#I do believe that they should live together in the little home on the borders of ghost city where they can just love each other | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chimielie · 2 years ago

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there are many benefits to being a marine biologist

summary: Goshiki x F!Reader. Ponyo!AU. one part fairytale, one part growing up, one part love language exploration. you fall in love with a human boy and then move mountains to find him again.

word count: 8.7k

cw: nothing. gets better as it progresses imo

a/n: i started writing this maybe two years ago for a contest held by two users who are now both inactive i think? the outline for this planned for like two more acts, but i thought it should stop rotting in the drafts and i like it as is now. i do have quite a lot of worldbuilding not in the fic (mostly regarding goshiki's family, who i named after the original ponyo characters lol) so please, if you happen to read this and have questions about this little story that's been living in my head, feel free to ask :)

The day before he finds you, it storms like the world is going to end.

Seawater washes into the road as the sea swells in thick knots, rising and never quite falling as far as it should. Blooms of white—foam and algae and debris, and drowned souls if folklore was to be believed—swirl on the surface, which waits to break against the cliffs until the wave inflates to grotesque proportions, as though it’s a fist hammering against a wall. The wind tries to match the hysteric sea’s beat, and comes screaming in from the horizon, wrapping around whatever it finds in its path if it cannot blow through it and squeezing like a python. With it blows in the fog, until the atmosphere brings a river of milk, writhing over the pine islands so they become black spikes against which the ocean hammers.

Tsutomu stands against the back door of his home on the cliff, hands pressed to the glass, careful not to let his breath obscure his vision any further than the mist already was. Even inside the house—where the air is still warm, where the wind can’t creep in—he can hear the crash of waves and the shriek of the typhoon, even if they’re reduced to a low-crooning song punctuated by the steady rhythm of his mother’s voice.

“Transmitting from JA4LL. JA4LL. Come in, Koichi. This is Risa and Tsutomu.”

She’s been speaking steadily into the microphone for a few minutes already, and Tsutomu pads over to press his cheek into her side, fists his hands into her shirt while she pats him on the head. When the headset crackles to life, he jumps and she doesn’t. His parents’ voices wash over him warmly, and he relaxes, hoping the weather will calm soon so they can all go to Tashirojima together.

Sound asleep in a bubble deep beneath the sea, you don’t even know that there’s a storm on the surface.

“Wake up, girls.” You wake when your father speaks to you, swim eagerly to the border of filmy water and press your nose to it in a sort of nuzzling good morning kiss. “I—yes, good morning, hello—I said I’d take you all to work with me today, if you’d like—stop pressing on the bubble, you’ll pop it!”

You do happy flips when you’re let out of the little aquarium, linger at the back of the school of your sisters as your father quickly becomes engrossed in his work. He’s often distracted and always scatterbrained, but centuries of experience have made him an expert at marine wizardry. There’s little he loves more than his work, except perhaps your family, but he’s unfamiliar with the care and keeping of young goldfish and your mother is away right now.

This is how you slip away: with discretion from your sisters, distraction from your father, and a rush of excitement you’ve felt almost never in your entire life. It’s not that you don’t love your family, that you want to run away; it’s just that your sisters are all still babies, freshly hatched, and you get bored in the little bubble, always having to watch your father work and never getting to do anything. There’s no room for anxiety in your fish-body as you swim towards the surface, wriggling your fins frantically and buoying yourself with upward currents whenever possible.

The first sight of sunlight streaming through the aqua is mesmerizing, and you kick doubly hard for the remainder of the journey.

The surface is the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen. Exhausted from the swim, you flop onto your back on top of a passing jellyfish and stare in wonder at the coastline. There’s a road, and little metal vehicles crossing it, and houses tucked into every crevice in the hills. There are jagged cliffs that look like they were hewn in half by some godly hand (one of your uncles, maybe). And on top of the tallest cliff, there’s a little house, so small you can hardly see it, yellow and red and white, and you find yourself fascinated by it.

When he wakes, Tsutomu finds himself in bed, his eyes stuck together with leftover sleep. He remembers, just barely, being carried by his mother’s strong arms to his room, the press of her lips to his forehead. It’s not an unusual occurrence, so he starts his day as usual. Breakfast is leftovers from the fridge, his mother is still half-asleep sipping coffee at the breakfast table (she’s always groggier after a late night up speaking to his father), and he walks down the path to the beach, carefully balancing his favorite toy—a beach ball light enough for him to carry and shaped like a volleyball—in his arms.

It’s clear today, almost like there was never a storm at all. The sky is a cheerful blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the temperature warm enough to only require a t-shirt, not cold enough to make him uncomfortable. The sun shines down on the beach with a smile, the morning light nearly shining a spotlight on the red lump just above the waterline.

“Eh?” Tsutomu says to himself, walking closer and struggling to peer past the bulge of his volleyball. He sets it down carefully, stopping it from rolling away with his foot, and bends at the waist to look closely at you.

You stare, eyes bulging, back up at him. A little boy, the likes of which you’ve never seen before, fringe falling into his face, is the most magical thing you’ve ever seen.

“A goldfish!” He declares triumphantly as he identifies you. “Hello, Miss Goldfish.”

You flap a fin at him as best you can. He giggles and scoops you up in both hands, wading into the water and holding you just beneath the surface so you won’t dry out. You spin in his hands, and nuzzle his chubby palm.

“Tsutomu!” Someone calls from above. “Time to go!”

“That’s my mom,” Tsutomu says to you. “We’re going to work at the senior center. Well, she’s going to work, and I get to go to school right next to there, ‘cause I’m five years old.” He adopts a wise expression. Five is the oldest he’s ever been, and it feels very big. You splash. Me too! Me too! “It was nice to meet you, Miss Fish. My name is Tsutomu. I hope I see you again. Bye bye!”

He lets go of you gently, and turns to find that his ball has rolled into the water, a little too deep for him to reach without soaking his clothes. You, still watching the curious human boy, see the frown on his face, the tremble of his lips and watery eyes, and dart off quickly. When he looks down, you’re gone. He stands on the sand in front of the ball, watching it float further away, listening to his mother’s increasingly aggravated shouting for him to come up from the beach, and feels stuck with the tide of unhappiness rising in him. He reaches up with one fist to wipe at his watering eyes.

Shock overwhelms him when a stream of water hits the ball, pushing it against the current, intermittent splash carrying it all the way back to shore. His eyes stop watering from the pure amazement of it all as he watches a little red spark flash with every spurt of water, and he has to shake himself before wading back in to grab it.

“Thank you, Miss Goldfish,” he cheers when he finally lifts the ball clear of the surf. “You’re amazing!”

There’s nothing but pure childish admiration in the words, which makes you as happy as he is. You like this boy! He thinks you’re amazing!

You flip in the air, coming down with a splash that sends droplets of saltwater all the way to Tsutomu, who shields his face and twists his whole torso away with shrieking laughter.

“Tsutomu!” You say happily. He untwists to look at you, bobbing in the water.

“You said my name! You really are amazing!”

“Tsutomu!” You cheer, and then again for good measure.

“Tsutomu!” His mother roars, coming into view on the beach, and her ferocious tone hardly seems to dent his mood.

“I have to go now. Thank you a lot, Miss Goldfish,” he waves at you and begins walking back to his mother, who’s standing with her hands on her hips and her lips set in a scowl.

“Tsutomu!” You say in farewell, and begin the swim back home.

“Mom, I made a friend! I saw a goldfish, and she talks, too. She said my name! Isn’t that so cool?” Tsutomu bounces up to his mother with his fists clenched and raised in the air, as though he’s declaring victory, and her irritation dissipates almost immediately. She laughs and swings him up onto her shoulders.

“That is cool, but we’re going to be late. Think I can drive over before they open the drawbridge?”

You’re lucky your father doesn’t notice and you know it. For the rest of the month, you listen attentively as he explains, half-mumbled and face pressed up against a blackboard, the things he believes children ought to know: potionmaking, mostly, the way that those potions affect the environment, and the filthiness of humans. You try your best to be good, but you file as much information about magic away as you can and know in the deepest depths of your heart that it’s so you can see Tsutomu again.

You sneak away again, maybe every month, and rarely have to wait longer than a few hours for Tsutomu to come rushing down the path from his house, huge smile on his face, shedding his backpack and shoes. During low tide, he can reach what becomes a tide pool, and often he shows you things from his day-to-day life. You love hearing him talk, sometimes practicing human speech by following along with his words. He gives you a name, better than the one your father calls you, you think, shaping it in your mouth. While you watch with great interest, you never bring him anything.

You are a fish, after all.

As the years pass, your visits to the surface become more infrequent. You worry about your human-hating father catching you, and your education has intensified as you age. Your little sisters are starting to grow up and, though they’re still captivated by stories of your Tsutomu, you worry about fostering jealousy of the dry world in them. One daughter your father may not notice missing for a day, but where one of your sisters go, almost all the rest will follow.

“What does Y/N mean?” You ask innocently one day, when the two of you are eight years old. You bob in the water, and he sits on a rock, the surf spraying up around him but never reaching high enough to soak him.

“Mm,” he says, looking down and kicking at a pebble. “Beloved.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know,” his grin is childish, and the effect is only lightly diminished by the way he’s clearly struggling to maintain eye contact with you. You splash him, and he shrieks and falls into the water. Both of you come up giggling. Whatever the true meaning of his name for you, you know that whenever he says it, that’s what he means; and that is all that matters.

Although he waits patiently for you for many years, Tsutomu tells you one day with a serious face that he’s going to be going to school further away, in Sendai, and will have less time to spend watching out for you. You have a year left before this happens, he says, so your visits resume a near monthly routine. Sometimes, you simply spend hours after he’s left staring at the house on the cliff and imagining living there with Tsutomu and loving him the way he tells you his mom and dad love each other.

When he leaves for school, crying a little while you blink up at him, you absorb yourself in your studies. When you really, really miss him, you swim up to the surface and remind yourself that someday, you’ll be old and strong enough to live up there with Tsutomu. The next time he sees you, he’s twelve years old. People call him Goshiki-kun, not Tsutomu-chan, and his voice cracks when he speaks. On the train ride home from school, he worries that you’ll laugh at him, like his peers do, that the way he’ll surely tear up upon seeing you is unmanly.

It’s July, the month of salt-making rituals, and this becomes the marker of your visits to Tsutomu. To his immense relief, you still call him by his first name, you don’t laugh when his voice breaks, you throw your whole body at him to smack his cheek like you’re trying to hug him with your fins. You missed him as much as he missed you, he can tell, and the both of you spend hours catching up. You get two more years before disaster strikes.

The day you’re due to visit the surface, it storms again. You know what lightning is, now, know the acrid scent of sky-fire splitting the air, the brutal strength of riptides and currents. When you break into the air, you find that a gray mist lingers over the bay and the mood of the few people you see appears dismal. When you look up to Tsutomu’s house and see that it shines as cheerfully yellow as always, that yellow and red seems to creep into your bones until you feel sure that everything is alright. This is a kind of magic your father has not yet taught you.

This has always been your secret, safe harbor. You don’t expect anything to go wrong here—not when you’re accustomed to submarine chemical vents and shining anglerfish in the deep blue depths. Here it has always seemed safe, calm, kind.

You learn today why your father despises his former kin so much.

There’s silt in the water, probably stirred up by the storm that took away the cheeriness of the sky. One fish swims by you, its eyes bulging frantically. Then another, and another. It’s only when an entire school passes in the same direction that you hear the ship coming closer and realize that you should probably be heading that way yourself.

You’re too late, and so are the rest of them—something huge, bigger than the mouth of a whale, you think it must be, traps you, pressing you together with sifting mud and other scales and glass, like your father’s bottles. You try to move your tail and push yourself out, but you’re packed so tightly in with a million others doing the same that the action is impossible.

You’re starting to panic.

Then, the boat attached to the net you’re in swings around, taking you and everyone else with it, and you find yourself face to face with a glass jar. Worse, you find yourself slowly being pushed into it by the sheer unluckiness of your position and the crush of animals trying to escape the churning mud and human garbage.

You push more frantically than before, thrashing your entire body violently.

“No, no, no, no!” You wail, the words bubbling in the water. Then you fall through a gap in the net.

Unable to right yourself in time, you find yourself stuck halfway into the jar, and your wriggling only makes it worse.

You can’t—you can’t breathe. This was a mistake. You’re so scared.

You have to take the last resort. You send up a prayer to your mother—please, don’t let him be too angry—and send out a spell with the last bit of energy you have. A signal that will ripple all the way to your father.

You run out of oxygen, and everything goes black.

Tsutomu has been waiting a long time by the beach. He got up early to watch the sunrise, carrying a thermos of hot tea with him as he sat by the water and wondered what your life was like through the months you don’t see him. As he wakes more fully and the air starts to warm (though not by much) he walks alongside the waterline, testing how far he could go in without getting the hem of his pants wet, how long his toes could stand immersion in the cold seawater. He ponders why you keep visiting him, year after year, bringing him good luck and sunny skies.

You’re more to him than a symbol, though; you’re amazing.

As he settles himself, he starts to walk back to the tidepools, hoping you’ll be there. He knows it’s a little early for your visit, but you’re unpredictable; besides, he’s sure you care about your weird human friend as much as he cares about his fishy one.

Near the stairs, something rolls on the sand, flashing gold. Tsutomu squints at it, then picks up his pace. Shit, shit, is that—

It is. He picks up the jar, lips pressing into a pout when he sees that you’re unmoving. He runs up the steps to his home, taking them two at a time, all the while talking to you like you can hear him through the glass barrier.

He collects a bucket and stands next to the garden hose, trying to shake you out of your jar. He thinks that it would require too much force than would be safe to get you out, but you’re clearly suffocating in there. He squats on his heels, turning the jar over in his hands and wracking his brain for a solution.

“Tsutomu, you’re gonna be late for practice!” His mom rounds the corner, startling him, and he drops you. “Tsutomu—what was that?”

You’re out of the jar, but now you’re lying in pieces of shattered glass. Eyes round in distress, Tsutomu snatches you up and plops you into the full bucket of water.

“Nothing,” he says, voice suspiciously shaky.

“Okay, well, we’ve gotta go, so get in the car now.” She jerks her thumb towards the vehicle. He nods and peeks into your bucket. You stare up at him, as alert as ever, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

In the car, you swim happily in circles, raising your head out of the bucket to peer out the window.

“What’s in the bucket?” His mom says with interest, and he presses a hand over the opening of the bucket, trying not to giggle as you nuzzle his palm.

“It’s for a group science project—Mom, watch out, you’re gonna make it spill!” She side-eyes him, knowing her son has never been so conscientious of a school project or of his own messes before, but lets it slide. There’s no point in prying when there are only so many options to be found on the beach. The worst that can happen is that he lightly traumatizes some sea creature, and she doubts that Tsutomu’s conscience and childhood obsession with marine life could let him do that. Besides, she smiles to herself. The sea is basically in his blood.

Tsutomu rushes out of the car, managing only a “Thanks-Mom-love-you-goodbye!” before he’s dashing to the gym, gaze bouncing between your bucket and the ground to avoid tripping so fast watching his eyes makes you dizzy.

He sets you down on the bench closest to the court.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He whispers, picking you up to make sure there’s no glass embedded in your skin.

“I’m okay!” You beam up at him. “Tsutomu rescued me!”

He smiles at that, blushing faintly, pretty eyes squinting, and you pop out of the water to splash him lightly.

“Hey, I have to practice in this,” he frowns.

“Sorry,” you say, abashed, but he shoots you a small smile and you know it’s alright.

Listening to Tsutomu explain volleyball is entirely different from watching him play it. You didn’t really understand it when he spoke, before, but now you understand the difference between a fishing net and a volleyball one, as well as other crucial aspects of the game. There’s a lot of yelling, and squeaking, and it’s a little hard to see from inside your bucket, but you don’t mind. You bob up every so often, trying to find Tsutomu on the court, though it’s hard when he moves around so much.

At one point, he jumps up and slams down the ball in what’s clearly a perfect line even to the untrained eye. Around him, his teammates burst into cheers (“Nice going, bowlcut!) and you get so excited you mimic them, whooping and doing a flip in the air.

“Eh? What was that?” Someone you can’t see says, and then Tsutomu is there, grinning widely at you from above, eyes watering slightly.

“Oi, Goshiki,” a boy with hair as red as your scales slides an arm around him. “What’s this you’ve got?”

Tsutomu opens his mouth, but you beat him to it, using the name he gave you without a second thought.

“Huh? Wow, you have a smart goldfish! Reon, come check out Goshiki’s goldfish!”

Reon simply looks at you and says, “Cool.”

“Be nicer!” The redhead says, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “She can talk!”

“I can talk!” You echo. Reon repeats cool, unfazed.

“What are we looking at, Tendō?” A boy whose shirt reads Yamagata slows his jogging to a stop, one hand running through his hair as he looks at the red bucket.

“This is Y/N,” Tsutomu says. “I found her on the beach.”

“Are you going to eat that?” A voice deeper than the others makes you poke your head further out of the water than before. It’s a boy like the others, with greenish hair and a huge stature. He reminds you, oddly, of your mother. Big and bea-uti-ful!

“No!” Tsutomu yelps. “No, we won’t! Ushijima-senpai, sir,” he adds, voice calming to a lower pitch as he does.

“Are you sure?” Asks Tendō, a sly expression crossing his face. Tsutomu pushes him away hastily and steps protectively in front of you.

“Yes! I mean no! I mean—”

“Alright,” Ushijima-senpai says slowly. “Welcome to our practice, then. I hope you enjoy watching volleyball.”

“Enjoy!” You do another flip. “Watching Ushijima-senpai!”

“Okay—” Tsutomu says, picking up your bucket, looking around as he tries to find his way out of the circle of boys.

“What’s wrong with your fish?” A boy with long bangs and pointy features grabs the bucket and peers at you. You don’t like this pointy human. “Why is it talking?”

You say nothing, hollowing your cheeks in preparation to spit at him.

“Give her back,” Tsutomu narrows his eyes. “Careful, Shirabu.”

“Is no one else concerned about the talking goldfish?” Shirabu looks around at his upperclassmen. “What the fuck, Goshiki?”

