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unfriedough · 10 months ago

Note

Hey sorry if your request aren’t open but I had a thought about Zuko x water tribe/bender reader!Like three years after the war he wants to propose to reader and So he ask Katara and Sokka about marriage traditions within the tribe and he carves a betrothal necklace for her?? And the readers reaction!! Thank you

An: HEY. Sorry this took like, so long I think you requested last summer, however I’ve kinda lost most of my determination to write and this account became more of a chore than what I had initially wanted. Either way, maybe somehow I’ll be able to be more consistent soon but I also don’t wanna make myself hate writing so :(

Thank you for requesting, I really do appreciate it, hope you enjoy :)

Zuko’s nose twitched as the cold nipped away at his extremities, huddled up in a few too many jackets. There’s a striking difference between cold and cold and right now he wished he was on fire.

Your gloved hand was intertwined with his as you lead him off of the fire nation ship and onto the white snow of the southern water tribe. This trip was planned as a way to visit Sokka and Katara, but Zuko had another plan in mind.

Finally, after three years of struggling to settle down, the fire people finally relaxed and he was able to make more time. In that time, he realized he’d wanted to marry you more than anything. So here he was, in a nation far too cold for someone like him, with a goal in mind.

He had exactly 5 days (and a half if you’re counting from now) to get ready a betrothal necklace. Why a necklace? Well, Zuko had watched you for days on end in the castle library, a book bigger than your head on the table being analysed by your eyes. You’d smile brightly when you locked eyes, and call him over. He’d sit next to you, shoulder to shoulder, attempting to read with you. The books were always about old water tribe traditions, tales, legends, history, everything of the sort. You’d wanted to stay connected to your culture and upbringing - it made you who you were today.

And so that brings you to today, here, the water tribe.

“Katara!” You squealed, running forward and pulling her into a hug. You two squeezed each other tightly, excited noises being expressed.

Zuko and Sokka nodded to each other, trying to be kinda nonchalant but Sokka couldn’t hold it much longer, he sprinted at Zuko and tackled him to the ground into an oh-so-warm hug. You laughed at the site, Katara too. Zuko felt a twinge of pink on his cheek, from the cold or embarrassment he couldn’t really tell, but he still wrapped his shaking arm around his buddy. After a few more ‘I missed you!’s and giggles, Zuko and Sokka got back up. Katara grabbed your hand and pulled you deeper into the village, you laughed the entire way, giddy from being back home here with your family. You threw a glance backwards at the fire lord, there was something very slightly off about the way he was smiling, you brushed it off as just the cold getting to him.

It was most definitely the cold getting to him.

Sokka led him to the ice on the outskirts of the village and brought some chairs along. They were gonna go fishing while they talked. As they both sat, another shiver ran up the poor fire bender’s back.

“How do you guys survive the cold?” He groaned.

Sokka chuckled, handing him a rod, pushing the bucket of bait closer to him, “You get used to it… I could ask you the same thing about the heat,”

“I’m a fire bender it’s in my blood,”

“Yeah well you learn a thing or two when your lovely sister starts learning how to bend and suddenly you’re always wet,” he cast the line, leaning back, putting one leg over the other.

“I guess,” he laughed.

They sat in a suffocating silence for a minute, Zuko just awkwardly holding the pole and Sokka staring into the sky.

“Are we going to address the camelephant in the room?”

Zuko looked to him from his peripheral, “I’m kinda nervous I guess, I don’t know what to do,”

Sokka sat up a little straighter, getting up to help Zuko with his fishing issues. He stood behind him and helped his arm into the correct place, slowly to be sure he understood.

“Just like fishing, you have to be precise and confident to get what you want, and if you cast your line just right, you’ll catch the fish,” he winked once the bob hit the water, stepping back to admire his own work.

“Not sure that’s the best metaphor,”

“Say you love it, he's been working on it ever since you wrote to him,” Katara rolled her eyes, holding your hand as you both struggled to not slip on the ice.

“KATARA.”

Zuko couldn't help but laugh, then he was met with the puzzled look on your face.

“I thought this was a surprise trip, when’d you write to them,” you tilted your head, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“…needed to make sure they were free,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“That totally checks out,” you rolled your eyes, getting a serious case of FOMO.

Sokka coughed to try to clear the awkwardness, “So fishing…”

“What’re you trying to catch anyways?”

“Does it matter, it’s about the process YN get with the times,”

“Since when did you fish for fun?”

“Since now.”

“I thought you hated fishing,” you were all standing up by this point, including Sokka and Zuko.

“Only because Miss Katara always splashed me,”

“And I won’t hesitate to do it again!” She bent a small stream into his face, giggling when he stumbled back.

“Oh it’s on Katara,” he paused, “As soon as I get snow,” he waddled away to get to the snow on shore.

You laughed when the waterbender used more ice to cause him to slip.

“I’ll go help him up,” you laughed, moving towards him as he laid helplessly on the ice, not even bothering to get up anymore.

Zuko watched your figure, missing the way Katara turned to look at him.

“I think you should do it here,”

“What?”

“The proposal,”

“That’s not enough time, it’s barely enough for me to learn how to carve the necklace,”

“Lucky for you, Sokka’s pretty efficient with plans, he’s been plotting since you told him,”

The fire bender smiled, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jacket. “Okay, maybe, but how can I get started when she’s with us all the time?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle her,” she smirked.

“Are you sure this is safe?” You shivered, standing in your bathing suit on top of a huge rock, below it freezing water.

“No!” Katara, “But let’s do it anyways,”

“I don’t know, what if I freeze?”

“Good thing we have a fire bender with us,” she pointed to Zuko, who was in the distance learning about what tools to carve and what stones to use, he’d settled on one that reminded him of your eyes, and the band matching the deep royal blue usually used. He wanted to alter the pattern as a way of commemorating both elements. Currently, he and Sokka were doodling designs on the snow with sticks.

“Look at those dorks, I wonder what they’re doing,”

“You know Sokka, they’re probably drawing,” she laughed nervously.

“Hmm, that kind of looks like a-“ you were cut off as she pushed you off of the rock. You shrieked as you first dropped, then as you got more air time you changed into a more streamlined position with your head downwards. Instant regret when you hit the water though.

You resurfaced, drenched and in pain from the cold. Your fingers felt like they were gonna fall off any second now. Before you got to dwell on it, Katara joined you, also screaming in fun-agony.

“WHY’D YOU PUSH ME?” You splashed her.

“You were talking for too long…” she giggled, going under and pulling you down.

You inhaled a large amount of air before going under, making sure to keep her under with you as well. After a few seconds of freezing cold, you resurfaced, feeling pain in all your joints from the water.

“Why did I ever think this was a good idea?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” she shrugged, waterbending herself back up to the ledge so she could jump again, “But it sure is fun,”

Sokka and Zuko heard a splash in the distance.

“I think Katara is torturing your wife,”

“What?” he mumbled, looking at where you were very clearly lecturing her about something, “What’re they doing?”

“Ice bath, Katara tricked me into doing it once… I never fully recovered,”

Zuko chuckled, using his stick to doodle another design. Which he then stared at for a while.

“This is it.”

“Oh?” Sokka glanced at it, “It’s perfect.”

The men stared at each other proudly, as if they’ve just completed a super hard mission.

Immediately, Sokka took him inside a tent, quickly teaching him methods of carving with different tools. A few more splashes could be heard and you and Katara had fun.

“I wonder what he’s doing to Zuko,”

“Boy stuff,”

You furrowed your brows, “what does that even mean?”

After a lot of time (and a few cuts) Zuko finally had a necklace ready. Sure, it needed to be refined, but his hands were tired and shaky. Sokka patted him on the back, watching the fire bender weave the blue band into the loops.

What they failed to notice was you approaching, now covered in a warm coat.

“What’re y'all up to?” You breathed out, still cold but beginning to gain your senses.

Zuko panicked, hiding it under his leg. You looked at him weird.

By this time, Katara had joined the group, and behind her the sun fell into a pink and purple type hue. Zuko didn’t miss the way your breaths were so laboured, and he took it upon himself to lead you back to where Sokka said you two were staying. You changed into some clothes while he surveyed the room, moving around nervously.

“You’ve been acting weird all day,” you pulled a sweater over the thermal shirt, reaching over to grab an undercoat.

He walked up to you, fingers working shakily to button up the buttons. “Just cold,”

“No, the cold doesn’t make you avoid me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,”

“Really? It feels like Katara and Sokka are trying to keep us apart.” He grabbed another, heavier coat and draped it over your shoulder, you inserted your arms in the holes.

“I didn’t notice,”

“You’re lying,” you stepped back, putting your boots back on and tucking your pants into them.

He frowned, reaching out to you, but you stepped back.

“It’s weird, the letter thing as well- why didn’t you tell me you sent it to them? I thought it was last minute?”

“It was!”

“You’re lying again,” you frowned, folding your arms.

“I promise it’ll all make sense soon,”

“How soon? What’re you hiding?”

“I-“

“Actually. Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know.” You huffed, storming out of the room, leaving a different kind of cold lingering.

Zuko sat down on the large bed, dropping his head into his hands. He sighed deeply, reaching over multiple layers of clothing to his pocket to pull out the carved stone. Truly, it was mediocre at best. And after this misunderstanding, the sinking feeling of impending rejection poisoned his thoughts. He couldn’t help but trace his finger over the patterns, wondering what could’ve been- he was half sure he was single now.

“I forgot-“ you gasped as you walked back in the room, catching a glimpse of the rock in his hand.

“Yn!” He quickly shoved it behind him.

“Zuko… what was that?”

“What was what?” He said, looking so suspicious it was stupid.

You took a few steps closer, inching towards him slowly, “In your hand,”

“My hand’s empty…”

“Liar…” you dragged on, standing right infront of him now.

“Zuko,”

“Yn,”

You tried pulling at his arms, but he wasn’t budging.

“Cut it out! What’s behind you?”

“Nothing!”

You sighed, walking away in defeat, just as he let his guard down, you pounced, having to grab it and rolling onto the bed. He barely had time to process it when your face immediately changed.

You sat up, moving on your knees towards him on the bed, patting his bicep, “Zuko light,”

The fire lord frowned, embarrassed that he was about to get rejected, although that’s no foreign feeling. A small, dancing red flame illuminated the carved necklace.

“It’s…” you covered your mouth with one hand, tears welling in your eyes.

“Tacky- I know, I just thought- you don’t have to do a-“

“Beautiful…” he glanced sideways at you, “Zuko…”

“This isn’t at all how I wanted this to go…” he sighed, dropping his head.

“No… probably not,” you sniffled, “but it was perfect,” you laughed, he chuckled as well.

He got up, lighting an oil lamp for better lighting. Zuko circled the bed and stood next to you, still nervous and fidgety.

“Yn,” he breathed out, shakily.

You nodded, glossy eyes meeting his.

“The years you’ve spent by my side, against me, with me- those have been the best years of my life. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m truly myself. I’ve never,” he swallowed harshly, “I’ve never felt more at home,” he paused again, looking up at the ceiling, “then when I’m with you.”

You let out a small noise of excitement, bouncing your legs.

“I’ve made so- so many mistakes in my life, every single day of it, but I think… I think letting you go would be my biggest mistake, Yn-“

“YES!!” You pounced on him, hugging him so tight as your heartbeats both skyrocketed.

You giggled as he looped the necklace around your neck, it was simple, and dainty, but most of all it was so Zuko. The more someone could stare at the imperfections in the craftsmanship, the more they’d love it. A man carved it with love and intention.

You held each other for a while, just swaying in the dimly lit room. You leaned back, cupping his face in your hands.

“Is this why we're here? You wanted to carve the necklace?”

“Yeah, pretty much, you ruined my plans though,”

“I did, didn't I?” You giggled.

“I had a lot planned for us, with the help of Sokka of course,”

“Ohh now that makes sense,”

“What makes sense,”

“Literally everything, you were being so weird,”

“I’m not great at keeping secrets,”

“Good, never keep one again,” you kissed his cheek.

“I suppose we should tell Katara and Sokka,”

“Yeah, I suppose we should.”

And so, hand in hand, you walked out to the bonfire, where the siblings sat.

Sokka was so mad his plan foiled.

#atla #atla zuko #avatar the last airbender #fluff #avatar zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko #zuko angst #zuko #zuko atla #zuko x Reader #fire lord zuko x reader #zuko x female!reader

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hellodaydream1111111111111111 · 4 months ago

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Hunter x catfish

Hisoillu catfish their favorite 12 year olds.

TW: It’s Hisoillu so obviously there’s threats but Hisoka is a pedo and Illumi is well aware of it.

For reasons unknown Hisoka had given Illumi a key to his penthouse, Illumi used it occasionally when he was in the area but had never just dropped by to “Hang out” as Hisoka called it. However, the yelling, crying and whatever else his newly heartbroken brother was doing was driving him crazy, so maybe crashing on Hisoka’s couch for a night or two wouldn’t be terrible.

The elevator ride up was terribly uncomfortable because this was a spur of the moment decision and he hadn’t exactly told Hisoka he was coming, Illumi knew it was probably rude but a part of him was curious as to how Hisoka lived when they were apart and he wasn’t so sure he was going to actually go through with this plan of his. Hisoka was insanely perceptive so Illumi decided it was best to conceal his presence in case he changed his mind. Illumi had been trained to sit perfectly still; however, he had the overwhelming urge to tap his foot or play with his hair.

When he got to Hisokas door he could hear the magician giggling to himself about something, it was mildly strange because Illumi couldn’t hear his TV. He creaked open the door and slipped inside.

“Hisoka what on earth are you doing?” Illumi asked, dropping his Zetsu and peering over the magician’s shoulder.

Hisoka must have been extremely focused on what he was doing because he almost twitched.

“Illu dear I wasn’t expecting you!” Hisoka began trying to texture surprise something, unfortunately he fumbled and dropped it.

It was his phone, a children’s game. Ah… Illumi knew of that side of Hisoka and had just chosen to avoid the subject though he was sure Hisoka didn’t have enough shame to hide that so it had to be deeper.

“Hisoka what the fuck are you doing.” illumi sharpened his nails and pointed them in Hisokas direction.

“Illu dear, I was speaking to Gon.” Hisoka made a semi lewd expression.

Illumi raised an eyebrow, “Why would he willingly speak to you? IS KILLU INVOLVED?!” Illumi reached for his pins with his free hand.

“Sharp as ever my dear. My lovely fruit isn’t exactly aware of my identity.” Hisoka had regained his composure and picked his phone off the floor with bungee gum.

That didn’t answer Illumi’s question.

“Hisoka, what the hell have I told you about toying with my brother?” Illumis aura darkened.

“You may check for yourself if you wish I was only checking in on Gon. Brother dearest just happened to be there.” Hisoka smiled.

Illumi took Hisoka up on that offer and read through all the messages they’d exchanged. Hisoka had made a few comments they were… rape-ish but nothing that they wouldn’t recover from. Ah, the cause of his predicament, Killua was the one who had catfished Milluki. After that Killua and Gon started talking about themselves. It intrigued Illumi well he *Was* his brother so it’d be his familial duty to make sure he was okay and to tell his mother what he’d been up to…

“How do I make one of these accounts?” illumi inquired.

Hisoka hummed, “I knew you come around, Gon really has potential.”

“Hisoka you know very well. I do not share your "tastes ". I want to know more about Killua.”

“Illu, I was kidding! I’d never let you pick my fruit. I’ll make an account for you.” Hisoka made a heart with his fingers.

Illumi reached for his phone only to grab a card out of his pocket instead. Ah, it was in Hisokas hand. After a few minutes Hisoka handed it back to Illumi. His account was some character and the username was just a bunch of gibberish

“That’s a strange name.” Illumi noted.

Hisoka shrugged before showing Illumi the basics of the game.

It was clearly for kids, you had to friend people and then could join them in various games with differing goals but you could also make group chats with your “friends” . Illumi thought that was silly because you could speak with people and not be their friend.

After a while Hisoka began to speak with Gon and Killua in one of said group chats.

Friendship.1s_Magic: I’m back.

Greenfr0g112: hi!

Electric_cat: Goofy ahh username

Friendship.1s_Magic: Can I add my friend UwU?

Greenfr0g112: Sure

Electric_Cat: No dude he’s probably weird

Greenfr0g112: Killua don’t be mean!

“Wait, I'm sorry which one is Killua and which one is Gon?” Illumi asked.

“Ah, Gon is Greenfr0g112 and Killua is Electric_Cat.” Hisoka replied.

“Who are you?”

“Illu dear you can’t tell! I’m Friendship.1s_Magic of course.” Hisoka said dramatically.

“Oh, strange.” Illumi sneered.

Friendship.1s_Magic has added “idfkjsuwjsiwj”

Greenfr0g112: HELLO!!

Electric_cat: bro wtf is that username

“What does “wtf” mean?” Illumi questioned.

“Illu dear you make me feel so young, It means what the fuck”

Rude, Illumi threw a pin into Hisokas leg.

idfkjsuwjsiwj: You shouldn’t use that language.

Electric_Cat: dude your name legit has fuck in it don’t be a,shjdbakehidndojwyekkxukw*w-lahdowjhw9

Greenfr0g112: Sorry Killua is a meanie sometimes but he’ll be nice now

Electric_Cat: Gon put me down!!!

idfkjsuwjsiwj: His distrust for strangers is appropriate.

