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realfuurikuuri · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 18/? Fandom: Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Series: Part 1 of Mao Mao: The Hero Without an Arm Summary:

MissingArm!AU: When escaping the cave, it wasn't his tail that got crushed. In exchange for his innocence, he gained a sordid past. The Pure Heart Valley seemed like a good place to escape. To start a new life with a new family to forge a new identity. However, when the past rears its ugly head Mao Mao's forced to step up or be put down.

Jǐngti didn’t know what to do. Mom would be coming soon; he should be stayed back at his dad’s, so she could find him. It was the right thing to do. Maybe that was why he wasn’t doing it. The infinitely tall pines loomed overhead, blanketing the sky with green needles as they did the same to the floor. He wandered, unsure of what to do, or where to go. Its said that felines have some sort of homing instinct, canine too, out of all the things he could have inherited from either of his parents why wasn't it something useful? I would be more useful than his magic that was (just like everything else about him) half-baked.

What was he going to do?

Jǐngti stopped walking. He pulled back, crouching down low. Like a spring he shot into the air, latching onto the tree’s thick bark. He didn’t need to use his claws.The tiny crevices fit his fingers snugly. It was easy, almost second nature, to start climbing up and up and up. The pine brush above wasn’t as soft as the carpet below.

He crashed through the green shroud, his eyes stinging more than usual at the bright light. The sky was dark with hues of deep purple and orange painting the sun half-hidden over the horizon. Was it night? No, the air was too cold. The night was ending, and now it was warming thanks to the dawn.

At least it made it easy to tell directions. The sun rises in the east, so the distant town would be in the west, and the mountain where his father lived would be past that in the mountains. He knew where he was, now he just needed to know where to go. He waited, and waited, and waited, expecting the answer to come to him naturally, but everything seemed to flee.

All this freedom and no idea what to do with it.

He sighed. A deep disheartening feeling enclosed around his chest. He shoulda just sucked it up and stayed, or maybe he should’ve headed back to the junkyard. He grabbed onto the trunk and slid back down the upper brush of pines, siting on a thick branch. Moving over he grabbed onto the truck again, but when he looked towards the forest floor he realized that it was actually pretty far. Climbing up was easy enough, but who’s to say he wouldn’t make a mistake on the way down? Always landing on your feet didn’t matter when you'd break your legs anyway.

He sat back down on the branch, unable to find the will to try and get down.

Time blended together until the sun was dead overhead. It was now noon And there was no way to get back down. Until he heard something. It was weird. Kind of like a fwoosh-like thing. It kind of sounded like an aero-vehicle nearby. His first thought was it was his dad on the stupid motorcycle thing. Instead, he shielded his eyes from something flying overhead.

His eyes stung from the flyby alone, and it only got worse when it doubled back around. He shielded his eyes again and looked away from the break in the canopy; he didn’t notice the thing flying down towards him until it was right in his face. Despite looking right at it, it took a second for his vision to come back. His first reaction was to move back down the branch, pressing his back against the tree’s trunk.

The first though to run through his mind was what was his father doing here? Then, he realized his mistake. It wasn’t his father. His face was a bit more angular, lies and wrinkles a bit sharper, and his fur greyed with age. Donning a suit of armor that was golden as his eyes, was a cat Jǐngti didn’t recognize. He looked down at him with the same way one might a pitiable, albeit disgusting stray.

Which, to be fair, Jǐngti was.

“Are you okay?” The stranger’s voice was deep and familiar like he heard it somewhere before.

Jǐngti kept quiet.

The stranger didn’t repeat his question. He titled his head, looking at him quizzically. “How old are you,” he asked.

Jǐngti still said nothing.

“Are you stuck,” he asked.

Jǐngti looked up and away from him.

The stranger didn’t ask another question. He grabbed onto Jǐngti and slowly descended to the forest floor where he let him go. Jǐngti knew he probably should have said thank you, instead he avoided looking at the stranger’s face some more. There was something wrong with this guy. Something he didn’t like. Sure, the golden armor was gauche, his voice sounded like a magistrate with infinitely better things to do that extend a child’s sentence, but there was something more he knew he just didn’t fucking like.

“Excuse me, but are you lost?”

Could he tell how old he was? Jǐngti shook his head.

“So you know your way around here?”

Jǐngti nodded his head.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where someone named Mao Mao lives, would you?”

His head snapped up, and he looked at the stranger again. Who was this? Who on earth would want to speak with him? “Who are you,” he asked.

“Me?” The stranger put his hands on his hips, striking a confident pose.”I’m Shin Mao.”

Jǐngti felt like he got punched in the stomach. He had to put his hands on his knees as he coughed and gasped for breath.

“Are you okay,” Shin Mao asked, although Jǐngti barely heard it.

“Okay, so you wouldn’t happen to be related to Mao Mao, right,” he asked.

“I am.”

“How!” Jǐngti cleared his throat and repeated in a more measured tone. “How?”

“I’m his father.”

Another punch to the gut. This was his grandfather! How weird was that? He couldn’t ever remember his dad speaking about. He kind of assumed Mao Mao was an orphan, but this… he could work with. He stood up and straightened himself out, running his hands across his face to wipe away his expression and put on something a bit more clean, appealing even. Something he imagined that fox Rufus would use when pulling a scam.

“You needed help finding Mao Mao, yes?”

“Yes,” Shin Mao said, despite the obvious apprehension.

“I was heading there anyway. You can come with me if you like.” It was phrased like a question, but Jǐngti had grabbed his grandfather’s hand to lead him away.

* * *

Evidently, Shin Mao could fly, but he didn’t. He walked behind with heavy, thumping, metallic footsteps. It wasn’t hard to find his way back to the town. A little before noon, and they were already at the fountain plaza. Despite the Sweetipies usual aloofness(maybe it would be better to say vapid) selves they took interest. They crowded in corners and shadows. There was a strange and unnatural silence to everything. They were looking a little too high for it to be him. They were looking at Shin Mao.

Even if they weren’t looking at him, he didn’t like it. Not one bit. Ominous eyes, watching them from the seemingly vacant streets. Staring. They were all just staring. It's why he stuck to the back roads and far away from the main streets. The way they so garish showed the whites of their eyes at him made him feel...

He just didn’t like the stares, even if he should be used to them.

Shin Mao leaned down over to him as they walked. “Are they uh… citizens okay?”

“They’re always fucking weird so...” Jǐngti shrugged to finish his sentence.

They continued walking for some time. Jǐngti pretended that he simply got turned around on the way (which ironically did happen halfway through) as he mulled a certain question over. Should he ask Shin about his father? He’d never even thought about his family past his parents. There were vague memories of questions. A curious child’s poking and prodding at his mother and his father. His mother glossed over the question telling him about the family in details he could no longer remember. He couldn’t remember what his father said either, but he distinctly remembered his reaction.

He was young, little more than a kitten who even Mao Mao managed to tower over, barely used to speaking in a voice he had no confidence with. They were by a river. His father was doing something while he splashed away in the river like a child. Inevitably, he got wet, cold, and worst of all, bored. He stopped splashing moving back to the bank where his father was washing clothes.

Maybe it was because he was washing clothes that he didn’t mind it when he hopped into his lap despite being soaking wet. He watched him do chores before getting bored of that, too. Eventually, he flipped over and looked his father in the eye before asking a single question.

“Do you have any family?” He wasn’t used to speaking. The words tumbled out, tripping over his lips.

“I have you and your mother,” he said.

“What about like, brothers, sisters, fathers?”

Jǐngti won’t forget the way his father stopped. Rigid, like a stone, he stared off into space without blinking. He watched a piece of clothing slipped from his hands and down the river. Still, his father didn’t move. He stayed like that for what seemed like forever, and right when Jǐngti was getting worried his father snapped back to reality.

“What was that,” he asked like the conversation didn’t grind to a halt.

“Nothing,” Jǐngti said.

He never asked his father that question again. Why would he when that was how he reacted? It made it oh so tempting to just go ahead and ask about it now. Jǐngti turned to Shin Mao who was still walking beside him.

“So, uh, you’re Mao Mao’s dad, right?”

Shin eyed him weirdly. “Yeah.”

“What was he like,” he added for clarification,” when he was younger, I mean.”

Shin frowned, eyes turning up, and he scratched his chin. “Well, he was… very quiet. One of those kids that was almost always seen and never heard. He was super reserved, too. Well together and composed. I don’t think he ever made a scene, not even a tantrum when he was a toddler.”

Jǐngti surprised the urge to laugh. The thought of Mao Mao -the walking, talking shit show of a person- not causing trouble seems like a bad joke. It wouldn’t have even been so funny if Shin wasn’t saying it with his whole chest. Jǐngti swallowed the laughter down, listening to Shin go on and on about someone Jǐngti had never met. It was funny at first, but quickly became significantly less so. Shin Mao described someone who was clam and levelheaded. An apathetic isolationist who you could forget even existed.

Jǐngti was able to entertain the idea that his father had somehow changed since he left home. It was a perfectly natural thing for people to do. However, as they crossed the crest of the foothill, Shin Mao said something that made him trip.

“I never expected him to leave home when he did,” Shin Mao said,” I remember when I heard nearly spitting out my drink when I heard Mao Mao left to be an adventurer He never partook in family trainings or anything. I never would’ve thought he wanted to become a hero.”

It reached a point where Jǐngti had to say something. “I think we might’ve gotten our wires crossed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think we’re talking about two different people. I’m talking about Mao Mao. Short black cat, one arm, wears a stupid cape all the time.”

“So am I -wait, stupid cape, what does that- you know, what? Never mind. We’re talking about the same Mao Mao, and you’re still leading me to his home, right?”

Jǐngti didn’t know what would happen when Shin and Mao Mao finally met. Maybe they’d hug. Maybe they’d fight. Regardless, he knew it would be a shitshow.

* * *

They crossed the crest of the hill and home was right in front of him. The sky was gray and clouding over. He could smell the rain on his nose and feel the lightning in his fur. He’d have to find someplace to stay after this was over He stood back and watched Shin Mao clomp up to the building in that heavy metal suit. He stopped just short of the porch before turning around.

“I can’t do this,” he said.

“What?” Jǐngti protested,” Why not? You’re already here, so just go ahead and knock.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Yeah you can. Just make a fist, and punch the door.”

“You know damn well that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Shin welled up, bringing up his shoulders and his chest, like he was going to shout something. Instead, the tension left him like someone had pulled the plug. H breathed out a heavy sigh and sat on the steps to his son’s home.

“It isn’t that simple,” he said.

“Why isn’t it?”

Shin was about to say something, but a pained sigh came out, instead of words. “It’s… we… aren’t exactly on the best terms. It's like every time we meet it just devolves into arguing.”

Jǐngti crossed his arms. “Why?”

“I don’t know!” Shin’s voice carried over the rolling hills. An echo that fell into the silence. He crumpled back down, holding his face in his hands. “I just don’t know. Things just go to shit every single time.”

