then summoned the Devil. The Devil came-!”

“I heard you the first time and every single time after, missy!” the witch shouted, “What I’m missing is what did this Baron ask for?”

“Look at me! He must have wished for me to be a Creation like him!”

“Did he wish for you to be a Creation, or have a Creation’s immortality?”

She stopped.

***

“Miss Haru?” the client, a little boy named Bertrand, asked her.

She stopped to look over at him, pausing in pouring the hot chocolate. He looked around the Bureau in wonder, before meeting her eyes again. He still was nervous around her. She couldn’t blame him. She still wasn’t used to the… New situation she was in.

“What’s up, sweets?” she prompted, plopping a snowflake shaped marshmellow in the drink.

“How’d you start the Cat Bureau? What’d you think of to give you that idea?”

She clenched her cup tightly, nails cracking into the porcelain. At least it wasn’t the… Other set.

***

The commotion grew louder outside, and Muta suddenly burst through the doors.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed greeting another client,” Haru groaned, half out of exhaustion of the massive amount of cases lately, half out of disappointment of losing a chance to save whoever was out there from being dragged into the other Bureau members’ disputes.

“It ain’t a client, Chicky,” Muta panted, blocking the doorway, “not unless we’re taking ghosts for clients.”

“Ghosts?” Haru barked out a laugh, swirling the wine and tea combination still in her cup.

***

“I can’t risk losing her, even if it means I can never find her! Just give her everything!”

“How noble, knick-knack. Those your terms?”

“Yes. You will give her everything. Do you swear on that?”

“Every damn day.”

***

“Ghosts are like relatives, Muta, honestly,” she laughed at first, before it fell into almost disappointed whining. Still swirling that tea cup, hoping to keep herself from seeing her reflection.

“Chicky-”

***

“I didn’t actually start the Cat Bureau, Bertrand.”

“But you’re in charge of it?”

“Mmhmm, the one who created the Cat Bureau, well…”

***

“Once you let them in, Muta, Muta, dearest Muta, you just can’t get rid of them.”

“Chicky-!”

“Oh honestly, calm down. This wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a ghost at the Sanctuary. Certainly enough of them here in this house. What did they say?”

***

“I inherited it from them.”

“Did they die?”

***

Forest was unfamiliar. Forest was cold.

Forest was pressed against his cheek.

Part of him told him that he should be concerned.

That this wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

He just didn’t know who “he” was.

***

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

***

“Chicky, it’s-!”

“Hello?” a voice asked, a head poking around Muta. The tea cup clattered against the desk, ruining the paperwork she’d spent all night doing.

Ginger hair, dark freckled face, so obviously not from around here.

Mint green eyes.

“I’m looking for the Cat Bureau? I was hoping I could get-.”

“Name,” she hissed. Wood splintered under her nails. “What’s your name?!”

He jerked back, confused and afraid.

***

“Who were they? What was their name? Are they that cat in the painting?”

“Oh no, that was someone else. But his name was…”

***

“Humbert. Humbert von Gikkingen”

#tcr #the cat returns #tcr secret santa 2019 #tcr secret santa #tcr au #tcrmommabear writes #tcrmommabear posts #dun dun dun!!!#i have no clue how baron found his way back to the cat bureau #but hes been alive and looking the same human shape for a long time #so something told him he was weird #ive only had bertrand for one prompt #but if anything happened to him id kill everyone in the room and myself #deadbonessinderhellaton #i hope you enjoyed!#cw swearing #i know you prefer that be tagged

14 notes · View notes

blackpinkfanpage3-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Blackpink Became the Biggest K-Pop Female Band in the World

Blackpink fan page

It is very taken just four several years for Blackpink to become most significant girl bands in the world, having members Jennie, Jisoo, Rosé, and Lisa continuing to be able to smash new records along with forge new ground. These folks were the first K-pop girl class to play at Coachella in order to reach 1 billion Dailymotion views-now they’re the most-subscribed-to music group on the platform, as 2019, they broke several Guinness World Records together with the single “Kill This Like, ” which has had in excess of 312 million plays in Spotify and over 824 , 000, 000 YouTube views, a mere tiny proportion of the quartet’s billions of revenues, downloads, views, and admirers. That same year in addition, they undertook the most financially productive concert tour by a Korean language female group. They’re front-row fixtures at runway demonstrates and the faces of brilliant brands, including Chanel, The puma company, Louis Vuitton, and Dior. Or any this with just a few songs in their repertoire.

Blackpink fan page

Currently, as they prepare to release their particular latest album in Summer, it may be time to ask: The way on earth did they do the item?

Excitement prior to Blackpink’s July 2016 debut had meant to a fever pitch, when they were the first girl set in seven years beyond YG Entertainment (home for you to K-pop legends Big Fuck, 2NE1 and formerly, Psy). There were big shoes to help fill: The reign with the trailblazing four-member girl team 2NE1 was over, in addition to Blackpink was expected to resuscitate the bold EDM go crazy sound they’d embodied. All their debut, Square One, ended up being an overnight smash, the particular insistent build of “Whistle” and cocky chorus about “Boombayah” making for a small but thrilling introduction.