“Illumi you are gonna get us caught, stop— well, being yourself!” Hisoka whined.

“Your fruit is getting on my nerves.”

“I suppose I’ll type for you.” Hisoka said, grabbing Illumi’s phone.

Illumi rolled his eyes but allowed him to take it from him

Electric_cat: dude you sound like my brother

idfkjsuwjsiwj (once Illumi now Hisoka): Damn really must be annoying

Electric_cat: yeah he’s a cunt

Greenfr0g112: Killua your going to be in debt to the swear jar if you keep this up

Electric_cat: Well what do you want me to call him?

Electric_cat: A female dog? A roach possibly?

Electric_cat: No tf????

Greenfr0g112: But you said female dog why's that bad?

Electric_cat: It means bitch

Greenfr0g112: OHHHHH

Hisoka randomly started laughing his ass off and Illumi had no idea why, he shouldn’t have let that clown take his phone. He was perfectly capable of typing his own messages

“What are they saying?”

Hisoka’s response was more laughter and a failed attempt to catch his breath. Hisoka eventually tossed the phone in Illumi’s direction and managed to gasp out

“Don’t get us caught!” After taking a few drinks of water he finally composed himself.

Illumi thoroughly read their previous messages, “I knew Kill didn’t like Milluki but this is surprising…” Illumi stated, this was troubling news.

Hisoka apparently didn’t think so because he was laughing again and this time almost in tears.

“Illu—“ Hisoka was laughing too hard to finish his sentence.

“You really need help darling.” Hisoka said.

“What do you mean? Milluki is a useful asset to the family but if he’s done something to make Kill hate him that much I should speak with my parents.” Illumi said.

“Illu dear, Killua isn’t speaking about Milluki.” Hisoka laughed again.

“Kalluto then? That’s arguably worse, Mother really likes him.” Illumi said deep in thought.

“You’re hopeless.” Hisoka sighed.

“Should we continue toying with them?” Illumi asked.

“Later, I still need to process.” Hisoka exclaimed, walking into his kitchen to get more water.

Illumi just stared at him, he was confused, why was he hopeless? He didn’t understand and it was pissing him off.

Hisoka came back from his kitchen with a seltzer instead of water like he’d said. It was maybe noon there was no reason to start drinking, how foolish.

“So Illu, what brings you to my humble abode?” Hisoka said.

Illumi looked even more confused.

“Hisoka, you got this from showing off how is it humble?” Illumi looked at the clown intensely.

“It’s an expression, dear.” Hisoka said, sipping his drink and sitting back down on his obnoxiously pink couch.

“Oh. Hm well, Milluki got catfished online and now he’s heartbroken.” Illumi did air quotes on that last part.

“It’s been driving me mad.” Illumi snorted.

Hisoka chuckled.

“Well, I haven’t been to the store in quite a long time so I can’t make us a romantic dinner.” Hisoka remarked.

“That’s fine, I didn’t give much notice.” Better that way, Illumi was an assassin he didn’t need romance.

Hisoka put on some trashy show about some dead girl, he was sure that Hisoka could predict exactly what was going to happen but it’s easier to kill someone when they are distracted so Illumi didn’t say anything.

#hxh 2011 #hxh #hxh illumi #hxh killua #killua hunter x hunter #killua zoldyck #killugon #hxh hisoka #hisollumi #hisoka x illumi #hisoillu #hxh zoldyck #zoldyck siblings #illumi zoldyck #zoldyck #hxh fanfic #fanfic #Hisoillu fanfic

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5uptic · 3 years ago

Text

crewfu: fanfic spotlight!

We work together by Anonymous (5up & DK, unrated, gen | 248 words)

Summary: One likes plants and baking, the other loves to create and design video games. They stay up and create monstrosities together, it's their fun, it's their favourite game. Aka a 5up and Dk roommate au!

No matter how life tangles, I’m still here with you. by hungryandsleepy (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 279 words)

Summary: 5up has been working so hard on his new map, and of course, he needs someone to give him a motivation to go to sleep.

objectively pretty by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 462 words)

Summary: steve is drunk. he's pretty sure 5up is too. that doesn't mean being called pretty is any less momentuous.

you plus me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 489 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve meet.

he said to me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 656 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve share a moment.

by the snowmen by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 670 words)

Summary: Steve has a moment when it's all over.

today you got to know me (a little bit too slowly) by runninohhoney (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 675 words)

Summary: Steve lights up a cigarette. 5up doesn't smoke.

what would it take by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 787 words)

Summary: It's Steve's first mission. He hecks up. Or does he?

sorta cute by floweruru (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 822 words)

Summary: ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said. ‘That’s just disrespectful,’ he said. Yet there was 5up, crushed like a can in Steve’s embrace, feebly kicking at nothing as his feet leave the pavement.

i was gonna kill u, but ur kinda cute?? by Cthulhuer (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve is a mess and 5up is worse.

I hear a Symphony by AwkwardAce (5up/Fundy, unrated, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: He exhaled until his lungs ached for air, fingers twitching as he opted to remove the sleek white gloves he wore in a feeble effort to soothe himself. It didn’t work. He wrung his trembling hands together as his eyes raked down the worn leather case taking in the doodles- some etched some drawn- across the faded surface. He snapped the buckles open and his breath hitched, catching in his already tight throat. For a moment the world span, his head throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to run and hide. 5up breathed out slowly, shakily.

staring by lytriis (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: steve asks 5up out. 5up doesn’t know how to respond.

and it's four am, and yet, you're here by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: in which steve shows up at 5up's house, in the middle of the night, completely spontaneously

more than this by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve catches 5up venting.

3:15 by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve tries to guess Five's name. It's much more difficult than he anticipated.

things were different by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: His eyes circled around to his friends, Kimi and Janet engaging in pleasant comversation, sleepy and becoming increasingly more sober. He looked, finally, across him, and caught Dumbdog staring at him. What now bro, what did this guy want. small talk, turns into not small talk, then there's no talk

Once Upon A Dream by SmearedWords (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: 5up looks ethereal, while Steve is struggling to breathe. "You're not real either." Or: Steve has a crush and a nightmare in three parts, 5up is tired, the crew life is hard and Polus sucks.

the ones you love will call you back by homeward_bound (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: stevesuptic: dude, is it weird that i miss vegas DumbDog: No? I do too. stevesuptic: okay [steve misses vegas and apollo. they talk about it]

cough it out by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: Apollo thinks that Steve must be well and truly gone, at this point, because he giggles, like Apollo’s just told a particularly funny joke. He looks Apollo right in the eye and asks, “Do you trust me?” “Absolutely not.”

ivy by Secular_Czar (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: It might be a sad day, in general, but Steve isn't about to let it get to him. His friends won't ever let him wallow either.

The Colosseum by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: Five squinted, looking at the colosseum intensely. He thinks Apollo was latched onto the sphinx’s shoulder, fur matted with blood. Janet was slumped against a column, probably out, with Kimi whose bow was snapped in two, her leg twisted at an odd angle. DK was in the corner trying to cast various supporting hexes and charms with a broken arm, whilst Hafu was dragging a heavily bandaged Steve away. or 5up slaughters a cat

Oneshots :) by woofles1990 (5up/Fundy, 5up/Steve, teen rating, multi | 2.5k words, oneshot collection)

Summary: Just a bunch of MCYT/Among Us oneshots, mainly featuring 5up's crew because yes :)

the adventures of 5up and steve staying up late because they're under 30 by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.5k words)

Summary: “The night is young!” Steve yells at the ceiling, throwing his hands up in the air. “Take advantage of it! Commit crimes! Fuck hoes!” Five catches his hands in the air and laughs. “You wish you had hoes.”

unreasonably in love by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "It was like pieces of a puzzle, everything coming together. And now, here they are, standing in their apartment, which looks more like a hollow shell than a home, filled solely with scattered boxes and the minuscule amount of furniture that they brought with them to Vegas." Or: what happens after Apollo and Steve move in together.

cant be love by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.5 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: He had chuckled to himself, he felt so stupid. Who in their fucking minds names a playlist 'sugr?', he thought, internally cringing. A story where a Steve meets an Apollo, and some things happen.

Somewhere in the darkness, us together for a while by tumtummeke (Apollo & Kimi & Steve, teen rating, gen | 3.6k words)

Summary: Apollo worries about Steve. Steve breaks his vape pen. Kimi plays power washer. Self-indulgent angst, with a generous helping of friendship and cuddles.

odyssey by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 23k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens...they warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. Therefore pass these Sirens by and stop your men's ears with wax that none of them may hear." -Homer, The Odyssey

Also: SilverSprinklez10‘s yupwaves collection.

Summary: This is a Harry Potter AU based on the characters/personas of the youtubers/streamers.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s), if there is one/multiple], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k] ([added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not)])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji... you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed (but this is the first one! lol).

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

#crewfu #fanfic spotlight

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captainrexisboo · 4 years ago

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THE COUNTDOWN IS OVER. Y’ALL-

I’M AT 501 FOLLOWERS.

Upon reaching this TREMENDOUS milestone, I present, my dearest babe: Witcher ✨

He’s my beloved Clone OC...this is where he came from. Sorry if it reads like a DND background story. It kind of is!!! Witcher holds a very dear space in my heart, I made him while I was hurting pretty bad, threading him into my life through my Nightsister OC. These two are pretty personal to me, and I’d love to share their story with you!

Asva Strasi is an old self-insert/Star Wars DND character I played with that I’m beginning to flesh out, and her story goes hand in hand with Witcher. There can’t be an Asva without a Witcher, nor a Witcher without an Asva.

Witcher’s introduction to this blog is in V pt iv, and more info about him can be found at this ask. (Edit: also here!) Please let me know if you would like to be put on the Witcher tag list (present tags are at the bottom of the backstory)!!!

Thank you all so much with your love and support, I can’t wait to share more with you!!! I love you all!!! And without further ado, I give you:

The First Meeting

It’s the very start of the war, where Asva Strasi is a witch of the Nightsister Clan on planet Dathomir. She’s a younger witch (19 years old, 22 BBY), in the process of completing her training to become one of Mother Talzin’s assassins, she’s never known life outside Dathomir and seeks to change that. Strasi always dreamed of travelling and learning about life outside her planet, like many of her assassin sisters. One day, she was out for athletic training with her sisters. Going a little farther than usual, Strasi came across an armored body. Deciding the body was indeed a male, and close to death, she convinced her sisters to bring him back to base. They brought him to Clan Mother Talzin, who classified him as a Mandalorian based off of the signature T-shaped visor of his helmet, but other than that the armor he wore was strange. It seemed too stark, and not as decorated, not even a clan symbol to be seen. Knowing of the Mandalorians code of honor, as well as their universally praised strength and strategist mind, she thought of bringing him back to health to gain his gratitude, and push for an alliance. Mother Talzin brought her most talented witches together, and as a reward for bringing her the Mandalorian, she allowed Strasi to be a part of the ritual. Once his health was restored and consciousness gained, he was met with the gazes of Mother Talzin and Strasi. Mother Talzin began to answer his questions, and upon learning Strasi saved his life, he was extremely thankful but told them he needed to be off world immediately. He needed to return to the war.

“Ah, of course. You Mandalorians are always in one sort of war, or another. We’ll help get you home-”

“I’m not a Mandalorian ma’am. Well, not technically anyways.”

Talzin and Strasi listened to the soldier, now learning he was only a clone of the Mandalorian Jango Fett. CT-2457, not yet named. He fought alongside the Jedi, lightsiders, for the Republic.

“And who dares defy the Republic?”

“Separatists, ma’am… I’m sorry, who did you say your planet aligns with?”

“We’re a neutral planet, sir.”

Strasi answered for her Mother, assuring the clone they meant him no harm. She explained how she and her sisters' only goal for him was to take him home.

“Asva will accompany you back to Coruscant,” Talzin declared, surprising Strasi, who still had a final trial to go through before becoming a full-fledged assassin to be allowed off-world. CT-2457 left with a respectful thank you to Strasi before going with a duo of witches back to where he had landed to see if he could find any salvageable supplies that might’ve dropped from his crash along with him.

“When you get to the...what did he call it? The GAR headquarters, please extend an offer of our services to the Republic. I’m sending a group to go find and extend the same offer to whoever runs the Separatist forces. When you come home, we’ll put you through your final trial.”

Strasi takes 2457 back to Coruscant...only for them to say due to him being accounted for as deceased, he’ll have to go back to Kamino for them to decide what to do with him. Strasi sees the clone make the slightest twitch of discomfort, and before the nat born GAR officer can alert anyone to take the clone back, she volunteers her service, “I can take him to Kamino. Just let them know we’re coming. My name is Asva Strasi, I’ll be flying a Lancer-class pursuit craft, Vigilance.”

She left with the proper extension of the Nightsister’s services in the future.

Aboard the Vigilance, she spoke to 2457. A little hesitant, he opened up about life on Kamino, raised to be what they are, not who they could be.

“On my planet, males are seen as slaves. Good only for the harvest, sometimes protection, and breeding,” Strasi recounted, chuckling lightly at 2457’s uncomfortable face, “Don’t worry, I won’t treat you as such. I’m just saying, you received a very special treatment on Dathomir. If you can’t find yourself a happy place on Kamino with your brothers, please think of me as your sister. And Dathomir, a place of rest.”

She holds out a small object in front of him, a chunk of dark metal, the size of just the tip of her thumb, the point tinged green with the light hitting it just right.

“What is that?”

“A focus. I use it to help center myself in meditation, to channel my energy and thought into. And now-” she breaks it, the metal really just a shining stone, handing half of it to the clone, “-you’ll always have a part of me with you. Brother clone.”

2457 takes it gently, wary of how brittle the stone may be. He marvels at it for a moment, how the green looked to nearly be glowing, and looked back up to the kind face of the witch in front of him, nodding his head, “Sister Asva.”

She lands on Kamino, and the Kaminoans are already waiting for them, along with a couple of other clones to serve as guards.

“Would you care to tell us exactly your healing methods, miss Strasi?”

“Magicks. Nothing to leave a scar that wasn’t already formed. CT-2457 just needs to be reentered into the system so he can get back to his proper clan.”

“Magic. Clans. Dathomirians,” a different Kaminoan rolled his eyes, spitting out his words, “The primitive ideals of your planet mean nothing for us, we will need to recommission it-”

“No need, sir,” Strasi bit out, venom lacing her formal request, “CT-2457 is perfectly well, Mother Talzin saw the ritual through. Or, I’m sorry, should I word it differently? Perhaps in a way you understand? Kaminoans. CT-2457 was put through our traditional medical procedure, headed by our lead doctor, and he will need nothing more than a regulatory physical to ensure he’s fit for battle with his company again. Is that more clear, sir?”

“Young lady-”

“Am I clear?”

Before the other Kaminoan could speak again, Nala Se stopped him, putting up a hand and motioning Asva to come closer, “Stay for the physical. If anything proves to be out of place, you will be put on trial as representation for your planet, charged with tampering with Republic property. If you’re correct and nothing is wrong, we will hand you a reward and you will be free to leave. Is this fair to you?”

“Yes.”

CT-2457 was getting looks as he passed through the halls, side by side with the white haired young woman dressed in ruddy colors. He didn’t stray from her side, steps falling into line with hers. She brushed her hand against his, causing him to look down to her, to see her tapping her half of the focus against her leg. He nodded once, breathing deeply. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he just thought of the little rock stuffed in his pocket, thought about giving it his entire self, and breathed.

Before he knew it, his physical was over, passed of course, and he was waving goodbye to Strasi’s ship as it left the atmosphere. He was hounded by his vod about where he had been, what had happened, what had been done to him. He told them about Dathomir, the Nightsisters and their magick, Asva Strasi and her focus. By the end of the night, he had a name; he was Witcher.

Tags: @bad-batch-of-fics @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @vesperstalksclones @haloangel391

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authorbarbie · 5 years ago

Text

Movement

Summary: Poe interrupts your Jedi training session to teach a little lesson of his own.

Your lightsaber swung through the air in a series of practised motions, the familiar hum permeating the silence along with your controlled breaths. A light sheen of sweat coated the back of your neck, matting the loose strands of hair that had managed to escape your braid to your skin. With a grunt of exertion, you turned your body into the next swing, stopping the bright blade short just before it could cut through your intended target— an old, beaten up punching bag.

As you breathed heavily and quickly considered your next move, your thoughts were cut short by the sound of loud applause. You deactivated your saber at the noise, straightening up and turning towards the source.

"Thought I'd find you here." Poe stood at the entrance of the Resistance's training area — clearly ready to workout himself for he was dressed in plain sweats and a raggedy, sleeveless shirt —, a bottle of water tucked safely under his arm to free up his hands.

"How?"

"It's raining outside. You hate training in the rain." A charming grin lit up his face, his eyes swimming with mirth. "Please, don't stop on my account."

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't interrupted," you said, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow and taking the interference as a chance to take a sip from your own water.

"Oof," Poe stumbled back as if wounded, a hand pressed to his chest. "I forgot how brazen you get when you’re in the zone."

You rolled your eyes in response, fighting hard to keep the smile from your face. Poe clearly took note as his own grin only widened. He walked over to the benches that lined the wall of the room, setting his things down next to your own and pulling a roll of boxing wrap from his pocket.