“He’s right,” Ushijima says thoughtfully. “The fish could be a spy. For Karasuno, perhaps.”

“What?” Shirabu’s outraged yell is shortly cut off by Tsutomu’s fearful-yet-determined denial that you would ever do such a thing to him or to Shiratorizawa.

A deep sigh, sounding somewhat like it’s exhaling the speaker’s entire soul, interrupts them both.

“Can we please stop staring at Goshiki’s pet and get back to practice?” A boy with ash blond hair says, and immediately, a few of the others nod and disperse.

“She’s not a pet,” Ushijima says, while Tsutomu splutters incoherently. “Or sushi. She’s a friend of Goshiki. But you’re right, we should be practicing.”

“T-thank you, Ushijima,” Tsutomu says haltingly, eyes shining in admiration. “I really appreciate it!” The captain only needs to look back at him, his face unsmiling but not at all unfriendly, for him to continue. “And I apologize for distracting everyone, I’ll get back to work now! Thank you!”

The rest of practice goes smoothly, although you get a few lingering stares and an odd few minutes of interrogation from Shirabu while they’re on their break. He tries to explain that you can talk, and this is bad, and it’s a demon, to an old man with white hair, who merely hums when he looks at you and tells him to do an extra fifteen laps as a punishment for talking nonsense about magical goldfish.

Once the games have all finished and Goshiki’s changed into street clothing, though, something horrible happens. He’s picking you up, ready to transport you to his mother’s workplace so you can drive home, but then someone taps him on the shoulder. He startles, water sloshing over the sides of the bucket, and lifts up the bucket to his chest to prevent any further instability.

“Goshiki-kun,” a girl human says. “Could I speak to you outside?”

“Ouuuu,” you hear Tendō’s voice from across the gym. “Little bowl cut is receiving a confession?”

“Uh, um, yes, you can,” he says, and when you turn his cheeks are scarlet. “Let me just pack up the rest of my things, and I’ll m-meet you out there.”

“Sounds good!” She says, and you don’t like the cheery note of her voice or the way she brushes her hand against his bicep. You make a face up at Tsutomu, but he doesn’t seem to notice, lost in his own head.

You swim all the way to the bottom of the bucket, only to feel him poking you not a minute later.

“Don’t be grumpy,” he says. “Please? It’ll be just a second.”

You flap a fin at him and make an enthusiastic noise.

It is not, in fact, a second. You wait for an eternity (and you know about eternities) for the girl to stop stuttering her way through telling Tsutomu that she thinks he’s really smart, and she likes his bowl cut, and you can just see the word amazing forming on her lips before she says it. Her hand is stretching out, dropping something shiny into his hand, and you hate it, you hate it, you hate it.

You act before you think. Your cheeks puff up and you take a big breath in and then there’s water, all over her pretty pink cardigan. She shrieks and then starts to cry a little, and you stick out your tongue and blow a raspberry at her before diving back down, flipping your tail with sass as you go.

“I’m really sorry,” Tsutomu says frantically, offering her a wrinkled handkerchief. “It was an accident, I swear. I-I really appreciate your confession and, um, I’m glad you were comfortable enough soo that you could come to me, but, oh! My mom’s here, I have to go! Bye!”

You swivel and watch as he picks you up and bolts away; her tears seem to have dried a bit as she stares after him in bewilderment. Not for the first time, you wish you had two legs and hands to hold onto Tsutomu. You wish that you could stay on shore with him, and keep away all the girls like her forever.

You know it’s childish, but you don’t care. Does it matter that it’s an immature thought when it’s completely impossible?

In the car, Tsutomu is quiet. Even his mother seems to notice his pensive aura, and frames her questions about his day carefully to avoid sounding like she’s prying.

“What’s that?” She asks, and he unclenches his hand, looking as mystified by the object in his palm as you feel. It’s a pin, gold and pink and shaped like a heart. “Oh, my gosh, is that from your girlfriend, Tsutomu?”

“No,” he says immediately. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

You frown, bumping the red walls of the bucket, and he trails his fingers through the water. Something coppery floods your senses, and you dart over to nuzzle his hand instinctively. In his palm, there’s an angry red mark, oozing little droplets of blood. When you poke it, he winces.

It tastes weird when you lick it.

“Hey!” He jerks his hand out of the water. “Whoa.”

Where Tsutomu knew he had been pricked by the pin a few minutes ago, there’s no sign of injury, even though the water surrounding you still has a faint tint in places. You watch him with round eyes, and he offers you a smile and a pat on the head. Amazing.

“What did you think, Y/N?” You stick out your tongue.

“Girlfriends suck,” is your opinion. “Pbbbt.”

The wind blows the longer strands of Tsutomu’s straight hair to the side as he stands next to the garden hose, refilling your bucket with fresh water. Above you, the sky is a weak blue, it’s brighter shades concealed by layers of white mist. A lush, slightly overgrown garden is what hides behind the picket fence you can see from the seashore, full of plants that look so familiar to the kelp forests you’re used to, yet so different. The upper lands are so strange. You’re glad Tsutomu’s mom doesn’t keep her garden dry and cut into shrubbery, like some of the houses you saw on the way to his school.

“Who are you?” Tsutomu’s voice is stiff, like his form as he drops you into the now-full bucket of fresh water while you crane your neck to see past his legs.

“Where is she?” Booms a voice you know all too well. It cuts off when he sees you, lips pursed while you try to look as inconspicuous as possible. “Captured by a human boy? Bad, that’s very bad. Give her here—“

“No!” Your friend yelps. “You want to take her? Y/N, I’ll protect you.”

“Protection?” Your father sneers, his hair puffing up threateningly. “I felt her signal for help—very good, by the way, your spellwork is coming along nicely. Give her here, now, I’ll be drying out soon.”

“I don’t care! Y/N wouldn’t do that, we’re friends,” Tsutomu says, casting a glance down at you. You nod, your tongue feeling stuck.

“My daughter would not befriend a human—“

“Y/N loves Tsutomu!” You cry. A light blazes in his eyes at the words, and his posture straightens.

“And I love her!”

“Eh?” Your father looks between the two of you. “That’s nonsense, Brunhilda, you know what humans are like, and what’s a Y/N, anyway?”

“It’s me!” You flip in the air, surging with defiant energy. “It’s my name.”

You choke midsentence as a hand closes around you; the world goes up in bubbles, and all you can hear is Tsutomu screaming your name, over and over.

Over.

And over.

“Again!” You sigh and twitch your fins lazily, watching with hooded eyes as lines only you can see race across the model mountain, glowing faintly before they settle into the material. The warding spell is clean and simple, requiring no complicated incantations or strange ingredients. However, it needs time to sink in, and when a hermit crab scuttles over the map and right onto your now-invisible lines, the whole thing goes up in a puff of smoke.

“Y/N,” your father says sternly, having given up on Brunhilda some time ago, when you refused to answer to it. “This is meant to be a demonstration for your sisters. These spells require layering, you know, one spell to ward and a secondary spell to, in a way, ward that ward. This creates an effect…”

You say nothing, merely letting a current of water roll you onto your side, your eyes rolling up to stare at the ceiling. You can feel the sympathetic gaze of your father—you know that he didn’t intend for this to happen. He only wanted to save you; he couldn’t have known that Tsutomu wasn’t the threat. You know he worries about you when he thinks you can’t hear him. You hear his every prayer for your mother to come back, to make things right, to help you see things his way. It’s only on the third point that he loses you. You didn’t want things to be this way either.

When you lost Tsutomu, something inside you boiled up and nearly steamed over. You can only remember wanting to go back, to go home to him, desperately trying to rejoin him on land. You love your father, and you only want his understanding. He left behind his humanity for your mother; why can’t you gain it yourself for Tsutomu?

The lid had clamped down on that furiously bubbling emotion, and in response it had gone to sleep, simmering but never fully boiling away. At first, you had been unmotivated even to eat or wake when your sisters did. Four years later, you still miss him: you go about your day to day life just fine, but you lack your childhood verve.

Even now, you can feel yourself slipping into slumber, exhausted by just a few minutes of magic. Your father’s voice and the clamor of your sisters meld into a comforting hum, lulling you further. You barely register the feeling of your father carrying you to your aquarium, the whisper of his goodnight lost on your drowsing mind.

When he was fourteen, Tsutomu’s mother found him in the garden. There was a wet trail leading right off the bluffs, a red bucket lying on its side, and her son, sitting with his knees under his chin and crying his heart out. The garden hose was still on.

She didn’t ask what happened, just turned off the hose and crouched next to him, arm over his shoulders, until he looked up at her with puffy eyes and wordlessly followed her into the house.

Risa had always known that she could be a little sharp with her words, and so she used food to express herself more often when she wanted it to be soft and soothing. She mixed her son some tea, the way she had every time he’d gotten sick when he was little, slid two slices of bread into the toaster, and hoped that the warmth of what she gave him would travel into his heart and help it heal a bit. Tsutomu cried into the toast a little, once it had been lavished with butter and honey, but it was just sniffling and not silent sobs, so she didn’t mind much. Then they sat on the couch and she rubbed his back while old tapes of his very first volleyball games played on the TV.

Tsutomu never told her what had happened that day. He could tell that she was curious, but unwilling to pressure him, and he wasn’t sure how to explain it. She’d always spoken about you in the same manner most adults used to describe the imaginary friends of children, and correcting that assumption seemed beyond the dignity of the man he wanted her to see him as. He knew that she guessed that he’d knocked over the bucket and sent his fish back down into the sea, and it wasn’t an unreasonable explanation. Fourteen year old boys weren’t the most rational creatures, and he could very easily have been sent into a similar kind of spiral had the fish just been a regular goldfish. It wasn’t, though, and he’d never cried so hard over any girl since.

He misses you. Though it doesn’t ache as sharply as it did when the fear of facing off against your father was fresh in his mind, he still thinks of you with a pang of sadness. There had been a sense of belonging with you he knows was more than a fleeting feeling. He hopes you’re happy in the ocean, learning new magic and spending time with your sisters, and once you’re queen of the sea, maybe you’ll come visit him. He’ll show you his cross spike.

“Again!” Shirabu barks, and Tsutomu has no trouble complying. He empties himself of every concern outside of the game and slams down a serve, just outside of the zone he wants it to land in. Without prompting, he picks up another ball and does it again.

Over and over and over.

Electricity was already crackling in the air when he woke up.

Everything felt uncomfortable, like the pressure in the atmosphere would pop and the sky would fall down in flaming pieces around them. It’s gray, like it was the day you went home. You’ve been lingering even longer on his mind than usual, and he just hopes that the knot in his throat will go away if he hits enough perfect shots. It would probably help if his partner for the day weren’t allergic to acknowledging when he does something right.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Shirabu says. Tsutomu makes a face at him and serves one more ball, the sound of it hitting the ground echoing obnoxiously. These days, he and Shirabu are good friends, though they’re still hiding behind the thin veneer of antagonism they’d held for each other in their first years. Being teammates at Shiratorizawa means being bonded for life, after all. There’s no sense in fighting it. The powers that be (also known as Coach Washijō) are as inexorable as fate, after all.

During the school year, Tsutomu lived in the dorms, like most other academy students, but living a mere half hour ride away meant he often visited the school over summers, too. It’s a little bittersweet now to know that each day spent practicing in this gym could be his last; though he has some time before university begins, he’s not sure when graduates are supposed to lose access.

“I drove with my mom,” Tsutomu says, “so I’ll be meeting her at the senior center. You’re coming over to watch the Rockets game later, right?”

“Sure,” Shirabu says, slinging on his backpack. “I have to bring some homework, though, I have too much preliminary coursework already.”

“You asked for it, smartass,” teases his friend.

“That’s gonna be Doctor smartass to you.”

Despite the short walk between the academy and the senior center, Tsutomu is soaked by the time he walks inside. He’s careful when taking off his raincoat and shaking out his umbrella, placing it into the designated stand, stamping his boots on the absorbent mat a few times to be safe. Just past the welcome desk, he can see his mother, pushing rambunctious Mrs. Suzuki down the hall, probably to her daily bingo game, where she’ll fleece the other players just like she’s done every day for years. Mrs. Fukuyo is sitting near the terrace doors, gazing out of the big window at the wet world outside.

“Hello, Tsutomu-chan,” she says, beckoning him to sit down, taking his hand in both of hers. “Or should I say Goshiki? You’re an adult, now, aren’t you?”

“Basically,” he says, lifting his chin. “One more week.”

“Oh, yes, you’re very grown up,” she says. “I remember when you were just starting secondary school. You were a bit skinnier then, and you wouldn’t eat fish.”

Tsutomu flushes.

“A lot can happen in a week,” says Miss Itoh, who often plays Mrs. Suzuki’s partner in crime when she deigns to attend bingo, as she passes by. “You be careful, Tsutomu, with all this weather. It’s bad luck.”

“There’s always weather,” sniffs Mrs. Fukuyo. “And we need the rain.”

“I’ll take care, don’t worry,” Tsutomu says politely. “You do the same, please.”

“Good, good,” Miss Itoh sounds distracted. “Happy birthday. Keep out of the rain, you’ll get sick. And don’t go sailing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he stands to bow as she leaves the room.

“She’s crazy,” Mrs. Fukuyo sighs, half-joking. “But even a broken clock is right twice a day. You’re a good kid.”

“Thank you,” he says, stiff and awkward, cheeks glowing red.

“Tsutomu, there you are. Sorry to keep you waiting, I’m done now,” his mother lands a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Hello there, Mrs. Fukuyo. Doing well?”

“I am, thank you,” says the elderly woman. “Just telling your son what a strong man he’s grown up to be. He’ll take good care of his mother.”

“I will,” Tsutomu says with conviction. His mother’s pride beams down on him like the sun splitting the clouds.

“Thank you,” his mother says. “The storm rages on; we should probably go.”

“The roads aren’t safe,” says the the woman at the check-in desk as they prepare their rain gear to leave. “You should stay here for the night, Risa.”

Her jaw tightens. “I need to be there if Koichi radios in. We’ll make it just fine, don't you worry.”

On a nondescript day in August, you wake up.

Something tastes different on the current, and you feel almost like you’re regarding the world with new eyes again. You remember, with fierce and reckless abandon, what it is to love.

“Good morning,” you greet your sisters cheerily.

“Good morning!” They echo back, beaming at you. They feel it too, you can tell.

You eat your breakfast with gusto, examine your scales and scrub each until they shine. You kiss every sister you see on top of her red-gold head.

“I want to see Goshiki,” you tell your father, watching as his hair stands on end at the name, bracing yourself so the surprised jolt of power he emits doesn’t knock you down.

“No,” is all he can muster for a moment. “The human world isn’t safe. Look at what happened to you the last time you went up there.”

“I would have been fine because of Tsutomu,” you say, “And I’m even more powerful now than I was.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps back. “They taint everything they touch. You’d have to-to literally, actually become a human to return to the surface. I don’t want them taking you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” You take a deep breath.

“Fine,” you say. “Then I’ll do it myself.”

You exhale with controlled force, closing your eyes and concentrating on the slow beat of cold blood in your veins.

“What are you doing?” Starts your father, nervously, but you don’t hear as you focus intently on the warmth spreading through you.

Pop!

You open your eyes, magic still swirling around you, and beam.

“Feet!” You chirp. “I have feet!” A little more pushing, and—

“Are those legs?” Your father shrieks. “Stop this right now!”

“No,” you say fiercely, and release an explosion of power so potent it rocks you backward. Seconds later, you realize that you’ve blasted a hole in the wall and the barrier ward; seawater rich with plankton rushes through, followed by barracuda with bulging eyes and squirming eels. You have hands, now, and something odd is happening to your scalp. You use one of the new extremities to reach tentatively up and pat your head.

“Hair!” Your sisters, freed from their own bubbles by the commotion, float around you. A shock of hair has sprouted from your scalp like a crop of coral. It tickles your forehead.

“I did it,” you say quietly, breathless. “I’m human.”

You look around for your father, but only see the tail end of him dashing into one of his back rooms, his nervous muttering echoing around the room.

Perhaps if you were human from the beginning, your mother would have taken you to the sea, held your hand as you beheld the glittering waves for the first time, and warned you never to turn your back on the ocean. Alas, you weren’t and she didn’t, so you fall with no resistance forward when a rush of water slams into your back, grinding your face into the floor and sweeping you away while you flail your little hands helplessly.

You’ve only felt so powerless in the water once before. Scrabbling for purchase as you freewheel through the halls of your home, you catch your fingers—there’s still a little rush of joy from it, you made them, you have fingers—on the spokes of a great wheel and cling for dear life. It creaks and turns, and you yelp, your words turning to bubbles that rise and pop against the ceiling, against which the water now reaches. The wheel turns again, and you try to hold your breath (something you’ve never done before) as something in the door clicks. There’s a moment where you think it’ll hold, and then you rock forward a little more, and it swings open. The ocean, eager to fill everything and make it its own, changes its course, and you tumble into the room, eyes widening when you see the enormous cauldron filled with something richly luminous and golden. Even submerged, the scent of the potion is strong, reminiscent of plant rot and blooming flowers, the same perfume that your mother exudes. For a moment, you gain breath, lungs and gills morphed and confused, and then you’re pulled back beneath the surface and pushed right into the pot.

You shut your eyes, the golden glow permeating even through your eyelids, and oddly enough, you can breathe like it’s pure oxygen. You can feel your spell being taken away from you, your limbs becoming fins, and you open your eyes.

I want to be human, you cry. I want to see my love.

The cauldron erupts, pushing you out of it on the top of a geyser. You hear popping noises and try to stand, looking down to see several of your sisters caught up in the fount of bubbling-over magic, thrashing joyfully as they try to wave at you with suddenly huge fins.

You wave back, and gasp involuntarily when you see your own hand. Five fingers, covered with soft skin, veins carrying warm blood and strong bones beneath it. Your sisters may have grown far more in the span of the last few seconds, but you’ve reached an entirely unfamiliar size and shape yourself. You stretch your legs, examining your toes, the way your dress—the same color as your scales and a little iridescent, just like they were—flows around you, and beam at your sisters.

Thank you, Mother. You bow your head quickly in short prayer.