“He doesn’t even want me to visit him in the hospital. Did you know he even attacked me once?”

“Did he ever tell you why he did that?”

“He said it was something like, not paying attention to him. That I knew nothing about my own son, but-”

“You don’t.”

Shin turned to Jǐngti. “What are you-”

“You don’t. You know nothing about him.”

“Yes I do!”

“You really don’t. The Mao Mao you described to me is nothing like the real one. Do you even know he’s missing an arm?”

“Of course.”

“Did you know that before or after you visited him the first time in his adult life?”

Shin Mao went quiet at that. Jǐngti threw his hands up in the air and turned around. Things were beginning to sound familiar. Too familiar for Jǐngti’s taste. Like it was a giant fucking joke. Puzzle pieces fit together to from one grotesque family picture.

He turned back around when he heard the door open. Not surprising considering they were yelling on the front porch. Badgerclops stood there. He had an uncharacteristic frown on his face that only deepened when saw Shin. Jǐngti thought he could hear someone ask,” what’s going on?” from inside but Badgeclops slammed the door shut behind him.

“What the hell are you doing here,” he asked.

“Me or him,” Jǐngti asked in return

“Both of you.”

“I don’t know about the gold motherfucker over there, but I was going to bring I’m to meet Mao Mao and enjoy the chaos, but goddamn even I’m above this .” Jǐngti turned around and started walking. “I wash my hands of this shit because I am fucking done.”

“Hang on.” Badgerclops hurried from the porch to scoop Jǐngti into his arms.

“Nope. Stop.” Jǐngti wiggled and wiggled but couldn’t break free.

“Relax,” Badgerclps said,” I’m only holding onto you until your mom comes to pick you up. Besides, you’re way too young to be on your own.”

“And you.” He turned to Shin,” you’re not welcome here. Leave before I arrest you for trespassing.” Badgerclops didn’t wait for Shin to say anything. He just slammed the door behind them.

Inside was dark enough for Jǐngti to see without light blinding him. The TV dimly glowed with some meaningless program. His father lied on the couch like an equally meaningless thing.

“What was that,” he asked.

“It was nothing,” Badgerclops said,” no one at all.”

#fanfic #MMHOPH #Mao Mao And The Heroes of Pure Heart #Badgerclops #Mao Mao #Jingti #Shin Mao

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lolas-writings · 3 years ago

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I wrote a college TodoDeku meet-cute because I felt like it and I had an idea. Enjoy!!

You can also find it on AO3 here if you want to leave a kudos and/or comment on it <3

---

Midoriya sighs as he exits the building, feeling the warm breeze on his clammy skin. The sun is warm on his face, a welcome presence after being cooped up in a freezing room with nothing more to warm him than his own nerves. At least he’s free now; free of the cold classroom as well as his exams.

He takes a deep breath to steady his racing heart, still anxious from his exam, and smells a mixture of fresh-baked bagels and chicken sandwiches lingering in the air. Now that he’s finished with the last of his exams he should get something to eat before heading home. Four and a half hours straight of testing has certainly been draining. His stomach immediately growls at the thought, agreeing with his decision, and he can’t help but laugh. Right, food then home for some well-deserved rest.

After one last deep breath, Midoriya begins ascending the stairs that will lead him from the basement’s outside landing to the normal ground above. Halfway up the stairs he hears his phone vibrate with a barrage of texts — probably from Ochako asking how he thinks his exam went — so he shrugs off the right strap of his backpack and uses his left shoulder to swing his bag in front of him. He rummages through the top pocket as he makes it up the last of the steps, stopping on the top of the stairs as he searches for his phone. It vibrates one last time before he finds it, grabbing it with his right hand before closing the zipper and rearranging his backpack to rest properly on his shoulders.

Phone in hand and bag situated, Midoriya begins walking again, on his way to the campus food court as he unlocks his phone and reads his friend’s messages.

Raka [3:24 pm]: Dekuuuuuu

Raka [3:24 pm]: how did it go??

Raka [3:25 pm]: your class is over now right

Raka [3:25 pm]: please tell me the test was easy because I’m terrified

Raka [3:25 pm]: Tenya’s no help

Raka [3:26 pm]: he just keeps saying “oh stop worrying you’ll be fine I believe in you” blah blah blah

Raka [3:26 pm]: which is sweet and all and I love him for it but

Raka [3:26 pm]: telling me to not worry doesn’t stop me from worrying!!

Raka [3:26 pm]: so Deku

Raka [3:27 pm]: please

Raka [3:27 pm]: tell me the test isn’t baddd :(

A quiet laugh escapes his lips as he reads over the texts, his thumbs flying across his keyboard to soothe Ochako’s nerves.

Me [3:29 pm]: we studied all the right material

Me [3:30 pm]: and the professor has a bonus question

Me [3:30 pm]: a whole five extra points and I know you’ll know what the answer is

Me [3:31 pm]: you’ll do fine :3

A bubble with three dots appears at the bottom of their text thread, indicating that Ochako is typing her response, but before it comes in Midoriya feels a hand on his shoulder and he barely manages to suppress a startled shriek. He still jumps in his skin, however, and quickly turns around to face whoever it is.

“I apologize.” Another student — at least, he assumes it’s another student — says, voice carefully monotone and soft spoken. “I tried calling out to you but you didn’t respond.”

Even now, Midoriya can’t find himself to respond. Not only is he trying to steady his racing heart, pounding violently in his chest from being startled, but he can’t help looking the other student over. With mismatched eyes and split-dyed hair, he certainly has a unique look. Not the strangest he’s seen on campus, for sure, but definitely the most handsome. Even with the subtle scar that surrounds his left eye.

Midoriya lets out an awkward cough at the thought, minutely shaking his head to dispel that specific train of thought before it develops further.

“I’m sorry.” Midoriya says as he offers a smile, pocketing his phone so he can turn and fully face the other student. “Did you need something?” He tries his best to sound polite, but the question comes out sounding more confused than he anticipates. Granted, he’s never seen this mismatched student before so his confusion is rightfully earned.

“Actually, I wanted to return this.” Midoriya’s eyes are drawn to the stranger’s hand as he reaches out and offers something… familiar? As he looks over the enamel pin in the stranger’s hand he realizes it’s the same exact design as the one Ochako gave him two years ago: A simple, traditional tri-colored dango treat, except with pink, yellow, and blue coloring as opposed to the normal pink, white, and green. Her and Iida both have their own to match, Ochako with a pink, purple, and blue pin and Iida with another pink, yellow, and blue pin.

Perplexed, Midoriya looks over his shoulder at his backpack, realizing the spot where his pin is usually displayed is now empty. He removes his backpack in a rush and sets it on the ground to inspect it and, sure enough, his prized pride pin has gone missing.

The stranger softly clears his throat, presumably to get Midoriya’s attention, and speaks again once he has it.

“I watched it fall off your bag a moment ago. Well, more like fly off, if I’m being honest.” The stranger presses his lips together and looks down at the pin for a brief second before he turns his gaze back to Midoriya. “You practically launched it down the stairs when you put your bag on. It almost hit me in the face, in fact.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Midoriya sputters as he quickly stands up and takes a step closer to the stranger. “I didn’t accidentally hit you with it, did I? I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize it came off. I was just distracted and-”

The sound of quiet laughter interrupts his spiel, and Midoriya falls quiet as he watches the stranger’s shoulders shake minutely with the action. His two-toned hair falls in front of his face as he tilts his head down, as if he’s trying to obstruct the display of his amusement.

Once the laughter quiets down the stranger lifts his head back up, tilting it to the side just so, allowing the hair to fall from his face and make his scar more visible. It looks a bit worse now that Midoriya has a better view of it.

“I don’t think a small pin could do much damage, considering.” Considering the scar, remains unspoken, but Midoriya gets the hint. A small cut or bruise compared to that seems obsolete, and he feels slightly embarrassed, but that doesn’t erase the fact that Midoriya would have felt bad for causing injury regardless.

“Thank you,” Midoriya says instead, letting their conversation progress past injuries. With gentle fingers, he takes his pin from the stranger’s hand gingerly, offering one of his signature Sunshine Smiles, as Ochako likes to call them. “This pin means a lot to me, so thank you for returning it.”

“Of course.” The stranger returns the smile, albeit more reserved and formally polite, like it’s been carefully crafted for occasions as such. Once his hands are empty he takes to adopting a more relaxed posture, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat and readjusting his feet. “It’s a lovely pin, it’d be a shame to lose it.”

“My friend would kill me if I lost it.” Midoriya chuckles nervously at the thought, his fingers curling around the pin protectively. Ochako may be tiny, but she’s terrifying when she gets mad, and Midoriya has seen her wrath pointed at others enough times to know he never wants to be on the receiving end.

“It was a gift, then? From a friend?” The stranger tilts his head inquisitively, his eyes trained on Midoriya for his response.

“Oh, yeah! She gave it to me two years ago, it was a—” pride month gift, he wants to say, but the words die on his tongue when he remembers a few less than pleasant interactions he’s had regarding this topic. Better play it safe, then. “—an early birthday gift.” He secretly amends, which isn’t too far from the truth, anyhow. The pin was technically a dual present, but he doesn’t have to clarify that if he doesn’t want to. “Why?” The question slips from his mouth without warning, but he can’t be bothered to care. It’s an innocent question, no harm done… right?

“I was debating on asking where you acquired it from.” The stranger shrugs, adding an extra layer of casual curiosity that makes Midoriya start to relax again. “I know someone who would enjoy such a design.”

“I’m sorry, she never told me.”

“That’s all right, I was just curious.” The stranger clears his throat and straightens his stance, moving his shoulders to readjust the straps of his own backpack. “Anyway, I’m happy to have returned that to you. Wouldn’t want to lose such a precious token, now would we?”

A laugh rumbles from Midoriya’s chest, hearty and good-natured. “No, definitely not. Thank you again, seriously. It really means a lot.”

“Of course.” With one last polite smile and a parting nod of his head, the stranger turns around to make his departure. He only makes it a few steps before Midoriya’s eyes zero in on something shiny pinned to his backpack.

There, by the uppermost pocket’s zipper, is an enamel pin of a black cat playing with a rainbow-colored ball of yarn. It’s simple. Subtle, even. Just one look may not be enough for most to understand, but Midoriya catches on right away. Even if he hadn’t seen that same pin on an Etsy shop before during his search for more collectables, the colors alone are enough. If you know, then you know.

“Wait!” Midoriya calls out before he realizes what he’s doing, and he doesn’t even get a chance to evaluate the consequences of his actions before he’s back to staring at the stranger’s mismatched eyes, beautiful and glittering in the afternoon sun.

“Yes?” The simple response breaks Midoriya out of his stupor, and he can’t help but bite his lip anxiously as he tries to think of what to say.

“I-I’m sorry, I just… Can I get your name?” His heart is racing again, pounding so hard and fast in his chest that it almost distracts him from catching the other student’s name. Almost, but not quite.