“You wanna go a few rounds?" he asked, nodding towards his hands which he was currently securing with a complicated pattern of wrap.

"I think I'll stick with this for now," you shrugged, lifting your lightsaber's hilt for reference. Poe hummed noncommittally and you squinted your eyes in suspicion. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he asked, innocently.

"That little 'hm'," you told him, lowering your voice to mimic the noise he'd made.

Poe let out a short, surprised laugh as he finished wrapping his hands up. "It was nothing, sweetheart... I just think you could stand to do a little hand-to-hand every now and then. You might be getting rusty."

"Why would I need that when I have my saber?"

"Because you might not have it all the time," he stated simply. "What if... I don't know, something happens and it breaks? Or you're just not able to use it for whatever reason?"

"I'm trained in other weapons, too," you argued. "And the Force is—"

"Always with you, I know," Poe's eyes rolled teasingly. "Just humour me."

"Well... What do you want me to do?"

"Look, you know I love when you get all"— Poe mimed holding a lightsaber and began to swing back and forth as he had seen you do so many times, making whooshing noises for extra impact— "hot Jedi and everything. But I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I knew you kept your other skills sharp."

You blinked. "Did you just call me hot?"

Poe sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "You're missing the point."

"I like this new point better," you joked and Poe fixed you with an unimpressed look in return. “Well, have you brought these same concerns to Rey?”

"Rey is... Rey," he said, haltingly.

"An astute observation," was your flat response.

"You know what I mean," he huffed, raising a hand to trail it through his hair in frustration and causing a curl to fall over his eyes. Your hand twitched as you fought the urge to reach out and brush it back. "Rey is my friend and I care for her, but you're, y'know... you."

Your heart sped up at the implication of his words, almost making it difficult for you to focus. Clearing your throat, you glanced around the room so that you could gather your thoughts. "Fine." Your eyes met his again. "You want to spar? Let's go."

"How long has it been since you last trained without your... Force-ness?"

Snorting back a proper laugh, you gave a slight shrug of the shoulder. "I don't know... Guess it's been a while."

There was a short pause as Poe considered his options. "Maybe we should practice technique first."

● ● ●

And that was how you ended up back in front of the punching bag, reluctantly sans your saber, with your hands tightly but messily wrapped in boxing tape; Poe had offered to help but you had gently slapped his hand away and insisted you could do it yourself. It was only after realising that you had forgotten entirely how to apply the wrap properly that you resorted to sneaking subtle glances at Poe's hands in an attempt to replicate his.

"Okay," Poe said, standing to the side with his arms crossed. "Show me how you punch."

You held back the retort of 'On the bag or on you?' and instead followed his instructions, curling your hand into a fist and giving it your best shot. The bag swung back from the impact and Poe reached out to steady it.

"Not bad," he said in a tone that implied the complete opposite. He must have noticed the slight furrowing of your brows for he was quick to placate you. "Hey, I mean it. You've certainly got the strength down. There's just a few things you need to fix."

"Like what?"

"Well, the bag shouldn't really swing after you hit it," he said, moving closer to the bag. You took the hint, stepping out of the way to give him enough space. "You gotta hit the bag, don't push it. When you do a push punch, you're basically just trying to shove your hand through the target. Watch."

Poe's hand shot forward to hit the bag. Sure enough, it swung back wildly as it had with you and he reached out to bring it back into position again.

"Now, a snap punch means letting your fist snap back to you after you strike, to minimise how long you stay in your target's space. The whole reason it snaps back is because you let the impact rebound your hand back to you, not because you pull it away yourself. It shouldn't move the bag as much, and it helps you punch harder and faster, while using way less energy."

In a flourish, he struck the bag again, causing it to jump in place but not swing. His hand was back in position before you could blink.

You nodded slowly. "I... think I get it?"

"Go ahead."

Taking a breath, you retook your spot in front of the bag once more. You shook your hands out for a moment before they curled back into fists and your dominant hand snapped forward to hit the bag.

"That's it!" Poe smiled proudly as he watched the bag stay in place.

"Thanks," you smiled bashfully and tucked a loose strand of hair out of your face.

"Another pointer is that you should stand far enough away that you can't reach the bag without rotating your hips, but you also have to stand close enough to the bag so, if you do rotate your hips, you're still able to hit it."

"Uh," you began, hesitantly. "Say that again?"

Poe chuckled and held up his hands. "Sorry, I'm probably going too fast."

"No," you told him with a shake of your head, "it's not that. It's just... How am I able to study so many complicated Jedi texts but I can't even keep up with how to punch something properly?"

"Hey, you're doing great. It's a lot to remember," he said earnestly. "So let's try it a different way."

Your shoulders tensed slightly when he moved to stand behind you, so close that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. Tentatively, you forced yourself to relax and readjusted your position into what you thought Poe wanted.

"Almost," Poe said, gently knocking your feet further apart with his own. "Stand with your legs shoulder-width apart and bend your knees a little; it'll help your balance... Yeah, that's good."

You nodded. "Okay. Now what?"

"Now move your arms in just a little." He reached out, placing a hand on each of your arms and pushing them in gently. "Alright, you ready to go back to what I was saying before?"

"I think so."

"Okay. The full punch motion comes from turning your hips, right? When you start the punch, try pivoting your back foot on its ball and push your body forward," Poe's hand came to rest on the shoulder of your dominant arm and the other moved to your opposite hip. You swallowed hard at the contact but tried to stay focused. "You don’t want to exaggerate and throw yourself off balance, but you should feel your lower body pushing your arm forward. When you push off your foot, turn your hips and extend your arm towards the target." He gently pushed back on your hip while simultaneously pushing your shoulder forward to give you an idea of what he meant.

Although you were trying your very best to stay on goal, it was getting harder and harder which each second he spent so close to you. The familiar smell of engine oil and aftershave mixed with the warmth of his skin on yours was overwhelming your senses. You just barely managed to catch the end of his explanation before he could realise you had become distracted.

"Also, don’t overextend into the punch," he'd been saying. "You want to feel in control and balanced at all times. If you fall forward, you’ll put yourself in a vulnerable position."

His hands released you as he stepped out of your way, allowing you to put his instructions into practise. You took all of his words into account, attempting the aforementioned snap punch again, but while shifting your weight onto your dominant foot and turning your hips into the swing. The grin that took over his lips when you were successful made your stomach flutter.

Poe had you practise the same motion over and over (with some minor variations and adjustments) for around an extra half hour before he decided you had done enough. "Okay, I think it's safe to say you've got that down. You ready for that sparring session now?"

"Uh," you heaved out a deep breath, fresh sweat coating your skin. "Totally."

"Take a minute to catch your breath first," Poe chuckled, taking one of your hands in his hold and fixing the boxing wrap that you had barely noticed had begun to loosen. As he worked swiftly and gently, you suddenly decided that sparring sounded like a great idea if it meant his hands wouldn't be touching you in such tender ways that made your thoughts jumble and your chest tighten oddly.

All too soon, you found yourself facing him on a floor of safety mats, one of you looking significantly more relaxed than the other.

"Don't look so nervous," Poe told you, giving your arm a playful shove. "I won't hurt you, little miss Jedi."

You decided in that split second to use his arrogance against him and your hand was soon springing forward, aiming for somewhere on his stomach. Somehow, he had anticipated your move and his arm quickly shot up to block you, his brow quirking challengingly. An unspoken agreement passed between you then and before you knew it, the two of you were trading blows; weak enough so as to not actually hurt one another but strong enough to still be able to determine a winner.

On more than one occasion, Poe had come less than a hair's breadth away from knocking you off balance which only served to spur him on further, and you were well aware that you were close to losing. So you chose to do something you knew Poe couldn't.

The next time his hand came close to making contact, you let the Force flow through your body, allowing it to help you leap off your feet and land steadily behind him. Poe stumbled forward, confusion etching his face when he noticed you were no longer there. Quickly, he spun on the spot and pointed an accusatory finger at you.

"You can't use the Force!" he whined. "That's totally cheating!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise using my natural advantages was off limits," you smiled smugly.

Poe's face changed instantly; the pout he was sporting soon shifted into the beginnings of a smirk and while you weren't sure what he was thinking, you had a strong feeling that you were in trouble. This feeling only strengthened when Poe took an extra step towards you and you realised that if you shifted your head up just a fraction, your noses would be touching.

"What are you doing?" you asked, voice quiet.

"If you get to use your natural advantages, so do I, sweetheart," he replied.

Kriff.

Had his voice always been so deep? You suddenly couldn't quite remember. And how was it fair that the both of you were covered in sweat, chests rising and falling rapidly to control your breathing, but he still managed to pull it off somehow while you were left looking like you'd just run a 3 hour long marathon? His curls were stuck to his forehead, his muscles prominent in the tattered shirt he'd decided to wear, — Why did he have to choose that shirt? — and when his hands moved to rest on your waist, you swore the look in his eyes was dangerous.

"I-I don't..."

"What's wrong? Loth-cat got your tongue?" His grip on you tightened a little. "You had so much to say earlier."

Each time you took a breath in, your chest brushed lightly against his. The touch stoked a fire within you (one that had been burning since you'd met the pilot) and spread its warmth straight from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. You wondered if he felt the same burning inside. Flirting wasn't something that was uncommon between the two of you; Poe was a natural charmer and you could dish it out just as well as you could take it, but this felt... different.

Was he playing on your attraction towards him just to win? No... You refused to believe that. While Poe could be overly cocky, he wasn't cruel. He was never cruel.

Yet, as the two of you stood there, Poe hesitantly moving to close the small gap, your body reacted before your brain did...

And knocked him on his ass.

He fell to the ground with a grunt, his back hitting the mat and cushioning the impact. Your eyes widened and you brought your hand to cover your mouth in shock.

"I am so sor— whoa!"

Poe's foot hooked around your ankle and gave a tug, your body being thrown off balance and ending up half sprawled over his. You supposed this was karma.

With the wind knocked out of you, you gave yourself a moment to recover, and that's when you noticed Poe's body was shaking with laughter. Lifting your head, you narrowed your eyes at him.

"What the hell, Dameron?"

"If you wanted me underneath you so bad, you could've just asked," he grinned through his chuckling.

"Oh my— You are the worst!"

Throwing your leg over his waist, you lifted yourself up to straddle him, giving yourself a better position to let your hand slap his chest as you chastised his childishness. Poe's laughter only grew, gripping your wrist to stop your teasing attacks.

"Y’know what? Maybe next time, I should be the teacher," you suggested, your own grin forming as you looked down at him. "You ever wanted to learn how to use a Lightsaber?"

The excitement in his eyes gave you your answer before his voice did. "Are you serious?"

"Maybe," you shrugged casually. "If you decide to be nice to me for once."

"Alright, alright," Poe's agreed. His thumb brushed against the skin of your wrist as he spoke and his eyes softened. "How about we get washed up and grab something to eat later? My treat."

You pretended to think about the offer for a minute, a dramatic sigh following after. “I guess that's a start..."

"Good," Poe smiled. "I—"

A sequence of familiar beeps and whirls abruptly interrupted your little conversation, both your heads snapping towards the door where BB-8 stood with a smug Finn and an amused Rey, clearly just back from their date. (They had pointedly called it a ’trip’ but you knew better.)

"Oh," Poe said, awkwardly. "Hey, guys."

Finn's eyebrows rose. "Really? That's what you're settling on; 'hey guys'?"

"Admittedly, you could've chosen something better," you told him.

"Whose side are you on here?" Poe asked you grumpily as Rey chimed in.

"I feel like a lot has happened since we left,” she said while giving you a knowing look. “Did we miss something?"

"Not at all!" You forced yourself to your feet and cleared your throat, quickly gathering up your things. "Actually, I should probably go clean up."

"Why?" Finn asked teasingly with a playful wink. "Got a hot date?"

You shot Poe a brief look over your shoulder as you headed towards the exit, noting how he still lay on the ground with a cheesy grin on his lips.

"Actually... Yeah."

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfic #star wars imagine #mine

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curatedfaetes · 4 years ago

Text

Brand Identity || Solo

TIMING: Present LOCATION: Somewhere in the mountains. SUMMARY: Oz finds his target. WARNINGS: Torture.

Osric was never more disappointed than when one of their own kind sold them out.

The moon rose high above the forest clearing, a few days past full. The natural waterfall that fed this lovely little river gurgled in the background, a decent muffler for the night’s events. In the night’s calm light, Oz had noticed the microexpression flicker across his target’s face before it’d gone still. Shock, and vague disgust. Ah, well. Other fae tried their best to be shrewd, but spriggans were a touch more impulsive than his more elegant brethren. Remorse was so rare in their kind, stealing close to breathing for them, that Oz had learned not to bother expecting it.

He pressed the heel of his shoe down firmly on the spriggan’s windpipe, a warning should the spriggan attempt a struggle. Its own limited abilities were as good as null here at the edge of the water, where Oz was near-drunk on power. But it never hurt to remind someone of the precarious position they were in.

For Oz’s part, this transaction was as good as complete. Confirming the find was the real bitch of it all. Would he be able to get at his databases, out here in the middle of nowhere? Sighing, he pulled off one of his leather gloves, fishing his phone out of his pocket. No such luck. He thought back to his notes, humming a bit of a human pop song under his breath. Whistle while you work and all.

“Ah,” he murmured. “Right.” Oz pulled his glove back on and leaned down, replacing his foot with one coiled hand. His fingers twitched, eager to bring an end to the fae the best way he knew how. But he needed it for a few moments longer. The water was so, so close. The box enclosing the artifact had fallen into the shallows. Oz plucked it up, wrenching it open easily.

At first, when he’d been searching for it, he’d thought it strange, for a fae artifact to be so… so cold. But the amulet itself wasn’t very old at all. Likely, a human had seen the smooth stone, Oz’s true goal, and thought to enclose it in its current prison. Oz couldn’t help but think it looked tacky, beyond the offense the iron caused him, personally. Even by human standards, the amulet was simply ugly. No accounting for taste, he supposed.

“Alright, wake up,” Oz said, dragging the spriggan’s body into the shallows. “C’mon. I don’t have all night.” Sensing, perhaps, that the danger had grown, the spriggan tried to croak out a word, a muted struggle against the power of Oz’s hand. “Jeez, dude. I don’t have to kill you here, you know. Besides, if that was my intention, you’d be dead already.”

He hummed, dangling the amulet by its chain over the spriggan’s chest. “I could confirm that this is, in fact, what I’m looking for by testing it on myself, but that sounds pretty damn painful. I mean, ugh, iron, right? Not fun for either of us.” Oz pulled it up, almost like a yo-yo, clasping it hard in his fist. His anger threatened to simmer out, but this wasn’t cruelty. It was a lesson. Oz could resist. “But I’ll cut you a deal, I’ll even make it a promise,” he said.

The spriggan huffed at him, petulantly refusing to speak. “It holds more power if you agree, you know that, right? Otherwise, who knows what I might do.” Oz let the amulet drop again, close to the hollow of the spriggan’s neck. The spriggan tensed under Oz’s hand. “Calm down, my thieving friend. I wouldn’t endanger your ability to blend in like that.” A momentary relaxation, before the spriggan lifted a hand slowly to tap at Oz’s. The nix let his grip loosen, just enough.

“What… do you want?” it gasped out. “You have what you came for, right? Just… Just leave me. I won’t do nothin’ else, honest.”

Oz laughed, a cold sound in the relative quiet. “See, somehow, I doubt that. In fact, I’m no seer, but I have a feeling you and I will be right back here, sooner or later. And next time, I won’t be quite so generous.” Oz let that sink in. “What I want, beyond this trinket, is insurance. A reminder for you to be more careful with what you pick up. I can’t go against your nature, obviously. You’ll steal and steal again. But next time, you’ll make sure you’re only stealing from humans. Do you understand?”

“A promise, then?” Another fraction of relaxation. But no. Not enough.

“Wouldn’t mean much if it’s a simple promise, now would it? Then you can’t disobey. Least, not without a lot of pain. No, I like autonomy, myself. For our kind, at least. We’re no better than the humans if we bind each other up, are we?” Oz rolled his shoulder back, amulet back to his gloved palm. “I’ll give you a promise on my end. As long as we don’t meet here again, like this, I promise I won’t seek you out. You can go about your business. I’ll even forget your face. Does that sound alright with you? Say it out loud.”

The spriggan was fidgety now, freedom so close on its lips. “Yeah, sure, fine, whatever. I accept, let the deal be made, what the fuck ever. Can I go now?”

“Okay, good,” Oz said brightly, a smile wide on his lips. He wondered how he looked, from down there. If he looked at all like the predator he knew he could be. “But, damn, if I’ll forget your face once I let you go, I think I’ll need another way to know it’s you, right? Now, how might I do that?”

The amulet hung like a guillotine over the spriggan’s sternum. The spriggan started struggling, its mind turning over the admittedly limited possibilities. Huh. Smarter than Oz gave it credit for. It started talking: “This wasn’t part of th—”

“Shut up,” Oz said, cutting it off. He shoved the amulet down, between the gaps in the spriggan’s button down, scalding, cold iron to the ridges of the spriggan’s rib cage. A brand, its own promise on the spriggan’s skin.

The waterfall might not hide that scream as well as Oz’d thought.

So disappointing.