“Let’s go see Tsutomu!” You call out, and your sisters leap in answer. The surface world is so different through the eyes of a human. Your head is turned constantly to the shore as you race on the bubbling foam towards the highest hill you can see, a speck of yellow and red on top of it growing closer with every step. Lights turn on and off in the windows of homes, a thousand little fireflies glowing smaller in the distance. Trees, shivering and shaking in the wind, make up the landscape, shaping it into something that looks almost soft from so far above.

The broad panorama isn’t without more minor detail, though: with some fascination, you see two glowing eyes staring at you from along the road. Their owner steps out of the shadows—a furry creature with pointy ears and a tail and a sleek white coat of fur. Another cat follows him into the light, this one black and her eyes shiny green, unlike the first’s calm blue. The white cat rubs his cheek along the other’s, winding around her while she stands stock-still. Quick as a minnow, the black cat swipes at him, but the white cat darts away, checking over its shoulder to see if she’ll follow. You beam broadly and speed up, eager to situate yourself in this strange and exciting new world Tsutomu comes from.

Tsutomu can’t remember a time his mother’s spent the night away from home. Every night, without fail, if she knows that his dad will be in the harbor, she sits at home and waits for him, beaming their signal in start-stop patterns, having whole conversations with him in flashes when the radio reception isn’t to be used. It’s not often he’s away from home, either; it makes him uneasy to be away from the open sea. A closed horizon is a strange sight to him, like being a bug trapped in a bowl.

His parents’ commitment to each other has shaped him, something he’s always known. In sickness and in health, they swore to each other, and they kept it. For better or for worse.

His mother certainly seems intent on plowing through the worst to get to his father, now, the rain hitting their windshield in sheets and the water sloshing around their tires. Tsutomu doesn’t protest at all, just hangs on to the grab handle and stares out at the behemoth waves.

A flash of red shines in the corner of his eye. He sucks in a sharp breath, twisting fully around. He squints, trying to make out shapes through the rain.

“Get back in your seat,” his mother blindly swats at him with one hand, eyes focused on the road. “You’re throwing off the weight distribution.”

Tsutomu ignores her, white knuckling the cushions of the car as he watches you, dancing in the rain, running with the waves. You duck and weave, your dress red against the cold, gray sea.

“There’s a girl in the water!”

“What? Where?”

His mouth lies, but his heart knows the truth, knew it as soon as he saw you.

“There,” he points, but you pull ahead of them, and then there’s nothing but lightning flashing in the distance. “Never mind. Never mind. We just—we just need to go home, sorry.”

“Right you are,” his mother says, and drives the gas pedal into the floor.

Tsutomu is a shipwreck. Tossed around on the waves of his thoughts, he finds himself cresting and falling, one emotion followed immediately by another. It can’t be you. It is you. Tsutomu doesn’t care what you are, just that he can see you again. He wonders if this is what drowning feels like.

Their wipers battle to slough off the buckets pouring from the sky, and Tsutomu’s heart drops to his soles when a smudge of red reveals itself just to be his old bucket, hanging off the fence. His mom parks and he tries to regulate his breathing, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car on shaky legs.

“Is that…” His mother says, trailing off, and his head snaps up, the car blocking him from whatever she sees.

He walks around, trying desperately not to break into a run, trying not to get his hopes up.

Barely audible over the sound of storming, the pat-pat-pat of rapid footsteps is his only warning before—

You crash into Tsutomu, both faces scrunching up from the impact, both losing your footing on the wet pavement and falling further into each other. He knows it’s you even with his eyes closed. He would know you in every world and the next; he would know you from the beat of your heart and the touch of your skin and the way he loves you, loves you, loves you.

For a moment, before you hit the ground, you feel like you’re flying with him.

You spill together onto the driveway like an egg cracked into a pan, still holding each other in a bone-crushing embrace. You inhale his scent deeply and nuzzle into his wet-rain-jacket shoulder, and he cracks his eyes open, afraid you’ll disappear when he comes back to reality.

Tsutomu says your name quietly, on tenterhooks, almost all the breath in his body taken out of him.

You lift your head and say his louder, eyes wide and bright and wet. He can’t stop his tears from welling up, but he can blame them on the rain.

You kiss his cheeks where the salt might dry, one then the other, soft as the breeze. Tsutomu can still feel your smile, unfading. The sky turns gold around you.

#sorry that u are a fish for most of this. if i had written the rest of it u would not be a fish the whole time #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #goshiki x reader fluff #goshiki x reader angst #goshiki x reader #goshiki tsutomu x reader #goshiki tsutomu x reader fluff #goshiki tsutomu x reader angst #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu angst #hq angst #hq fluff #hq!! angst #hq!! fluff

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ladylooch · 10 months ago

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Okay here is an idea for Timo and Emma

Somewhat angsty lol

So maybe life is really busy with the 4 kids and it’s been a little while where Em and T were able to have some time alone. So maybe every little either Timo does or the kids do sets Emma off and she is easily irritated and annoyed. Like maybe making lunch for the kids and they don’t want to eat what she has cooked or Timo is gone longer than he said and Emma missed her workout class. So Timo is like okay obviously you have some tension let me help you loosen up 🥵and so they run off during the kids nap time

By Emma’s calculations, she should be about to her cooldown right now in her pilates class. She should be sweaty, but relieved to have gotten a work out in with how crazy the family schedule has been this week. Instead, she is sitting on the couch, monitoring Logan and Liam as their play time borders on becoming a slap fest.

Timo is still not home.

He was supposed to be home two hours ago. Emma keeps getting texts from him with updates.

I’m going to be a little later than I thought.

Still going here, babe. Need a bit more time.

15 minutes or so and I’ll be on my way.

I just left. I’m getting home as fast as I can.

Fuck, I’m so sorry!

Emma believes him. She knows those RPMs on that Mercedes of his are going to be roaring through the streets of New Jersey. She had asked for one thing this week. ONE THING from her now retired NHL player of a husband. It was to make sure that he was at home by 1:00pm so she could hit her pilates class. Emma knows he is doing hard work right now. He is getting more involved in his friend’s clothing company that he has invested in for years. Now, that Timo has the time, he has been asked to be more of a decision maker. Timo is very excited about the prospect and Emma is supportive. But she has needs too. Very hot ones that have not been met by her husband in weeks.

“Logan.” Emma murmurs, watching him start to pat at his brother. A string of words in Swiss German and English come bumbling out of his mouth with none of them being coherent. “Baby, no. Hands to yourself.” The twins, who practically came out holding hands, do not understand this concept. “Be nice.” Emma finishes. Another thing they don’t understand as two year old terrors.

“Baby! I’m here!” Timo calls into the house before he looks around. His eyes land on his wife so close. “Oops. Sorry. I thought you would be upstairs.” He flips his wrist, looking at his watch. “Can you still make it?”

“At 1:45? No.” Emma snaps.

“Okay. Fuck. I’m so sorry. Is there a later one you can go to… or…” Timo purses his lips at the irritation puling her eyebrows together. “No? Okay.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Um, how can I make it up to you?”

Emma gives him props for the awareness and recognition and the genuine apology. But she doesn’t feel like she was asking for too much. One thing. In the millions of things that she has sacrificed for him in his career. Today she wanted one fucking thing.

“Make it on time tomorrow, please.” She says tightly.

“Yes, I will. Promise.” He comes to the living room. He kneels down by the babies then drops a big palm on each of the twins heads. “Hannah coming today?”

“No, she is on vacation with her friends. It’s us against the kids.”

“Oh yeah, Tulum.” Timo grins. “Good mems, eh?”

“Mhm.” Em agrees. Timo craws over to her on the floor, literally on his knees.

“I’m really sorry. You know that?” Emma nods. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay, can you just yell at me?” Timo groans, putting his forehead on her thigh.

“No. I don’t want to.” Emma shrugs.

“This feels worse.”

“Than me yelling at you? Good lord. We needed therapy more than we knew.” She leans forward, cupping both his cheeks. She kisses him deeply, letting her tongue swipe along the seam of his lips. He sighs, reaching a big hand around to the back of her neck. They make out like that, touching tongues and soft moans to each other until they’re both worked up. Liam comes to smooch their faces, breaking them out of their trace as Logan comes too.

“Gonna bend that sweet ass over my knee tonight. When all the babies are in bed.” He murmurs hotly in her ear so the boys can’t hear. Emma smiles at him as he settles into the couch next to her with Liam. Logan curls into Emma’s arms. His little feet go over to his brother and he starts kicking. Liam begins to do the same immediately.

“Hey!” Emma and Timo say at the same time, grabbing the feet of the respective twin in their arms.

“They just had to be boys.” Emma chuckles, leaning her back into Timo. He wraps an arm across her chest, gripping her opposite shoulder to keep her close.

“The universe knew I couldn’t have three girls.” Timo laughs as Logan starts to gnaw on Timo’s arm. Emma cups his little chin, wiggling it so he releases his dad’s skin. Emma smirks at the sweet grin he gives her. He looks like a little dinosaur with his jagged teeth.

“Yeah, that is probably true.” She finally responds.

Two more Livys would surely put Timo in an early grave.

#tm: loving & leaving

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sea-owl · 2 years ago

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Okay but you know how many Greek heroes were given impossible tasks to complete line Heracles having to complete all those labors? Imagine one of those tasks is having to babysit the children of the king and queen of the underworld for just one hour. It seems easy, until they meet Polins kids.

So funny thing I kinda based Gareth off Heracles, soooo

Gareth and Hyacinth were engaged to be married but he had been hiding a secret, which in turn led to him lying to Hyacinth and it sadly made it look like he was only marrying Hyacinth to gain immortality. He came clean about it, and Hyacinth still wanted to marry him after, but Anthony found out. He ended up demanding Gareth do 8 impossible tasks to prove his worth to marry Hyacinth.

Gareth completed them one by one and when it came time for the final task Anthony was getting nervous. Now he couldn't outright kill Gareth (he really didn't want to anymore either) as he was still Simon's champion and Anthony was a god of his word. He just needed to make the last task an absolute knockout so he knows that Gareth truly loves Hyacinth. He needs to put someone else in charge of the task that will put Gareth through the ringer, who loves and is protective of Hyacinth.

Anthony's eyes fell onto the rulers of the Underworld, the red headed queen to be precise. Perfect.

"I need you to let Gareth babysit your kids."

Penelope raised an eyebrow, "You need me to do what?"

"The final task. I'm thinking about having Gareth babysit your kids," Anthony said.

Penelope crossed her arms and shot him a look. "Be careful with your next words Anthony, but why are you making the final impossible task babysitting my kids?"

Anthony held up his hands in a wait kind of gesture. "I'm not saying they're bad Pen, but you know your kids would run circles around any non-family babysitter."

It was true to. His four niblings from Colin and Penelope were generally good kids but all four of them had inherited their mother's brains. This often left them smarter than the adult that was supposed to be watching them. They were also frankly scary in their own right like their parents.

Agatha, the oldest of four children was a gentler version of her parents. While her parents judged souls fairly and justly based on how they lived their lives Agatha was more merciful towards souls. Just don't try to take advantage of her mercy because Agatha also believes in vengeance should the situation call for it.

Thomas has interests in the rivers his Aunt Felicity presides over, specifically the River of Pain that serves as a protective border around their home from the chasm that is Tartarus. He has also charmed many of the ghosts in his parents' army, often seen training with them.

Jane who is the most like her mother in personality, power, and looks. The little girl can make the most beautiful plants and then you find out each one she creates has the capability to kill. Jane's favorite and first plant she created being the Venus Flytrap. A plant that uses flowers and a sweet-smelling nectar to trap its prey between its jaw like leaves. Also, like her sister if Jane deems vengeance necessary then may the gods help you. Anthony just knows the mortals are gonna curse future criminals with both their names on their lips.

Finally little Georgie who liked dreams. He liked seeing how dreams affected mortals from the hope and happiness of a good dream to the terrors and alertness nightmares bring. Anthony has seen him before going around the ghosts who died in their sleep and asking them what their last dreams were.

All of this mixed together and they were perfect to run Gareth ragged.

"Plus," Anthony said trying to get Penelope to at least think about the idea. "We all know Hyacinth has been itching to move to the Court of the Underworld for a while now. If Gareth truly wants to marry her, shouldn't he at least see his potential future home? Shouldn't he get to know some of the family?"

Plus, if the kids accidently kill him then Gareth doesn't have far to go then does he?

Penelope bit her lip debating it. Generally, she does like Gareth and remembers the little boy who followed around his older cousin Simon eager to please. She also remembers that little boy is now the man who lied to someone very dear to her.

"What are the terms?" Penelope asked.

"Gareth has to babysit your kids for 24 hours without any help," Anthony said. "If he can do that and still wants to marry Hyacinth then he will have my blessing and immortality. He fails if he goes for help, hurts your children in any way, or leaves."

Penelope stared Anthony down before letting out a sigh. "Alright, but I'm coming for both of you if he pulls out a weapon on my children."

Anthony bowed, "Thank you Penelope."

Later that day Penelope came home to her children. "Children, Mama has a favor to ask of you."

#there's the polin kids #agatha and jane were partially based on the furies aka where the vengeance part comes in #thomas came to me through the trope of second sons leading the warriors of the kingdom mixed with the underworlds rivers #finally george came through because i remembered hypnos the god of sleep and that led to dreams #gareth succeeds btw but he looks half dead when his future nibblings are done with him #spring's rebirth #polin #implied #hyareth #agatha bridgerton #thomas bridgerton #jane bridgerton #george bridgerton #bridgerton

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whispersafterdusk · 1 year ago

Text

Ensuring the Future - ch 2

Tentatively one of her hands moved toward his face, tracing from his jawline up to his temple before she gently lifted his hat from his head; at the same time her other came up to touch his chin. Miguel offered no resistance - he didn't know what to do with himself.

She's alive... How? How was this possible?

It was all he could do to remind himself to keep breathing as 'how' repeated over and over in his mind.

With a little bark of laughter that was half joy, half sob, Olivia brushed the hair from his face before letting his hat drop to the floor and throwing her arms around him. It jarred him out of his stupor and he wrapped arms around her as well, crushing her against him and burying his face in her hair. ((Continued below cut))

Light, she even smells as she did all those years ago, he thought as the scent of clover and honeysuckle reached him. Always floral or earthy tones...sunshine and summers, green and lush and alive. Like she is now.

"Um...I should...or would, you know, go, but..."

Mi-an's voice was small and awkward; Miguel dragged himself back to the present -- they WERE right in the only doorway, weren't they?

"R-right, right..." Olivia murmured, slowly pulling away from his embrace while keeping hold of his hands to tug him along with her as she limped (limped? Why? What had happened to his Livvy?) backward a few steps to clear the way. "Put the list in my mailbox, I'll tend to it later." Her voice cracked a little, tears beginning to well up and Miguel could feel that familiar pinprick heat in his own and squeezed her hands in his.

Mi-an rushed by, and then...silence, aside from the sound of the wind gently moving the still opened door; it creaked softly as it rocked in place -- the breeze had picked up a great deal since last night and a good enough gust would surely send the door careening into the wall. Without breaking eye contact Miguel felt around with his foot until he hooked a toe around the door and slung it shut, no doubt leaving his hat in a puddle of coffee while closing him in with her.

"I can't believe this...I...I thought you were dead," she whispered, blinking several times. In what light made it through the dusty window nearby Miguel could see a few tears fall. "They said Doss was wiped out to a man."

"I was told the same, yes," he answered. "I... I wasn't there. My teachers had forced me to- my departure was delayed by three days. I had sent a telegraph ahead - it cost all the pocket money I'd saved up to feed myself on the trip but I couldn't bear the thought of you worrying or, or thinking I had gotten cold feet, or--" It was rare when words refused to come to him. Miguel squeezed his eyes shut - a few tears of his own fell free and he let out a short chuckle as he fought to get his thoughts into order. "My path was meant to take me east to Lucien and then Atara, then onward to home. I was stopped at the Ataran border and told I could go no further if that was my destination... That it was..."

She tightened her grip on his hands and grimaced a bit, shifting her weight-- ah! She'd been limping! Miguel took a step toward her and slid an arm about her waist, turning his head to look about the room. Whatever her injury he wasn't going to let her stand there in pain; his ire toward Mason grew a bit as he saw the scant amount of furniture left in the dwelling -- had the man just sold everything or had he lived as an animal? Good riddance to the wretch...

There was a chair at the table - it was closer than the bed and would have to do. Gently he guided her that way and after a step or two she matched her stride to his to make walking a little less awkward but then continued on passed the chair without his assistance and went to sit on a traveling trunk at the end of the bed where she pulled him down beside her; though it was wide enough they could have sat together without touching Miguel couldn't help but sit as close as he dared -- knees and legs brushing against one another as he again took her hand in his.

"I also was delayed," she said after a brief pause, accompanied with a small laugh and a quick dab at her eyes with a sleeve. "Public transportation schedules weren't exactly in my favor so I had to seek other means of getting back to Doss in time -- ended up buying a seat in a merchant caravan. We left Tallsky on schedule but broke down halfway to Walnut Groove... I remember being so frantic, thinking as you had: that you'd think I'd changed my mind or that I was somewhere out on the road injured or worse. As soon as we reached Walnut Groove I went to send a telegraph but... 'tis hard to send a message when there's no one left alive to receive it," she said, voice quiet at the last. "...that poor man's face went so pale when I announced where it needed to go. They'd only just gotten the news of Doss that morning, and he had to be the one to tell me."

"Were you not here before me now, where I can see and touch and hear you, I would think this little more than a dream," Miguel said softly. "And dreamed I have, for thirty years... This is nothing short of a miracle."

Olivia nodded, pulling his hand up to her mouth to press a kiss to his knuckles - it almost brought him fully to tears. "It is. It truly is, because I tried -- I tried sending letters to the ministry, begging them to tell me you had not been in Doss at the time. When I didn't get a response I had no choice but to believe the worst."

She had...what? Why had he never...? "What letters?" he asked. "I never received them nor was I told that there had been letters sent for me."

Her brows knitted together, confusion plain to see. "I sent three letters - no, no, it was four. Spaced out over a month. Addressed to you and, I believe her name was Gail?"