“Todoroki Shouto.” Midoriya may have almost missed his name, but he certainly doesn’t miss the hint of a smirk that grows on Todoroki’s lips. “You?”

“Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku.”

“Midoriya.” Todoroki says quietly, testing the name on his lips. It shouldn’t be enticing, it’s nothing more than someone learning his name, but the way his name sounds in Todoroki’s soothing voice sends shivers down his spine. The smile that comes after makes Midoriya’s heart melt. This is completely unfair. “It’s nice to meet you, Midoriya.”

“You too, Todoroki-san.” This should be it, their final farewell, their parting goodbyes. Except it’s not. Neither of them take another step. Instead, they allow their eyes to linger. Midoriya’s hand twitches around his pin, nervous yet giddy as he makes a decision. “Todoroki-san, are you busy?”

“Right now?” Todoroki asks, tilting his head again as he watches Midoriya enthusiastically nod in confirmation. “Not at the moment, no. My last class of the day doesn’t start for another two hours.”

“Would you want to get some food, then? Together, I mean. A-As a thank you for finding my pin.” Midoriya stumbles over his words, silently chastising himself for getting flustered, but he also gives himself a mental pat on the back for taking a chance. He’s never been all that outgoing, especially in this regard.

There’s a moment of silence that befalls them, no reply from Todoroki to fill the void. There’s a few birds that fly overhead and one of the many water fountains on campus is close enough to hear the gentle sound of the waterfall, but the longer Todoroki takes to reply the more Midoriya’s heart beats anxiously, slamming against his ribcage in anticipation.

Mismatched eyes break their gaze and shift down, falling on Midoriya’s enclosed hand still wrapped protectively around his pin, and suddenly all the pieces fall into place.

Their eyes lock again, green entrapped by enchanting blue and grey. The wind blows the hair from Todoroki’s face, revealing his scar once again as well as his sharp jawline, his faint freckles, and, finally, the uptick in his lips. He’s smiling now, less manufactured and more real, more natural. More genuine. The smile is mirrored on Midoriya’s own lips, and it only grows when Todoroki finally responds.

“I’d love to.”

#tododeku #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #bnha midoriya #shoto todoroki #bnha shouto #mha shouto #todomido #midotodo #college au #quirkless au #Lola Writes

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sugarandspace · 5 years ago

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Mangoose

Summary: All warlocks have an animal form. What happens when the Circle uses new technology during a battle that forces the warlocks fighting alongside their Shadowhunter friends turn into their animal forms?

A/N: This is silly. Inspired by a conversation we had at the Malec discord server (join us. everyone is so nice. and we do talk about less ridiculous things too)

AO3

Alec shoots another arrow and it pierces the head of the Circle member who was getting a bit too close to Jace. It’s a tough fight but they are holding their own against the twenty or so Circle members. They had found out that some of them still tried to keep the movement alive, even after Valentine was gone for good. They had assembled their own team of Shadowhunters and had ambushed them during one of their meetings, their goal to capture them so they could be sent to the Gard. Only it looked like they weren’t willing to go without a fight.

Alec is standing on top of one of the smaller buildings in the area, looking down at the fight and assisting with his bow and arrows. Among seraph blades and Izzy’s whip, he can see flashes of red and purple where Magnus and Dot are fighting alongside them. They happened to be at the Institute when they planned the mission and they wanted to help, eager to bring the last parts of the movement down.

The shrill sound takes them all by surprise. Alec turns his attention to the direction of the sound and notices that one of the Circle members is holding some kind of a machine that’s the source of the noise. Alec turns his attention back to the battle before getting too distracted, his vantage point at the roof giving him a perfect view of the whole fight.

At first, everything seems normal.

Then his eyes find Magnus.

Magnus is covering his ears, seemingly more affected by the noise than the others. Alec looks at Dot to find her in a similar state. The machine must be doing something to the Warlocks.

Alec shoots another arrow and the Shadowhunter holding the machine is dead, and the machine falls to the ground. Unfortunately it doesn’t break, and the noise continues to ring in the air.

He looks at Magnus and notices that his magic is flickering, and in a blink of an eye, he’s changing form. Instead of seeing Magnus like people are used to seeing him, now in the middle of the fight stands a foot and a half tall mongoose, also known as Magnus’ animal form.

As Alec looks to the other side of the fight he can see Dot in her own animal form, as a dark owl. It’s clear that the machine did something to mess up with the Warlocks and turned them to their animal forms without their consent.

Alec had always known that each Warlock had an ability to turn to an animal, but only a specific type of animal that was determined by their magic and heritage. He had not known what Magnus’ animal form was until the man in question had told him himself.

Magnus didn’t spend much time in his animal form, since being a human was usually more practical than being a mongoose. Magnus had told him that mongoose form had very little perks compared to the human one. At first, he’d been hesitant to tell Alec about it and had played along when Alec had assumed that his golden eyes were that of a cat’s.

Had Alec been surprised when he found out that it was a mongoose? Yes. Had he thought any less of his incredible boyfriend because of it? Absolutely not. He actually thought that Magnus looked rather cute in his animal form, but he had a feeling Magnus wouldn’t appreciate the comment, so he’d kept it to himself.

Magnus didn’t like spending time in his animal form among strangers, and he’d definitely benefit from his human body in a fight, so when he had not turned back to his human form yet, Alec assumed that he couldn’t.

Alec shoots more arrows and he sees that Dot is making use of her form, using her long and sharp talons to attack the Circle members’ faces, careful to not let them hurt her in the process.

Magnus, on the other hand, looks to be in trouble. Being a foot and a half tall in the middle of a fight might not make you an easy target to the weapons since it makes you nearly invisible to everyone who’s focusing on bigger threats, ones on the same level. But as much as that invisibility is a blessing, it also keeps almost resulting in Magnus’ death as he keeps dodging all the feet that are constantly threatening to stomp on him.

Alec jumps down from the roof and pulls his blade out, making his way towards where he sees Magnus, standing on his back legs and looking every which way for a safe escape route. Just like that Alec’s previous goal of killing or capturing the Circle members has switched to getting Magnus out of there alive.

He makes it to Magnus and scoops his boyfriend up, not even thinking about it before he’s placing Magnus in is quiver with the few arrows he still has left. When he no longer needs to worry about Magnus, he’s able to focus fully on the fight.

The loud noise is still ringing, but it’s merely background noise to the sound of metal hitting metal and screams of exertion and pain. It doesn’t take long before Alec can feel tiny feet on his shoulder, Magnus’ head next to his. Alec lets out a breath that’s almost like a laugh. He should have guessed that Magnus wouldn’t want to stay hidden, even when he can’t really do anything to help.

The fight goes on and on, and every now and then Alec can see flashes of orange hair or a glint of an electrum whip or the wide wings of an owl. He’s fighting back to back with his parabatai as the amount of Circle members gets smaller and smaller.

He finds out that he doesn’t need to worry about dropping Magnus who’s alternating between having his front feet on his right shoulder and having them on his left shoulder. Magnus keeps the lower half of his body securely in the quiver, while the rest balances perfectly with the fast movements Alec is forced to make.

Alec winces a little when he feels sharp claws in his scalp, as Magnus climbs so that his head is on top of Alec’s, his back legs on the back of his jacket collar, the claws brushing the back of his neck. He gets that Magnus is most likely trying to find a position where he’ll be the least distracting but where he’ll be able to keep an eye on the fight but this particular position is proving to be a bit uncomfortable for Alec.

“Magnus,” he complains but he doesn't have time to move him away as the fight keeps going.

It ends up being a good thing when Alec feels a pull in his hair a moment later, the pain forcing him to turn his head a little to the left, which allows him to see the enemy that had been approaching without him noticing.

He kills the woman with a well-aimed swing of his blade.

“Thank you,” he says to the mongoose that’s still holding on to his hair, albeit not as painfully anymore.

The fight starts slowing down after that, their numbers bigger than those of the remaining Circle members’. Alec manages to go on the rest of the fight without any more hairpulling, and after a while, Magnus retreats back to his place over Alec’s shoulder.

Alec pulls his blade out of the last Circle member he killed before looking at the fight around them. Everywhere he looks he can see his friends and colleagues aiding each other to kill the remaining enemies.

His attention is turned to Magnus when he feels the weight of him leave his shoulder as he hops to the ground and starts running. Alec’s eyes follow him, curious to see where he’s going. He leaps over bodies and discarded weapons on the ground until he reaches the machine. Alec watches as Magnus bares his teeth and bites into the wires of the machine, and it doesn’t take long until the noise cuts off.

With the noise and all the sounds of the fight gone, the place is eerily quiet.

As soon as the noise is gone, Alec watches as Magnus turns back to his human form, dressed up in the fancy clothing he wore before he got forcibly turned. He looks around to see Dot landing on the ground before turning back to human.

“We did it,” Jace says and Alec turns to look at him. He’s sweaty and has specks of blood on his face, and Alec assumes he looks about the same. He’s about to reply before he hears a familiar voice from behind him.

“Jace,” Magnus says, his tone polite and matching the smile he wears. “Can I borrow your brother for a moment?”

“Sure,” Jace says. “Just don’t disappear anywhere, we still need to clean up this mess. If you don’t come back in ten minutes I’m going to come and get you and I do not want to witness anything that will scar me for life.”

“Oh Jace,” Magnus replies. His smile turns from polite to teasing and Alec is slightly afraid of what he’ll say next. “If I wanted, we could be done in five.”

Alec closes his eyes and groans at his shameless boyfriend. Nevertheless, he takes the offered hand and follows Magnus a bit further away from the bodies, to the area where they can’t be seen or heard.

His slight hopes for Magnus living up to his words are instantly killed when Magnus looks at him with a serious expression and speaks.

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood,” he starts and Alec is instantly on edge. And not in a fun way. He looks with wide eyes as Magnus points at him with a finger and pokes it to his chest.

“I am the High Warlock of Brooklyn! You do not pick me up while we are working!”

Alec knows he’s playing with fire, but he can’t resist the opportunity.

“But when we’re not working?”

The glare he receives as the response is so strong Alec is surprised it doesn’t physically burn him.

He lifts his arms up in surrender.

“Fine,” he says. “I promise not to do it again.”

“Thank you,” Magnus replies, and Alec can see that he’s fighting a smile. He knows that Magnus didn’t like what happened, but he also knows that he’s not nearly as bothered as he pretends to be. If he were, the glint Alec can see in his eyes wouldn’t be there. Alec likes to think that he’s learned to read his boyfriend pretty well, and would know if he truly were upset or angry.

Alec thinks the biggest reason for this conversation is that Magnus wants Alec to know that he doesn’t have to be helped, that he would have been able to handle the situation on his own as well. Mongoose might not be the most dangerous animal to have as your animal form, but centuries of living with it have taught Magnus how to use it to his advantage. Alec knows that he would be useless if he turned into something that didn’t have thumbs.