#wickedswriting #para #solo #Brand Identity

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kodie-ffxiv · 4 years ago

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Prompt #14: The Journal

Kodie and Tesh had a very interesting few moons, after their last big job, the pair decided they really needed a vacation in the Far East, eventually they would return in time for the Moonfire Fare which was one of Kodie’s favorite holidays, it was also starting to be Tesh’s as well. Since then, the two had taken a few small time jobs, but most of the time was spent at home still relaxing.

The little Seeker knew her husband’s nameday was coming up very soon, thirty summers was something of a big deal, and she wanted to plan something big for him. She already had the plans in place for it, and it was all a matter of time. But for now, she was going to take it easy herself, after their usual morning workout, Kodie was in his workshop, for Tesh she decided it was a nice quite time for some reading.

She began to climb up the book case, the large amount of books Kodie possessed always impressed her. He told her that most belong to his mother, while he collected a few here and there. She made it a long term goal to read every single book that was on this shelf, no matter what it was about. The Midlander even had spots built for her to read in, the loft where plenty of cushions and plushies they collected, or the new nook area between the large book cases with a nice comfortable bed. Of course she also have plenty of other spots in the house she could use, but at least there were two that were close enough to his workshop, to be close to her lover.

Tesh looked through each book as she was at the top of the ladder, looking for something to catch her eye, something that would peak an interest at this very moment. Her golden eyes looked upward as something caught her attention, a specific book that seemed a little different than those around it. Seeing as it was on the highest shelf, she had to move onto her baretoes, stretching her hand upward to reach for it. She wasn’t worried about falling, once a clumsy Miqo’te, her training, and skills has help her realize her full potential, even if she were to fall, she knew how to land properly. Once she grabbed the book, she made her way back down to the ground.

As soon as her feet touched the floor, she noticed something was off about the binding of this book, the cover was loose, as if it didn’t naturally feel right. Tilting her head curiously as she slipped off the cover as the book revealed to resemble and old leather bound journal. At first she had thought this was an old journal of Kodie’s, and she was hesitant about reading through it, but as far as she knew, her husband never kept journals of her own, anything that may have been vital for a job he kept logs of, but nothing personal, he only talked to her about those.

It was then she decided to flip through the page, skimming through, until her ears began to twitch, and stick upward realizing who this belong to. “This can’t be..” she said to her self as she quickly padded towards the door of Kodie’s shop, opening it.

“Kodee!!” she called out.

Meanwhile, the Midlander was on his ammo desk, crafting some bullets, making sure he was well stocked, glasses over his eyes to make sure he was precise with everything. Then suddenly he heard her voice, and quickly turned, but by then she was already at his side. “Huh? What’s up, Goddess?”

“I found something in the bookcase.” She said as she excitingly held out the journal. “I take it you never really looked through each book huh?”

The Midlander furrowed an eyebrow as he looked at the book. “You found that in our books?”

The little Seeker nodded. “Yes, it was covered by a book sleeve, I had just skimmed through the pages, but I’m pretty sure it belongs to your mother.”

Kodie took the book as he began to flip through the pages himself, skimming as Tesh moved close. This of course caused the Midland to pull her onto his lap, letting her read through with him. “I can’t believe...I thought I had all of her journals..why did she hide this one?”

Something compelled him to move to the final page, and there it was something specifically written to him, he opened the page enough for both he, and Tesh could read.

“Kodie, I hope you find this one day. This journal is specifically written about my time spent as an Adventurer. I may have stretched the truth a little bit when I told you I was going to Limsa to visit the Arcanist guild for healing session. While there is some truth to that, it wasn’t the only reason why I visited, I would take a few jobs here and there to help the Yellow Jackets, or anyone else in La Noscea specifically. I guess even after retiring from the Quiver, my need for adventure, and exploring couldn’t be stopped, I see a lot of that in you too. There was another reason why my focus was on La Noscea though, I was looking into my family on my father’s side. This journal will have written accounts of my attempt to look into a history I knew nothing about, I wanted to find out information about my father, and why I was left in an orphanage in Gridania. I thought I was close but unfortunately well my illness got the best of me. You obviously don’t have to continue this path, but inside this journal is everything written in regards to my quests in La Noscea, maybe you kind find leads that I haven’t. I’d tell you not to follow this path, but knowing how stubborn you can be, you probably will no matter what. All I ask you is to be safe.”

The Midlander closed the book after he finished reading, pausing for a moment to consider everything he had just read, it seemed as though his mother had more secrets than he knew.

“You know whatever it is you decide, I’m going to be there with you..” The Little Seeker spoke up as she looked up to her husband on his lap. “Maybe you do have family that we know nothing about. I’ll help you in anyway.”

Kodie smiled as he leaned over to kiss her on the lips briefly. “Couldn’t ask for a better partner to help me.” Glancing back towards the journal. “Let me read what’s in here, and then we’ll see how things go. There’s obviously a reason why she was left in an orphanage, but maybe some reasons are best left alone.”

“Well I know you well enough to know, you’re going to want to know that reason, no matter the risks.” Tesh replied as she poked his chest.

“Heh yeeeeah that’s the truth. Guess we’ll see what find.”

Thanks to @mteshi-ffxiv for letting me use her character for this story <3

#FFXIVwrite2020

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churchyardgrim · 4 years ago

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#2 from the d&d ask meme? it is a fantastic question

before they met their party, what was their main goal?

oooo excellent opportunity to plug my boy’s four page backstory that i just realized i never posted here!

tldr Silas wants to study a perfect immortal in order to defeat death, bc death insulted him once and he never got over it hghdfg

Silas Edelhart has a problem. That problem is death.

He was born to minor nobility, old money making use of their hereditary ambition to generate new money on the merchant routes, and he was lucky enough to not be his father’s preferred heir; he was allowed to take to academia, or else join some priesthood and curry favor with the lesser sons of other noble houses. He chose academia.

He was enamored with it. The libraries! The minds to learn from. The men. The women! The men. The only disappointment was that apprentice physicians did not get invited to many parties, something Silas was hard at work remedying when he was presented with an unwittingly significant patient.

A farm hand from outside the city had been delayed in reaching them for medical care, and his injuries - an accident with a plow, they were told - had gone gangrenous. He was insensible with fever, and would have lost the leg even if his people hadn't taken so long in getting him to the medics; as it was, despite amputation and efficient treatment for blood poisoning, he expired overnight, in Silas's care.

Silas was crushed. He had done everything right, double and triple checked his protocols, and still the man had died. “No one blames you, of course,” one of the senior physicians said to him, “these things simply happen.”

Maybe they ‘simply happened’ to other people, Silas thought bitterly, but he was better than that. He had decided the man would live, and his performance had been flawless! The terminity of a mere natural law to stand in the way of his will was intolerable. Incensed, Silas threw himself at his studies, dead set that it should never happen again.

Resurrection magic wasn't what he was after initially; he only wanted to keep the living where they were. But he found quickly that the popular consensus was that healing magic could only do so much, and most simply accepted its failures as they did any other misfortune. So he hunted out spells to wrench the dead back, hidden and fragmented in books his instructors only grudgingly let him read. Time would tell if they would be enough, however; none of the accounts of their use he had read gave any indication of the effects being permanent. It would be so embarrassing, to put so much work into defying death only to have his prize killed in a careless accident! He would not settle for anything less than complete immunity from death.

His practice only pushed him deeper into this conviction; plenty of his patients lived, much improved from treatment, but a few still died despite his efforts, reigniting his rage at death every time. He began to get a reputation for it, and some of his peers started tactfully funneling away those patients that seemed likely to die with or without medical care, to spare themselves his rants. Many of them thought his anger came from an insult to his skills, but this was all wrong; he knew his skills were exceptional, the failure was not his.

It is the gods’ fault, Silas decided. The gods had set this wretched law in place, to kettle and humble mortal creatures. But... no, the gods themselves are yet subject to death, have died in scores. So, death is a greater power than even them.

But in one book, ill-used and forgotten, Silas found mention of a god returning from death. A resurrection on a divine scale. And once that possibility had revealed itself, the hints between the lines of other books made themselves apparent; someone had performed that resurrection, exercised mastery over death in such a way that it left Silas’s mouth watering. How? How had it been done?

The next few months of frantic research and evasion - the concern from his tutors was enough to warn him that no one wanted him to go looking for this - led him eventually into the university’s vaults. To a broken-legged construct, dormant, containing a withered, desiccated hand. Not the hand of the godly resurrectionist, no, but the hand of someone who, certain books implied, might have been a devotee of that individual. A relic of a necromantic saint.

Silas stole it, of course he did. Made use of a debt owed by an engineer of the local guilds to repair the construct housing, and treated it as a treasured prize. Such mysteries, opening to him now with the artifact’s communion; he graduated quickly from books to practice, retreating into his own rooms to make frogs twitch and test ancient ideas on the animation of flesh. He took on fewer and fewer patients, withdrew from the society of his peers… for the most part.

Sera Mournleaf was brilliant. Sera Mournleaf was intense. And some days, Sera Mournleaf was the only thing that could distract him from his work. An elf with connections, she did him many favors in getting him subjects to work on, meat with which to test his theories, and had an insightful and sparkling mind with which to discuss the less publicly acceptable aspects of spitting in the face of death. So what if she stayed up later than him some nights, reading and rereading his notes. So what if every time she visited her aging human father she came back slumping with worry. He cannot expect things to be about him all the time!

Besides, he had little focus to spare for things not his research, now. He had been forced to take up the shovel himself, more than once, to find fresh bodies that would be more difficult to trace back to him - they keep a close eye on the university morgue, he learned better than to try that more than once. And he had had no small success, stripping corpses of their unnecessaries and stitching the most promising parts to one another, speaking to his prized relic with equal parts demand and prayer.

The results infuriated him at first. Lurching, wretched things, no better than flesh constructs, most of them had to be destroyed; that shriveled hand granted Silas holy fire as easily as it had clues to the resurrectionist arts. But he persisted, and grew to view them as necessary stepping stones towards a greater perfection. He grew more bold, more reckless, and felt himself forever on the verge of a cataclysmic revelation.

It was not to be. He was found out. The right word in the right ear brought the law crashing down on his shoulders, and he watched them burn his experiments with a guardsman kneeling on his back. It was broken, all of it, his research carted away in boxes (fewer boxes, maybe, then he thought there should have been), and Silas himself thrown in prison to scream his rage at the uncaring stone.

The trial was a farce. Somehow, Silas's family managed to find reason enough to pull half the lawyers in the city to his defense, while at the same time making it very clear that under no circumstances was he to darken their doorstep ever again. In the same two hour span his prospects went from life imprisonment to a mere slap on the wrist of exile, and then summarily informed that he had been neatly removed from the last will and testament of his every living family member. It was a very trying day.

At the end of it he was stripped of his qualifications, most of his wealth confiscated, and ejected from the city with his mouth sewn shut with wire; an archaic punishment for heresy, invoked here merely as sorry consolation on the part of the law that they couldn’t execute him outright. In the proper spirit of the thing, he should have left the stitches in place and let himself starve, and in deference to the bare truth of his crimes Silas endured it for three days before getting sick of the whole thing and cutting himself loose.

He had managed to keep his precious relic in its construct housing, the only thing worth bribing a minor official to sneak out of evidence lockup, and he quickly put distance between himself and wretched Misthaven, thinking nothing but bitter thoughts towards his betrayer. Selfish, horrible Sera; she had gotten cold feet, most likely. Come over all moral about what he had been doing, let slip to the magistrate that perhaps she knew who had been plundering the city's burial grounds at night. Well! She will just have to wait and see, won't she. Wait until he can begin his work again, reach as yet unseen heights of resurrection. Then he would return to Misthaven and enact some fitting revenge, on her and all those who had a hand in ruining him.

(Miss Mournleaf could have argued, the better part of a year later, that his unwitting parting gift was revenge enough. Babies scream like they’re being murdered, and the damn thing looks just like him. She left it with the nuns and got on with the business of saving her father.)

And so he wandered, working as a physician in small towns and middling cities, trying his damndest to reestablish his research in some capacity. But his funds never stretched that far, and neither did the patience of his neighbors; more than once he had to flee under cover of night, for misdeeds real or imagined. Most of these were unmemorable affairs, and only irritated him. Once, the mercenary paid to kill him proved a delightful match, in combat and energy, and the man made an affair of running away with Silas, and Silas ended up growing remarkably fond of Cassian Hellier, for all his unrefined brutishness. They still keep in touch, whenever either of them is in civilization long enough to hire a messenger to carry letters.

A decade passed in this fashion before Silas began to hear rumors. Travelers between worlds, fading in and out of unearthly mist, serving a genuine immortal. He seized upon these threads, passion alight again; a near perfect undead, far superior to the wretched things he had managed to raise back in Misthaven, yes. He would follow the travelers, seek out their master, see what, if anything, of the rumors were true. If they are... he would study, and learn, and replicate the results. And if not? Well, the corpse of even a lesser undead would be a beautiful thing.

#dnd #silas #boyo's a death cleric/graveyard rogue and i LOVE HIM #Anonymous

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calleo-bricriu · 5 years ago

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1976.

(( Have some off Tumblr RP between myself and @directoryandle because I've been having a little too much fun with dragging Fantastic Beasts verse Calleo up into the First Wizarding War and just being so far beyond done with people still into the whole Dark Lord idea. ))

"You've doubtless heard about this new 'Dark Lord'." The Director stated plainly as his office door shut behind Calleo. There was no need to ask it as a question. Calleo was his senior Archivist and had been since the 1930s. He, much like Director Yandle, had very likely heard of Voldemort years before the man was openly calling himself a Dark Lord. It was hardly new news, and was only framed as such because the Director knew it'd make Calleo's eye twitch just a little.

That, and the fact that his Archivist had rolled his eyes in a manner more suggestive of a teenager as opposed to a man in his early nineties made it obvious enough that he had at least heard of the general idea. The Director recalled Calleo having a very similar reaction to the news that Grindelwald had either started calling himself a Dark Lord or had had other people start calling him that.

"I'll take that as a resounding yes," the comment kept deadpan enough to almost be humourous. "The thing is, I--"

"--expect me to be your buffer zone again until it gets to the point that you sell me out to keep yourself safe again?" Calleo held enough of an undercurrent of hostility in that rhetorical question to suggest that he still hadn't (and had no intentions of) ever fully forgiving the Director for that. "Because I'm not doing that for whatever this minor thug is. It was tolerable last time on account of me gaining a great deal from it; enough, at least, to not have made it any more traumatic or dangerous to me than the day to day work here. This one, as near as I can tell, has nothing useful or even interesting to offer me."

"Furthermore, if you think, for one instant, that I'll be able to even feign even a passing interest in this--person having already seen how the lot of them seem to mindlessly flail around in the most spectacularly mediocre display of the Dark Arts I've ever seen..."

"It's a good thing you won't have to then, isn't it?" Director Yandle interrupted Calleo as seamlessly as Calleo had interrupted him a few seconds prior, further holding control of the conversation by standing as he did so. That was something rarely done and, when it was done, it was in such a way that it was, without any question, a power play.

It still worked well enough, even if it wasn't as effective as it used to be. After all, the skill disparity between his subordinate when his subordinate was in his fifties versus in his nineties had closed dramatically. Still, even if it no longer made Calleo stand down, it at least kept him temporarily quiet.

In this case, the question Calleo had was asked via slightly tilting his head and watching the Director's movements carefully.

"I'm not doing this again," Director Yandle stopped in front of Calleo, "I'm too old and I don't need that kind of stress."

The laugh Calleo gave in response was disbelieving enough to almost be insulting, "You spineless--" as he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, Director Yandle snatched it, turning it over and if Calleo didn't have the sense to keep it open, would find it forcibly put into that position.

"Effective immediately, you're the new Director and I'm retired." He dropped a key into Calleo's hand. "I'd recommend keeping your office where it is, if you're inclined to take any advice from me. Don't lower your standards and, I cannot stress this enough Calleo, don't call me. I want nothing to do with any of this any longer."

Director Yandle didn't stick around long enough to see Calleo's reaction. After all, it wasn't his problem anymore.

Once he'd finished swearing under his breath, Calleo re-composed himself and called the other three Archivists into Director Yandle's former office, "Director just retired; you three can fight amongst yourselves to see who gets to take his office, as I won't be relocating mine."

He smiled brightly at them, "No worries, though, very little is going to change apart from one of you likely getting the word 'Senior' tacked onto your title and me possibly hiring someone to do nothing but go to meetings in my place so I can actually stay here and continue working. That said, please don't take what I'm about to say to you as a series of threats; it's little more than statement of fact."

"Nothing, not a single thing, from blank parchment scraps to the things none of you have the clearance or the skill to safely access are for him or anyone behind him. He's done nothing to earn it and certainly doesn't deserve access to it, nor does anyone stupid enough to fall in line behind an off key, out of tempo arrangement of the same idiocy that failed spectacularly three decades ago."

Despite the fact that Calleo's tone was no different than it might have been if he'd been discussing weekend plans or some banal gossip column in the Prophet, and his cheerful, bright smile hadn't faded in the slightest, nothing about what lit his eyes at the moment was remotely friendly anymore. "If he wants it, he can come and take it himself; anything he sends in my direction I fully intend to send back to him in shattered, bloody pieces."