Miguel nodded - Miss Gail, in the main office there at the ministry. She handled all incoming and outgoing mail and Peach help you if you were even a single gol short for the postage costs. "Yes, that's her. I know without a doubt she would have made certain they got into my hands or at the very least that you received a reply. As inconceivable as it seems, none of those letters must have made it to Meidi." He fell silent a moment, weighing his next words; he remembered that her father Oswald had been an architect and was hired to design a new arts school auditorium in Tallsky around the same time Miguel had first left for the ministry. It was meant to be a temporary move at first but then Olivia had begun studying there as well and her father's design work suddenly became highly demanded, so much so that they had bought a second house and would move between the two cities as his work required while giving Olivia a place of her own to stay while in school. All of them were supposed to be back in Doss by the time of that last visit but if she had been delayed then there was a chance... "...your family, were they...?"

Olivia looked down into her lap. "They were in Doss. Left a few weeks before I was due to meet you back home. They're gone." After a breath she looked back up to him. "Yours?"

"Gone," he answered quietly. Though his heart ached to hear she'd lost everyone as he had a part of him morbidly found it a relief -- back then he'd been in such despair at the news that it had never even occurred to him to try and send a letter to her Tallsky address, to see if anyone would have been there and able to tell him the truth of the matter. ...now that he was thinking of it he marveled at how stupid he'd been in hindsight. Why hadn't he thought of that at some point? Knowing now that she was alive and she would have eventually gotten it-- well...maybe. If her letters hadn't reached him perhaps his would not have found her either, and grief had laid him so low that for weeks afterward it had been a struggle to think clearly about anything at all...perhaps he was being too hard on his younger self--

Both of them about jumped out of their skin when there was a loud pounding at the door then. "Oh for-!" the woman growled. "What now?!" After the outburst she took a deep breath, wiped her eyes quickly, then stood; he was forced to let his hand fall away from hers as she began limping toward the door. "Excuse me - I need to skin alive whoever this is."

He watched as she grabbed her cane from beside the door frame before throwing the door open; from over her shoulder Miguel could see Yan standing there and bristled - how dare he, of all people, interrupt this reunion?

"Yes, commissioner? To what do I owe this...pleasure?"

Miguel could hear the forced pleasantry in her tone.

"Hey heeeey, newbie! And er, that's 'president' ... Anyway! Couldn't help but notice you haven't swung by the commerce building yet today! Now, I don't know how things were run back in...wherever you moved from, but around here I run a tight ship. I know you just got here and all so I'm willing to let it slide this time but I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow morning - we've got a lot of work to get done!"

Olivia tossed the cane up to catch it at the middle of the shaft before she gently brandished the polished round head at Yan. "Yes, commissioner, you do seem the sort to try captaining a ship in the desert. Rest assured the work shall be done regardless of when I arrive at the guild. Anything else?"

"It's 'President' and just keep in mind that we have standards here-"

"-which is why you're two months behind on commissions, I'm sure," Olivia interrupted. "It will be taken care of, good day."

As Yan sputtered Olivia closed the door, letting out a huff. Miguel could hear a faint and final 'and clean up your doorstep!' from outside as she came back over, cane tapping along in her hand -- it sounded as heavy as it looked, and it looked oddly similar to a sheathed sword sans the cross-guard, though he appreciated the brightly colored red and orange enamel swirls against the silver and black metal.

"I can already tell working with that man is going to be a headache," she sighed as she settled back onto the trunk.

"You do not know the half of it, Livvy," Miguel chuckled. Olivia's smile widened at the nickname; he wondered how long it had been since she'd heard it last. "Though...I suppose, loathe as I am to admit it, he is right in that we do have responsibilities to tend to. I imagine more than just him will come calling if our respective absences are noticed and I do not want to be interrupted a second time. We have thirty years to catch up on."

"That we do, and that we shall." She tapped the cane's tip against the side of her foot, glancing around briefly. "Wish it were more hospitable in here. I've had better-appointed camps in the middle of nowhere... And while the saloon looked and smelled very inviting I'd rather not lose my composure in public, if it's all the same to you," she said, tone teasing. "I can definitely have at least a few more chairs by the evening though I can't vouch for how comfortable they'll be. At the very least there'll be more options than the bed or the trunk."

"We can make use of my room in the church dormitory - I promise it is comfortable and private enough. I can come collect you later this evening and we can start catching up over dinner there?"

"Sounds marvelous. And I in turn promise I will be far more presentable than I am now," she said with a low laugh, reaching up to comb her fingers through her hair at the back of her neck.

Miguel stood and they walked to the door together. As the door opened and sunlight streamed in again he noted a glint of silver in her hair - a little hairpin, shaped like a curved shield with a tiny sword stuck through holes at its edges to hold the hair in place. It seemed fitting considering her sword-cane; those tales of knights and damsels in distress had always been her favorites growing up...it was strangely comforting and heartwarming to still see that bit of her on display. How much had she changed in these last thirty years? ...and oh how he had changed, as well. At the thought the tiniest flicker of fear shot through him but it was just as quickly banished as she reached out to touch his hand again.

"One more thing... Is there...a missus, or anyone I need to be concerned about not crossing?"

He shook his head. "No. Few ever compared to you and those that came close enough didn't end up working out."

"Good," she said. "Then there's no guilt in this." With that she leaned forward to press a quick kiss - barely a brush of the lips - against his cheek. "There aren't words to explain how much I've missed you. I will see you later tonight."

Miguel's face flushed bright red as his stomach twisted with the aching familiarity of the gesture and hurried to grab his hat up off the ground (the coffee had soaked into the band but only at the back -- even if it stained it wouldn't be all that noticeable unless someone was staring at the back of his head). He swept the shattered mug off to the side of the door with his foot then reluctantly turned to head for the gate; he so very much wanted to just...stay. To speak to her now and hear every detail, every moment, of what her life had been since they'd parted -- as they had always parted after their visits home. It had been so routine at the time with her returning to her builders school in Tallsky and he making the long trip back to Meidi...never in his life could have he predicted losing so much in one fell swoop.

And yet, here I have regained some of it... Though he would need to watch himself carefully for any unchecked feeling of entitlement he had to acknowledge a sudden surge of selfishness and hope -- that she too carried that same love that he had, even after all this time, and that he might have just been delivered a second chance at the life they'd always wanted.

#Ensuring the Future #EtF #Ensuring the Future - ch 2 #mtas miguel #mtas Mi-an #mtas Yan #My Time at Sandrock

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konglindorm · 2 years ago

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FOURTH STORY: THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS

(Over the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting both the text of the Snow Queen, and my thoughts on it. This is the text of the fourth section. All text comes from the public domain translation of Andersen’s works edited by J. H. Stickney and published in 1886. The illustrations, by Edna Hart, are from this edition as well.)

Gerda was obliged to rest again, and just opposite the place where she sat she saw a great crow come hopping toward her across the snow. He stood looking at her for some time, and then he wagged his head and said, "Caw, caw, good day, good day." He pronounced the words as plainly as he could, because he meant to be kind to the little girl, and then he asked her where she was going all alone in the wide world.

The word "alone" Gerda understood very well and felt how much it expressed. So she told the crow the whole story of her life and adventures and asked him if he had seen little Kai.

The crow nodded his head very gravely and said, "Perhaps I have—it may be."

"No! Do you really think you have?" cried little Gerda, and she kissed the crow and hugged him almost to death, with joy.

"Gently, gently," said the crow. "I believe I know. I think it may be little Kai; but he has certainly forgotten you by this time, for the princess."

"Does he live with a princess?" asked Gerda.

"Yes, listen," replied the crow; "but it is so difficult to speak your language. If you understand the crows' language, then I can explain it better. Do you?"

"No, I have never learned it," said Gerda, "but my grandmother understands it, and used to speak it to me. I wish I had learned it."

"It does not matter," answered the crow. "I will explain as well as I can, although it will be very badly done"; and he told her what he had heard.

"In this kingdom where we now are," said he, "there lives a princess who is so wonderfully clever that she has read all the newspapers in the world—and forgotten them too, although she is so clever.

"A short time ago, as she was sitting on her throne, which people say is not such an agreeable seat as is often supposed, she began to sing a song which commences with these words:

Why should I not be married?

'Why not, indeed?' said she, and so she determined to marry if she could find a husband who knew what to say when he was spoken to, and not one who could only look grand, for that was so tiresome. She assembled all her court ladies at the beat of the drum, and when they heard of her intentions they were very much pleased."

'We are so glad to hear of it,' said they. 'We were talking about it ourselves the other day.'

"You may believe that every word I tell you is true," said the crow, "for I have a tame sweetheart who hops freely about the palace, and she told me all this.”

Of course his sweetheart was a crow, for "birds of a feather flock together," and one crow always chooses another crow.

"Newspapers were published immediately with a border of hearts and the initials of the princess among them. They gave notice that every young man who was handsome was free to visit the castle and speak with the princess, and those who could reply loud enough to be heard when spoken to were to make themselves quite at home at the palace, and the one who spoke best would be chosen as a husband for the princess.

"Yes, yes, you may believe me. It is all as true as I sit here," said the crow.

"The people came in crowds. There was a great deal of crushing and running about, but no one succeeded either on the first or the second day. They could all speak very well while they were outside in the streets, but when they entered the palace gates and saw the guards in silver uniforms and the footmen in their golden livery on the staircase and the great halls lighted up, they became quite confused. And when they stood before the throne on which the princess sat they could do nothing but repeat the last words she had said, and she had no particular wish to hear her own words over again. It was just as if they had all taken something to make them sleepy while they were in the palace, for they did not recover themselves nor speak till they got back again into the street. There was a long procession of them, reaching from the town gate to the palace.

"I went myself to see them," said the crow. "They were hungry and thirsty, for at the palace they did not even get a glass of water. Some of the wisest had taken a few slices of bread and butter with them, but they did not share it with their neighbors; they thought if the others went in to the princess looking hungry, there would be a better chance for themselves."

"But Kai! tell me about little Kai!" said Gerda. "Was he among the crowd?"

"Stop a bit; we are just coming to him. It was on the third day that there came marching cheerfully along to the palace a little personage without horses or carriage, his eyes sparkling like yours. He had beautiful long hair, but his clothes were very poor."

"That was Kai," said Gerda, joyfully. "Oh, then I have found him!" and she clapped her hands.

"He had a little knapsack on his back," added the crow.

"No, it must have been his sledge," said Gerda, "for he went away with it."

"It may have been so," said the crow; "I did not look at it very closely. But I know from my tame sweetheart that he passed through the palace gates, saw the guards in their silver uniform and the servants in their liveries of gold on the stairs, but was not in the least embarrassed."

'It must be very tiresome to stand on the stairs,' he said. 'I prefer to go in.'

"The rooms were blazing with light; councilors and ambassadors walked about with bare feet, carrying golden vessels; it was enough to make any one feel serious. His boots creaked loudly as he walked, and yet he was not at all uneasy."

"It must be Kai," said Gerda; "I know he had new boots on. I heard them creak in grandmother's room."

"They really did creak," said the crow, "yet he went boldly up to the princess herself, who was sitting on a pearl as large as a spinning wheel. And all the ladies of the court were present with their maids and all the cavaliers with their servants, and each of the maids had another maid to wait upon her, and the cavaliers' servants had their own servants as well as each a page. They all stood in circles round the princess, and the nearer they stood to the door the prouder they looked. The servants' pages, who always wore slippers, could hardly be looked at, they held themselves up so proudly by the door."

"It must be quite awful," said little Gerda; "but did Kai win the princess?"

"If I had not been a crow," said he, "I would have married her myself, although I am engaged. He spoke as well as I do when I speak the crows' language. I heard this from my tame sweetheart. He was quite free and agreeable and said he had not come to woo the princess, but to hear her wisdom. And he was as pleased with her as she was with him."

"Oh, certainly that was Kai," said Gerda; "he was so clever; he could work mental arithmetic and fractions. Oh, will you take me to the palace?"

"It is very easy to ask that," replied the crow, "but how are we to manage it? However, I will speak about it to my tame sweetheart and ask her advice, for, I must tell you, it will be very difficult to gain permission for a little girl like you to enter the palace."

"Oh, yes, but I shall gain permission easily," said Gerda, "for when Kai hears that I am here he will come out and fetch me in immediately."

"Wait for me here by the palings," said the crow, wagging his head as he flew away.

It was late in the evening before the crow returned. "Caw, caw!" he said; "she sends you greeting, and here is a little roll which she took from the kitchen for you. There is plenty of bread there, and she thinks you must be hungry. It is not possible for you to enter the palace by the front entrance. The guards in silver uniform and the servants in gold livery would not allow it. But do not cry; we will manage to get you in. My sweetheart knows a little back staircase that leads to the sleeping apartments, and she knows where to find the key."

Then they went into the garden, through the great avenue, where the leaves were falling one after another, and they could see the lights in the palace being put out in the same manner. And the crow led little Gerda to a back door which stood ajar. Oh! how her heart beat with anxiety and longing; it was as if she were going to do something wrong, and yet she only wanted to know where little Kai was.

"It must be he," she thought, "with those clear eyes and that long hair."

She could fancy she saw him smiling at her as he used to at home when they sat among the roses. He would certainly be glad to see her, and to hear what a long distance she had come for his sake, and to know how sorry they had all been at home because he did not come back. Oh, what joy and yet what fear she felt!

They were now on the stairs, and in a small closet at the top a lamp was burning. In the middle of the floor stood the tame crow, turning her head from side to side and gazing at Gerda, who curtsied as her grandmother had taught her to do.

"My betrothed has spoken so very highly of you, my little lady," said the tame crow. "Your story is very touching. If you will take the lamp, I will walk before you. We will go straight along this way; then we shall meet no one."

"I feel as if somebody were behind us," said Gerda, as something rushed by her like a shadow on the wall; and then it seemed to her that horses with flying manes and thin legs, hunters, ladies and gentlemen on horseback, glided by her like shadows.

"They are only dreams," said the crow; "they are coming to carry the thoughts of the great people out hunting. All the better, for if their thoughts are out hunting, we shall be able to look at them in their beds more safely. I hope that when you rise to honor and favor you will show a grateful heart."

"You may be quite sure of that," said the crow from the forest.

They now came into the first hall, the walls of which were hung with rose-colored satin embroidered with artificial flowers. Here the dreams again flitted by them, but so quickly that Gerda could not distinguish the royal persons. Each hall appeared more splendid than the last. It was enough to bewilder one. At length they reached a bedroom. The ceiling was like a great palm tree, with glass leaves of the most costly crystal, and over the center of the floor two beds, each resembling a lily, hung from a stem of gold. One, in which the princess lay, was white; the other was red. And in this Gerda had to seek for little Kai.

She pushed one of the red leaves aside and saw a little brown neck. Oh, that must be Kai! She called his name loudly and held the lamp over him. The dreams rushed back into the room on horseback. He woke and turned his head round—it was not little Kai! The prince was only like him; still he was young and pretty. Out of her white-lily bed peeped the princess, and asked what was the matter. Little Gerda wept and told her story, and all that the crows had done to help her.

"You poor child," said the prince and princess; then they praised the crows, and said they were not angry with them for what they had done, but that it must not happen again, and that this time they should be rewarded.

"Would you like to have your freedom?" asked the princess, "or would you prefer to be raised to the position of court crows, with all that is left in the kitchen for yourselves?"

Then both the crows bowed and begged to have a fixed appointment; for they thought of their old age, and it would be so comfortable, they said, to feel that they had made provision for it.

And then the prince got out of his bed and gave it up to Gerda—he could not do more—and she lay down. She folded her little hands and thought, "How good everybody is to me, both men and animals"; then she closed her eyes and fell into a sweet sleep. All the dreams came flying back again to her, looking like angels now, and one of them drew a little sledge, on which sat Kai, who nodded to her. But all this was only a dream. It vanished as soon as she awoke.

The following day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and velvet and invited to stay at the palace for a few days and enjoy herself; but she only begged for a pair of boots and a little carriage and a horse to draw it, so that she might go out into the wide world to seek for Kai.

And she obtained not only boots but a muff, and was neatly dressed; and when she was ready to go, there at the door she found a coach made of pure gold with the coat of arms of the prince and princess shining upon it like a star, and the coachman, footman, and outriders all wearing golden crowns upon their heads. The prince and princess themselves helped her into the coach and wished her success.

The forest crow, who was now married, accompanied her for the first three miles; he sat by Gerda's side, as he could not bear riding backwards. The tame crow stood in the doorway flapping her wings. She could not go with them, because she had been suffering from headache ever since the new appointment, no doubt from overeating. The coach was well stored with sweet cakes, and under the seat were fruit and gingerbread nuts.

"Farewell, farewell," cried the prince and princess, and little Gerda wept, and the crow wept; and then, after a few miles, the crow also said farewell, and this parting was even more sad. However he flew to a tree and stood flapping his black wings as long as he could see the coach, which glittered like a sunbeam.

#the snow queen #Hans Christian Andersen #fairy tales

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thepitofjob · 6 months ago

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Job 6: 8-10. "The Forge."

Job was a randy fornicator and adulterer, ceremonially unclean. He was not as pure in his heart as we have been led to believe. Job was an addict of some kind. Now he repents for it, saying he regrets not obeying the dictates of Eden and remained clean. Job asks for a consolation prize after he has defied God and lamented he has done so. There is only one way, and this is to substantiate that obedience to God is not only a holy way to behave it wholly a way to live.

The world is not moving towards the onset of the Mashiach, the time when all Jews will come together, constituate the State of Israel and propagandize the proper study of the Torah all around the world.

Instead, our attackers and assassins, the Republican Party are about to have a shindig and plan more of the same for next year.

This is the only way we can raise ourselves up from the dead and prove God is real and there is proof of His existence. Our enemies must die, we must live and within our own border, in safety, a safety we can guarantee to the entire world. This struggle for humanity will never end if we do not do this:

8 “Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for, 9 that God would be willing to crush me, to let loose his hand and cut off my life! 10 Then I would still have this consolation— my joy in unrelenting pain— that I had not denied the words of the Holy One.