When they walk back to the others, Magnus’ sure steps take him towards the machine still on the ground. Magnus glares at it and with a dramatic wave of his hand and a bright flash of red magic, it’s nothing but a pile of smoking ash.

When Magnus turns his head to look at the others who have turned their questioning eyes towards the sudden flash of red they saw, Alec does his best to hide his smile.

He truly loves his boyfriend, both in his human form and as a mongoose.

#malec #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane #malec fic #this is ridiculous #but i had so much fun writing this #also it cured my writer's block #first thing I've written in three weeks #my writing

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tarithenurse · 5 years ago

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If I succeed - 7

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x fem!Reader Content: Angst, pining, bit of gore and violence, idiots, and stubborness. A/N: So: wash your hands+wrist thoroughly with soap for minimum 20 seconds. Don’t pick at eyes/nose/mouth. Obviously don’t cough/sneeze on your hands or other people. Follow the rule written in nice, friendly letters on the cover of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

7 – Everything glows

... Reader ...

The end of the second day brings you to the treeline, coming to a halt by the last cluster of fir and spruce. There you build a campfire while the men se to their tasks. High above your heads, the cliffs and snow are painted pink and purple by the setting sun while the valley below has been cast in shadows – only the scattered pinhole dots of light indicate where your home is. The recollection of Beauclair’s grandeur has always been with you (albeit faded by time into a mythical dimension of its own), dwarfing the village your parents had brought you to, and from this distance the tiny cluster of light seems all too easy to snuff out.

With nightfall, you find yourself drawn to an outcrop of cliffs a short way from the campsite where the flickering light of the fire does not reach to compete with the glow from the stars. Still, it is the minuscule golden dots below that have caught your gaze as you sit there with a leg dangling over the edge.

“It’s not too late for you to turn back, y’know.”

Geralt’s voice startles you. The man might be big as a bull but can move as silent as a cat. Half a mind to get up and leave, you force yourself to stay as he sits by your left side. His warmth is pleasant in the chill of the thinning air, scent intoxicating.

“You’re not the only stubborn idiot ‘round.”

The responding “hm” almost sounds like a chuckle. Deep. Rumbling. A landslide that both stirs and calms.

The Witcher refrains from asking unnecessary questions, allowing the silence to reign comfortably for once, only to reveal a different layer of sounds: somewhere, a stream gurgles happily; mice or other critters rustle through the tufts of wiry grasses; your heart beats frantically against your ribs. Don’t hear it...please don’t.

“So...” the White Wolf begins dangerously slow, “will you find a new way t’avoid me or can we finish the talk from th’inn?”

Would it be too much to ask for a wyvern to come swoop me away? “Fine. Talk.”

Of course, he hesitates as if to test you. “I said there was...is...another force seemingly taming the wyverns?” A non-committal grunt is all Geralt gets as answer. “They’re not human...not entirely, at least.”

There is a slight crack in your neck as you swivel to face the broad man. If you did not know better, you would say he sounds...worried...which of course cannot be true because although a Witcher is killable this particular one has a stubbornness that would not allow something that mundane to happen thus negating the reason for concern. Close calls, sure, not the real thing.

“What’re they?” It is not as though you want the answer.

“Maybe vampiric...not sure.”

Giving him a shove with your shoulder (barely moving him at all), you refuse to let the chance slip away. “Oooh, the great White Wolf’s short of an answer? A monster you’ve never heard of? Or are you unable t-”

The lined up taunts are abruptly stopped by a calloused hand clamping over your mouth and a wall of a body pressing into yours. Though his grip is unyielding, comparatively tiny hands tugging uselessly at his strong wrist, he is surprisingly gentle too.

“Hrm?!” Emotions tangle in your chest and you are grateful for the muted cover of the night’s darkness.

“Shh.” Geralt’s attention is not on you, instead his eyes are scanning the dark at a point somewhere deeper between the trees and you feel your own ears strain for the smallest sound out of place.

The stream gurgles, the wind whispers in crevasses and treetops...but none of the nocturnal animals can be heard anymore. There. A click and grating of stone against stone breaks the spell, spurring you to draw the dagger hanging at your hip. A light tap with the blade against the Witcher’s arm is enough for him to release you.

A muted conversation passes between the two of you and ends with a roll of amber eyes before Geralt pulls his own dagger in lieu of the sword left back at the camp – and even without the greater weapon this man is deadly. Graceful and dangerous, he slips to his feet, ready to take on anything whereas your own limbs feel clumsy and slow in comparison.

A growl precedes the beast stepping out from the dense darkness under the trees. Rough fur catches the silvery light of the stars in scattered streaks, making it hard to gauge the size until you spot the position of its eyes. Dark as smouldering coal, they are much further from the ground than you care for.

... Geralt ...

Go, he urges the wolf silently, knowing full well this creature has plenty other options for a meal. It is a gorgeous beast full of power and cunning. Go. Leave her. Geralt vocalizes the forbidden thought deep within his chest in form of a growl of his own. Head down, knees bend, arms slightly elevated, and a fist wrapped securely around his long knife – everything in his stance is prepared for a fight.

The wolf hesitates even though the threatening sound from its chest does not halt while paws take a few testing steps as if dancing on the invisible line between defence and attack. Predatory eyes flicker to its preferred target, calculating the risk of skirting the Witcher to reach the weaker of the two humans.

A cold weight is settling in Geralt’s gut. This is why she shouldn’t’ve come. Not due to risk of wolf attacks specifically but due to any danger [Y/N] might be exposed to. Although he has gotten used to worrying for and caring about Jaskier, the bumbling fool...this is different somehow. It should not be, and for that reason he will not admit it even to himself. In a last attempt to send the wolf running, Geralt bares his teeth in a snarl.

There is a shift in the atmosphere the second before the beast charges, fast and low to skirt around the man before it leaps towards the smaller target. Two daggers flash in the night, wielded by people who instinctively move as though it is an age old dance they always have been engaged in, and yes, one is a tad clumsier – the thrust and drag of steel through flesh less demanding – but the wolf never stands a chance.

[Y/N] is impossibly close, wrapped in an arm the Witcher does not recall drawing her in with. In the chill of the air, the touch of skin is burning. Scalding. Begging for his hand to push away the clothes and fan out across the expanse of her belly. They are both breathing hard unaware that the inhales and exhales have synchronized.

“You...” Her plump lips and upturned gaze distracts him and he has to look away if he wants to continue. “Don’t do’t again.” Oh, he knows it is the wrong thing to say, inwardly wincing even before she pushes away and angrily demands an explanation he cannot give.

Relenting somewhat at his uncomfortable silence, bends to clean the knife in the fur of the animal, muttering as if to herself, “I get it...’s your task to protect.”

“Hm.” His eyes are considering the pelt.

“So...” She straightens and regains his full attention whether he wants it or not. “Let’s make a deal...when you don’t need my medicines you can begin to teach me how to defend myself better.” [Y/N] looks at him expectantly despite the lack of invitation for negotiation in her voice and Geralt finds himself agreeing to the plan.

What am I becoming, he wonders as he watches her head back to camp. Admittedly, there is nothing bad to be said about a woman knowing how to fight, however, when it is the idea of being closer to [Y/N] that urges the Witcher to train her then he should perhaps reconsider.

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years ago

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The Plight of Sigurd (Hakuno, Sigurd, Brynhild)

Once upon a time, a warrior with the heart of a dragon lived upon the earth. The heart that pounded away in his chest was strong, stronger than anything he had ever felt or seen or held. It held so very much power and capability, enough that, when the warrior found a wee wisp of a woman, filled with pale features and smelling of wildflowers and rainfall, his dragon heart spluttered away in desire.

He had to have her. He had to woo her.

It became the very breath in his lungs and the very song in his heart. His every word was curled around thoughts of her. His very actions were always, always for her.

Sigurd, the greatest fighter in all the land, the great hero and the slayer of the fierce dragon, was deeply in love.

So too was the woman who returned his gaze.

Her hand slipped into his.

The vows he gave to her were filled with youthful ignorance and mindless depths. A love everlasting, a solitary love, leaving him cold and alone without her at his side; he promised her himself to the very last moment in all of time and space. Until all would cease to exist, that was how long he would let her possess his spirit.

She promised the same and more.

Her hands pressed to him, promising understanding and patience. Such a wise thing to say, since he was a fool. She promised him encouragement and support, things his young mind scoffed at and his older mind cherished like a solitary dying flame in the midst of an ice storm.

They lived as two fools who were young and in love lived.

Gudrun gave him the partner he needed, the time he deserved with his hotheadedness. She tempered him, cooling and folding over the recklessness until he was honed into the most magnificent form of himself. He livened her night skies. He created joy in her unlike anything she had ever experienced. He kept her strategizing, thinking. Where she gave him strength, he gave her knowledge.

Knowledge, but perhaps not wisdom.

For his dragon heart was so large, so capable, that the day his friend came to him for a favor, he could not even consider the ramifications of what would occur. He welcomed the challenge to sleep with the mighty warrior Brynhild. He rushed to Gudrun, leaving his friend and king to wait as he told his sweet love of what he would do.

It was knowledgeable to allow him to tame Brynhild in disguise, to let her fall for the king. It meant that Sigurd would spend more time home. They could begin their family finally. They could look towards having more voices in their quiet home away from the world and all its struggles.

Wisdom was knowing that such a task was dangerous, evermore so for a man whose heart bled for the tiny beasts that Gudrun welcomed into their home. The man was no heartless. He could not give any bit of himself without desiring something back.

He crossed the flames.

His disguised body lay with the great Brynhild, but not for long. She murmured the wrong name to him and Sigurd, thoughtlessly, doffed his disguise. His hands grasped at the woman’s legs, bringing the truth home.

Brynhild saw but a second of the truth, thinking it a trick of the dying light of the ring of fire.

She married herself to the king as Sigurd returned home.

Yet neither lay with their spouse.

Brynhild felt something cold in the touch of the king, luring her to rebuke him. Sigurd felt a need for more, a greed that slowly built up within him with each time that his wife came to him. He vowed himself to his wife again, his heart heavy.

“My husband is the greatest warrior,” Brynhild told Gudrun one day, surveying the laundering that the two of them needed to do. “He crossed the ring of fire to get to me. He is-“

“He is a liar,” Gudrun told her simply. “It was not him, but my husband, Sigurd, that lay with you that night.”

Knowledge, while great and powerful, was nothing compared to wisdom.

For Brynhild went to her husband and spied the warrior near him, knowing Gudrun’s words to be true. Vengeance burned in her. Her weapon came to hand.

And on his way home to his wife, Sigurd felt that blade pierce him. He felt his great heart torn from his body, the sound of his wife’s cries of shock and horror filling the air as he looked up at the woman.

“I cared for you too,” he told her with his dying breath. “I cared for you as I care for Gudrun. I had told your husband that I would not hide the truth from you. I had… wanted… to tell you… Bryn.”

The woman’s scream of outrage rang through the trees. He could see the tears flow, the knowledge of her reckless anger and her rightful actions creating chaos.