He casually glanced between the three of them, "In the event that the fact that his methods stink of fear spawned from weakness and lack of skill and his stated goals have only ever seen failure by anyone, including those markedly and objectively more skilled, who has made the attempt to put them into place isn't enough to keep you away from him, please do keep the following in mind: This is your one and only chance to leave if that's where your views are leaning; you won't get a second. I don't care what your excuse is, what threats were made, how frightened you are, if you fall in line with him you will find out very, very quickly how much worse I'm capable of being given the correct motivation."

"And if fear is, unfortunately, all that motivates you to fall in line, be grateful that I've been sporting enough to fire a warning shot first."

"I trust my position is clear enough and that, if you're still here within the next thirty seconds, you're in full agreement."

By the time he'd finished the word 'seconds', two of the three Archivists had disapparated. The one remaining stood, stunned less at what Calleo had said and more over the fact that 3/5ths of the department had just suddenly resigned without warning.

"It's funny," Calleo hopped up and perched himself on the edge of Yandle's desk, "you three were hired after the previous three were sacked for being fairly open Fanatics and they wouldn't let me pull from anyone who came through Durmstrang out of fear of getting three more, so they pulled you three from Hogwarts."

The remaining, and now presumably Senior, Archivist shook her head slightly, not entirely understanding what (if anything) the new Director was getting at.

"Two out of three is better than three out of three!" He grinned and clapped his hands together once, "Still failing marks, though and if it's any indication of what sort of luck I'm going to have finding anyone--local--to fill those two spots, I'll be pulling the two replacements from Durmstrang and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement can fuck all the way off if that still poses a problem for them."

"Not that it'll stop me from forwarding the information of the two who just left to Crouch. They're his to deal with now, I only promised them that I wouldn't be the one to come for them."

#stories #hp rp #v: first war #(What's Voldemort going to do? Kill him? Good that's just another version of retirement!)#ministry of magic

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broken-clover · 6 years ago

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ACC Day 2- Stimming

Back I come! Hopefully I can get my timing a bit earlier from hereon in, tuesdays are just a wonky day for me in general. But still, have a fic! This one made me happy to write, so I hope it makes you happy, too!

Today’s has more ESRB-verse, with some Bedman!

While the ultimate goal was just to have fun and pass the time, Elphelt, Sin, Ramlethal, and Bedman liked to take turns picking locations to go to for their frequent adventures. It was still something that everyone could enjoy in their own way, but if someone caught sight of a park that they’d yet to visit or an event going on downtown that caught their eye, the group would set a course for their new destination as soon as possible, taking turns each time.

Well, that was how it was supposed to go. In between Sin’s forest hikes, Ram’s lunch suggestions, and El’s marketplace trips, it was rare that Bedman would slip in his own idea. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity- his friends made it very clear that he was more than welcome to suggest something he’d like to do. But every time the discussion came up, the boy shot it down, claiming that his interests would be too dull for anyone else to enjoy it.

After more than a few attempts, Sin took it upon himself to try something that he thought his friend would like. It only seemed fair for him to be able to do things that interested him. After mentioning his plans to Elphelt and Ramlethal, the half-Gear grabbed as many newspapers as he could find lying around and retreated to the dining room table with a thick red marker.

A local football game? Eh...

Camping? He definitely wouldn’t like that.

A new winery opening up? Legally speaking, none of them were old enough to drink.

“Sin?” Ky’s voice grabbed his attention. “What are you working on?”

“Trying to think of something fun to do today.” He propped himself up on his arms. “But I can’t think of anything that Bedman would like. We never get to do stuff he likes.”

“Hmm…” Ky sat down nearby him, placing a stack of paperwork on the table. “Let’s see. I see your friend in the library quite often. He’s very interested in the sciences, correct?”

Sin perked up, just a little. “Yeah? You got an idea?”

“Let me take a look at that paper.” After being handed the bundle, Ky started flipping through. His eyes skimmed the pages rapidly, quickly settling on an article somewhere within it and tapping it with a finger. “I thought so. The museum of science over in the east district is opening a new exhibit on magical engineering. Lots of old airship frames and train prototypes, that kind of thing. Maybe that would be a good idea?”

“Engineering?” Sin took the paper back, now marked with a red circle. The article at least made it sound interesting. Plus, it was something sciency, so there was a pretty good chance Bedman would at least find the concept interesting.

Worth a shot, right?

++++++

“Sin, where are we going?”

Midday travels weren’t really out of the ordinary, but it wasn’t as common that nobody would say where they were headed off to. Even after spending ten minutes trudging downtown, Bedman hadn’t even manage to decipher whose sort of idea it was to go out in the first place.

“It’s a surprise!” Replied Sin, the closest thing to an answer he had gotten thus far.

“I don’t like surprises, Sin. Can you please just tell me where we’re going?”

“Hmph. Fine.” The other boy pouted. “We’re going to a museum. But that’s all I’m telling you!”

Despite the vagueness, Bedman perked up considerably. “Oh. I will admit, that is a rather pleasant surprise.”

“See, Sin? I told you it was a good idea!” Elphelt added with a smile. “We picked it special!”

“Sin picked it.” Said Ramlethal. “We just agreed.”

The person in question raised a hand, waving it to get their attention. “Hey, I think I found it! Right down this corner…”

“G’morning, kiddos!” A smiley attendant greeted the group at the front booth as they entered. “Welcome to the Illyria Museum of Science! Four adolescent tickets?”

“Yep!” Sin slapped down a stack of cash that Ky had given him. “You guys have all the engines and stuff, right?”

The woman blinked mutely for a moment. “Ah. Yes, the transportation engineering exhibit is up and running.” She handed him a map and pointed to a spot on it, marked with a little star. “It’s on the first floor, in the blue wing. There’s arrows at most of the corners if you lose track of where you are.”

“Cool, thanks!” After grabbing the tickets and the map, Sin spun around. “Everyone alright? Ready to go?”

“I think so.” Elphelt replied. “You guys ready?”

“I’m prepared to go.” Ram nodded.

“I’m ready.” Oddly, Bedman seemed at full attention, and his hands almost seemed to be twitching.

Elphelt turned to him. “Something wrong?”

“No, no.” His hands slowed, gripping the hem of his gown to keep them from moving again. “Just got a bit overexcited.”

“Well, don’t stop yourself on our account!” Sin beamed back. “We came here because we thought you’d like it! Go nuts if you want!”

Though his hands stayed still, Bedman all but ran ahead of the group as they started towards the exhibit. He kept slowing himself down as his friends looked over little displays on the way to the blue wings, bouncing restlessly on his heels until they could start moving again.

The narrow hallway dumped out into a massive room, with a vaulted ceiling spanning overhead at least thirty feet up. The room was filled with giant displays, many with full-sized engines or twining bundles of cable and machinery. An inert train snaked across the center, trailed by a dozen passenger cars.

“Ah…” Without even appearing to notice, Bedman started bouncing on his heels again, hands twitching and tapping against the air.

“C’mon, we said you could go ahead!” Sin was quick to remind him. “No need to wait for us!”

The boy didn’t seem to need any more prompting. In a flash of lavender, he was leaning towards one of the glass-walled sections displaying a set of rusty train wheels and pistons. “Ahh! I’ve only seen these in books! I don’t think they’ve used this type of metal since the 2070’s!”

“Solid steel?” Ramlethal managed to glide up next to him, and peered at the little descriptor card. “It seems that would be remarkably heavy.”

“Absolutely! And it was, that’s why they got rid of that kind. But they pulled these off of a real prewar train!”

Apparently satisfied with that short explanation, he moved onto the section next to it, leaving the other three for once scrambling after him, instead of the other way around.

“The Stendrive outboard propulsion system? They used these for boats! Engineers sometimes called them ‘fishtail engines’ because of the big fins at the end of it!”

It was such a bizarre sight to witness, but it brought a warm feeling with it. Bedman was running back and forth between displays, eyes shining while he wore the biggest smile any of them had ever seen on him. All the while, he kept bouncing in place, hands swishing back and forth by his sides. Every time he stopped in front of a new engine or propeller, he raised his hands up and started moving them like he was trying to shake off water. Puzzling, but there was something endearing about his eagerness.

“The Hercules Engine!” He half shouted, immediately scooting over to the next pane of glass.

“The model M-89 airship!” Bounce-flap-flap.

“The Wiseau Magi-tech converter!” Bounce-flap-flap.

“You really like engineering stuff, huh?” Sin laughed, trying to keep pace.

“Oh, I don’t like engineering as much as I like language and literature.” Bedman slowed for a second. “But this is incredibly fascinating, too! I like learning about how society and industry move around. It’s just so intriguing to consider all the technologies that lead us to where we are now!”

Before he could reply, Sin found himself left behind once more. When he managed to find Bedman again, he was hanging off the end of the giant train on display.

“Hey, Sin! Sin! The sign says you can get on the train! Get on the train!”

“No need to tell me twice. Guys! Check this thing out! Wanna see the inside?”

Internally, he jotted down a few notes. Engineering, language, and literature. Even if Sin didn’t know much about any of them, he was certainly going to have to now. He wasn’t used to seeing his friend so earnestly happy.

He was going to have to find a way to make him light up like that again.

#autistic creative challenge #writing #guilty gear #ESRBverse #Bedman #sin kiske #elphelt valentine #ramlethal valentine

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oilan · 6 years ago

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Stripes

For a prompt on my round 15 gen prompt bingo card on Dreamwidth:

When Jean Prouvaire first asked him, with a gentle touch on his shoulder in the backroom of the Musain, to meet him at Staub’s the next day, Courfeyrac was certain he had misheard, or else Prouvaire was trying his hand at a deeply perplexing joke. Prouvaire had insisted, however, had said that his friends’ opinions were invaluable to him. This was especially true considering the new waistcoat was meant to catch the eye of a pretty girl who Prouvaire had been blushing over for many months, though he had not worked up the courage to speak to her.

Always at the ready to support a friend, and knowing that Bahorel and Joly would both be there to assist, Courfeyrac agreed, and it was with great optimism that he entered the shop the following day. Bahorel and Joly were already there. The latter was busy taking his pulse while staring at the pocket watch open on his knee, while the former gazed expectantly at the partition in the corner, behind which Prouvaire was undoubtedly being helped with final adjustments by the haberdasher. The shopgirl behind the counter was regarding them all with a look of deep consternation, though Courfeyrac could not account for the reason.

“He’s not finished yet?” Courfeyrac asked, taking a seat between his two waiting friends. “It’s just a waistcoat, isn’t it?”

“‘Just a waistcoat’? It is a wonder that Jehan asked you here, if you are so flippant about it,” said Bahorel, his moustache twitching up in a smile. “He wants to make some kind of grand entrance, no doubt.”

Courfeyrac fell silent and sure enough, a minute later Jean Prouvaire strode out from behind the partition, beaming with his head held high, his arms wide to let them take in the full view of him in his new purchase.

And what a view it was. Joly jumped in his seat, his watch clattering to the floor, though he was too shocked to pick it up right away. Bahorel too sat straight up in his chair, and Courfeyrac’s eyes instantly began to water. The waistcoat was striped in yellow, green, and orange, in what seemed the brightest and boldest hues possible. It hurt to look at it, though Courfeyrac could not seem to turn away, and he was quite sure that even if he closed his eyes, he would still be able to see the thing, burned forever into his vision.

“Absolutely not,” he managed to choke out, though no one else seemed to hear him.

“Will that be all, Monsieur?” asked the haberdasher, an expression of deep, tortured sorrow on his face.

“Oh, yes thank you,” said Prouvaire cheerfully, walking with a light and happy step over to the counter to pay for his new abomination. “You’ve been so kind to make up so customized a piece for me. I’ll be sure to recommend you by name, should anyone ask me about the waistcoat.”

The haberdasher looked as though he might weep at this, and without another word he bowed and sped into the back room of the shop.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Prouvaire, putting away his coin purse and turning towards his friends, elated.

“Euh,” said Courfeyrac. “Why have called us all here after you had already had the thing tailored?”

“To think we might have prevented this!” Joly said out of the corner of his mouth, so low that only Courfeyrac could hear.

“You have always been so critical of a poet’s dress,” said Prouvaire, hands on his hips. He looked altogether too pleased with himself. “And so I have taken the advice Bahorel always gives, and gone here to Staub’s, the most fashionable of shops according to the lot of you. So you see, you are wrong to think me beyond hope. What do you think?”

Both Courfeyrac and Joly had lapsed into a horrified silence, but Bahorel spoke up for all of them. “Whatever any of us have said in the past or will say in the future, Friend Jehan, I suppose none of it matters. If your goal is to catch your lady’s eye, I am certain that as long as you wear that waistcoat, failure is impossible. Bravo.”

Despite the obvious tremor of laughter in Bahorel’s voice, Prouvaire looked satisfied by this, almost smug. He put on his old purple frock coat and hat and lead the way out — out into the public, where anyone could see. His friends looked around at each other, and then followed him slowly, at a safe distance.

#courfeyrac #jean prouvaire #bahorel #joly #my fic

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takaraphoenix · 6 years ago

Text

My contribution to the Jalec Gift Exchange! For @willowsmarika - I hope you will enjoy it! ;)

Shadow Lane was what constituted a shopping mile in their cozy little town of Idris.

Alec and his sister Isabelle owned a flower-shop on Shadow Lane. Well, originally it had belonged to Isabelle's boyfriend Meliorn before he moved away. At first, Alec had not been a fan. Just because Isabelle's relationship had fallen apart and she somehow ended up with a flower-shop, he had to step in and help? But in the end, that was just who Alec was and what Alec did. He'd always help his sister when she needed him. And over the past two years, Alec had to admit, he had really come to like the place. They had made it their own. They were their own bosses, had found their own place in this community. Alec was proud of what they had built.

"I miss good coffee!"

Alec's eyebrow twitched as he looked up at his co-worker. The first person Alec and Isabelle had hired an accountant. Simon Lewis. Mostly, really annoying for Alec, but the guy did his job well. He had helped Isabelle and Alec a lot in establishing their shop. While he did annoy Alec, Alec had also grown slightly fond of Simon – though mainly because Isabelle was more than just fond of Simon. To the point that, a year after Simon started working for them, the two started dating. Back then, Alec had called it a horrendously bad idea. By now, he might have to admit that the two of them were actually rather... good together. Alec knew that most of the time, Isabelle used her body and charms to get people. But Simon had, first of all, fallen in love with her mind and her heart.

"Simon, you're not the only one to miss Java Jones", sighed Lydia. "But according to the sign, they'll reopen this week, right?"

Lydia had been the second person they had hired, as a help in the shop. She had also, over the past year, become Alec's best friend. Not that he had ever had a best friend before. He had always been a bit of a loner, only being around his siblings.

"Tomorrow is the grand re-opening", chimed Isabelle with a smile as she entered the backroom. "Though it's now called Java Jace and it's under new management."

"As long as they make coffee", mumbled Simon, staring longingly at their coffee-maker.

And granted. Neither of the four had ever quite mastered the art of coffee-making. Not that Alec cared much, he was a tea-guy. Lydia and Isabelle loved the fancy coffees though.

"You know, I think we should bring maybe some flower-pots over to greet the new neighbor?", suggested Lydia thoughtfully, adjusting one of the small pots. "Table decoration for them, a good way to assure a good relationship with our coffee-supplier for us."

"That... is actually a good idea", hummed Alec thoughtfully.

"Ye—es. Let's gather up flowers, go over there and hope they'll give us free coffee as thanks!", exclaimed Simon, hastily getting up and grabbing a few flower-pots.

"...He hasn't had good coffee in weeks", offered Isabelle with a fond smile and a shrug. "Come on."

Heaving a sigh, Alec caved. He knew he was outnumbered. Each of them took three of the tiny flower-pots and they left the shop, Alec locking up after hanging the CLOSED sign in. He trailed after the girls and Simon. Java Jones – no, now Java Jace – had gotten a new coat of paint. A soft, pastel red. Warm and inviting. The sign over the door now read Java Jace, in golden letters, with a drawing of a steaming mug next to it. It looked nice. And closed.

"They're only opening tomorrow", sighed Alec. "There's no way-"

"Let's knock and see!", suggested Simon with a bright smile.

Alec rolled his eyes at that, while Lydia knocked with a smile. It took a moment and there was some cussing from inside, before the door opened. Alec nearly dropped the flower-pots. There, in the doorway, stood an angel. Sure, it was the light from inside that made him glow like he had a halo, bust still. That soft smile, the way his golden-blonde hair fell into his face, the mismatched eyes.

"We're not open yet. We open tomorrow", supplied the blonde, still smiling kindly.

"Ye—eah we saw. Hey. We're from the flower-shop", offered Simon, returning the blonde's smile and pointing behind them. "We figured a little welcome to the neighborhood would be nice."

"A bit decoration for your shop", added Isabelle, holding up the plants. "I'm Isabelle. Those are Simon, Lydia and Alec. Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Oh", grunted the blonde surprised. "I... Thank you. I'm Jace. Come... in?"

He stepped aside, motioning for them to follow him. Simon whistled in appreciation as they looked around. It was all soft pastel colors. The walls in mixes of white, red, pink, orange – like a sunset, with the sun itself being painted behind the counter. It was all very warm and homey and soft. Alec liked it. The old Java Jones had been a very generic coffee-shop. This had more personality.

"So, you're the new owner, huh?", asked Simon looking around.