The rest of you may feel it was accetable to watch your sons die in you arms as a result of the filth that is spreading all around this world out of America again, but my son is not dying because of it. Their sons, not mine.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 8: My request. The Number is 5073, ןעג‎‎, mocking. Persons who mock God visit the salad bar of religion and take a little of this and a little of that and drown it in bottled salad dressing that has been poured out of huge plastic bottles into metal drums, and then they try to drizzle it with those weird shaped spoons all over the top of their verdant, multi-colored piles.

v. 9: That God would be willing to crush me. The Number is 4552, דההב‎, dahab, "understand what is forthcoming."

The purposes of the Temple, the Church and the Mosque are to provide spiritual persons with proper guidance. This they need to do with more than just a moral authority that we believe they possess they need to be right.

Now we didn't know how to do abortions back in the time of Christ, for example, but Jesus told the village square it was not proper to arrest, try, judge and convict a woman on the basis of her feminine sexuality. He told the crowd, all men, to disperse and go home and atone for their sins instead. Now we know why He did this. He was a champion of women's rights. Saul of Tarsus, his precursor would never have done this.

Except now we don't know what to do about all these persons that want to use state power against women in precise opposition to how the Church was told by Christ to legislate its principals to its followers.

We have know for thousands of years Jews and their God belong on Israel, His namesake but we cannot seem to get this done. We know violence is wrong, we know apartheid is wrong, we know the last should come first and the first should come last and that excess is bad, but no one on this planet wants to admit the Church was right, society is wrong, none of this is working, or elect politicians that are even curious about making it all right.

Jewish persons must never ever make this mistake. What is right is always done right now.

v. 10: I would still have this consolation. The Number is 7601, זואֶפֶסא‎, zoepsa, forged, "I am saturnine, sullen, shady, enraged."

We are apparently reading forged documents. The Torah, the Gospels and the Quran contain nothing but condemnation for our behavior. Read the real things and process exactly what they say and then God expects us to create the conditions needed for the onset of the Mashiach.

The world is not recovering to the levels of preparedness needed for these things because it lacks stability. The reason we practice religion is to teach the mind and the soul that stability, the ability to reason well and emote properly towards the world is goul od, holy, proper, healthy and rewarding. We need spiritual people to illustrate this to the rest so the human race can finally mature and leave its devolved nature behind.

All we need to do is understand this simple and brilliant formula, "religion is why, government is how", mainstreaming our spiritual principals, and things will be just fine.

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heavenlyakin · 11 months ago

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Part 14: I Just Don't Believe You Have Got It In You

Summary: Your life is forever changed when your most trusted advisor arrives home with an engagement treaty. As Queen of your Kingdom, you knew there would be sacrifices but little did you know how much the cost of these sacrifices would be. What do you do when your mind wants one thing but your heart longs for another?

Characters: Reader (some descriptions may apply), Suguru Geto, Satoru Gojo, Haku (Reader's child)

Warnings: none! Unless you hate children and peace.

Length: 1k

Navigation | Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

Three years later

As you sit reading, Haku walks into your rooms. He’s grown up so quickly, you realize as he stands there in his new attire. He’s just returned with his father this morning, an unbelievable amount of clothes in tow.

“Momma, what do you think?” He asks, spinning once, his grace just as Satoru’s. “I have dresses for my sisters too. They all match, For our next big ball, we shall wear them.”

“My handsome boy,” you smile, caressing his cheek. You lean down, kissing his forehead. “I can’t believe how grown up you look.” He’s nearing double digits now, the next ball will be to celebrate his first decade of life.

“Father says I can have more if I like this one,” he laughs, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“We mustn’t order too many. You’re growing too fast for that. But, I think you should get a few more. You can wear them as you begin to learn what it is to rule.”

You laugh, kissing his forehead once more. “Go, find your sisters and show them the gifts you brought them.”

“Even Momoka?” He asks about your youngest and most rowdy. She just turned three.

“Yes, just call for the nurses if she starts destroying your room again.” Last time she destroyed a painting of your mothers that Haku really loved and that you’d finally allowed him to have… the joys of motherhood.

He nods and runs out of the room, down the hall towards the other wing of the castle. Satoru begins walking down the hall where Haku just ran off. He must have been speaking with one of the girls.

“Satoru!” You call for him and he grins.

“Wife,” he smiles, kissing your cheek in greeting.

“Haku was showing me his new clothes. He looks more and more like you as he grows. To think I labored with him all for him to look nothing like me.” You tease as he laughs.

“At least we have a girl with your hair.”

“Ah yes, one of four. My consolation for years of discomfort!” He laughs, placing a hand on your shoulder. “How are things back home? Did Haku enjoy being alone with you for once?”

“He did. Things are going better. There have not been any raids in the northern villages since we’ve stationed more men to guard them.” There had been unrest two years ago, so sending forces seems to have worked. “I am grateful to be back here, honestly.”

The shared castle on the borders of the two kingdoms has been a joy. The court has dwindled to only those who lived closer to the castle, and those who are loyal to you and Satoru. You’ve only gone back to your castle a few times a year to show face. Everything else has been manageable from here.

“I’m glad to hear it was a successful trip.” You smile and then sigh. “Care to join me for tea?”

“As long as Sebastian brings those delightful lemon cakes, I’d do about anything you ask.” He holds his arm out for you to place your hand.

He guides you to the tea room, speaking to a few of the lords on the way. You also engage, but leave the decisions up to him since they are from his Kingdom. You have both learned to keep boundaries over the years, and only help when the other is asked.

Sebastian brings the cakes and the tea, giving you a short report of the dinner plans later. Something Satoru has requested is dinners together regularly with the children. He’s been such a good father to the kids, so much so no one has brought up the issue of their parentage to the court.

What they may whisper at home, you cannot control nor do you want to hear.

“How is Camilla?” You ask after the room has cleared.

Satoru smiles, the kind you remember from years ago. The light in his eyes is something you also recall. He’s found happiness for himself.

“She is well. She sent her wishes.” He pours himself some tea and hands you the pot.

Camilla and Namami, Satoru’s advisor, switched places after she had her child. Satoru wanted to protect her from scorn and you agreed. She may have become distant in the years you were having Suguru’s children, but that does not take away from how she helped you all the times before. You owed her this, her happiness and protection. So, when Satoru proposed she and Nanami switch positions so he’s been serving in your Kingdom.

“I would like to see her soon. Perhaps after she recovers from her labors. I miss my friend,” you tell him and he nods.

“I will write to her soon. She would like that too.” He tells you. “How is Suguru?”

“Well,” you smile, looking away. “He’s been well.”

He looks around, then smiles. “You have no reason to still feel guilty.” He places his hand on yours. “Truly. I am happy for you. If we could not have happiness together, we deserve it apart.”

You sigh. “I am truly grateful to have a husband as good as you.”

He smiles, one of the genuine ones that makes his wrinkles apparent. He has not aged much, but years of smiles have given him fine lines. He’s had a happy life despite the tragedy early on and the unsuitable match of a wife he’s had of you.

“We may not have the love story our Kingdoms believe, but we do live lives full of love. May we continue to be blessed this way.” He bites into a lemon cake and you continue to have a peaceful tea.

#📜.somebody else #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader

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protectmypeople · 8 months ago

Text

A part of him believed her in her entirety, every word, and every sentiment carved the ever growing hole in his chest, the affection he mistook for weakness. The counsel had disagreed with her presence, vetoing her ability to assist in a war she had no experience with. They had used his war torn past to showcase her inability to handle the realities. Fear had gripped him, memories of his comrades bleeding to death, his own blood mixing sweetly with hot tears. It had stunned him into submission. Davina would never face that horror if he had anything to do with it. It had brought them here, outside of the war room, down the hall, to the empty reading chambers he rarely frequented.

Their discussion had his jaw set, and his gaze hardening, but his resolve was crumbling with every point she made. Bellamy toyed with the ring on his finger, solidifying their tie, their bond for the rest of their lives. King and Queen. The history of her kingdom still perplexed him, he knew of their cruelty towards her, die or marry him. A fate sealed by his mothers acceptance at the prospect of peace, and now. War persisted. Bellamy had hoped never to return to a battlefield, and yet the counsel pressed him to rejoin his battalion. Risking death for his people. Davina risked death in her own right, returning to her kingdom on their behalf was something he couldn't let happen. She'd die, they'd slaughter her and he'd burn the entirety of their kingdom to the ground. The admission had his heart twist in his chest, her stubbornness endeared him.

"Davina I-" If it were him, he'd do everything in his power to protect his people. This was her home now too. Bellamy heaved a sigh and approached her, closing the distance between the two of them. Alone in the reading room, the afternoon sun peaking in through the blinds, he could almost forget the war waging just beyond their borders. "Fine. However, you will not move anywhere without my knowledge, and this idea for you to somehow engage with them is- they clearly do not seek peace." He wanted to persist, to push the images haunting his dreams into her mind, he wanted to bury them the way he was forced to bury his soldiers. Anger simmered beneath his skin, and it did little to soothe the affliction between them.

With a deep sigh, his fingers reached for her dress, the hem just below her waist, snaking his arm around, he pulled her flush against his chest. The closeness had him aware of his scars, cutting across his freckled skin, he knew they looked worse at a closer proximity. Quieting his thoughts he focused on the feel of her waist through the fabric, the sensation of her chest pressing to his with every breath. "Promise me you won't do anything without explicitly consulting me on it first." I can't lose you. Fingers lifting her chin to meet his gaze, soft, open, she was dissolving the cavern he had encased himself in. "If anyone lays a finger on you, I will kill them where they stand." The threat hung in the air, the silence followed by the soft sounds of footsteps outside the door. Guards, most likely sent to protect the royals once they deciphered what room they had ended up in.

"You're stubborn you know that." Fingers dancing up her spine, finding the ribbon tying her corset together, slowly twirling his finger in the fabric. A small smirk slipping across his lips, as he leaned a ghost of a breath away from her. Heat pooled in his stomach, eyes dancing across features that would have heaven abandoning their god to worship her. Davina could send him to his knees if she simply asked. "Should we return to the meeting at hand?" His arm tightened around her waist, the meeting was quickly becoming the last thing he wanted to do.

@dthroned

i'm not going to repeat myself.

davina wasn't one who allowed people to shock her , having gone through enough in her life that there was always an air of disappointment that she kept for other people . but this was something that took her off guard , the tone of his voice , how he was so dominating and assertive & normally davina liked a man who could take charge , but this felt like she was expected to sit back and take it .

even with the witch there , the war still threatened between the two of their factions , even with the rings on their finger & her name adorned with Blake , her people had not upheld their end of the promise . it felt like a trap , like a trick to get rid of her & she knew that they probably looked at her as a traitor and if she had some kind of ulterior motive .

' i am asking to sit in on the meetings with your army so I could help you . ' her tone is sharp , unmoving & she's trying to show him the determination that she felt in the quest to be able to help him and his ... their people . ' My coven hates me , Bellamy . If I wasn't set to marry you I would've been killed . I do not have any intention of betraying you . ' all davina could think of was how she would react to this if it was coming from Bellamy , thinking that he would betray her in order to win the favor of those who hated him .

' i know it seems like something that would benefit me with them , winning their graces , to go back there . but right here ... ' arms come up a bit to gesture to the area around her , gesturing towards him . ' --- you and your people are my home & my family now . I don't want to go back . '

@protectmypeople

#{ out of protection }#dthroned

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 2 years ago

Text

Mine is a World of Rooftops and Love Songs

----

Virgil is invited to a New Years' party and without an excuse not to go he can't turn it down. Who knew that all it takes to make friends is bad punctuality and sensory issues? Honestly, Virgil wished someone had told him sooner.

AKA: Virgil goes to a party, freaks out and ends up on a rooftop with his best friend's brother. Alls well that ends well, I guess?

----

| Ao3 |

Warnings:

-Referenced underage drinking.

-A lot of alcohol mentions.

-Referenced sexual content (literally one line)

-Referenced homophobia/transphobia (also just one or two lines)

I think that's it but if you notice anything else please let me know.

Pairings: Prinxiety, referenced Logicality, referenced Dukeceit.

Word Count: 4843

Notes:

Title taken from a quote by Roman Payne

I thought I should make a fic for new years :D

I honestly believe that with enough money and determination teenagers can do anything they set their minds to.

I'm gonna make another post about this in a bit because this became an au as I wrote it so. (Most of what I plan to post is in the end notes on ao3)

----

Virgil had been invited to a New Years party.

Usually living right on the outskirts of their little town paired with being standoffish and sometimes outright rude got him out of being invited to get-togethers held by the other people his age. Usually they neglected to invite him to birthdays or conveniently forgot his invitation to homecoming parties or other, stupid, highschool events. Which was great for him, he was way too anxious and antisocial for a party where he’d be expected to drink alcohol and dance weirdly in front of actual real people to shitty music he didn’t even like.

But for some reason, in his senior year, he had been invited to a ‘New Year’s Gathering’. The invitation promised booze galore, fireworks, music, dancing, cocktails, party games, you name it. It seemed to be a huge party, too. He’d heard someone mention that both the seniors and juniors had all been invited and someone had somehow apparently gotten permission to hold the ‘gathering’ in the big old mansion house that had been vacant since the last residents moved out a few years ago on the border of the town and forest, surprisingly close to where Virgil lived.

According to hallway gossip, the party committee (he had no idea who that consisted of, but he assumed it was fellow students) and gotten free roam of the house and it’s grounds for two days, new years eve and the day after. It was already being talked about as the biggest school-wide event in two decades which didn’t make Virgil want to go any more than the glitter soaked invitation had. Which, to be clear, meant that he didn’t want to go one bit.

But then again, his parents had left him home alone over the week of New Years, they had gone to visit some family a few states away to celebrate with them and Virgil had adamantly protested to stay home (He hated how his grandparents poked at him for being gay and his aunts conveniently forgot his was a boy and not a girl despite him reminding them every time he saw them), so they had eventually relented and let him stay by himself. That meant that he wouldn’t be doing anything over New Years, which meant he had no excuse not to go to this party.

And the whole school knew it, because of course they did. Gossip spread like a forest fire in their school, no-one had secrets, not for very long. Not attending without an excuse would be social suicide, especailly for a big event like this. Especially when he’d actually been invited for once.

That’s how Virgil found himself standing outside of the house, wearing a leather jacket (it was the only thing he had that was smarter than his hoodies) ripped jeans and his big platform boots. He’d gone all out on makeup and he looked like something plucked straight from the 2000’s emo era, complimented by the sheer amount of piercings he was wearing. Usually he didn’t wear his snakebites and nose ring in school, the teachers tended to get upset over it. He also chose to wear one of his chokers and another necklace on top of that, as well as a pair of cuff bracelets. He knew he’d overdone the emo look just a little bit, but to be honest, he looked absolutely epic in his opinion and he needed every tiny ounce of confidnce he could get to get through this party. Not to mention, maybe the whole look would scare some people off too.

After taking a few deep, steadying breaths to calm his racing heart, Virgil finally looked up at the house. He was a little late, granted, but he hadn’t quite expected this many bikes (and the occasional car) to be littering the driveway of the mansion house, The lights on the first floor were on, illuminating the grounds with flashing colours and light from nearly every window. Upstairs most of the curtains were drawn and Virgil could almost guarantee that at least one pair were already getting it on in one of the bedrooms- what? This was a mansion house full of seventeen and eighteen year olds with access to too much alcohol. What did you expect to happen? Heaven knows it was probably his- only- friend, Remus and his boyfriend Janus.

Which by extension meant he was likely alone in a sea of teenagers who all either chose to ignore him or hated him. Lovely, brilliant, thanks Remus.

The tired looking girl sat in the front hallway of the mansion checked his invitation (because apparently, despite every youth of age being invited, people sneaking in was still a worry?) and offered to take his jacket. He gave her a look and she shrugged, waving him off.

He followed the helpful but kind of unnecessary signs to the mansion’s banquet hall turned nightclub where the DJ- was that the cool non-binary person from his class?- was blasting music so loudly that the bass shook the floor. They were up front on a makeshift stage with mixers that they’d gotten from who knows where, wearing headphones and mixing vinyl records like this was the eighties. Virgil shrugged, he respected their committment to the aesthetic at least.

There were bright lights, too, the flashing colours and pounding music were already making his head hurt, nevermind the crowd of sweaty teenagers dancing in the centre of the room, most of them talking to their friends or yelling to someone across the hall. A bunch more people lingered around the edges of the space. He could see a bar had been set up using foldable tables behind which two people were haphazardly throwing alcohol together into cocktails without following any real recipe. Virgil suspected that they tasted disgusting and decided to steer away from that table. Cocktails were nice enough, but only when he knew what was going into them so he knew he wouldn’t black out immediately after drinking one. Those things could be dangerous.

There was another table set up with snacks, bags of crisps, chocolate bars, nut packets, some of those mixed fruit bags you could get from McDonalds instead of a Mcflurry or a cookie if you really hated yourself (Virgil had no idea how they’d gotten so many). On one side of the table he could see that they were giving out glow bands and a few of the weird hippie girls- who lived somewhere off in the forest and Virgil was half suspicious that they were actually fae in disguise but that’s irrelevant- were doing facepainting with glow in the dark facepaint if you paid a dollar.

So much was going on at once, on the other side of the snack table there was a giant bowl of punch that you could scoop into a glass that Virgil was certain had already been spiked. Two brothers who’s parents owned the brewery and vineyards on the opposite side of town were selling homemade wine for five dollars a glass, which was a steal even if Virgil wasn’t interested. A lot of people seemed to be either giving out or selling things, which Virgil must have missed on the invite. Maybe that’s why so many people were invited, this wasn’t just a highschool party. A more accurate way to describe it was: imagine a highschool house party, a school faire, a nightclub and the regency aesthetic had a baby together and then that baby was raised by irresponsible teenagers with terrible fashion choices. That’s what this was.

Virgil flinched when someone bumped into him, turning on the intruder to his personal space only to find that they’d already disappeared into the crowd.

He took another deep breath, folding his arms and stuffing his hands under his jacket where his fingers clung to the soft black turtleneck he wore underneath. Hunching over a little in an attempt to make himself smaller and thus hopefully make it easier to avoid people, he started to skulk around the side of the room, looking up at the crowd every now and again but trying to avoid eye contact. He had to find someone that he could ask where the closest exit was, it was so hard to see where he was going in this room with the crowds and lights and so much noise.