Gudrun and Brynhild.

The two loves that his great dragon heart had felt, both adoring of one another; he had lost them both through such troubles.

In another life, he would only wish for one.

For Gudrun’s warmth and Brynhild’s icy love were too powerful together. They drove him to the depths of longing, leaving him to foolish mistakes and a world filled with pain and suffering.

Never again, he begged to the universe.

The universe, in its great wisdom and ever reaching limbs of generations, spat him into the world as a simple man. Perhaps, not too simple, since the memories of it all remained well in his head. He grew, much like any other man grew: books and homework, days of lounging and nights of dreaming. He donned his glasses and sipped his coffee as he stepped forth from simple learning to complex teaching.

The world tree?

Meet the world of knowledge, of sciences and mathematics. He could see the world in a grain of sand, but he could not hold anyone.

The problem from before, with a heart too deep, now felt hollow. He pressed his hand to his chest many times, trying to feel the hole, but his heart beat away. It was not missing, but something was.

That was why, when she had appeared at one of his conferences, a small one in Fuyuki, Japan, he had gone to her.

“Go away.”

“Miss.” Sigurd sat down across from her, happy that the coffee shop was slow today. “Surely an hour of your time won’t-“

The purple haired woman narrowed her gaze on him.

She clicked her tongue.

“I see the faithlessness lingering in you, foul warrior of old. A wife who loves you dearly, yet you play with another. I have no use for a second of you.”

“Hey-“

She flashed her eyes his way. “Leave!”

“I know when I have lost.”

He stood up, but the woman stood as well.

“Yes?”

“I don’t like you.”

She moved closer though, despite her words. She pressed her hand to his cheeks and brought his face closer, promising wordlessly something he had not expected.

“…I don’t like you one bit. That is why I have to do this, for the sake of others. Perhaps maybe you’ll learn, unlike the other I know.”

He opened his eyes, only to feel a shift.

The world tilted on its axis. The room around them revolving. He fell onto all fours, looking up at the woman and growling at her.

Growling?

“A CAT!” One of the coffee shop owners screeched, waving for the others. “SOMEONE GET A BROOM! HOW DID A CAT GET IN HERE!”

The witch of a woman kicked him, sending him flying towards the door. He could see paws now. He could feel his whiskers and feel the flick and swish of his tail. The woman had changed him.

How?

Who had that woman been?

A broom was coming his way. He rushed for the door, running around the feet and running. Further and further away, he went. He ran with all his might, dodging the cars and the wild world of people.

A cat.

He could not have stayed in that coffee place or even near it. The risk was too great.

The woman had been from his hotel. He’d seen her there before. If he could find his way back to that building before the woman checked out or anything.

But even thinking that brought forth chaos. A darkness loomed over his head. A dark room swept him right off the pavement, into a wall a second before steel bars slammed shut behind him. He could only glance back to see a pair of eyes look at him.

“A runaway stray? Shall we go to the pound?”

The…

No!

He yowled. He pawed. Anything and everything that he could do, he did.

The man carried him to the back of a car and whisked him off.

Darkness and the scent of sanitizer met his senses. He could hear dozens of other cats. He could hear dogs howling and barking away. The world around him had become colder than he had ever seen before. What was the Scandinavian winters compared to steel walls and metal bars? Who could ever say that the smell of piss and the feel of threadbare fabrics was ever better than fur blankets and the smell of a good fire in a hearth?

Women were… Cruel.

His luck, albeit strong, was also in faltering.

Whoever had wronged that witch before had ended up leaving the vengeance for him to suffer. Just as his king friend had left vengeance for him to feel from Brynhild. Just as the dragon had left for him to feel by making him covet and yearn so deeply.

The time slipped away.

He saw a light overhead. It drifted across the room.

Time marched forth, indifferent to the plights of mankind. Its limbs reached out further and further, tangling away amongst other limbs and twigs. He watched so many pass through the chamber, always after kittens and old, dying beasts in this room. Their eyes drifted over him. He may as well have been décor.

A few more lights flew by as days passed.

He barely opened his eyes.

He barely did much.

“Miss,” a voice called. “You don’t want that one. He’s on his last legs.”

“Why is he so filthy?”

That voice…

Soft and sweet, it flowed like honey through his mind as he heard it. She spoke so sweetly, setting off some kind of recognition in him. The voice was so familiar. It was so very familiar…

“He doesn’t groom himself. We think it may be psychological.”

“He’s depressed then?”

The voice was closer. He could feel the bars move away from his face. A hand was stroking at him, bringing him to purr without a second thought.

“You don’t seem depressed to me,” the woman murmured, “but then, who really realizes they’re depressed when they feel depressed.”

“Miss-“

“I’ll take him!”

Sigurd felt himself lifted up, pressed against a chest that was softer than anything he’d ever felt. The faint trace of wildflowers and rainfall met his senses. There were fingers stroking at his ears and head, making his purr deepen.

The voices spoke, but he could not focus.

He couldn’t focus until he felt a warm cloth wiping at his eyes. The gunk that had accumulated was done away with. He could open his eyes and see the owner of that voice. He looked up, his gaze drifting over the wee features of the wisp of a woman.

Gudrun.

His Gudrun.

The beautiful and knowledgeable woman and love of his spirit: his everlasting Gudrun.

“Do you mind if I carry him out like this?” his sweet woman asked of the people here.

“Go ahead.”

He could not look away as they stepped out of the darkness. He couldn’t breathe as the sun poured down upon the locks of brown hair and those astounding brown eyes of hers. His Gudrun had found him, rescued him even.

Had the witch sent her here?

Had she helped him to reunite with the one he had been parted from?

“Well,” Gudrun smiled down at him. “I guess this is a good time for names while we wait for the bus, isn’t it? My name is Hakuno Kishinami. And your name… How about Sigurd? I just read about one in a book and he was something else.”

You are my Gudrun. Not Hakuno.

“Listen to you meow,” the woman laughed. “You must be a fan of the name too. Sigurd it is then.”

This time he would remain with her alone. He would make up for their last life. They would do everything that they had been unable to do before.

His Gudrun…

How much his heart lightened at the sight of her, he couldn’t dare think to leave her again.

No, he never would.

The youth of his life had spoken true.

There had never been another as perfect for him as her.

#drabble #drabbles

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khadij-al-kubra · 5 years ago

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Thomas in Wonderland (ch 4)

Characters: Thomas (fictional), Virgil, Roman, Patton, Logan, Remy, Emile, Joan, Talyn, Deceit, Nate, The Dragon Witch, fan adopted short vid characters

Word Count: 2400 (no betas, we die like mortals)

Summary: Thomas plays a game and says a swear word.

Author’s Note: *blows cloud of dust off this work that's accumulated since the last chapter* I know. It's been a while. Sincerest apologies. Apparently juggling multiple creative projects while also balancing personal life stuff is...trickier than I anticipated. Thank you to everyone who's still stuck around with this story, it truly means a lot. And trust me, you're going to like what's coming next, because we'll finally be seeing the sides! Starting with a certain necktie wearing blue caterpillar... ;D

I'll do my best to update more frequently, if not consistently since my posting schedule tends to get more sporadic than the Red Queen's mood swings.

Now then, back to our irregularly scheduled madness...

<=PREV

Animals & Improv

Just keep swimming; just keep swimming, Thomas mentally sang to himself, even though he was not swimming but floating along rather peacefully. As Thomas let his body float along, he tried to keep a sharp eye out for anything he could use as a raft or flotation device. Or maybe a bank of dry land he could swim to. He still wanted to find the Black Rabbit, or at least a place to dry off.

“Come on, there’s gotta be a leaf or a log or somethi—Oof.“

The current made Thomas collide into something. It felt warm and soft, albeit damp. And the thing had a tiny hand clamped on the sleeve of his jacket. Oh dear lord please don’t let it be a killer sea creature!

“Sorry man,” said the something that was not a sea creature.

It was a rat with brownish russet fur that almost looked orange in the sunlight. Poor thing was soaked ear to tail; yet he seemed to not be very much bothered by their current predicament. Frankly Thomas was a little bit impressed by this rat’s very chill attitude. As for the talking factor, well, at this point not much surprised him.

“Thought you were a raft,” said the Rat.

“Oh, no I’m not a raft,” said Thomas, happy to find he wasn’t alone. “I’m a Thomas.”

“Hello. I’m a Toby named Rat. Or a Rat named Toby. Depends on the day, and today, I’m Toby.”

“Nice to meet you Toby. Just wish the circumstances were better,” said Thomas. “Say, is there a raft around here though? Like a rescue party or something?”

“Dunno. Maybe,” said Toby. “What would a raft look like? Does it look anything like a rat? Oh I hope it’s not made of rats, or that would be bad news for me!”

“Umm it’s like a big, wide, sometimes flat thing you can float on,” said Thomas.

“Oh, you mean like that?” Toby asked, pointing over Thomas’s shoulder.

Thomas turned around to where Toby was pointing and saw that, indeed, there was a raft. Not one make of rats, thankfully, but rather of tied together branches drifting their way. It even had a mast with a rainbow flag tied on top and flapping in the breeze. There even seemed to be a few other animals riding on it as well.

“Yes! Yes, exactly like that. We’re SAVED!” Thomas cheered. “Come on Toby, we can swim straight toward—

“GAAAHHHH!!!” screamed Toby.

“What? What’s wrong, are you alright?” Thomas asked, worried that the Mouse might be drowning.

“How can you say such a cursed S word?” asked Toby, clearly aghast but very much not drowning.

“What, swim?”

“No, no, that’s as harmless as a cat.”

“…Saved?”

“Not yet we aren’t. Come on let’s swim ahead. They seem to be meeting us halfway, you silly goose.”

“I’m not a goose, I’m a man.”

“A goose can’t be a man too?”

“…You know what? Never mind.”

“Can’t never a mind if you haven’t got the right kind.”

Thomas was very confused but decided not to press the matter further. Goodness knows, he didn’t want to end up in a defensive argument again like he had with those mean flowers. So he and Toby swam forward until their fingertips touched the edge of the raft, which was indeed made out of wood and thankfully not rats. A shadow was cast over them, and Thomas looked up only to be faced with a rather large crab. Thomas might have been frightened of it under normal circumstances but by this point, the only thing that really would surprise him is if something relatively normal happen.

“Well hi there precious,” said the Crab, in a sort of southern drawl. “Looks like you’re in need of some assistance.”

“Yes! Yes we are,” Thomas said, relieved.

He expected the Crab to pull both him and Toby onto the safety of their raft. However, they just kept a clawed grip on them as they bobbed along. After a pause the Crab spoke again, giving Thomas a pointedly expecting look.

“Yes aaand?” he asked.

“Um, yes and, I’d really appreciate it if you pulled me and Toby up onto your raft, please?” asked Thomas.

"Now that’s more like it sugar! Yes and sugar, I can certainly do that.”