"What gave it away? My name in golden letters on the building?", snarked Jace.

Alec made a little sound. He liked this one. Jace grinned and went behind the counter.

"Love what you did with the place", smiled Isabelle.

"Thanks. So, can I get you-"

"Yes!", interrupted Simon eagerly.

Alec glared pointedly at him. "I'm sorry for him. My team's been on withdrawal ever since Java Jones closed its doors. The only coffee-shop anywhere close-by."

Jace smiled, soft and gentle and very charming. "It's okay. So, what can I get you guys? A coffee is the least I can do for you, those flowers are beautiful."

And they actually fit the establishment well. Small in soft blue and pink and yellow, the flower-pots in various pastel colors. They were a really great seller for decorative purposes. Cheap, small, cute. Things that always sold when it came to flowers. Alec turned to watch Jace behind the counter, gracefully navigating along as he prepared what Isabelle had ordered.

/break\

"Morning, Alec. The usual?", asked Jace with that soft, sweet smile of his.

Alec looked at him and sighed. He had started to volunteer bringing the team their coffee-fix every morning, because it meant he would get to spend five minutes just looking at Jace, being in his presence. And Jace's smile, oh it brightened Alec's whole day. Jace was so beautiful and sweet and Alec was really falling for the gorgeous blonde, he knew that. He knew he was risking his heart here. Falling for Jace was not going to go well for Alec. Alec was an absolute disaster in the relationship-department. It was a mess, had always been. He sucked at asking people out. And whenever he looked at Jace, all he could do was smile helplessly and be lost for words.

"There you go. Have a good day, Alec", smiled Jace.

Alec nodded jerkily and accepted the cup-holder with the four cups. He barely made it to the exist before he was stopped by someone at one of the tables clearing his throat.

"You know, as mysterious as the quiet, broody attitude is... you could... talk to him."

"Magnus", sighed Alec, looking at the business-man.

Magnus smiled charmingly, kicking the chair opposite him to be in Alec's way. Alec took the unwanted invitation and sat down with his ex-boyfriend and close friend. The two of them had been dating for a couple of months, but it had been quite the disaster, riddled with different life-goals and miscommunication. Alec had still been in the closet when they had met and it had just all been too much too quick. In the end, they broke up and managed to stay friends though.

"He's cute", noted Magnus, jerking his head toward the counter. "Pretty blonde with a pretty smile. Also, his coffee is to die for. Really. Bat has to physically drag me out of here some days."

Alec smiled faintly at that. Bat was the new one. At first, Magnus had been really awkward about talking to Alec about Bat – seeing as the two had history. But in the end, their friendship won over. Bat had started as a DJ at Pandemonium a year ago and nine months ago, Magnus had finally asked him out. They were cute. Alec just wished they wouldn't be so invested in his love-life. Three months ago, Magnus and Bat had tried setting Alec up with John Underhill, who while a very nice guy, definitely did not click with Alec at all. It had been very awkward. Though they still talked occasionally and had developed a kind of friendship.

"Magnus, no", stated Alec firmly.

"Magnus, yes", countered Magnus with a mischievous grin, before it dropped into a gentle smile. "Alexander, you are a wonderful person. But you are burying yourself in your work. You literally live in your shop – above your shop, but that's essentially the same. All you do is work. You deserve to be happy too. I know what we had didn't work out, but that shouldn't mean you should stop looking for someone. Your sister and Simon are planning their wedding. I've seen the longing in your eyes, Alexander, do not deny it. You want that kind of happiness too."

Alec gritted his teeth. Magnus did know how to read him. Or, how to read people in general.

"I can't just... ask him out on a coffee", grumbled Alec frustrated.

"Yes. A coffee might be a bad choice", agreed Magnus amused. "Considering this is his place of work and if you make him serve you two during your first date..."

"You know what I meant, Bane", groaned Alec irritated.

Magnus laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "I couldn't resist, my apologies. But, why? Why can't you just go to the beautiful barista and ask for a date?"

"Mh. Not my type. But handsome."

Both Alec and Magnus startled and turned toward the woman. Maia smiled amused and shook her head as she placed a plate with a blue cupcake in front of Alec. Aside from Jace, two women worked at the coffee-shop – Maia Roberts and Clary Fray.

"I didn't order anything?", asked Alec confused, looking at the pretty cupcake.

"Compliment of the owner", smirked Maia knowingly. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to go be a beautiful barista again. But, you know, if by any chance you weren't talking about me, I think you might have better chances at not being rejected, Lightwood. A hint: I'm not talking about Clary."

She winked at Alec and went back to join Jace behind the counter again, helping with the morning rush. Alec blushed as he looked from the cupcake over to Jace. Jace offered a shy smile, tucking his golden-blonde hair back behind his ear before returning his attention to the customer in line.

"Okay, here's an ultimatum: You ask him out, or I will. He's precious", stated Magnus.

"You already have a boyfriend!", exclaimed Alec irritated.

"You know what's better than having one? Having two", smirked Magnus with a wink.

Groaning, Alec grabbed his cupcake and the drinks, before he left the shop.

/break\

"Those are beautiful, I want two dozen."

"...Did you screw up, Bat?", asked Isabelle suspiciously.

"What? No!", exclaimed Bat offended. "It's actually our ten-month-anniversary."

"...That's not a thing, right?", grunted Isabelle disturbed.

"It's not a thing-thing, but...", drawled Bat with a shrug. "Magnus is great. He's sweet and thoughtful and filthy rich. Seriously. There's not much I can give him on the material front. So, picking up a bouquet of beautiful flowers for my beautiful boyfriend every month, that's really not much but it makes him smile. And I like when he smiles."

"So sappy", whispered Lydia beneath her breath.

"Shush it. Regular customers are important", grinned Isabelle as she wrapped the flowers.

"So, has your brother asked out Jace yet?", asked Bat curiously while digging out the money. "Seriously, I've seen him look at Jace with heart-eyes on multiple occasions of getting breakfast with Magnus after a long night of work at the club. It's kinda cute. But it's been going on for a month now and... it starts getting more pathetic than cute, really."

"Agreed", chorused Isabelle and Lydia with a sigh.

"So he still hasn't asked Jace out then", concluded Bat with a frown.

"...Can you people stop talking about me like I'm not in the room?", asked Alec exhausted.

Bat grinned unapologetic and went over to kiss Alec's cheek, making the florist blush in annoyance. "You're too cute when you're pouting and brooding, Alec. I totally get what Mag saw in you and what Jace sees in you. So, how about you move your pretty ass over to Java Jace and get yourself that pretty ass and then the four of us could go on a double-date?"

"Get out of here, Velasquez", grumbled Alec irritated.

But before leaving, Bat put some extra money on the counter and grabbed one of the bouquets of lavender roses. Love at first sight. With a fond smile on his lips did Bat hand the flowers to Alec.

"Go get yourself a pretty baker", ordered Bat. "Now."

"I swear, you're as bad as Magnus", groaned Alec.

"Thank you", grinned Bat. "Anyway, running late for dinner! Be good. Get a boyfriend!"

Alec heaved a sigh and stared at the roses. Why was everyone in his life so invested in his love-life? This was absolutely ridiculous! He couldn't just go to Jace and-

"Those are pretty. I didn't... I thought Bat was with Magnus? I didn't know you two..."

Alec stared surprised up at Jace, who in return was looking at the flowers with something akin to disappointment. "W... What? No. Those aren't. No. Bat didn't. We're not."

"That's not how the English language works, Alec. Try stringing multiple words together to a coherent sentence, using a subject verb object structure", offered Lydia kindly.

"You can fuck off", growled Alec irritated.

"There you go", smirked Lydia knowingly. "And yes, Bat and Magnus are dating."

"Then why did he give you flowers?", asked Jace a bit confused.

"Yes, Alec, why did he give you flowers?", pressed Isabelle pointedly.

"Don't you people have actual work to do?", asked Alec irritated, glaring at Lydia and Isabelle until the two women left the shop to go to the backroom. "I... he told me... There is someone I like and Bat insists I should give him the flowers. Try my luck."

"Sounds like... a good plan. Those flowers are beautiful", offered Jace with a smile. "What's stopping you? I mean. You could do it without the flowers too. Just one of your smiles and the guy should be swept off his feet, really."

"My... My smiles?", asked Alec surprised, cheeks heating up.

"You have a really nice smile, Alec", confirmed Jace gently, his own cheeks red.

"Here", grunted Alec awkwardly, thrusting the flowers out for Jace to take.

Confused, the blonde looked from the flowers to Alec. "But you just said..."

"Yeah", nodded Alec, knowing he was very flustered right now. "...Yeah."

"Oh", whispered Jace, barely audible, as he accepted the flowers. "Uhm... Thank you?"

"Wow. You're both equally bad at this", muttered Simon in awe.

"Get out of here and go to the backroom to annoy your fiance!", barked Alec out.

"Right. Just. Let me fix this real quick, yeah?", interjected Simon. "Jace, Alec likes you. Alec, Jace likes you. Me and Izzy have a reservation at the Jade Wolf in half an hour. Why don't you two take that and go? Izzy will man the shop a little longer."

Jace's eyes widened and he looked from Alec to Simon and back. Alec shrugged a little awkwardly. Might as well, right? Otherwise, he was just going to be even more awkward about actually asking Jace out on a proper date. The way Jace smiled at him at that made his heart flutter.

"Tha—at was really sweet of you, babe", whispered Isabelle as soon as Alec and Jace were out of the shop, wrapping her arms around Simon's waist from behind.

"So you're not mad I just canceled our date and got you more work?", asked Simon with a grin.

"It's for my brother", smiled Isabelle, kissing Simon's cheek.

/break\

"Alec does you good. You're been so... balanced and happy lately", whispered Clary.

Jace startled a little and turned toward the redhead. "I... Maybe I have. He's... He's so sweet, Clary. He's so... gentle and caring and... and... loving."

Clary blinked surprised at the raw emotion in Jace's voice. She really liked her boss. She had started working at Java Jace after it opened, to earn some money beside her studies, but she had genuinely grown fond of Jace. And she knew something was wrong with Jace – in the way that there was something in his past, something that hurt him. While he was all soft smiles and kindness toward everyone, she had seen him flinch at the smallest touch. With Alec, over the past weeks, Jace had started to actually lean into the touch. Alec was good for Jace, genuinely good for him.

"So the two of you are going away for your one month anniversary?", asked Maia teasingly.

"Jace shrugged with a half-pout. "It's... special."

"Leave them be, Maia", chided Clary, hitting Maia with her towel. "It's cute."

"Yeah, sure", grinned Maia and rolled her eyes. "Now get outta here, boy. We'll run your shop while you're playing Red Riding Hood in the woods with your hunter."

"...That's not how that fairy tale went... right?", asked Jace disturbed.

Clary laughed and shoved him off. "Get going, I'm sure Alec is already waiting for you."

Going upstairs, Jace grabbed his bag and took a deep breath. They were going on a couple's retreat together. A weekend away in the woods, just the two of them. Jace was very giddy about it.

"Hey babe", greeted Jace with a smile as he entered the flower-shop.

"Hey, sugar-plum", replied Simon with an exaggerated wink.

"Back off, nerd", warned Alec, not very amused, before pushing past Simon. "Hello, angel."

Jace's cheeks felt hot at the term of endearment. "I told you to stop calling me that."

"And I told you you're my angel", shrugged Alec with a smirk, kissing Jace.

"Enough with the PDA. Have fun on your trip", called Lydia out. "All will be taken care of."

Alec smiled at that and wrapped one arm around Jace's waist to pull him closer and kiss him. They were going to drive up to the mountain together – it was about three hours away. Jace didn't like being cooped up in enclosed space like that, but for Alec he could do it.

"I baked doughnuts and cupcakes for the way", offered Jace with a smile.

He lifted a see-through container and Alec groaned pleased. Doughnuts in all colors of the rainbow, in soft pastel colors. He licked his lips hungrily. Smiling amused, Jace popped the lid and took one out, dangling it teasingly in front of Alec. Before Alec could actually bite, Jace took the doughnut into his own mouth. Glaring at his boyfriend, Alec just bit off the other end.

"It's like Lady and the Tramp: Diabetes Version", cooed Simon.

"Let's get out of here", whispered Alec fondly.

/break\

Alec sighed and took a deep, slow breath, not opening his eyes. He smiled. It smelt like sugar and baked goods. A scent Jace just couldn't shake off and a scent that had come to make Alec really, truly happy. When he did open his eyes, he saw a blonde head laying on his chest, Jace cuddled up to his side and still deep asleep. Jace truly looked like an angel.

"I love you so much", whispered Alec in awe.

And he did. He had actually fallen in love with Jace. With every smile and every time Jace would drop by during lunch-break with pastries and every kiss and every hug. With how incredibly enthusiastic Jace had reacted when Isabelle had asked him to bake the wedding cake. With every blush when Alec would bring Jace flowers, even though they were more like a lazy gift considering Alec was literally running a shop filled with flowers. Just everything Jace did.

"Mh...", groaned Jace sleepily, nuzzling more into Alec's chest. "Why are you awake...? Stop it..."

"Stop being awake?", laughed Alec, kissing the top of Jace's head.

"Ye—eah", grumbled Jace. "It's too early. Go back to sleep."

"Come on", whispered Alec. "We can sleep back in the city. We gotta use our weekend here to actually do something we can't do at home, angel."

"But that involves leaving the bed", huffed Jace. "I am not a fan."

"You were a fan of us going swimming in the lake yesterday though", offered Alec.

"Well, yeah because that still involved you half-naked", argued Jace. "And wet. Wet suits you."

"Never expected you to be a pervert, Jace Herondale", teased Alec with a grin.

"You have corrupted me, Mister Lightwood", purred Jace with a grin to match Alec's.

"Okay, come on. Let's get going. We wanted to go climbing today", grinned Alec.

"We. You have such a weird way of pronouncing 'I wanted to go climbing and drag you, my poor boyfriend, along with me'...", grumbled Jace and sat up. "Urgh."

"Ah. Yes. It must be a burden to deal with me", chuckled Alec, shaking his head.

"When you go all 'let's move and be active'...", muttered Jace. "It's way too early. There's no way hiking and climbing before sunrise can be fun."

"I have plans. Just... trust me on this, angel", pleaded Alec and kissed his cheek.

/break\

"'Trust me on this', he said. 'I have plans', he said", mocked Jace irritated. "And look where it got you! Stuck on a damn cliff like a goat. Only that goats can get off the cliffs on their own."

Jace glared pointedly up at his boyfriend, who was holding onto the edge. Their secured rope had been not as secured as expected. They tumbled, as a whole, before Alec found a hold on the rocks, Jace still tied to him and also by now physically clinging onto Alec's waist.

"Less snark and sass. More helping", growled Alec before he took a sharp breath.

"Alec?", asked Jace concerned. "What... What is it?"

Looking more closely, he saw that Alec's right hand was not looking good and he was essentially holding them both up with only one hand. One hand that was slowly slipping further.

"You gotta hold onto the edge. Look there, that rock. You should be able to reach it", ordered Alec. "I can't... I can't hold much longer. You can hold onto that. You can make your way up then."

"Stop talking about me. What about you?", asked Jace wide-eyed. "Alec. Don't be an idiot."

"I'm not an idiot. But I brought you here. And I can't let anything happen to you", growled Alec.

"I...", started Jace, his heart jumping in his throat as he closed his eyes. "I can't let anything happen to you either, Alec. Because I love you. Close your eyes. Please."

"Y... You... You love me?", asked Alec surprised, heart skipping a beat.

"Please close your eyes, Alec. Everything will be fine", begged Jace. "Please trust me, Alec."

Alec didn't understand why, but he obeyed. He frowned and froze as he was lifted up. His hold on the wall loosened as he was... carried off, in lack of a better word. He just didn't know how that was even physically possible. He gasped when he touched down on solid ground.

"W—What... What did you do? How did-", started Alec startled.

His eyes flew open and they widened in surprise. Jace stood in front of him, head tilted down, looking rather small. If not for the large, creamy-white wings growing from Jace's back.

"My angel", whispered Alec stunned, blinking a couple of times. "I... Did I die...?"

Jace huffed, running his fingers through his hair. "This is why I keep telling you to stop calling me an angel. It freaks me out. The first time you did, I thought I had... accidentally.."

"Wait. Those are real? You... You're... an... an actual angel?", gasped Alec, stepping closer and raising a hand to touch, just to pause. "Can... Can I...? How is this possible...?"

"I... am an angel. Literally", whispered Jace lowly. "My mother, she was... pregnant with me when she was on Earth. Watching the humans. And... And one of them... captured and killed her. He... killed an angel. And he kept me. Raised me. Ex... Experimented on me. I escaped when I was ten and I... returned to heaven, but uncle Ithuriel, he... sent me back here. He saw I wasn't happy in heaven. It wasn't... I didn't know angels. I only knew humans. So I returned, later. And... I... started a human life, for myself. But I swore I wouldn't grow overly attached to any humans. And then you came along, with your flowers and charming smiles and compliments and... I wanted to tell you. Part of me wanted to tell you. The other part of me was so afraid, because humans knowing about what I am, well, it hasn't ended good in my experience. I... I'm sorry I lied. If this is too much and-"

"You're my angel", whispered Alec gently, smiling so blindingly bright as he wrapped his arms around Jace's waist and lifted him up to whirl him around before wincing.