With November 2016, their secondly single album, Square A couple, featured a pop banger (“Playing With Fire”), a acoustic version of “Whistle, ” and “Stay, ” a country-influenced track that will allowed them to spread their very own vocal wings away from all their “girl crush” concept (K-pop vernacular for a fiery search and sound that’s shown immensely popular with international audiences).

Though they were dubbed “the new 2NE1” during their novice days, some of their first hearings on Korean variety indicates bring into focus but not only Blackpink’s chaotically entertaining reputation but the determination to create their own identities. Vocalist Jisoo has become a face for magnificence brands Kiss Me as well as Dior; rapper and performer Jennie has branched available as a soloist and a powerful influencer; New Zealand-born Rosé’s particular vocal sound has found her on hits with regard to G-Dragon; and Thailand-born artist and dancer Lisa is a most-followed K-pop star with Instagram.

Then, and now, many people recognize the need for each other to carry out the group alchemy here is endeared them to millions. “I don’t think a specific new member should do more dancing as well as one member does considerably more singing. I think Blackpink’s relaxation is complete because of each one person’s energy, ” Jennie told Vogue Korea prior this year.

The long-standing imaginative and prescient vision of K-pop as a blinged-out, ultra-slick fantasy world is made by three labels: YG Entertainment, JYP Entertainment, and also SM Entertainment. YG is acknowledged for maximalist visuals and a hefty, club-friendly sound devised by simply in-house writer-producer Teddy Park your car, the man behind some of K-pop’s biggest, hookiest hits. With Blackpink’s 2018 “Ddu-du Ddu-du” (“DDDD” for short), these elements aligned to produce the irresistible pop package.

Achievements lay in the catchy se?alar refrain, the memorable finger-gun dance, and a gloriously increased video, but also in Blackpink themselves as aspirational yet emulatable, aesthetically fierce and not intimidating, killer onstage nevertheless adorable off it. Often the four-track EP, Square Upwards, would go platinum in Sth Korea, “DDDD” would arrive at gold in the U. S i9000., becoming their first billion-view video, and “Kill That Love” would make them typically the first-ever Korean girl party to enter the U. E. singles chart.

These milestones came via a fandom in which had grown rapidly due to the fact late 2016, but which will had to wait eight several months for 2017’s single “As If It’s Your Continue, ” then an entire calendar year for its follow-up, Square Right up. One release per year used to be standard in K-pop, if there were fewer groups dealing with for a share of a modest domestic market. Groups currently average two or three releases (known as “comebacks”) a year in a very bid to grow and maintain fandoms, but YG Entertainment, considered one of South Korea’s oldest K-pop agencies, remains unapologetically invested in less is more.

It’s not really a huge fail-safe plan-it draws continual fan criticism, petitions, along with boycott threats-but the old-school approach, in an era connected with oversaturation and instant prime, has created heightened desire in addition to demand. It’s turned just about every comeback into a global affair and has funneled the fandom’s streaming power into the types of headline-making, spreadsheet-melting numbers that contain seduced many a point executive.

Like many profitable musicians, Blackpink understands the capability in marrying the oceans of music and manner. Their innate understanding of model has made them hot residence, with the girls now front-row fixtures at Fashion 1 week. In September 2019, Jisoo popped over to London regarding Burberry, while Rosé wowed at Saint Laurent (and was also asked by means of Anthony Vaccarello to be it has the brand ambassador). Meanwhile, Jennie found herself next to Cardi B at Chanel, intended for whom she is a brand ambassadress.

In February 2020, Lisa-currently a muse for Hedi Slimane’s Celine-took a trip to Hong kong for Prada’s fall 2020 show, and just this week, placed a #WFH look to seducre her Instagram account (high-waisted light-wash denim, a Celine button-down shirt, and Bottega Veneta’s latest envelope clutch) this garnered more than 5 zillion likes.

Given their tested selling power-magazines have claimed needing to print quadruple reports to supply demand; their adventures sell out in seconds-the romance between the band and fashion’s leading houses will longer continue to flourish.

Blackpink seemed to be signed to U. Nasiums. -based Interscope Records at the end of 2018, a direct play for any American market and something not any South Korean girl class had tried since Girls’ Generation in 2012. Even with their skill and practical experience, Blackpink’s awkward, lackluster January 2019 performances on Hello America and The Late Indicate With Stephen Colbert ended up widely panned. But in the front of a vast, mostly K-pop-unaware audience at Coachella, often the universality of the group’s sounds bloomed, earning rave critiques. A high point was the great “Kill This Love, ” the title single from their completely new EP.

It’s rare the fact that members aren’t busy, regardless if there isn’t a let go to promote. They often turn to Instagram to communicate with their blended 128 million followers (including the main Blackpink account), and get focused on solidifying their A-list status as fashion building (such as Jennie’s new collaboration with luxury glasses brand Gentle Monster), marketplace mentors, and accidental virus-like queens (Lisa’s stint for the survival show Youth To you and her performance videos that became a Made it happen Work? meme).

And finally, 1 year after their last file, the wait is almost over. There are the forthcoming Lady Gaga relationship, “Sour Candy, ” for a laugh album Chromatica, and a July comeback from the band themselves. Could Blackpink eventually as the first K-pop girl set to break through in the West? An opportunity is there for the taking, although that means new successes need to be capitalized upon and previous strategies reexamined and polished. Now might be the time to get Blackpink to really be the emerging trend.

1 note · View note