The Crab pulled Thomas out of the water with one claw and Toby out with the other. Thomas was sopping wet and incredibly grateful to be on a solid dry surface again. He saw Toby shake himself out to dry his wet fur like a puppy would. Unfortunately Thomas wasn’t able to get dry that way, sadly, but he did take his shoes off and wring out his socks. I’m sure nobody will mind, Thomas though as he pulled off his left then right sneaker, then his right and left sock, and then wiggled his raisiny wrinkled toes. There was nothing worse than the feeling of wet socks, no matter what world within or without of a rabbit hole you were in. It was just a universal unpleasantness. Hopefully the suns warm rays would help dry him off a bit.

“You can call me Mike by the way,” said the wide faced Crab, whose name was Mike.

“Thank you Mike. My name’s Thomas and he’s Toby—“

“I don’t believe you,” said another voice.

Thomas turned towards the source and saw a Dodo bird wearing a French Revolution style jacket and three point hat with a rainbow feather in it. Despite Dodos being extinct and probably being nowhere near France, this honestly wasn’t the strangest thing Thomas has seen today. So it was somewhat believable that one would be talking to him.

“Um, but that is my name,” he said. “My name is Thomas Sanders—”

“Yes, and I am Magenta, Captain of this vessel, as you can tell from the feather in my hat. And these are my troupe of buccaneers.”

The endangered if not extinct Dodo gestured a stubby wing towards the two other creatures aboard the raft. There was Mike the crab, and a Duck whose name Thomas did not yet know. Along with him and Toby, they were a queer group to say the least. (In both the old and new sense of the word, he would guess form the rainbow flag) Still, it cheered Thomas up to not be floating alone anymore. On top of that, the sun was finally drying him off. Thomas couldn’t believe his luck.

“I don’t believe it,” he said, with a grateful smile.

“Alright,” said Magenta. “Then I am Magenta, Admiral of this vessel, as you can tell from my macaroni. And these are my troupe of hostages”

“Wait what?” Thomas asked, thoroughly confused and a little anxious. Suppose the reverse could be worse, he thought.

“Yes,” said the Duck. “And I am Brian, the senior hostage, for I am the oldest.”

“Um, I don’t believe you sugar cube,” said Mike.

“I am Brian, the newest hostage, for I am the most clever,” said Brian.

“I don’t believe you!” Toby chimed in.

All four animals looked towards Thomas expectantly. Ohhh now I get it.

“I don’t believe you?” Thomas asked, familiar with the rules of the game, now that he recognized it.

“For I am the dumbest,” said Brian.

“I don’t believe you,” said Mike, giggling.

“For I am the most gay,” said Brian.

“Yes and,” said Magenta with a solemn nod. “Although, it could always be gayer.”

“Yes and!” They all chimed together.

Thomas found himself actually having fun for the first time since he’d arrived in this strange place. It sure was a good thing he’d gotten better at improv since practicing so much with Joan. Maybe he could even use this as a way to get some directions. If not, well, at least they could keep playing until someone saw dry land. Hopefully.

“Yes, and I had seen a…white rabbit earlier today,” said Thomas.

“I don’t believe you,” said Toby.

Thomas grinned to himself, proud of how clever he was being. “I had seen a Black Rabbit earlier, but lost it.”

“I don’t believe you sweet pea,” said Mike.

“A-about the first or second half?”

“Yes and,” said Mike.

“O-kaaay, It was a black rabbit, and I was trying to catch up to him.“

“I don’t believe you,” said Magenta.

“…It was a Black. Rabbit. And—“

“I don’t believe you,” all four animals said.

Thomas groaned. “Geez, okay, well, I’m not going to change that part. Screw the rules. I am sticking to my guns with that, because it WAS a Black Rabbit and it ran away from me, and I have to find him because he dropped his pocket watch and I want to give it back to him.”

“Yes and,” said Brian. Thomas smacked himself on the forehead. “I saw a Rabbit shaped fellow earlier with black fur and a purple waistcoat.”

Thomas perked up. “You did!? I mean, Yes! And?”

“Yes and he was doggy paddling anxiously through the water, so clearly he was actually a rabbit shaped Dog.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Magenta.

“I do! I believe you,” said Thomas. The rest of them paid him no mind though.

“Alright then. He was a rabbit shaped paddle,” said Brain.

“Yes,” said Mike. “And he swam that gay, on his way to the Red Queen’s castle.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Toby.

"He was on his was to the Yellow King's castle."

"Yes and!"

Thomas let out a big sign and sat down on the raft as the others continued to play. This was getting ridiculous. He thought for sure he was starting to get on the right track, but then they had to keep imposing their own ideas into his line. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he didn’t like that what he knew was the right thing was being dragged so much you might as well call it left. At a certain point, even a ridiculous story line had to have some truth and consistency to it. I mean you can spell madness without sense…I think?

Fortunately Thomas hadn’t gotten too deep into mulling this verbatim verses spelling conundrum. Otherwise he might have missed the very distinct strip of land that came into view over the water. And it was getting bigger and bigger, as though the mainland itself had drunken from one of those growth sodas. Either way, Thomas hadn’t been so happy to see dry land since his uncle’s last fishing trip.

“Land hoe!” Thomas said, pointing ahead.

When he turned towards the rest of the strange crew, they didn’t share in his excitement like he thought they would. If anything, the animals shot him a look that could almost read as judgy-wudgy.

“Now there’s no need for that kind of language sugar bean,” said Mike, his claws tut-tutting. “If a piece of land wants to be sex-positive, that is their prerogative.”

“No, no not that kind a— I meant there’s land straight ahead.”

“GAAAHH!” All the animals screamed.

“What? What did I say!?” asked a startled Thomas.

“How DARE YE say the ‘S’ word!” said Magenta, his beady eyes glaring.

“Again!” Toby said, tail trembling.

“What would your mother say!?” Mike asked, aghast.

“She certainly wouldn’t say that,” said Brian. “A self respecting mother would sooner stick a bar of soap in her own mouth. That always teaches naughty mouthed boys a lesson in saying bad words.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“Wait…you mean ‘straight?’” asked Thomas. They gasped. “All I said was there’s land straight ahe—“

Another terrified scream. Brian looked about ready to faint.

“Now really, you all are being silly. There’s nothing wrong with the word straight.” They screamed again. “And we’ve got to steer this raft on a straight—”

Again they screamed, gasped, and yes even fainted. Those still conscious gambled about aghast across the deck or around the rainbow flagged mast. Thomas sighed and rolled his eyes. And they call me a gay disaster.

“—coarse.” Thomas sighed.

This was clearly getting him nowhere, and he wanted off this raft. Fortunately the tide was on his side, and as the waves rolled them forward he could see that the water was just shallow enough for him to wade hip deep through. So he grabbed his sun dried shoes and socks, (held above his head of course because what would be the point of them getting wet again?) and carefully lowered himself off the side of the raft into the water. His feet sunk into soft sea soil but at least he could stand. Thomas would have said his thanks and goodbyes to the animals, but given their current state he thought better of it. So he simply started wading through the water towards shore.

At last, he touched dry land. Thomas took a full breath of relief. From his current vantage point, it looked as though he had stumbled upon the outer edges of a tropical island. With long green stems for trees, soft brown sand, and in the distance the greenery rustled with (he shuddered to think) the scurrying of animals or insects. But he reasoned that by normal Thomas-sized standards, it was probably just a regular garden. To think that his river of tears had likely been nothing more than a silly puddle problem, although it certainly had felt bigger at the time.

“Well that was the oddest trip on a boat I ever took,” he said, grabbing a blade of grass to towel dry his legs with. “At least it wasn’t boring. Now to figure out where I am…Probably would be easier if I was people sized again.”

Indeed, while crying himself a river had improved Thomas’s mood, it did nothing to improve his current height. He immediately regretted not saving some of that soda. At the very least, the silver pocket watch was still with him.

“Okay new plan,” he said as he put his socks and shoes back on. “Get back to me size, then find the Black Rabbit and give him his pocket watch back. He’s probably worried sick over it, poor guy…Guess I’ll just walk straight ahead till I find a path.”

If Thomas has strained to listen, he might have heard the echo of a queer troupe of animals crying out from across the water.

NEXT=>

General Tag List: @quoth-the-sparrow @altruistic-skittles @em-be-lievable @justisaisfine @broadwaytheanimatedseries@thekeytohappiness-is-you @jynxlovesluck @queer-human-being@phlying-squirrel @ab-artist @grey-lysander @a-valorous-choice@xx-fandom-potato-xx @impatentpending @book-of-charlie@randomslasher @tinkslittlebelle @insanelycoolish @ironwoman359@icecoldparadise @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper@patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6 @hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstone-fox@smokeyrutilequartz @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton@notveryglittery @eequalsmcscared @safesandersides@lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @unikornavenger @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @backatthebein @mephonic @paperghastly @ravenclawangst @iamtrashcans@loganberrysanders @icequeenoriginal @ierindoodles @a-new-witch-in-learning @punsterterry @goldteethandacurseforthistown @your-average-pangirl

Wonderland AU Tag List: @thatsthat24 @punsterterry @mycatshuman @to-precious-to-process @amazable01 @monstercupcake61176 @pinkbea09 @aliceofscarletflames @llamaavocado @justsomerandomhooman @romano-cheesy @grade-a-trash-blog @chituri @dangerfishie @bat-fangirl77-fan @icantbeme71097 @thesassiersilv101 @the-psycho-pie @satanblessi @elementalshadowwitch @stuck-in-a-surrealist-painting @journalanxiety @atomics-writings @notcool88@purplelamaart @stuck-in-a-constant-daydream @thunderstorms-roar @sanderssidesstuff @wheezewhats-life @sillydeer39 @starbucks-remy @sugarglider9603

#KDsWriting #Thomas in Wonderland AU #thomas sanders #character thomas #sanders sides #sanders sides fandom

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xmoonlightjasminex · 6 years ago

Text

Take Center Stage

Chapter 1

: Testing.....Testing....1-2-3Chapter Text

It was a beautiful day in the city of Paris, The City of Lights and Love and Fashion. People were bustling around, each with their own business in mind. Teachers were teaching, bakers were baking, and in a darkened room stood a costumed man. He wore a dark purple suit and a mask that hid his face. In his hands was a cane and a very interesting brooch in the shape of a butterfly.

Yes, even Hawkmoth the city's resident villain was having a nice day so far. He was just about to scour the air for a new victim to be akumatized. To offer them powers beyond their wildest imagination, for the price of them acquiring the miraculouses of the two town heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Now, if this was a normal day a potential akuma could be found at any time, but try and search as he might Hawkmoth just couldn`t find one. After a full hour of searching he growled before spitting out the words. “Fluther off!” Which was lucky that no one was around to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness as the adult man spat those words as if they had personally offended him.

A tiny lavender creature emerged from the brooch gem, looking at the man in front of him in wariness.

“C..can I help you master?” the Butterfly creature, named Nooroo was still wary of the stone faced man standing in front, no matter how many times he had spoken to him he was still shy.