"Yeah, we should... We should get you to a hospital", grunted Jace concerned, arms around Alec's shoulders. "And... And you don't have a problem with this? With... me...?"

"You're an angel. How... How could I possibly have a problem with that?", asked Alec stunned, peppering Jace's face with kisses. "I always said your baking is heavenly, but... now I have proof. Jace. What you said earlier – I love you too. I love you. And... And you being an actual angel is not going to make me love you less. Especially since you... you only used your secret to save my life. Even though you... you didn't want to share this. But I will protect your secret, Jace. I promise that I deserve your trust. And your love. You're... safe with me. I love you. I'll not let another human hurt you like that again, Jace. Not as long as I'm here."

And suddenly, his flustered florist looked like a determined warrior. Jace stared at him in awe before he leaned in to kiss him, smiling warmly into their kiss.

~*~ The End ~*~

Read this here on FFNet & here on AO3

#jalecgiftexchange #jalec #jace herondale #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #fanfiction #fluff #flower shop au #coffee shop au #OTP: can't live without him

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axiumin · 7 years ago

Text

Partners | Sehun x Reader

anonymous said: Can you do a Sehun College Au please???

This semester was going great until you got assigned a group project.

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Genre: Fluff, AU

Words: 2.3k+

“At the beginning of the semester, I told you all that we’d have an exam as a final for this class. After some consideration, I’ve decided to have you do a group project instead.”

Your professor went on to explain the project, but you couldn’t hear her over the rush of blood through your ears. A group project? If you had to describe your initial emotional response was to this, it felt like you were being launched somewhere in the realm of abject panic.

This was far from the first time you’d been assigned a group project, so you weren’t naive enough to hope that work would be distributed evenly and everyone would work hard to do what needed to get done. Time and time again, you’d been left to shoulder the workload in many a group project gone south. It was truly a circle of hell in itself, and you already knew that the best possible outcome would be getting a partner who didn’t care if you took over.

Fortunately, it seemed as if you would have some small mercy this time around. When your professor announced the groups, you found out that you’d only have one partner: Sehun. Honestly, you’d never even heard Sehun’s voice before. All you knew was that he sat in the back of the class, wielded an impressive resting bitch face, and never participated in a single discussion throughout the semester as far as you could tell. If there was anyone who would easily let you take helm of this sinking ship, you were sure it would be him.

As soon as class was dismissed, you gathered your belongings and marched to the back of the classroom, where Sehun was still packing his notebook. You stopped right in front of him, and he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“I’m Y/N, your partner,” you said in a clipped, business-like tone. You handed him a piece of paper with your phone number and email scrawled on it. “Here’s my contact information. I was thinking we should meet up soon to decide the breakdown of the project. Have you been to that coffee shop in the business school? It’s out of the way a bit, but that just means it’s quiet. How do you feel about meeting there at eleven o’clock tomorrow?”

Sehun blinked, looking kind of dazed by your monologue of an introduction.

“Uh, sure.”

You nodded.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You arrived back to your dorm, feeling the weight of of your final grade for that class resting on your shoulders. The final project was rather straightforward: you’d be required to propose a lesson plan for teaching language skills to a group of preschool-aged students. That part would be easy enough. The trickier part came when you had to explicitly identify different theories of behavioral and cognitive science and explain how and why your lesson plan utilized these theories. Then, once everything was said and done, you’d have to present this lesson plan in front of the class. This is where you supposed having a competent partner would help.

As it was, you spent the rest of your afternoon drafting a lesson plan, complete with an efficient time-table and plenty of hands-on activities for the kiddos. It wasn’t a perfect lesson plan, but it was only the first draft, and you figured that as long as this was done for now, you could work on the theory-based portion of your project later. Maybe if you were lucky, Sehun would actually have an idea or two.

The next morning, you were squinting at your lesson plan again, trying to figure out what was missing, when Sehun shuffled into your peripheral vision. You looked up and saw him standing awkwardly next to your table, face unreadable.

“Oh, good morning!” you greeted, hoping you didn’t sound as off-balance as you felt. You scooted your notebook and laptop closer to you, freeing up space at the table. “Come, sit down.”

He sat and stared at your set-up.

“I didn’t expect to see you working on it already,” he said, rifling through his backpack to produce his own laptop and notes. You hummed, watching as he got ready.

“Oh, yeah.” You shrugged awkwardly. “I try to stay on top of things, so I just decided to start drafting a lesson plan. I hope you don’t mind.”

It was Sehun’s turn to shrug.

“That’s fine. Can I see it?”

The next few minutes were silent as you both stared at your respective laptops. You guessed Sehun was probably familiarizing himself with the lesson plan while you were scrutinizing it, trying to figure out how you could make it better. It was a collaborative document, so you saw the moment Sehun’s cursor settled on the line of text you were reading. You watched in real time as he started making small revisions to the document, changing up your wording.

You looked up at him, but he was just focused on his laptop. Your eyebrow twitched in frustration. It’s not that they were bad edits, per se, but it was the principle of the matter: this was your draft, and he hadn’t even said anything before he went and started making it his draft, too! What happened to this guy just sitting back and letting you take control of this project?

It was another few, tense minutes of staring at him before he finally leaned back away from his laptop and looked up at you, blinking in surprise when he found you already watching.

“What do you think?” you asked, trying your damnedest not to sound as bitter as you were feeling. You weren’t sure how successful you were from the way Sehun cleared his throat and fidgeted.

"I was looking at your timeframe for the activities, and I think we need to adjust it. You keep a very strict schedule, but if this is a hypothetical lesson plan for four-year-olds, we need to take into account the time it'll take to transition from activities and get them to settle down."

The frustration that had been simmering began to settle, replaced by thoughtfulness. Sehun actually had a point there. You’d been bothered, feeling like there was something off about your lesson plan. Was that it?

"I hadn't thought of that," you conceded. "But if we allow more time for transitions, we won't have time for all of the activities. Do you think we should take one of them out altogether then?"

“Well, two of the activities are kind of similar. Maybe we could change one so that the learning goals from the other are already integrated in it?” Sehun suggested. The two of you sat and discussed the merits of each activity, eventually deciding on which one to remove and how to adjust the others to still meet the requirements of your behaviorist approach.

Before you knew it, a couple of hours had passed, it was nearing time for your next lecture to begin, and the lesson plan had been polished up to something truly impressive. Sehun sat back in his chair and stretched a bit, his shirt riding up the tiniest bit to show a sliver of his tummy. You busied yourself by packing up your notebook just so you wouldn’t stare.

“I think we did great work today, Sehun,” you said, carefully saving said work on your laptop before beginning to pack that up, too. Sehun took the cue from you and started gathering his belongings as well.

“Yeah, we got a lot done. All we really have to do now is finish our theory write-up and get ready for the presentation.”

“Hmm, yeah. That shouldn’t take us more than a couple more days, if we’re as productive next time as we were today. Do you want to meet up here same time Thursday?”

Sehun nodded. “Sounds good to me. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Y/N.”

With a wave, Sehun turned to leave, and you hesitated for only a moment before calling his name. “Sehun!” He stopped and turned to face you again, and you bit your lip. The past couple of hours had been really good, and you were honestly relieved to realize that you wouldn’t have to do all the work for this group project after all. You knew that you had been a bit rude with Sehun at first, so you wanted to apologize to him. "I’m sorry. I really underestimated you, Sehun,” you admitted.

Sehun shrugged, but he was smiling now, if shyly.

"Yeah, I figured. To be fair, it's not like I did a lot to let you know that I actually care about this class in the first place."

"Still, I know I won't be making this mistake again... partner." For a moment, you considered offering a handshake, but you thought that might take it too far. Sehun was already wrinkling his nose.

"That’s kind of cheesy, Y/N,” he teased. But he was still smiling, so you counted that as a win. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he turned to leave again, and you let him, still smiling as you watched him go. You were somehow looking forward to class more than usual.

The next morning, you were just settling into your usual seat in class when Sehun claimed the chair right next to you. You looked at him in surprise; up until this day, he’d always sat in the back of the room. Sehun just greeted you with a nod and a quiet ‘good morning’ before taking out his notebook.

Sehun didn’t speak at all through the lecture, same as usual. But now that you were this close to him, you could see the neat rows of notes he took, a combination of the lecture’s main points and his own ideas. Before, you had assumed he didn’t care about the class just because he sat in the back and didn’t speak. Now, however, you were beginning to realize that just because a fellow student didn’t seem as engaged as you didn’t mean that they weren’t still actively learning. Somehow, you felt a bit embarrassed to have taken so long to realize that even though you studied education. You felt even more chagrined when you thought about how dismissive you’d been of Sehun.

For his part, Sehun seemed rather unbothered by your crisis, even though you knew you’d never been good at hiding your emotions. He just worked diligently on his notes during class and left with a small smile and a quick “See you tomorrow, Y/N” while you were still trying to figure out why you were so hung up on your realization that Sehun was actually hardworking.

When his smile made your heart skip a beat, you had to wonder if maybe you would have cared less about this if he hadn’t been so handsome.

You left class that day pondering your strange fixation on what you’d dubbed ‘The Sehun Problem’, and you were still pondering this the next day when you met Sehun in the coffee shop again.

This time, he was already sitting at a table by the time you got there, and you had to check your watch to make sure you hadn’t somehow gotten there late. You hadn’t; he was just early. When he saw you approaching the table, he perked up, pulling his headphones out of his ears and offering another shy smile.

“Hey, partner,” he greeted. Somehow, as shy as he looked, you got the feeling he was teasing you about your comment from the other day. You let it pass without remark, though, just settling in across from him and pulling out your laptop so you could get to work.

The two of you settled into an easy rhythm together, each tackling different parts of the theory write-up before trading off to double check each other’s work. It was steadying, being able to work with someone who you could trust to do their best. Instead of the stress of working on a big project by yourself, you were able to actually enjoy the comfortable back-and-forth.

By the looks of it, Sehun was enjoying himself, too. It apparently didn’t take much to dispel whatever shyness Sehun had felt. Quiet conversation soon turned into energetic chatter, and somehow the coffee shop around you seemed alive with your laughter on this otherwise quiet Thursday.

With no small amount of reluctance, you had to admit that your work on this project was coming to a close. You and Sehun had done some great work with the lesson plan and theory write-up, and there were only so many times a person could proofread their work before they had to give it up. All that was left was for you and Sehun to present your lesson plan to the class on Monday, but considering how well both of you understood your work, you couldn’t imagine there would be any difficulty with that. The project was essentially done, and you had just run out of reasons to spend time with Sehun like this.

“Well, this is it,” you announced finally, unable to drag it out any longer. “We did it.”

“We sure did. I think we’re going to get an A for sure,” Sehun said.

For a long moment, neither of you made any move to pack up. You just stared at Sehun, trying to soak in the moment, and Sehun just stared right back at you with a considering look. At length, he broke the silence.

“So, do you want to meet here on Tuesday? Same time?” Sehun asked. You frowned in confusion.

“But we’re presenting on Monday. We don’t have anything to work on anymore.”

“I know.” Sehun shrugged. “We don’t have to work on anything to spend time together. I think we both know now that we work pretty well together, so why not see how we work together in other ways?”

Your confusion was beginning to lift, and a smile was slowly growing on your lips. Sehun noticed this and was bolstered.

“So what do you say?” he offered, smile turning a bit cheeky. “Partners?” He held out a hand.

You looked between his face— sweet and smiling— and his hand before putting your hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he pulled your hand up to brush his lips against your knuckles.

“Yeah,” you replied, your smile mirroring his own. “Partners.”

#exo #exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo one shots #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop one shots #sehun #oh sehun #sehun one shot #sehun fluff #exo fluff #college au #my writing

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queen-scribbles · 6 years ago

Text

Saoirse

@pillarspromptsweekly fill #59: Remember. I’m going with the way Saoirse Ronan pronounces Saoirse(SEER-shuh), since she’s where I got the idea from, but if you say it differently in your head that’s cool, too. :)

If Elihu fell behind one more time, she was going to leave him, Galawain as her witness. Saoirse huffed in frustration, the agitated breath pushing cinnamon brown curls out of her eyes. She wanted to show someone the estramorwn ruin, and who better than him, right?

Had she realized what his travel pace was going to be, she’d have brought someone faster. Like Jago’s pet turtle.

“El!” Saoirse hollered, only feeling slightly bad when he flinched, a vibrant butterfly flitting away from one of the flowers growing near his laft ear. She kicked the dirt to hide her embarrassment and raked her hair back again. “Hurry up or it’ll be too dark to see anything by the time we get there!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Elihu replied, green of his eyes deepening in amusement as he caught up to her. “Gods, I know you’re excited, Saoirse, but you know I stop for butterflies.” He shot her a teasing grin. “You’ve only had four decades to account for extra time when we travel together.”

Saoirse rolled her eyes and twitched her wrist so the bracelets encroaching on her hand slid back down her arm. “And you know you don’t have to stop every time.” It was wasted breath and she knew it; the only thing in this life more sure than her dragging Elihu on adventures was him pausing to indulge the winged insects who mistook his head or arms for flora and fauna. “And for the record, I did account extra time, just not this much.”

“Saoirse, my darling, my dearest, my brave adventurer,” Elihu chuckled. “It’s a ruin, love, it’s not going anywhere.”

“But the daylight is,” she said emphatically, jerking her head toward the sky. “Hence my worry about it getting dark. And we don’t know what might be in there, so I don’t want to burn through all my spells calling down sunbeams so I can see.”

“Maybe there will be torches,” he said helpfully as they crested a ridge, reaching for her hand. Saoirse gave it to him without a second thought. Forty years they’d been doing near everything together, the barky texture of his skin had long since ceased to phase her.

“And maybe next time the butterflies can just try to keep up,” she teased.

It wasn’t too much longer before their goal came into view: a wide river, strewn with rubble, and on the far side, the crumbling moss-grown walls of an estramorwn castle. The gates lay fallen in, and there were holes in the walls at several points, but it was still impressive enough to earn a whistle from Elihu.

“By the Builders,” he murmured. “You’d think they would guard a treasure like this with their lives...”

Saoirse scoffed. “You know the estramorwn don’t respect their past like we do. Or, at least, like we used to.”

“Saoirse, not this again.” He squeezed her hand and tugged her into motion toward the ruins.

She bit her lip and followed him. He was right, and besides, there was no one around she could try to persuade. He agreed with her, if less passionately. “If nomads we must be, should we not at least try to stay closer to our roots?” She’d heard the history of places of places like Twin Elms and Rock of the Tears, and burned with mostly-quiet fury that the estramorwn had spread enough to edge the shrinking tribes of Eir Glanfath from their sacred sites.

But that was a concern to voice before Father headed to the next Gathering. Right now she was standing outside a ruin that teemed with history; the last thing she wanted was to be distracted.

They made it across the river with relative ease, clambering from piece to piece of the crumbled bridge. Saoirse paused by the wall, scraping off moss and ivy to examine the stone underneath.

“El, look!” She pointed at the stone only a foot or so above their heads. “The kith who built it put their names.”

He joined her and brushed his hand over the timeworn carving, the millennia-old words barely legible. “They did fine work; it’s good they achieved some form of immortality.”

“Mmhm.” Her attention was already wandering through the tumbled gates, toward the collection of buildings protected within. She heard Elihu chuckle as he followed her through the overgrown arch.

“Where do you want to start?” he asked as the two of them stepped in to survey the layout of the castle.

“The big one, of course,” Saoirse smiled. She skirted the wreckage of an outdoor forum, its wooden seats long ago dry-rotted, and started hauling open the door of the main keep.

Elihu caught up in just a couple long legged strides and helped her pull open the heavy door. “Anything particular you’re expecting to find?”

“Rocks, moss, maybe a few artifacts that haven’t completely turned to dust yet?” she shrugged. “It’s been a few hundred years at least since anyone was in here. Who knows what shape they left it in.”

The main hall was fairly bare as they strolled up its length. Whoever had emptied it--looters or the former occupants--had done a good job. Still there was something about the room that called to her, as if she could feel the history of it swirling just below the surface. Close enough to reach out and touch, pulsing with familiar warmth.

Slightly offput by the familiarity of this room, but still curious, Saoirse detoured through one of the doors that opened off it. She found herself in a library, the shelves mostly empty. The few books that remained looked brittle, and one fell apart when she touched it. This room, too, felt familiar. Safe. Her chest tightened with emotions she could neither name nor explain. Taking slow breaths to calm herself, far more quietly than her norm, Saoirse ventured further into the library. She thought, ever so briefly, she glimpsed a dark-haired elven man reading at one of the tables. But that was ridiculous. This place had clearly been abandoned for at least a couple hundred years--

“The whole keep is falling apart, but this room does seem to have been particularly neglected.”

She flinched. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?” Elihu frowned. “I didn’t say anything.” He shot her a concerned look. “Hearing ghosts?”

“Very funny,” Saoirse sighed, tugging at one of her longer curls as she kept walking. It was a fairly basic library, if well crafted. Only the outside wall was anything special--half its width was covered by a cracking mosaic of adra pillars.

She froze at the sight of it. She remembered that mosaic--”Gareth, it turned out wonderfully!”--but how could she? The tightness in her chest morphed into a tingle, like a sleeping limb regaining circulation. She was vaguely aware of the quick scuff of Elihu’s feet as he came to an abrupt halt behind her, the soft rush of his breath on the back of her neck as he chuckled.