The closest table to him happened to be the facepainting, and thank goodness for that because at least the hippie girls seemed to be chill around everyone. He was sure they’d be able to point him to an exit. As he approached- slowly enough that he wouldn’t bump into anyone- one of the girls noticed him and stood up, waving him over.

“Hey!” She said, her curly white hair bobbing with her head as she spoke, her silver framed glasses reflected the light in a rainbow of colours- how interesting- “Are you alright, sweetheart? You look a little frazzled.”

“Yeah- I-” Virgil forced out, trying to explain, he wasn’t even sure if she could hear him over the swelling noise of the party and besides, the words stopped coming out after a second, they wouldn’t go past his throat. His eyes darted around, looking at the encroaching crowd and then back at the girl in front of him. It was too much, everywhere, all at once-

“Hey, hey, look at me, ok?” She said to him, bringing his attention back to her, “May I have your hands?”

Not sure what she wanted, but somehow reassured by her tone, Virgil pulled his hands from their positions curled around his torso and held them out to her. She gripped them with just the right amount of pressure to keep him focused.

“Ok, I’m gonna ask you to try and breath for a second, okay?” She asked, tilting her head a little, Virgil’s eyes followed the slight movement and he nodded, “Okay, in… out… in… and out, you got it! Now keep doing that for me, okay?”

All Virgil could do was nod, as she turned to the friend closest to her, “Hey, Indie, I’ll be right back, kay? Just gonna get this sweetheart somewhere quiet.”

Her friend nodded and gave a one handed thumbs up as she continued to paint some other kid’s face with her other hand. The girl turned back to him with a smile.

“Alrighty, I’m gonna bring you to the kitchen, ok? I was in there earlier and it’s super nice, I’m pretty sure they’re hoarding food there too, but don’t tell anyone,” She said with a wink as she leaned close and whispered the last part to him, she let go of one of his hands but kept hold of the other, “I’m going to keep hold of you so we don’t get separated, okay?”

“Mhm,” Virgil hummed in response and she smiled before beginning to lead him off.

The hallway outside of the banquet hall was just as grand as the rest of the mansion, but so much quieter compared to the main party room. There were still people out here. Smaller groups of friends who had left the room and sat down together in the hallways to chat or play stupid games where they could actually hear eachother talk. The girl lead him past these people and he followed her almost on autopilot after she let go of his hand.

“There is a door straight from the kitchen to the banquet hall,” The girl explained as she lead him along the hallway until eventually they arrived at a large old looking wooden door, “This is the long way round, but I thought it might be better than having to push through all those people.”

“Definitely,” Virgil huffed, his voice quiet, but now that he could breath in cooler air and he wasn’t being bombarded with noise on all sides he found his ability to form coherent sentences coming back to him. The girl pushed open the kitchen door, which creaked as it was opened and Virgil flinched, those hinges really need oiling.

“Hey Buttercup!” She called into the open space, “I’ve got someone for you!”

“Sel?” Someone else called back, before a boy appeared from around the corner wearing round glasses and a cat hoodie. Virgil’s eyes widened slightly because he definitely recognised this guy, his dirty blond hair that seemed to bounce, endless freckles, bright blue eyes that always seemed to sparkle with happiness. He couldn’t remember the guy’s name, but he remembered his face quite well.

He had been in the same class as Virgil in the sixth grade, right when Virgil had first figured out that he might be trans and started trying to change his appearence little by little. The bullying and rumours had really started off when he cut off most of his much longer hair. It was awful (he was eleven years old and didn’t know how to cut hair, give him some credit) and this guy had been the only one in the class to stand up for him and somehow get (almost) everyone to leave him the hell alone. Virgil had never actually talked to him, because he barely talked at all during those few years, but he had appreciated everything this other boy did. He didn’t even know if he would remember Virgil, it had been so long- almost six years- and Virgil’s look had changed a lot in that time.

“Oh! Hi!” He smiled at Virgil, “You’re… sorry I um- I know you changed your name-?”

“Virgil,” He answered with an awkward half smile, it was interesting to note that he was about a foot taller than this guy now, he used to be shorter.

“Right! That’s it, hi Virgil, welcome to the kitchen,” He grinned, “I’m Patton, I don’t know if you remember, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah- um- it has…” Virgil mumbled, rubbing his arm, “Sorry I-”

“It’s ok, I kinda sprung that on you, kiddo, don’t worry!” Patton smiled, “The kitchen’s currently being used as a secret safe space, so feel free to hang around as long as you like! We’re keeping it secret so we don’t get flooded with people coming in here for the hell of it, but we’ve had a few people show up to escape from all the noise,”

“Oh, neat,” Virgil nodded, glancing around.

“Alrighty! Well I better head back, I left Indie in charge of the face painting,” ‘Sel’ told them, her voice chipper. Patton made a face and she laughed, “Have fun boys!”

With that, she darted back out of the door and left them alone, Virgil coughed awkwardly.

“Are- are you two- um?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow and hoping he got the point of his question across to Patton. He looked confused for a second before gasping.

“Oh no!” He laughed, “We aren’t dating, if that’s what you mean, last I heard she was in a poly relationship with a couple of her friends! We just go hiking in the forest together sometimes.”

“Right- I- sorry for assuming,” Virgil mumbled, fiddling with the silver zip on his jacket and looking down, goddamnit why did he even say anything, now he’d just made this whole thing way more awkward than it already was.

“It’s totally fine!” Patton reassured, still smiling, “Don’t worry, oh! Would you like a cupcake? We’ve got a few back here.”

“Um- sure?” Virgil said, narrowing his eyes a little in confusion, Patton just smiled wider and waved him over, around the corner of the kitchen where they had a couple plates of food on the counter. Behind said counter stood someone else Virgil recognised. One of the more popular kids in his grade and also Remus’ brother; Roman.

Although Virgil knew Roman by name and through the many stories Remus had told him, they had never actually interacted in person. Remus tried his best to spend every possible second out of his house, so whenever they hung out it was either at Virgil’s house or the forest or somewhere more public like the park or coffee shop. As a result, Virgil had never actually talked to Roman.

“Hey!” Roman said with a grin, “You’re the emo kid from class C, right? Aren’t you dating my brother?”

If Virgil had been drinking something he would have done a genuine cartoon spit-take. Unfortunately he wasn’t drinking anything so instead he just ended up choking on his own breath.

“No. absolutely not, one-hundred percent nope.” Virgil said, fake gagging once he had recovered, “He’s my friend yes, but he’s also a fucking bastard and I would not date him even it somehow paid for my top surgery.”

“Oh thank god,” Roman sighed in relief, “Him holding the fact that he got a boyfriend before I did over me was getting infuriating. Now I know he was lying.”

“I-” Virgil stopped, “Remus does have a boyfriend.”

“Wait what.”

“Yeah- he’s dating Janus, you know- the guy who’s always wearing that weird bowler hat?” Virgil said, raising an eyebrow. Roman spluttered.

“Goddamnit,” He mumbled, “I can’t believe that asshole actually got a date before I did.”

“Awwee how sad for you,” Virgil said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Hey! Don’t you make fun of me!” Roman pointed at him, “I bet you don’t have a date either!”

“Well- no- but-” Virgil shook his head, “I’m not whining about it, and I also don’t care. Not having a romantic partner isn’t the be-all-and-end-all, you know.”

“Now kiddos, let’s not be mean to eachother, ok?” Patton called.

“You can talk! Mr. I’m Dating Logan Favian And I’m Gonna Make Sure Everyone Knows It By Making Out With Him In The School Parking Lot,” Roman said, turning his accusing finger on Patton. Virgil couldn’t help but snicker as Patton went beet red and started spluttering.

“That was one time!” Patton yelped, “And only because some girl was hitting on him and wouldn’t take no as an answer!”

“Yass queen protect your mans,” Virgil said with an exaggerated gasp as he flapped his hands around. Roman burst out laughing and Patton just shook his head and turned away with a smile.

“It’s almost midnight,” Patton said, “Are you guys going to come back to the party for the countdown?”

“Probably not,” Virgil said with a shrug, “I didn’t even want to be here in the first place, I definitely don’t want to go back into that room.”

“Yeah I uh- I think I’m gonna stay here too,” Roman shrugged, “I’m not sure I’d be up for standing in a mass of screaming people at the moment.”

“Fair enough,” Patton said, picking up one of the large platters that sat on the counter. On it were hundreds of cheese and pineapple sticks, one of which Roman swiped as Patton went past, “Just- try not to kill each other until I get back, kay?”

“I think I can manage that,” Virgil said, Roman nodded, “Maybe.”

“Huh!?” Roman yelped, “Maybe??”

“Depends how annoying you are,” Virgil said with a smile.

“I bet I could take you,”

“Oh really? Wanna bet?”

“Hey!” Patton called, just as he was about to leave the door, “No. Fighting.”

“Fine,” Both of them said through gritted teeth.

“Cupcake?” Roman asked, gesturing to one of the remaining platters. It only had two cupcakes left on it. Both of them were decorated with pastel pink and purple icing with rainbow sprinkles. What relevance did these even have to New Years? Oh well.

“Sure, why not?” Virgil said after a moment, taking one. Roman grinned and took the other.

“You wanna watch the fireworks?” Roman asked, Virgil turned on him with a glare.

“If I wanted to watch the fireworks I would’ve gone outside to watch them,” Virgil told him, “Fireworks are too loud and so are people,”

“I know somewhere we could go to watch them without anyone around, if you want to?” Roman suggested, leaning forward and wiggling his eyebrows at Virgil.

“Don’t be gross about it,” Virgil groaned, pushing Roman away, “I get enough of that from your brother. Where is this ‘somewhere’ you know?”

“It’s a surprise!” Roman called with a grin, “If you want to see, that is?”

Virgil sighed and shook his head. Well, he didn’t exactly have anything better to do, and watching the fireworks from somewhere peaceful might be nice… “Ok fine, lead the way,”

Roman grinned like a child who’d just been given candy and hurried out of the kitchen. Virgil followed closely behind, back past the banquet hall, around a corner back to the entrance hall, up the half carpeted marble stairs, up another flight of stairs, along a much narrower corridore that seemed to lead right to the back of the house, through a door that both Virgil and Roman had to duck under to get through and up another staircase, this one winding and steep and much less fancy than the main stairways and through another tiny little door at the top.

The room they emerged in was enormous. It must have been the size of the entire house, with no walls or partitions aside from the wall separating them from the staircase and another on the very opposite side of the building that Virgil could barely see. The room would have been pitch black if it werent for the massive dormer windows on each side of the pointed ceiling letting in rays of moonlight. They were in the roof of the house, the attic.

“Are we watching from in here?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow as Roman lead them forward. As he stepped he stirred up dust. It was far too silent up here compared to the blasting music downstairs. Surely they should still be able to hear it? He didn’t want to think about that.

“It’s creepier up here at night,” Roman commented idly, climbing up on top of a large wooden crate that was placed conveniently right in front of one of the windows.

“Oh really? I never would’ve expected that,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes as Roman floundered with the old latchs on the window. They looked old and like they’d rusted over with exposure and disuse, but eventually Roman managed to yank them open and push open one of the windows.

And then he started to climb out of it onto the large sill.

“Oh no, no, absolutely not,” Virgil shook his head, holding up his hands, “I am not climbing up onto the roof of a three story mansion.”

Roman sighed and leaned back in through the window, bracing himself on the frame with one hand while he extended the other to Virgil.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, meeting Virgil’s eyes. Virgil narrowed his own eyes in suspicion.

“Are you trying to do a Disney bit right now? Seriously?” Virgil asked, glaring at him.

Roman laughed, “Sorry! I simply saw the opportunity and had to, but seriously, I won’t let you fall, I promise,”

Virgil hesitated, just for a moment, before climbing up onto the box and reaching to take Roman’s hand in a feat of confidence that he didn’t know he had. Roman grinned the entire time he was helping Virgil climb out of the window and then kept grinning the entire time it took them to scramble up the roof to the wide decorative ridge next to one of the chimney stacks.

“Best view of the house,” Roman told him once they were both sat side by side on the ridge, letting their feet rest against the shingles of the roof. Virgil was comforted, a little, by the fact that the ridge was flat so he could sit comfortably and not worry about sliding off. Not to mention it was wide enough that if Virgil were to lay down backwards only his head and shoulders would fall over the other side. That meant he was pretty safe from falling backwards off the roof.

He still held onto Roman’s arm for good measure, though. No matter how embarrassing that was, he thought it would probably be more embarrassing to fall from the roof.

Roman pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time whilst Virgil looked down at the gathering crowd on the sweeping front lawn. People were pouring from the house now and while he couldn’t pick out individual people from this height in the darkness, he was sure Patton and Sel were both down there somewhere, probably enjoying themselves. It was nice, he thought. Somehow he’d managed to make more friends today than he’d made over his whole six years of highschool. Funny that all he’d needed to do was come to a party half an hour before midnight and immediately shut down because of sensory overload to make friends. Maybe he should’ve tried it sooner.

“Two minutes till midnight!” Roman cheered, though he kept his voice at a reasonable level for the lack of crowd up on the roof. Virgil offered a tentative smile and half hearted fist pump.

“Hurray!” Virgil said, voice pretty much flat, “Another year of torture awaits.”

“No need to be such a downer!” Roman smiled, before glancing at his phone and gasping, “One minute! Oh! Should we kiss?”

“What?” Virgil yelped, “No! I literally met you like twenty minutes ago- what the fuck dude?”

“Woah ok chill I didn’t mean like-” Roman huffed, looking away, “I wasn’t about to like- kiss kiss someone I just met.”

“Then what did you mean,” Virgil said, glaring at him.

“Just like- on the cheek or something! Isn’t it tradition?” Roman asked, face red. Virgil sighed.

“Fine,” He huffed, “Only once, on the cheek.”

“Yes!” Roman cheered, just as the crowd below started counting down from ten. Virgil saw a couple people break from the crowd to head towards where they must have set up the fireworks.

“Five!” Roman yelled, joining in, before elbowing Virgil.

“Four,” They both said together, though one was much more enthusiastic than the other.

“Three!” They cheered, in unison with the crowd.

“Two!”

“One!”

Right on cue, Virgil heard the bells in the nearby church begin to ring for midnight. He turned to Roman who leant forward and kissed his cheek, just like he had asked to. Though both of them turned away, bright red afterwards.

The fireworks were lit and began to fly into the air and burst into bright balls of coloured light with bang after bang, they were beautiful, red, blue, green and gold- and surprisingly high quality for a highschooler’s party. Virgil found that he didn’t mind them so much when he was away from the crowd. Granted the noise was still horrible and he wished to all hell that he’d thought to bring his noise cancelling headphones, but being up here on the roof? Definitely better than being down there on the grass.

The fireworks only lasted for two minutes in reality. For Virgil it felt like a lifetime. Maybe it was because of the noise and light, maybe it was because Roman’s arm has slipped around Virgil’s shoulders, maybe it was because he was still feeling warm and fuzzy from the kiss.

Fireworks in the town were still going off further away, people in their gardens lighting off one after another. The courtyard of the mansion was slowly being covered with a thin veil of smoke and everyone was already going back inside to continue partying. Virgil sighed, content.

“Would you like to go back inside?” Roman asked, “It’s kinda cold out here, isn’t it?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Virgil said with a shrug, “It’s- actually really nice out here- thanks for getting me to come up.”

“You’re welcome!” Roman said, grinning at him from ear to ear once again. For some reason, Virgil felt that same fluttery feeling in his stomach again. Gross.

“Here’s to another year of being forced to exist in a capitalistic world that doesn’t value or care for us little people in the slightest?” Virgil said, offering Roman a fist bump.

“Hear hear,” Roman said, raising a fist to bump his, “But… something tells me that this year is going to be a good one.”

Roman turned to look back out over the town. He still had that dopey smile on his face and for some, terrible reason, Virgil found himself agreeing. Maybe this year really might not be so bad.

As the melody of Auld Lang Syne began playing from downstairs, accompanied by the broken singing of two hundred teenagers who didn’t really know the words nor the meaning of the song, Roman and Virgil looked up at the stars.

And then Roman laughed, laughed at nothing but the stars, free and open and bright as any sun and hey, there was that fluttery feeling again. And by no choice of his own he found himself laughing along with Roman. He didn’t feel judged, or fake or trapped. He was just happy, for once, really happy.

Aw fuck. He had a crush on Roman, didn’t he.

Well… shit.

What a way to start the new year, huh.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfic #ts virgil #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts roman #patton sanders #remus sanders #ts prinxiety #prinxiety #logicality #dukeceit #sanders sides au #new years eve #happy new years!#NewYears verse

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galactic-academia · 3 years ago

Text

Sherlock BBC - Masterlist

Click on the link to see all the tags of the stories.

All my work is 18+, so minors, please, pass your way; thank you.

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines

Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x F!Reader

Shy, cute, but arse kicker [M, fluff, Daddy kink]

Five times Sherlock’s girlfriend has been very shy and very cute and once she hasn’t been. At all. (3K)

Do something! [T, a tiny touch of spice]

Sherlock’s crush is hit on under his nose, he gets a little possessive. (1,1K)

Best Dad Ever [G, fluff]

The Reader discovers she’s pregnant with Sherlock’s child. How should she tell him? (1,1K)

The Hell too much [G, emotional H/C, fluff]

The Reader is used to hear all kind of weird noises since she moved in Baker Street. The only one she can’t bear is John yelling at Sherlock. (1,2K)

Talk to me [T, a tiny touch of spice] TW: hallucinations

Stuck, bordering on obession, Sherlock’s mind forces his owner to confess his feelings. (1,7K)

Rule Number One... [G, angst, drama, emotional H/C, fluff] TW: canon character death/suicide (or is it?)