“Nooroo...Why is no one akumatized yet?” The silhouette of the man spoke, in the dark room illuminated only by the window.

“W..well Master, it seems that no one is angry today?” Nooroo`s statement ended more as a question.

“....I see. And tell me Nooroo. Does one have to be angry to become an akuma?” The man questioned.

“N..not really.” The tiny creature mumbled, looking at his tiny nubs for hands.

“T..they just have to feel a strong enough emotion.” He was going to continue explaining, but was cut off.

“A strong enough emotion? One that does not have to be negative?” The man asked as a completely new idea formed into his mind. “W..well yes but…” poor Nooroo was cut off from speaking as he was sucked into the brooch by his wielders next words. “Fluther on!” The newly masked Hawkmoth began to search with renewed vigor for an akuma. And not five minutes later he found his next champion.

A girl in a state of ennui, wanting and wishing to be special. And he could make her special, give her a gift to differentiate her from all the others. And all she had to do was, obey him. Just as he summoned a butterfly to rest on his hand and to corrupt before sending it to his new victim, there was a knock from the other side of the door.

“Mister Agreste? I am sorry to bother you, but there is an urgent matter concerning the newest production line….” A female voice spoke from the other side.

As he had turned to the door, Hawkmoth didn't notice a the small butterfly with a tiny black dot on its pristine white wings fluther away. No, but the tiny god currently residing in the brooch did, and it didn't plan on saying anything. “I will be out in a moment Natalie.” The man spoke, before hastily de-transforming, showing renown Fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste to be hiding behind the Butterfly mask.

Completely forgetting about the planned akumatization, the man took off said brooch and left it and the tiny creature in the room. Soon he would be so swamped with paperwork and business associated stress, that he will completely forget the new discovery he learned from Nooroo.

Unlike him, once he was left alone, Nooroo flew towards the window and if he squinted he could see the tiny butterfly flying away to its new champion. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Edelweiss Amarante was bored. The German-French brunette blue-green-eyed girl had just arrived to Paris with her mother and father a month ago, and already the young teenager was bored. And she had been so excited to finally get to do something unusual. She loved the moving, and she loved the townhouse her parents had gotten from a very distant relative who wanted to move to the Alps, for whatever reason. She loved her room, which was at the top floor of the huge house, an entire floor to herself. Granted it had been the attic before, but it had such a rustic charm to it.

Heck ,she even loved the tenants her parents had taken under their wings when they arrived. She loved family dinners where she met a bunch of people from all different kinds. The only downside to that was that none of the tenants had any kids, either they were too young in college or still trying their luck in finding work, or too old with their children and grandchildren all grown up. Or not married.

She was the only child at the entire house. Of course by default that meant she was babied and had a bunch of big sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles and elderly who looked after her and greeted her. And she loved that, she loved greeting Madame Beauchamp as she left for school and the older woman was watering her beautiful gardenia bush in the enclosed garden. She loved visiting Natasha, Katya and Mila the three Russian students that studied at the Royal Academy of Dance. They would fuss over her, teaching her tips and tricks and words in Russian.

She liked talking about books with Lucas, a British gentleman who lived to read. And his complete opposite of a partner Mark who was a boisterous and loud. And their poor roommate who had to be a witness to their couple moments the jokester Enric who would crack a joke anytime to make the two blush.

She liked to greet the resident mystic Madame Dorina, as she liked to be called. She had transformed her living room into a fortune tellers parlor, and had regular visitors. She would often usher Edelweiss in and make her a cup of tea to tell her fortune, her beloved white Persian Cat Leila mingling under the table begging for a scratch or a treat. Her other cat Hades, a pitch black Shorthair stood a ways away, always watching like a silent protector. He had the arrogance his name gave him, Madame Dorina had once told her, that she never let anyone in whom he didn't like.

Monsieur and Madame Hawa were an Arabic couple that had emigrated to France in the 80`s, they were a delight in the dinner table. Madame always knew a brand new recipe and a way to change a dish flavor by using a tiny amount of spice, and Monsieur Hawa could spin the best of stories, like a magician speaking magic.

For Edelweiss it was beautiful, there was never a dull moment. But compared to all those people who were there, even her own parents she was completely ordinary. Even her schoolmates weren`t excluded. She heard there were many talented and even a famous model at her school. She had yet to meet them or learn their names, but compared to them what did Edelweiss had?

A tiny passion for singing? What a joke.

The brunette girl sighed as she had looked out the window to the sky. It was a lovely day, that she had spent helping Madame Beauchamp with her prized flowers, and a small bouquet of fragrant blossoms sat on her desk.

So deep in thought was Edel, that she didn't notice when a beautiful white butterfly fluttered into her room, and after a moment of flitting around the space before finally resting on her chest and disappearing in a glow of white.

The moment that happened Edelweiss felt a drowsy slumber overtake her, so closing her eyes she dreamed a dream filled with wonder and beauty. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day rose bright and early, and Edel was already bustling through her room. She was up and couldn't make herself go down stairs yet. Her parents Eric and Christine, yes she knew how ironic those names were, she had watched Phantom of the Opera. It didn't help that her folks had quite the pipes on them, or were avid music lovers.

She had the idea to try and sing a song, maybe it would make her feel better.

I want to be extraordinary Not just extra-ordinary She began singing, before shrugging her shoulder, sitting down on her bed.

It seems like everywhere I see People far more interesting than me I know the changes kinda scary But maybe I should try to vary She remembered the tenants and all their talents and hobbies, all so very different and new and interesting.

Some minor details A small degree A slightly different version of me Looking out her window, she began to imagine the possibilities.

Well I could learn to cook vegetarian Or take fashion workshop Meditate, calculate Learn to knit a tank top She did notice that her imagined scenes were far more realistic looking than usual, like she was actually trying these thing, albeit for a brief few seconds. The cooking, the fashion, meditating, calculating and knitting. All of them, but she still continued to sing.

Yoga, hula Clogging, jogging Walking on a tightrope Take a correspondence course And learn to make my own soap Even more activities she cycled through.What was going on??

Jumping on a pogo stick Standing in a wheat field Going on a snipe hunt Gonna keeps my eyes peeled Take a little time to really decorate my door And change my hair to black and then I'll dye it even orange She could feel the texture of her hair changing, she wansn`t imagining these places she was making them appear. How was she doing this?!

Underwater taxidermy Shopping for a suitcase Peeling tangerines while placing second in a sack race

Lion taming, online gaming Try'n to win a prize fight Appear in a talk show Dress-up like a water sprite She really started to go into the song, liking her scenery changing after her voice.

Yeah! I'm gonna be extraordinary I'm gonna stand out from the crowd And shout out loud You'll see That it's a brand new me!! Finally she finished her song,going through several other hobbies before she was back in her room, breathing slightly hard. Looking around she couldn`t understand what happened, how did she do that? The burst of confidence that song and that experience gave her was so good!

‘I`m glad you like it.’ A voice whispered and she shrieked in surprise looking around for the source.

‘Wh-what the!! Who, who said that?!” She asked aloud, but no one was up there.

Here it is if you wanna read it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13883553/chapters/31944003

#miraculous ladybug #partialy corrupted akuma #non-controllable akuma

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kurtty-drabbles · 7 years ago

Note

“They have powerful Gods on their side.” Rome meme with Kurt/Kitty from earth!616 please :3

@isawthegreatvoidinyoursoul @augment-techs @djinmer4 @rachel-foley @asakacc

Kurt Wagner: A God whose life and existence never could leave the Heaven and often wonder about the creature below. Those creature named humans fascinated Kurt in good and a bad way, those small being that can create and destroy in the same day.The blue elf does not like to think of himself as a stalker or peek, but gain a new hobby to observe a certain human in earth named Kitty Pryde, and, soon become more fascinated by her specific than the other humans.The woman is sharp, brave and gentle. In some case, Kurt wonders if her braveness can also be a case of lack common sense, to the point Kurt has to intervene, which, sometimes prove to be not needed since this woman always has a plan B to save herself and her friend.Many Gods did fall for humans albeit some courtships are not completely consensual, Zeus is one of the great examples of Male Gods using the second head and nothing else. Kurt wants the courtship to be consensual.In one of Kitty´s much bizarre adventurous, she had to meet the blue God when he is taking a bath in a way that resembles a big furry cat.“Hi,” says smiling bashfully Kurt.“Hi, you´re Kurt?”“Yeah, dispense the situation I´m Kurt”“Storm said to meet you. That you could help me”“Oh, she said that?”“Yes, but I can wait for you to finish your bath”Kitty Pryde: Never was tied to the society´s norms and spend her life in exciting voyage meeting mystical creature and even meeting some deities, she even becomes friends with a tiny purple dragon named Lockheed who follows her around loyally. The romance was never a priority to her, not that Kitty was ever rejecting the idea.After meeting Kurt Wagner, the swashbuckling God that loves to drink a beer and enjoy the day and night, Kitty can say that her best adventures need to have the fuzzy elf.“So, elf, what you Gods do up there?”“ Oh, drink, sleep around and mess with mortals”“Sounds tedious ““It is and that why I like to be here with you and Lockheed”“Ah, thanks, Elf”“But if you ever wanted to see how is like let me know and I´ll have the pleasure to show how it is”“Sounds tempting, if you Gods have chocolate …I have no choice to be all yours”“…Is this indirect to know this chocolate thing?”“Maybe”

#kurtty #kitty pryde #kurt wagner #gods au #no X-man can be Zeus #I don´t like ZEUS #lockheed

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starfleetorbust · 7 years ago

Text

Perfect Day - Part 2

Part 1

Look! There’s a Spock in this part xD This one’s longer. The ‘chapters’ really fluctuate in length. -shrug- Too proud of this to care that much. Tiny warning (not quite a warning): Lots of educational text in here and yes, it does probably get boring if you’re not looking to learn. It’s the Vulcan equivalent of flirting and I won’t apologize for it. I tried not to sound too textbook but it only will get worse from here, so if you don’t like it, you probably won’t like the rest of this story.

Now that your rest had been interrupted, you glanced around to find your own partner. Spock had departed earlier on a walk and you could see him over by edge of the water in the distance. He stood silhouetted between the sun and the natural caves and caverns that had been carved into the landscape. You chuckled as you saw the little shadow leaning down into the water and standing up again repeatedly. You headed over to see what had captured his interest, taking a moment to admire the waves as you walked. The tide wasn’t very strong right now, but even so, white waves rippled in the distance. While back over by Jim there had barely been a disturbance in the water, here there was a steady rhythm to the sound of them crashing against the rocks as you approached. When you reached close enough to see Spock clearly, you realized he was standing out on some protruding land on the end of a small peninsula of broken rocks. You stood back and just watched for a moment. Every few minutes, Spock would lean over and inspect the water for a moment before the waves would pull in and he would quickly stand and dart back away from the water. He was cat like and light on his feet and you enjoyed the humorous sight for another minute.