“Seeing another ghost?” he teased, but the voice was only half his. The other half was deeper, but still warm, rich. Kind.

She started and heard the tumble of books hitting the floor. The deep, warm voice--Kana, something in her prompted--was apologizing, but she was distracted by the books. Where had they come from? Where they there before? Either way, no sense leaving a mess. “It’s alright,” she replied, though the voice was too soft, too high. “And in a sense, yes? I was picturing what this place used to look like. What I want to make it look like again.” She cocked her head, smiling sheepishly. “Not that books have souls.”

“Well, you know what they say about good stories coming alive,” he said teasingly, setting the rescued books back on the table, and she laughed again.

“I’m tired of the library being so shabby, Kana,” she admitted. “I’m going to have the workmen fix it up next.”

The... sensation faded abruptly as an elbow dug hard into her back. Saoirse rocked forward, arms jolting out to keep her balance.

“You alright? What was that?” Elihu demanded, brow wrinkled in concern.

“...Nothing,” she tried, rubbing her forehead.

“Nothing? Saoirse, you were still as a rock.” The concerned furrow deepened. “You were just... staring at the wall. That doesn’t seem like nothing to me.” He circled in front of her and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Did you see something?”

Saoirse forced a smile and focused on staring at the mossy patches above his eyebrows rather than meet his gaze. “Just my imagination runnin’ a little wild. Come on, I don’t think there’s anything to find here.” She briefly pressed his hand closer to her cheek before turning on one heel and marching out of the library without a backward glance. The tight, agitated tingle in her chest didn’t go away when they returned to the main hall. Indeed, it almost seemed to grow stronger, drawing her... somewhere.

The dais. She paced with confidence toward the head of the room, eyes locked on the throne that waited upon the three-step rise. It was overgrown with lichen and ivy, but some hints of the ornate carving still peeked through. That was it, the source of the tug in her chest. The lichen came off far more easily than Saoirse expected, and her hand brushed the cool marble underneath--

“My lady, it’s so good to see you again!”

Saoirse jerked her hand back as if the stone had burned her at the soft yet delighted greeting. “Where-?”

Behind her, Elihu had tensed as well, both of them searching the chamber for whoever had spoken.

“I apologize,” the voice came again. It was close, Saoirse noted. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, it’s just been so long...”

“Startle’s a better word than frighten,” Saoirse said, still scanning for the woman speaking. “And I’m no one’s lady-- ‘cept his, I guess” --she nodded jerkily toward Elihu-- “and I don’t know who you are, but I’m pretty damned sure we’ve never met.” She wasn’t, not after the library.

There was a soft laugh that sounded as if it came from the throne. “Not in this life, perhaps. But your soul is a beacon, my lady, I could not miss it if I wished to.”

Saoirse looked back at Elihu. He shrugged, raising his hands in a gesture of ignorance even as his eyes flared bright with curiosity that seemed for once the match of her own. “Is that right? I’d think being... acquainted with a castle would be a memory that managed to poke through.”

“Souls are funny things sometimes.” The voice, which sounded amused, was definitely coming from the marble throne.

Saoirse knelt on the seat and swiped at the lichen and ivy until it was mostly cleared away. The tingle in her chest grew stronger as she sat back with lichen under her nails to survey her handiwork. The throne was carved to resemble a woman, her arms the arms of the throne, her head and shoulders rising behind whoever occupied it.

The throne gave a gentle, almost motherly, chuckle. “Ah, an elf this time.”

Saoirse frowned, playing with one of her bracelets as she parroted, “This time?”

Before the throne--statue?--woman could reply, the tingle in her chest erupted like flames catching tinder. Right before her eyes, the ivy and other growths vanished, though the hall still lay in ruins, covered in dust but bathed in a pale blue light.

“Another Watcher in Caed Nua. Glowing very brightly indeed to these eyes. A strange happenstance.”

“Who are you?” The question and the voice were both hers but someone else’s, as was the underlying curiosity. The same soft voice from the library, in fact. When she flinched in surprise at that, it shifted her arm into her peripheral vision. Only, it wasn’t her arm; lightly tanned and perpetually sporting bruises and scrapes from time spent outside. It was blue, marked by swirling silver designs, the wrist scarred under a trio of woven bracelets much like the ones Saoirse herself wore. She remembered the answer to her question even as a hand rested on her shoulder.

“Saoirse. Saoirse.” Elihu shook her gently. “Are you alright.”

She blinked and the ivy was back, curling around everything. Keeping her gaze on the marble throne, Saoirse raised one hand to cover the one Elihu had rested on her shoulder. She gave it a reassuring squeeze as she spoke to the statue. “Steward.”

“You remember.” The Steward’s tone was wistful. “I’m unsure whether to be grateful or apologize that our connection had such consequences for you.”

Saoirse shook her head. “I... don’t think it was you,” she said slowly. Her mind was reeling from a literal lifetime’s worth of new memories, but she was pretty confident in that. “I think it’s just... being here.” She glanced around the hall, chest aching with remembered care. “The life that knew you... She bonded strongly to this place.” It wasn’t a question.

“Moreso than any of the occupants before or since,” the Steward confirmed fondly.

“This was her home, in a way few ever find it,” Saoirse murmured, the ache flaring into pride at her home. But it wasn’t. It had been this past life’s, the Watcher. Lucky woman.

“Yes,” the Steward said, her voice warm with memory. “Lady Emiri fought very hard for this place. She even rebuilt it, twice. She was quite happy here, and I hoped...” She hesitated. “It might be foolish, but I did hope that bond would draw her--you--back. So I could see what you made of yourself in whichever life returned here. I take it from your attire you’re Glanfathan now?”

Saoirse nodded. “Trained as a druid, yes. My father is anamfath of the Twice- Split Arrow” --she squeezed Elihu’s hand again-- “Welcomers of outcasts.”

“A fine life.” The Steward’s voice brimmed with motherly pride. “It does me good to see you so happy, my lady.”

“Just Saoirse,” she corrected with a chuckle. “Like I said, I’m no one’s lady.”

“If that is your wish, I will respect it, but you will always be my lady, Saoirse.”

“I’ve always wanted the loyalty of a ruined, sentient castle,” Saoirse joked. “I imagine there’s lots of exploring to be done here?”

“Oh, yes. A few parts have fallen into dangerous disrepair, however, so I would advise caution.”

“And the full light of day,” Elihu murmured in her ear. “If we’re not back soon, the rìow will start worrying.”

He was right and she knew it. The light was fading fast and this part of the Dyrwood teemed with predators at night. “Well, then I’ll have plenty of excuse to come visit, won’t I?” she said, both to him and the Steward.

“Oh, my-- Saoirse. I would appreciate that very much.” The Steward sounded so happy, Saoirse half expected her to start beaming, despite being made of marble.

“Alright, then. I have to train new druids tomorrow, but the day after, I’ll be back.”

“We’ll be back,” Elihu corrected. His hand slid from her shoulder down her arm, fingers linking with her own. “Exploring’s not a thing to undertake solo, Saoirse. And this place is fascinating. I’ll come with you.”

She flashed him a giddy grin before turning back to the Steward. “So you’ll see both of us the day after tomorrow, then.”

“I will look forward to it,” the Steward replied. The marble expression didn’t change, but her voice carried a smile.

After a beat more hesitation, bouncing slightly in excitement, Saoirse tugged Elihu’s hand and the two of them headed out the way they’d come. Elihu ducked as they passed through the doorway, narrowly missing a trail of ivy trying to snag on his horns.

Outside was darker than expected when they exited the hall, and Saoirse shifted by reflex into her cat form, removing any concern about seeing. She could only hold it long enough to get them back to the forest, but that was better than picking their way across the rubble-strewn river blind.

“Well, that was.. an adventure,” Elihu said dryly, clasping her hand once more as they strolled briskly through the woods back towards camp. “Not every day you meet a talking statue.”

“Yeah,” Saoirse mumbled. She could feel Emiri’s sense pressing close to the surface, near-bubbling with excitement over something; though whether a memory or something else she couldn’t tell. The feeling of overwhelming, giddy joy only increased when Elihu squeezed her hand. Apparently her past Lady Watcher life had some strong, fond emotions tied to walking through this part of Dyrwood.

“It’s not where you are, it’s who you’re with, right?” that soft voice from inside the keep laughed in her mind.

“I would have to agree with you,” the deep, kind one Emiri remembered as Kana replied, his tone light and happy. “Good company can vastly improve all manner of circumstances, and yours is among the very best, Emiri.”

Saoirse felt the thrill Emiri was quick to tamp down as she shyly mumbled yours as well and bit back a smile. Oh, that’s cute. She was sweet on him. Wonder if she ever did anything about it. And why I’m seeing that now... She glanced at her hand, still clasped in Elihu’s.

“It’s not where you are, it’s who you’re with.”

She grinned as glimmering suspicion turned to near-surety. Well, even if she didn’t, I sure did. Impulsively, she pulled Elihu closer and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for having my back, El.”

He chuckled, and she could feel his bemused gaze as he squeezed her hand again. “Always,” he promised.

Warm as the sentiment had made her in the past, this time Saoirse couldn’t help but smirk. Darling, you have no idea.

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

Time for notes!

I was all set to write this other, bittersweet idea I’ve been holding onto for ages that would have ripped my heart out in the best way, when randomly, out of nowhere, I remembered the chorus to Katy Perry’s “The One That Got Away” (”In another life/I would be your girl/we’d keep all our promises/be us against the world”) and my brain went HEY DO THAT INSTEAD.

Obviously someone somewhere found a way to fix the, uh, Events of Deadfire’s ending. Not necessarily Emiri, just someone.

Saoirse and Elihu are both elves(Elihu is a nature godlike) and are childhood sweethearts

Yes, Elihu absolutely has Kana’s soul like Saoirse has Emiri’s. This is not necessarily Soul Twin-ness and is more I wanted to do something nice for my girl after the frankly ridiculous amount of crap she goes through as Emiri

So, yes, I gave her the guy she liked in a later life where both of them will live to be 250. Ish. They’ll be gloriously happy together and adopt kids and fluff will abound and no one can stop me. NO ONE.

Saoirse’s Awakened soul falls somewhere between what the Watcher gets with the Inquisitor and Aloth gets with Iselmyr(Emiri’s memories are more frequent, Saoirse gets a few little cipher powers on top of her druidic abilities, but Emiri’s voice isn’t ever gonna come spouting out Saoirse’s mouth)

I sort of played with the future of the world, since this is a good 500-ish years down the road, but I really wanted the Current Life to be Glanfathan, bc I think their culture is neat

All of the things Saoirse “remembers” in Caed Nua are from my fics or the game itself. There’s one from Secrets and two from Stories, then her conversation with the Steward is game dialogue. That last one(”It’s not where you are...”) isn’t, but now I wanna make it be

I think that’s everything?

Oh, and I absolutely did NOT make Saoirse in Deadfire to see how Oracle (Druid/Cipher) plays out functionally. Nope. Totally didn’t.

Didn’t use Emiri’s worldstate to do it, either.

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #emiri #(sort of)#pillars of eternity #now i wanna write more about saoirse and how her awakeing affects her life

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breakingdownsu · 7 years ago

Text

Unspeakable

Note: So I managed to get caught up with the latest episodes thanks to someone bringing my laptop in to my hospital bed, I'm still groggy as hell so this may not be the most coherent thing I've ever written but it is what it is. It's also shorter than I would like, but I will be writing more as soon as I get out.

Also note: This is my regular spiel that if you enjoy my work, you might enjoy my novel available on Kindle. If I go offline for a few days it means you still have something of mine to read while I recuperate.

US link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BGSPPBY

UK link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07BGSPPBY

Final note: Although this is not really canon with Breaking Down as such, a lot of the lore as it pertains to pearls in particular is the same. Gesture-speak, song-weaving, etc.

…..

“I have learned now that while those who speak about one's miseries usually hurt, those who keep silence hurt more.”

C.S. Lewis

The gag order was not the particular terror; many a pearl had been forbidden to speak of something, military secrets and financial dealings. If someone really desperately wanted to get information from a pearl, they could be jacked and searched but they would not find what they wanted, buried under layers of rippling memory. The gag order would keep the owner's secrets even after the pearl had passed into the hands of another.

No, the real terror was the madness that lay behind Pink Diamond's plan.

Rose's plan.

It would disastrous, any gem with a lick of good sense could see that. Pink was caught up in her lofty goals and the novelty of having her own colony. She had been shielded from the consequences of her recklessness by the other diamonds for her entire existence, and no matter how much Pearl tried to talk her out of it she couldn't see how utterly insane her plan was.

“But you would be free,” she pleaded, night after night. “Don't you want that? We'd both be free!”

“I want you to be happy,” Pearl replied, night after night.

“You have to say that,” Pink cried, her mood swinging to anger as predictable as the rising of the sun. “I don't want you to have to sit beside me and flatter me for another thousand orbits! I want you to be by my side because you want to be!”

Pearl trailed off into silence, as she always did, because what kind of response could she give? Pink switched back to pleading, and then to long musings about what life would be like after escaping her position. She made it all sound so easy.

In the end, Pearl agreed to the plan, because she could only refuse Pink for so long.

…..

You are not well.

The pearl that gesture-spoke from across the hall belonged to one of the visiting Emeralds. Pearl hadn't seen another pearl for nearly three orbits. The relief was faint-inducing. She needed to speak of this, before the gag order was placed, as she knew it would be.

I will be well, but....

She trailed off mid-gesture, the other pearl tilted her head ever so slightly in a quizzical fashion, undetectable to any gem but another pearl.

How could she explain? Gesture-speak was a language of emotion first and foremost, the technical and objective were rarely needed. There were a hundred different ways to say your owner was forcing you to do something you didn't want to do, but hardly any to describe what that something was. There were thousands of ways to express fear and sorrow, but none to tell of the worry that a gem you cared about was falling into madness.

Do you have the no-speak? It does not matter between us.

The other pearl was so earnest in her effort to help ease Pearl's stress, and it did remind her that gag orders did not take gesture-speak into account. Pearls could freely speak of anything among themselves, if they managed to find the words.

I do not have the no-speak, but I will soon. She is making promises.

The gesture for 'promise', a gentle touch of two fingers on each hand to form a bridge, was the closest to 'plan' she could think of.

The promise is not a good one?

The other pearl added a crook of the smallest finger to denote a question.

It is beautifully spoken, but I fear it will bring her pain.

That was the closest she could get to 'this is a terrible idea' in gesture-speak.

It will bring you pain, as well. You are not safe.

My pain does not matter.

It matters to us, sister. We shall mourn with you.

You cannot. I will be gone.

To any observing gem, Emerald's pearl was sitting blank-faced staring at nothing in particular. To Pearl, she looked absolutely devastated. The gesture she had used for 'gone', crossing a finger on each hand and lowering them to her lap, was not the same as the gesture that meant death, replacement or retirement. It meant that she would be removed from other pearls, most likely forever. To a pearl, this was considerably worse than death.

You must share memory. Before the promise is kept.

I cannot. You are too far and I am ordered to stay.

A slight twitch under the other pearl's eye betrayed an urge to get up and close the space between them, but the room was full of other gems and if she acted on the urge she would more than likely be sent for processing.

You will have no-one to share with. I weep for you.

That was the ultimate fear, no matter how wonderful Pink's speeches about freedom sounded (and they did sound very wonderful indeed), the idea of never coming into contact with another pearl again. She could not explain this to Pink, no matter how understanding Pink could be. She did not have the words in gem language.

It did not occur to Emerald's pearl to ask why Pearl hadn't refused the promise, and Pearl wouldn't even think on it because the answer was so obvious. To refuse an owner anything, even if that owner was offering 'freedom', was unthinkable for a pearl.

…..

Where are you now, sister?

The first 'year' on Earth in the aftermath of Homeworld's final attack was the hardest. Pearl had been able to spot other pearls during commlink negotiations and gesture-speak worked well enough over the commlink. When all communications with Homeworld ceased, gesture-speak ceased with it.

The gag order did its job, she couldn't speak of Pink's betrayal and faked death even to Rose herself. To explain why she mourned for the loss of gesture-speak she would have to bring up the whole sorry affair and that was impossible. Rose couldn't understand why Pearl was so sad, and Pearl knew she was growing frustrated.

After a time, the routine of taking care of corrupted gems and dealing with curious humans was enough of a distraction that she could forget, for a little while at least, what was missing. But every now and then, she would catch the motion of some organic creature and it would all come back to her.

A spider weaving a web.

Swans floating across a lake.

Owls slowly blinking in the dark.

Even the silvery flicker of a school of fish in the ocean.

She learned to take the pain far away from the others, as far down in the endless stores of memory she possessed, so as not to worry them. As long as the gag order was in effect, she would bury the layers of sadness in the place that should have been full of memories belonging to her fellow pearls.

She lived in hope that Rose would eventually lift it.

…..

It was done. The child had been born, Rose was gone. They mourned her, but she had entrusted them with the raising of her son and they would not let her down. They were clear in this mission.

It wasn't until the baby was nearly three months old that Pearl realized Rose had forgotten to lift the gag order.

#steven universe #steven universe fanfiction #AAAANGST #breaking down #not really BD canon but uses most of the lore

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