Whatever happens, if you don’t want to lose your sanity, there is one rule that has to be followed: always believe in Sherlock. (2K)

Not so unrequited love [G, angst, fluff, humor]

Since the very beginning, the Reader is head over heels for Sherlock, but that’s a love which must be unrequited, right? Right? (2,6K)

The trainee’s case [G, light angst, fluff]

Detective Inspector Lestrade has a new trainee and some troubles to do his job... (1,4K)

They don’t know (what’s between you and I) - 2 parts - [Fluff, angst, young - then canon - Sherlock]

Sherlock is in love, he always has been... (3,8K)

Limerence - 6 parts - [Fluff, angst, slow-burn]

Five times Sherlock’s entourage thought it was the most fucked up, foolish and awkward friendship in all History, and once Sherlock made it clear that was wrong (that’s not a friendship). (4K)

Alexithymia [G, fluff]

When she heard that the Reader was searching for a flat, Mrs. Hudson immediately offered her to come living at Baker Street; what the Reader hadn’t expected was for John’s old room to not be ready to welcome her... (1,9K)

I know you (I walked with you once upon a dream) [G, Soulmates!AU, fluff and angst] TW: canon character death/suicide (or is it?)

The Reader is Sherlock’s soulmate, even if the very idea ikrs him to no end. If the World expected the Great Sherlock Holmes to agree to such nonsense, it had been severely mistaken. Or maybe Sherlock had been... (3;5K)

James (Jim) Moriarty (BBC) x F!Reader

First step: getting up [G, fluff, humor]

How you managed to get Jim Moriarty on the right path. (459)

Brainy is quite cool, but jealous is really sexy [G, fluff, humor]

Jim and the Reader flirt together. (1,2K)

Because I need someone, Help - 2 parts - [fluff, angst, fix-it] TW: canon character death/suicide (or is it?)

People aren’t always who they seem to be...

Mycroft Holmes (BBC) x F!Reader

How to get an overworking Koi home [G, fluff, humor]

The Reader wants her husband to get home. What the Reader wants, the Reader gets. (1,1K)

He should know what to expect [G, fluff]

Lady Smallwood wants to “have a drink” with Mycroft; he’s confused, but the Reader knows exactly what to do. (1,3K)

Gregory (Greg) Lestrade x F!Reader

The sweet Law of Compensations [G, fluff, humor]

The Reader takes care, in her way, of Greg when he gets hurt by an explosion. (1,3K)

The Death of a Bachelor [T, fluff, the tiniest bit of spice] TW: drunk shenanigans

When the Reader had received a text inviting her to John Watson’s stag night, she didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not this. (3K)

368 notes · View notes

ramzawrites · 4 years ago

Note

Ok I have coffeed up 🦀🦀🦀

Could I request a fic about a Male Reader Border Collie Hybridbeing hired to look after the pets of the Syndicate while theyre at a meeting? Having to feed every single dog, Ranboos cat, Carl, the parrots, Steve the bear, etc? Trying to wrangle the foxes because theyre trying to eat poison potatoes, shooing zombies off the turtle eggs? -🌱🌟

The Syndicate’s Pet Sitter - BorderCollie!Hybrid!Reader

Male

Pairings: none

Characters included: Technoblade, Philza, Ranboo, Nihachu

Warnings: n/a

Series: A request for my beloved 🌱🌟<3

Summary: The Syndicate is meeting up early in the morning and didn’t have the chance to feed their pets yet. Luckily Y/N who lives there as well but isn’t part of the Syndicate can take care of them. And no that is totally not because Border Collies are good herding dogs.

Words count: 4732

Authors Note: I just noticed I missed the foxes oh no ;_; Why do the Syndicate have so many pets I swear! I hope you guys enjoy this! Esp you 🌱🌟 since you requested it! I also haven’t had the chance to properly look over it look for typos, I apologize! I’ll deal with that as soon as I can! Also thanks for the prompt 😌 I have a weakness for animals and dogs

The chest let out a strained creak as Technoblade closed it for what felt like the hundredth time. He was preparing for the next meeting of the Syndicate and this time he, as well as Phil, had actually planned a few things other than just showing the newest members where the headquarters were and setting up the rules for the organization.

While both men were busy running from chest to chest collecting materials and writing down information into books, they were accompanied by a soft rhythmic thud as well.

That sound came from Y/N. More specifically his tail swishing up and down as he was sitting in front of a window on the windowsill. Watching peacefully as the two went about their business.

Y/N was a Dog Hybrid. A Border Collie Hybrid to be specific. He has been technically living with Techno and Philza for a while now but Techno liked to act as if he was just some stranger to him.

When Y/N first came to the SMP Philza and Techno were the first people he met and ever since then he has gotten quite attached to them.

At first Techno tried to get rid off him, especially since he always gave him wishy washy answers concerning his opinions on governments but Y/N wouldn’t let himself get spooked off that easily and even begun building his own little home close to them without asking. At that point Techno had to accept defeat and let him begrudgingly stay.

Philza liked to poke fun at that fact but he also understood Techno’s caution. Though over time Y/N has shown to be a trusty ally that could keep secrets, even once leading people astray since they became dangerously close to their home. Because of that Philza brought once the idea up that maybe they should let Y/N join the Syndicate after all as well.

Of course Techno immediately shut down the idea for the simple fact that not once has Y/N ever clearly stated that he was against any kind of government. There was no point in arguing with the Pig Hybrid about this particular topic so Philza just dropped the issue altogether.

That said after Niki came over to join the Syndicate and Ranboo got roped in it as well, Y/N managed to at least learn of the name of the organization.

He even asked to join to which Techno just said “Prove to us you are an anarchist and maybe I will think about it.”

“So you are saying you just want me to tell you the things you want to hear in order to get in? Doesn’t seem that smart to me.”

Y/N would always pull out these snide remarks whenever that topic came up.

For some reason Y/N woke up early and found that both Philza and Techno got up early as well so he just let himself in, sat down next to the window and begun happily munching on some cold steak for breakfast.

Techno made a point of ignoring him only muttering something about a “damn mutt” under his breath while Philza was chuckling to himself. Y/N’s fluffy dog ears obviously picked up on it but the happy swags of his tail continued on, knowing that if Techno really was annoyed by him, he would have already intervened way back when he begun building his home.

Phil was rummaging through a chest, trying to find some extra paper only to suddenly stop moving and turn around to look at Y/N, his arms still in the chest.

“Y/N?” adding a whistle to ensure that he would gain his attention.

As a response the Dog Hybrid looked absolutely aghast “Did you just-? Did you just whistle at me? Did you, Philza, just whistle at me to get my attention? Like a dog?”

“Sorry, just kind of happened but since you are here I have a request for you.”

Now Technoblade stopped whatever he was doing as well to observe what was happening in front of him, curious what he was proposing. A smirk adorning his features knowing full well that Philza probably whistled on purpose seeing how Y/N was kind of an unwelcome guest right now.

“You can request but no guarantee I will fulfill your request, old man.” Y/N spoke through an exaggerated pout.

This only earned him a tired sigh from Philza “Yeah, Yeah. As you can see we are up early for a reason but this also means we didn’t have the chance yet to feed the animals. Could you feed them all and make sure they’ll be alright while we are gone? You know how this place can get with pets.”

“All? Like all the pets? Like you want me to feed all the pets and take care of them?” Y/N was obviously intimated by the idea of the task judging with how his voice jumped up an octave to the end of the question. But who could blame him. Over time the group managed to amass a comical amount of pets which included a full hound army, polar bears, turtles, cows, Carl the Horse and in Ranboo’s case even parrots.

That reminded him.

“Does that include Ranboo’s bird and cat?”

“Does what include my bird and cat?” Suddenly the door swung open as Ranboo stepped inside Techno’s home. Cramping up the small cabin even more. The cold winter air only managing to sneak in for a short moment before he made sure to close the wooden door again.

Techno chuckled “We are asking Y/N here to feed our pets while we are busy at our meeting and to make sure they are safe while we are gone. He has time after all.”

Y/N’s shocked expression turned to a frown. Oh they did that deliberately alright.

Ranboo took a moment to take in the scene before he slowly nodded “Oh, if that is the case then I would actually really appreciate it if you could take a look at my parrot and cat. I haven’t had the chance to feed them yet since I ran out of seeds for the bird. Actually the reason I came over here was because I wanted to ask you guys if you had some extra.”

Techno’s smirk was ever present on his face as he motioned with his hand towards his mass of chests “Somewhere in there we have some but I’m sure Y/N will find them and take care of your pets as well.”

“Would you?”

Ranboo sounded so genuine and almost surprised by this that Y/N couldn’t come up with a snarky response but instead he looked defeated.

“I- alright. I will take care of your pets while you do your stupid Syndicate meeting.”

“We trained him well, Techno.”

“That we did, old friend.”

Now Y/N’s happy tail wagging did finally stop and he jumped up away from the window, surprising Ranboo in the process “You didn’t train me! I’m not one of your dogs!”

He knew they were joking but he still couldn’t let that stand.

Philza stepped closer to Y/N and put one of his hands on his head between his ears. Giving a short pat only to remove his hand again “Yes, we know. If that was true you would be listening to us at all times. Anyways, I spotted Niki outside and we are ready, so, we’ll be going. Make sure nothing happens to the animals! We are putting our trust in you!”

Before Y/N could protest or retract his agreement the group made sure to leave the little hut as fast as possible. Ranboo was very confused but still followed the others outside to loudly greet Niki.

Y/N himself was so bewildered by this whole situation he didn’t even make the effort to run out to greet Niki as well. Instead his thoughts begun to swirl around his new responsibilities.

What do Polar Bears eat? How is he going to feed all of the dogs? By Ender he hoped that Techno had all the necessary things in one of his chests.

That’s when a stray thought hit him “Did they hire me as pet sitter because I’m a Border Collie Hybrid? Did they seriously make me the pet sitter because Border Collie’s are stereotypically good herding dogs?”

That thought had to set in for a moment as he was asking himself if this seriously could be the case and knowing them that might have very well been a thought that crossed their minds. They all joked around about their hybrid parts but this was just ridiculous.

He didn’t know how yet but somehow he will make sure that the damn Pig and the Birdbrain will get this back tenfold. Ranboo was okay in Y/N’s book since he mostly got pulled into this by the others but even then he was still on thin ice.

“I better get going.” He whispered in order to try to pull himself out of his thoughts.

First on the agenda were the Polar Bears. Mostly since he wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it and just wanted to get it over with but also one of the Bears was laying inside the hut. Snuggling close to the fire place.

That polar bear was Steve and Techno often made comments of him being his emotional support animal and at this point Y/N just believed him. With Techno who knew at this point.

Well what would Steve eat? Just some meat?

“Fish!”

How he didn’t immediately come to that conclusion he didn’t know but better late than never.

Y/N excitedly rubbed his hands together. Time to snoop through Techno’s things. No way in hell is he going to use his own resources to feed their pets. Hence why he begun looking through Techno’s chests. Taking note of things like stray armor, golden apples and enchantment books.

Somewhere in a corner he found some cooked fish. Should be fine, right?

Taking a couple of fish he moved over to Steve who was still lazily draped on the ground enjoying the heat from the fire. Carefully and slowly Y/N put down a couple of fish in front of his big snout. His dog ears pressed down on his head as he stared rigidly at the bear. Hoping for the best.

Steve’s black nose begun to twitch. He slowly opened up his eyes and lazily begun nudging the food closer to his snout with his big paw. Snacking on the pile of fish.

“Okay? I’m guessing that’s fine? I think?”

Just to make sure he still threw more fish towards him and then made his way with a second pile outside where Ed was waiting for his food as well. Ed was way more active and often enough obstructs the way up the stairs that lead to both Philza’s and Techno’s house.

Philza was always annoyed at Ed because of that particular reason. Though today he was a good Polar Bear that was sitting next to the stairs staring at Ender knows what.

Y/N threw him his pile of fish and watched for a second as he happily begun munching on them.

“Guess I’m doing alright after all.”

Almost as if to answer the bear suddenly begun to move towards Y/N which made him panic. Stepping back, trying to understand what he was doing now. Sure the bears are cute but also big and dangerous if they wanted to be.

But Ed bowed his head down and softly pressed his head against Y/N’s chest.

“Is this a thanks, buddy? Aw, no problem.”

Tentatively Y/N placed his hand on the bear’s head to give him one or two scritches. To which Ed then let out a deep puff of air through his nose and immediately moved back to his food to continue his breakfast.

All the Polar Bears are fed. Now only the whole hound army, cows, parrot, Carl the Horse, Turtles and Enderchest the Cat were left. Oh by Ender. That is still a lot.

Y/N immediately ran back into Techno’s hut and begun to search through his chests again. Grabbing things like Seeds, Sea Grass, more fish and some steak.

The parrot and cat were the easiest to deal with first so he decided to run into Ranboo’s house. Even if just to avoid the cold outside for a tiny bit longer.

He climbed down the ladder and found the parrot patiently waiting for him. Excitedly squawking as soon as he saw him.

Placing the seeds in front of the animal Y/N took a good look at the colorful bird.

“How are you doing? Keeping Ranboo company? Making sure he isn’t feeling too lonely?”

“Company! Company!” Ranbird answered in a shrill voice only to continue picking up the seeds off the ground.

Y/N liked spending time with Ranboo. He was a bit of an enigma with his memory issues and interesting behavior at points but Y/N loved hanging out with him. He would always try to offer to play pranks on Techno but Ranboo was too apprehensive about it, not wanting to make the scary Pig Hybrid mad at him.

The two had a bit of a running joke going on where both Ranboo and Y/N would call the other weird. Ranboo for his weird behavior and Y/N for the simple fact that he apparently didn’t fear Techno at all. Philza and Ranboo having to mostly hold him back before he could seriously upset Techno.

“Enderchest? Come here!” Y/N called out and continued to do the typical mouth noises to attract cats. Luckily he did come around a corner.

Happily meowing when Enderchest saw Y/N. Chirping as he pressed his body against Y/N’s legs.

“See, you are a kitty and I am a dog hybrid but we like each other.” Was he still a bit salty about the fact that they most certainly chose him to take care of the pets due to his Hybrid side?

Yes. Definitely.

Sure, no one else was there who could deal with it but on the other hand normally they were always so prepared for everything so this must have been planned beforehand. They didn’t feed the animals on purpose because obviously he was there and had time.

A loud meow pulled Y/N back out of his thoughts again.

“Sorry, Enderchest. You are right it’s food time.”

He then took out two fish and placed it in front of the cat who immediately put them in his mouth and ran off with them. Probably to eat in peace.

Next on the list was Carl. If Y/N didn’t make sure that Carl was absolutely doing alright and was fed Techno would kill him. And while Y/N liked to joke with Techno and pretend that he wasn’t as dangerous as everyone else is treating him like, he also knew that Carl is so important to him that Techno let him get himself kidnapped by the Butcher Army for the horse’s safety.

Technoblade hid his horse behind a wall but Philza one day accidentally found it. Y/N immediately took the chance to build an actual hidden entrance. He liked being a bit of an annoyance for Techno but if he can somehow help out, he will.

Pressing a button on the stone wall gave away to the little stable he and Philza made for Carl.

“Breakfast!”

Some Hay and other food was always ready for Carl so all Y/N had to do was put some of it in the tray and make sure he still had water. Everything seemed fine so Y/N took a second to pet him.

“No idea why Techno is so attached to you but you do seem like a good one. He protects you so you better make sure to not disappoint him as well.”

Carl neighed and nuzzled his nose into Y/N’s shoulder. Softly nabbing on the clothes which made the man laugh in return and softly shoved Carl’s face away from him.

“My clothes aren’t food, buddy!”

Luckily Carl didn’t continue to screw around and instead concentrated on his actual food.

The next pit stop were the turtles and cows. It was easy feeding them since you just placed down the food and then let them go about their day. No, the dog army would be a problem later. They might be war dogs but they were still playful dogs.

Y/N closed up the stable for Carl and made his way through the snow towards the cows first. Opening up a chest that stood close by. He placed it there a few days back with a ton of wheat. It was meant as way to help with the feeding. It was meant for the others since these cows didn’t belong to him but now he was stuck with the responsibility after all.

The cows were happily chewing on the food that Y/N threw into their enclosure and seemed to be doing alright as well so he moved on to the turtles.

For the turtles he actually had to get into the enclosure. Putting the kelp down near the water so the turtles inside the water could see him placing the food down as well. All the while he had to make sure to not accidentally walk on top of the eggs that some of these turtles have laid.

The animals themselves seemed to ignore Y/N. Just slowly crawling along the coarse sand or floating inside the water.

That’s when Y/N heard a groan from behind him. A groan he knew too well.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Y/N swiveled around and pulled out his netherite sword. A sword he made with the help of Philza. During his travels in the nether he found some ancient debris but since he never worked with that material he asked Phil for help. Which was also the reason why the purple sword was called Swordza.

“You helped me make it, I’m naming it after you.” He said to Philza’s dismay.

Right now though the reason why he turned around so fast was that he heard the familiar retching sound of a zombie. It was still early in the morning no surprise there that a loose zombie might be around the place.

Also no surprise that the zombie appeared around the turtle enclosure. For some reason they loved trampling down turtle eggs which was really just barbaric if you really thought about it. Beings that seemingly just wandered around the overworld with no goal but as soon as they spot turtle eggs they suddenly know exactly where to go. Well, besides when they find a human to attack.

The zombie limped towards the turtles.

Y/N didn’t wait long to react. He immediately took a running start and jumped over the fence. Striking down with his sword while he was landing, giving the attack a little more oomph. Together with the enchantments on the sword the zombie fell down into a burning mess. Gurgling sounds escaping it only to die down. A growl escaped Y/N’s throat as he stared at the dead mob.

“Nothing will happen to the little ones while I have anything to say about it!”

He took another sweeping look around the place but found nothing out of the ordinary. With a relieved sigh he put his sword back. The turtles were fed and safe.

Though as he looked around his eyes fell unto the hoard of dogs. All fenced in under a self-made roof. Most of the dogs were laying around either in a small pile or alone. Some were trotting around or even playing but it seemed like the dogs were still tired.

It was time to deal with them.

Y/N walked over to the dogs and as he stepped closer the animals immediately took notice of him. A few running over to him while others just patiently stared. As he got closer to the fence the nearest dogs put their front paws on the fence. Barking excitedly.

If Y/N went in like this some will run out and that was not something he wanted to deal with. There was still some adrenaline pumping through his veins from back when he spotted the zombie but he was still slowly beginning to freeze. Honestly he wanted to get through this fast so he can go back into his cabin and enjoy the warmth of his hearth.

Maybe even begin to plot on how to get back at the Syndicate for doing this to him.

But this wasn’t important right now.

Y/N let out a sharp and loud whistle “Away! Come one! Move out of the way!” He pointed to a corner and surprisingly the dogs seemed to understand that he wanted them away from the gates.

When he opened said gate the dogs patiently waited for him to move in and close it again before they suddenly begun to swarm him. Jumping up trying to lick his face or they began sniffing him out.

“Hey! Stop! I can’t feed you like that!”

He had a frown on his face but his tail was happily swinging from side to side as the dogs greeted him.

“Okay, stop! Sit!”

Luckily the dogs were well trained since they immediately sat down. Still panting in excitement and whining but now they weren’t trying to pull Y/N down to play with him.

In return Y/N got out the steaks out of his inventory and walked past the dogs. Giving each one of them their share. Whenever some dogs begun to scuffle over the food all Y/N had to do was to whistle or yell “Stop!” and they would listen.

Truthfully he feared that feeding the dogs would be the most difficult task of all the animals but as it turned out they listened to him rather well. It’s probably only because Techno trained them so well but still, maybe there is a way Y/N could use this power for himself.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to feed all the dogs but once he reached the last one the first dogs were already done eating and happily following Y/N around the fenced off area. Sometimes barking, hoping to get his attention. While his ears would always move in the direction of the barking dogs, he made appoint to concentrate on the dogs that he was actually interacting with.

Though when he was done he finally turned around to look at the happy dogs “You guys are needy, did you know that?”

As if to answer a dog right in front of him sat down and woofed at him.

Y/N rolled his eyes and knelt down, scratching that one particular dog behind his ear “You little pooch.”

That was a mistake. A huge mistake.

As he went down and balanced on the front of his feet the other dogs saw their chance as he went down to their height, practically jumping on.

Startled the Hybrid let out a yelp as the dogs pushed him on his back. Licking his face or tugging on his clothes.

He tried pushing the dogs away from his face but it he was unsuccessful. For every dog he pushed away two new dogs would try to jump into that new space. Sadly also pushing the dogs away seemed to be something fun for them.

At some point Y/N managed to get back up but still got swarmed by the dogs. All the dogs now in a happy playful mood after having eaten. Y/N could just tell them off but everyone on the outside could see that he had fun as well playing and tussling with the dogs.

Over time that tussling just became the dogs jumping into Y/N arms so he could throw them a few feet away while simultaneously trying to not fall down as some dogs begun tugging on his clothes again. The longer it kept going the more tired he got which was hi downfall. Quite literally.

He fell over again and while the dogs swarmed around him they too were getting tired and just laid down next to him. Framing his body or just straight up laying on top of him, one dog even snuggled up to his head, ending up more as a pillow for him.

At first Y/N tried to struggle against being buried alive by the animals but as soon as he noticed the warmth engulfing his body instead of the cold harsh wind he accepted his fate.

After all he was done with feeding the pets.

“Horrible. Techno would be proud with how relentless you all are.” A yawn escaped his lips which seemed to infect a few of the dogs as well.

It really didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. It was warm, soft and he felt safe.

The meeting for the Syndicate took longer than expected. They spent way too much time trying to find a common goal to start with. They didn’t want to do something huge at the beginning but start small, something that would test their cooperation and teamwork.

Though after they finally found something and started planning a few hours had past and since both Ranboo and Niki apparently had people to meet they had to stop the meeting early.

“You think the animals will be fine?” Ranboo asked Philza as they stepped out of their hidden headquarters.

The older man just waved off his question “Ah, they will be fine! We rag on Y/N often but we can trust him with things like these. He’s a good one even if he absolutely refuses to give Techno a straight answer when it comes to governments. I do believe he is only doing that to annoy him though.”

As the group approached their home again everyone took a good look around.

“Well, everything seems normal.” Techno noted.

Niki scowled “Aw I had hoped to see him. I couldn’t even say hello when I got here.”

That’s when Ranboo stopped dead in his track. He wanted to go home to get ready for Snowchester but something inside the dog pen caught his attention “Oh by Ender! There is an arm! The dogs have an arm!”

The other three ran over, confused with what the hell he was talking about only to see he was right. There was an arm sticking outside of the dogpile. Why did the dogs pile up in the first place though?

Out of nowhere Phil snorted and pressed his hand against his chest and mouth. Trying to stifle a laugh.

Niki still looked shocked and worried, confused with Phil’s reaction “What? Philza, why are you laughing?”

“Let me show you. Y/N! Are you awake, mate?”

At first nothing happened but then suddenly the arm moved and retreated back inside the dogpile. Now the others understood what happened.

Both Niki and Ranboo looked a bit embarrassed that they genuinely thought that these dogs might have ripped off an arm and were now cuddling with it.

Techno stayed stoic as always. Folding his arms in front of his chest, waiting for Y/N to properly react.

“Y/N, come on!” Phil called out again.

A muffled groan came from the pile of dogs and Y/N’s head appeared as he sat up “What?” He whined “I was having such a nice dream!”

“Oh my- Y/N! Good morning!” Niki greeted the Hybrid happily.

In response Y/N got a bit out of his furry burial but still pulled one of the ferocious war dogs closer to himself, hugging it. His tail now out as well showing the others his happy mood as he slowly drifted off again.

“Hello, Niki.” He sounded still half asleep. At least the others assumed since his face was buried in the dogs grey fur.

“Y/N please get away from my hound army. They are bred to fight and kill not for hugs and naps.” Techno grumbled.

“Then why are they so comfy and love me so much. They love me so much more than you” He made sure to drawl out the word “love” to really hammer that fact in.

“Let’s make Y/N then our go to pet sitter.” Phil noted.

This seemed to wake up Y/N, he immediately looked up with a scowl “No! I am not going to be your pet sitter! You put me in that role in the first place because I’m a Border Collie Hybrid, or am I wrong? If it’s true that’s seriously screwed up, by the way!”

Techno sighed “Yep, there he is. Now he is awake alright.”

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

Text

Meeting in the Middle

Pairing: Sakusa x reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Misogyny, Controlling Behavior, Degradation, Non-Con/Rape, Spanking

Summary: Sakusa shows you that he’s more than capable of meeting you in the middle and listening to you for a change. But be careful of what you ask for.

A/N: This is for the Poly Wives Angst Collab~ RIP us and our never ending collabs we create for ourselves.

If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be dating one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors, a professional athlete fawned over by media and fans nation-wide, the epitome of the strong and silent type, you would have laughed in their faces. What is this? Some silly fairytale? The childish checklist of “things I want in a boyfriend” you’d written in middle school?

But life has a funny way of working and you find yourself in an obnoxiously lavish and rowdy nightclub, made only more crazy by the surprising appearance of some VIPs.

It seems like volleyball has somehow become Japan’s national sport overnight and although you aren’t necessarily the biggest follower of anything remotely athletic, even you know exactly who the rambunctious trio catching everyone’s eyes are.

You can’t deny there’s more than just a bit of appeal in the way their button up shirts cling to toned muscles, but you’ve never been one for crowds and you stray to the emptier corners of the establishment to avoid being swept by the crowd of excited fans. But when Atsumu cheesily winks and flirts as he signs scandalously bared skin of female fans, you mockingly gag, only to whirl in embarrassment when you hear an amused snort from behind you.

“Not a fan of Miya Atsumu?”

Staring wide-eyed and slack jawed when someone asks you a question is very rude and you want to answer. But you don’t trust yourself with basic human speech when Sakusa Kiyoomi is staring at you expectantly. So you shake your head side to side instead, heat rising to your face at the small upward curve of his lips.

“Neither am I.”

Atsumu never lets the two of you live down how he’s the one who technically brought you together, even if it was at the cost of his pride. (You chuckle when you remember his loud squawking when Sakusa recounts the dialogue exchanged at your first meeting.) But even months later, even after Sakusa has officially introduced you to the rest of the MSBY team, even after they’ve accepted you as part of their cozy and rowdy family, you can’t stop feeling impostor syndrome.

Dating Sakusa still feels unreal and you can’t help but feel like you’re living someone else’s life, stuck in a rose-tinted dream, playing dress-up and make believe as you parade around in clothing far more luxurious than you’re used to, whisked around on your lover’s strong arm as you follow him around the world from match to match. And as lovely as it is, you long to truly make this relationship your own, to feel the rawness and grittiness of love and life, to experience the charm and comfort of being true to yourself and knowing Sakusa loves you just as you are.

But your desire to be with him, to call him your own trumps your own wishes and you find yourself quickly backing down everytime you suggest something that he’s quick to turn down, desperate to appease and please him even at the price of your own desires.

He’s never outrightly rude about his preferences, never raises his voice. But somehow that makes the judgement and disdain in his dark eyes that much more apparent. You remember a rough day of work you had, the relief you had felt about being able to swiftly swap your constrictive work apparel for a pair of worn-in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Your outfit would certainly not win any fashion awards, but you blissfully sigh at how comfortable you are as you call a local pizza shop, ordering delivery self-indulgently.

You could feel yourself becoming one with the couch you’re lounging on, the television playing in the background. But even in the hazy in-between of sleep and alertness, your eyes snap open when the door opens and you lazily smile as your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, returning from another grueling practice.

“You look like you’ve had better days.”

Your smile slips, anxiety flooding through you as you self-consciously curl in on yourself while his lips purse, eyes scrutinizing your sloppy appearance.

“Umm, yeah...tough day at work-”

“Maybe you should freshen up with me. You might feel better in a...real outfit.”

You know better than to think that it’s really a suggestion, cursing yourself, humiliation coursing through you when you think of how foolish you were to get so comfortable so quickly. You’ve seen the caliber of the women who lust over your boyfriend unabashedly despite his long-time relationship with you. You need to try harder. You need to be better.

Self-deprecation rips you to shreds as you painstakingly groom yourself, donning a dress you know Sakusa loves, applying a full face of makeup and a spritz of his favorite scent. And despite how exhausted you are, how much you’d rather be slumped on the couch, gorging on a slice of pizza, it’s all worth it when you see the appreciative look in his gaze as his eyes rake over your figure.

But worry gnaws at you once more as the doorbell rings and his eyebrow raises questioningly at the interruption. It’s a painful walk of shame as you plaster on a fake smile, tipping the delivery boy, the usually tantalizing smell of cheese and grease only making you nauseous as you bring the box to the dining table.

“What is that?”

“Dinner…”

Your voice trails off and you feel so small, so pathetic as Sakusa’s face borders disgust as he observes the offensive item.

“You didn’t cook?”

The disappointment in his voice has you spewing excuses and apologies, your heart shattering when he merely waves off your ramble, telling you he’d order a salad from elsewhere and to enjoy your meal.

You never order pizza again and a steaming hot plate of freshly cooked food is always waiting for Sakusa when he returns home while you patiently wait for him with a painted face and impeccable outfits.

Your friends and family tell you how grateful you should be, how envious they are as they oggle your latest high-end designer pieces, cooing over how picture perfect the two of you always are, staring wide-eyed at your gorgeous home, not a speck of dust or object out of place. Who would have thought that you would be the epitome of the ideal housewife in such a short time?

Yes, you wonder. Who would have thought? Certainly not you.

If only they knew how deep down the deception goes, how lost you are in this pretend world you’re stuck in. And your heart twists and turns when your friends share about the little and big spats that happen behind closed doors, giggling and sighing in an understanding you’re not part of when they playfully complain about how much work love is.

But it’s always worth it in the end because the good always outweighs the bad if you’ve found the right person (not to mention the makeup sex is a bonus). Or so they say, but you wouldn’t know what any of that feels like. Sakusa doesn’t leave room for any arguments, any disagreements, any hint of anything less than a perfect relationship.

Even in the privacy of your bedroom, you feel like you’re in a cheesy porno, dressed in the prettiest white slip dress decorated with dainty lace and a string of pearls around your neck. You feel like a doll as you’re positioned on the bed, eyes demurely looking down, letting Sakusa do as he pleases while he guides you, calloused hands roaming over your skin. You’re sure he means for it to be pleasurable and intimate, and you can’t deny that he knows your most sensitive areas, shuddering when he grazes over your hardening nipples. But there’s a coldness to his movements, a calculating aspect in the way he examines you, dark eyes scrutinizing every inch of you as if they’re looking for a blemish, a reason to lecture you on not taking care of yourself.

Yet as predictable and standoffish as he is, he does know how to pleasure you and you writhe underneath him, moaning, lower lips dripping in your own arousal. But you whimper when he growls at you to stop moaning so loudly, to stop acting like a slut.

“I’m dating a lady, not a whore.”

The words cut you, pain and emptiness mixing with the rising pleasure, muddling into a confusing and overwhelming mess insides of you. You don’t trust yourself to speak, hot tears pricking at your eyes, unsure whether a moan or harsh words would slip past your lips. But you know that neither will work in your favor, so like always, you hold your tongue, doing whatever you can to keep your lover happy. You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the tightening knot inside of you, submitting to the waves of pleasure that crash over you as you cum, fingers tangling in the rumpled sheets, back arching in ecstasy.

Only when Sakusa is asleep, his back turned to you, the two of you cleaned and freshened up, do you let your tears stream down your face, feeling more alone than ever in your shared bed.

You hold out longer than you should, much longer than you should, in the hopes that things will improve, that Sakusa will loosen up, reveal his true self to you, let you reveal your true self to him. It’s just early dating jitters, early relationship issues. Things will get better.

Except it’s months later and things aren’t better. If anything, they’re worse and you can feel the weight of his expectations and the stress of perpetually living by a prewritten script crushing you.

It’s time to put an end to this charade.

It’s just another uneventful night and you idly stare up at the ceiling as you wait for Sakusa to join you in bed. Your heart is racing, throat feeling dry and choked up as he slips under the covers. You’re terrified, of Sakusa’s reaction, of ending everything, of starting from scratch. But you know it’s the right decision and when he finally settles in beside you, you begin to speak.

There’s only the sound of your trembling voice as you quietly tell him how you’ve felt all along, how everything has felt so prim, proper, fake, how everyday just feels like another session of rehearsing your lines, making sure you meet whatever standard he’s set for you. You want passion, real love, fights, laughter. You just want to be yourself. You just want to be with someone who loves you exactly the way you are.

“Kiyoomi, maybe we should break up. I don’t think we’re right for each other. I don’t think I’m what you want. I don’t think I’ll ever be what you want.”

“You’re right. Despite how much time, work, money, and patience I’ve spent to better you, you haven’t changed at all.”

You’re left reeling from the matter of fact harshness of his words, the slight exasperation in his tone, as if this is all your fault, as if you’re just a bothersome misbehaving pet.

“Prim and proper? Passion? Fights? So you’re tired of manners? Tired of being a respectable woman? You just want to fight and fuck like animals?”

You open your mouth to protest, anger licking at the open wounds his verbal assault leaves behind. But before you can retort, the air is ripped out of your lungs in a stunned yelp as your body is swiftly flipped over, your face shoved into the mattress until it’s a struggle to breathe, fabric and cushion all you can taste.

Your arms flail as you struggle to breathe, nails clawing at the sheets, arms trying to push yourself up against. But it’s no use against Sakusa’s strength and just as specks of black begin to enter your vision, fingers tangle with your roots and you gasp as your head is harshly jerked up, neck bending painfully back, jaw forced open from the strange position.

You whimper, tears beginning to blur your sight as a calloused hand turns your face until you’re staring at a condescending impassive countenance.

“If you want to be treated like a slut that badly, I’ll be a good boyfriend and give you exactly what you want. Ass up. Now.”

There’s no room for disobedience and spurred on by fear and pain, you listen, awkwardly shuffling into position, shame heating your face at how exposed you feel. But it’s only the start and you scream as a heavy strike lands on your bare ass, more and more blows raining down upon you, until you’re sobbing for mercy, agonized cries forced from your mouth, thighs trembling at having to support yourself through the torture.

Your upper body slumps in relief when the hits finally stop, but you flinch when fingers methodically prod at your entrance. You instinctively try to lurch forward, away from the touch, but it’s no use and you clench your eyes in humiliation at the sloppy wet sounds betraying your arousal.

“This is the wettest I’ve ever seen you. You really do like being used and treated like a bitch.”

You wish you could deny it. You wish you had the spirit to talk back, maybe even spit on that handsome face. But all you can think of is how full you feel as Sakusa’s cock slams balls deep inside your dripping hole, how deep he is inside of you from this angle, how overwhelmingly pleasurable the mix of pain and lust is as he uses you like you’re nothing more than a warm breathing sex doll.

All you can do is lewdly moan and take it, tears slipping down your face, drool seeping into the ruined sheets, eyes rolled back in your head. The coil in your stomach tightens and tightens no matter how hard you try and hold it at bay, desperately trying not to cum, not to inadvertently admit your body’s betrayal as it succumbs to every thrust. But it’s too much, the unfamiliarity of this brutal pace, the overpowering sensation of his tip reaching new depths inside of you, and you shatter to pieces, pussy convulsing, body twitching, pleasure like you’ve never felt before surging through you.

All through it Sakusa continues his relentless rhythm, a sneer marring his flawless face as he watches you suffer through your orgasm, writhing underneath him. It’s disgusting how much you love this, pathetic, pitiful, and yet he’s harder than he’s ever been, more turned on than he ever thought possible. And all it takes is a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you, a strong hand holding you still and tight to him as his groin presses against your ass, not an inch of space between the two of you as he paints your insides white.

Maybe you had a point all along. You’re absolutely filthy and wrecked and he grimaces at the tear, sweat, and sex stained mess he touches as he shoves your exhausted body away from him. Yet there’s a certain appeal to your disheveled appearance, how ruined you are because of him.

How beautifully you break.

Well if you have no desire to improve yourself, he can learn to meet you in the middle, learn to let you be the low-life whore you have no desire to move up from. After all, that’s what you said love is, right?

Accepting each other’s differences.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere sakusa #haikyuu smut #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #sakusa smut #tw: yandere #tw: noncon

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