You carefully maneuvered around the rocks and quietly sneaked up, trying to time it so when he pulled back from one of the waves, you tapped one of his shoulders. The Vulcan spun around to face you but even then, he didn’t seem like he was particularly surprised with that perfectly stoic face he always kept. You gave him a small pout. “Y/n, you make too much noise to surprise me.” He pointed out, noticing your small frown, but you noticed his eyes seemed a little more dilated than usual. Perhaps you really had startled him. “So, what’s got you so intrigued?” The briefest of smiles crossed his lips and he gestured with his finger for you to kneel down beside him to see the rocks. At first you didn’t see what he was gesturing at. The water was more green in this area but still clear enough to see the bottom. You followed Spock’s finger but all you could see was a scattering of broken shells and sand. You started to turn to ask, but then a small movement caught your attention and you watched the small fish dart across one of the pools into some leaves that you realized were tiny sea fingers. Your eyes lit up and now you understood.

“You found a tidal pool!” Now he had completely enraptured your attention. This was your expertise. Back on the ship you were the head of the xenobiology department and these pools were brimming with life, albeit from Earth. For a second you ran your hand through the water, but pulled it out with a yelp. So much for swimming. The water was freezing and you know fully understood why Len had been so angry at Jim. Spock watched you with an amused glint in his eyes. Fish scattered away from the ripples and caused the puddle to seem much more alive than it had a second ago. The longer you stared at the pools the more life you were able to identify in the shallows. The water wasn’t perfectly clear, which made it hard to recognize life among the rocks that littered the ground. Urchins hid between the algae and the shells camouflaged the snails until they moved. Suddenly Spock’s hand was on your shoulders and he lifted you up and pulled you away from the edge of the water as a wave spread across where you had just been kneeling. Now that you were standing, you could see there were more tidal pools scattered across the shore. You moved over to another pool this time the water pulled back and Spock seemed to follow in tow. “A starfish!” You exclaimed, seeing the red creature immediately and reaching down for it despite the cold water. You brushed the sandpaper like skin. “The name seems illogical, given it is not a species of fish.” “Scientist sometimes reclassify them as sea-stars, but the colloquial name stems from before fish were really classified into any groups. In those times, any creature in the ocean was called ‘fish’.” You softly peeled the creature off of the rock it had been resting on as you spoke. “They don’t even have blood. They just pump seawater through them to get the nutrients from that.” Keeping the specimen underwater, you lifted him closer to the surface and rotated the star around to better see it. A hand in the water landed on your wrist and Spock was looking at you with a slight frown. “You do not need to remove it from its environment.” “I won’t take him from the water. It doesn’t hurt to move him Spock, you know that. I know what I’m doing and you’ve seen me work in our labs on all the specimens we receive.” You felt a little hurt that he was chastising you. He knew what you were capable of, and he knew that you cherished life enough not to take a sea-creature on land. “I am well aware of your expertise, y/n. But removing this life from its home will cause it great stress. Even the Enterprise teams seek only to remove non-sentient creatures from their planets. There have been miscalculations in the past, but we strive not to be cause of any discomfort. It is the essence of our Prime Directive. The statement does not only apply to civilizations and cultures, but to any species we encounter on the planet.” He guided your hands back down and replaced the starfish where it had been prior. You pulled your hands out you wiped them dry on your jacket. “I’m sorry Spock. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just got overly excited at seeing all these creatures. I just wanted to see him better.” “I understand y/n. However, in this case, I believe it would be best if we refrain from moving them. The creatures here are in their homes.”

While you tried to heed Spock’s advice, you found your curiosity peaked too much to avoid it completely. After a few more pools had been uncovered by the two of you, you braved the icy water again to brush you fingers against one of the anemones and watch as the tendrils curled onto your fingers. While they weren’t sticky, they clung to your skin as you freed your hand. A hermit crab scrambled away from the commotion as you pulled your hand back out. When you glanced back at Spock, there was a hint of a smile.

You stayed there for a while, losing track of time in all the creatures. The two of you moved along the rocks, exploring each pool and the creatures within. Your shoes got soaked but it was too fun to want to leave. Spock would point out creatures and you would happily identify them for him and tell him fun facts about them. Spock was an excellent observer, and was able to locate the species a lot faster from field experience, but he would always turn to you to ask for clarification and identification. It was one of the wonderful things about Spock. Despite his high IQ, he always knew when to defer to another’s expertise. You never felt like he was trying to be the smartest one in the room, like many other professors and chief officers you had worked with. Spock loved to learn, and often when he came around to check on experiments in the lab, it wasn’t to check precision so much as simply being genuinely fascinated by the results and analysis that went on by his crew. He loved hearing you talk and teach him, and in turn he often taught you things in fields he was vastly superior in. He pointed out some barnacles lining the rocks, and small snail shells that you might not have seen buried among the rocks too deep for you to reach.

“And that?” He pointed to a spotted brown and green area that was moving lightly. You would have looked over it as a mossy rock if you weren’t looking carefully. “Aplysia californica. A sea hare, more specifically a Californian one.” Spock’s attention turned back to you and he seemed completely enraptured in what you had to say. There was something wonderful about the way you were the center of his interest. “They’re named after the little antenna on them that make them look like rabbits. They’re hermaphroditic but surprisingly not asexual and as a defense they make these slimes that we actually don’t know what they do.” “Is there no testing that can be done?” “We can but its difficult because there are several unique chemicals they can create and so many fish react differently. Some deter enemies and some attract food. There’s a purple one that natives used to use as a dye and one even acts like a sunscreen for these guys when the tides get too shallow.”

The thought of sunscreen reminded you of the incident earlier with Jim and you glanced up. The sun was low in the sky and you had not even realized how much time had passed just between you two. “Hey Spock? We should probably head back over to the truck.” “A logical choice,” he answered, standing and offering his hand to help you up.

@mccoymostly @kaitymccoy123 .... someone else asked to be here and I can’t remember D: I feel bad now. Also look at that cute picture! Doesn’t quite match, but it’s totally how I see him here.

#perfect day #Look there's a spock #Yay!#:D

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ramblinganthropologist · 8 years ago

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Best laid plans

For once, it’s not a prompt! Instead, I was inspired by a t-shirt.

Summary: Avery wants to show Fenris her cool shirt. Problem is, she’s getting more than she bargained for. Pairing: Fem! FenHawke, pre-dating. Setting: That Modern Dragon Age AU Words: 1600

For once, it was a decent day in Kirkwall. The sky above was a rusty orange as the day gave way to night and people headed from work to home. Chatter filled the streets as the occupants of what was fondly known as a “giant shithole” dawdled in their tasks to take one last look at the sky before heading in. As merchants shut up their wares for the day, a peaceful feeling settled in that would no doubt be broken in a few hours by some ill-mannered assholes with swords.

Two of said ill-mannered assholes, or rather the ones who mostly got paid to deal with them once the city guard stopped dying from embarrassment, were making their way down one of those streets. Fenris and Avery had just finished an errand together, and the path to the man's borrowed mansion was littered with shadows.

“I thought that guy was going to piss himself when you showed up!” Avery's voice bounced off the walls of well to do residents' homes as she laughed. Her sword and shield were paired with t-shirt and jeans for once. After all, they had only needed to threaten instead of actually hurt. Since it meant less laundry, her mother wouldn't get on her case. “Or maybe he did, it smelled pretty bad in there.”

Fenris chuckled as he held the door open for his guest, closing it behind him once they were inside. The floor was dusty, but at least there were no splinters. A certain half elf had made sure of that when she had all but chased him out of his own house with a broom. She did good work, even if her methods were a tad unconditional.

“It would not be unusual.” He sighed in relief as he placed his sword against the wall for a moment, watching as it was joined by a battered shield and over sized dagger. “Though, if I may ask a question, Hawke?”

Avery had been in the middle of stretching out, so she was caught in the middle of being doubled over. In a smooth motion, she rose back to her meager height in order to give him her full attention. Blue eyes met green, and the gaze was so strong he considered looking away for a moment.

“What's up, Fen?”

He fumbled for his words for a few minutes, though whether it was from language barrier or something else entirely. His tongue eventually untangled, though it still felt somewhat knotty when he put his thoughts together into something that would work.

“I was just curious about your shirt. What does it mean?”

In response to his question, she cocked her eyebrow but then looked down at the black t-shirt she was wearing. On the front in bright yellow letters, the message asked the viewer to ask her about her dark side. What that meant, though, was beyond him.

“I think it'd be easier if I showed you instead.”

That time it was Fenris' eyebrow that all but zoomed off his face as he watched Avery reach for the bottom hem of her shirt and lift it up, exposing the tank top she was wearing underneath. However, she didn't take it off, but instead pulled it over her face. Someone had printed the face of a mask there in white, and it stared right at him.

At first, he worried she might have problems breathing since the sounds coming from under the shirt were bordering on painful. However, it soon became clear to him that she was doing it on purpose rather than from need.

“Would this be another reference?”

From under her mask shirt, Avery left out a rather strangled noise that reminded him of a cat that had used to live outside his home. One blue eye peaked out at him from the neck of the shirt, glowing in the low light of the mansion. It was as wide as a dinner plate.

“You have GOT to be kidding me! You haven't seen it either?!” She was soon trying to pull her shirt back down. “I knew Anders hadn't but by the Maker's lubed up asshole it's an epidemic! That's it, we're having a marathon at my place next weekend.”

Another tug, but her head didn't come free. Then a third followed, but the shirt remained stuck. A sound somewhat like a wounded mabari soon filled the room, causing the man to put a hand over his mouth to stifle a chuckle. In her enthusiasm, it seemed as though she was unable to fit her ears through her shirt.

“Fuck. I'm stuck.” That blue eye found him again. “Little help, Fen?”

Fenris shook his head as he walked over to help Avery out of her predicament. “Will it get me out of this marathon?”

“Not on your life.” Another tug, and then, “Maybe it'll get you out of the prequels.”

Well, that was a deal he could hardly pass up. Fenris really did chuckle that time as he helped navigate pointed ears out of the neck of the t-shirt. With a few handy tugs, she was soon free and none the worse for the wear save for being a tiny bit disheveled. Of course, since she had escaped the veritable hell of a fabric prison, he had to admit that was a light punishment.

Avery was all grins as she swiped a strand of hair behind one of her treacherous ears. “Thanks for the save. Man, I have to admit that was not how I saw you getting me out of my clothes.”

Her mouth lingered open, but no more sound came out. Instead, brilliant color bloomed across the half elf's cheeks and spread across her entire face, even reaching the tips of her ears. She reminded him of a tomato in some instance, albeit a very deadly one. He couldn't really criticize, though, as he felt his own face heat up.

Without another word, she reached out her hand for her abandoned t-shirt. Fenris handed it over gladly, avoiding making too much contact. This time it was much easier to pull on, and soon she was headed for the door, shield in hand. However, as she walked away, he noticed something laying on the floor, just out of her reach.

“Hawke. You forgot something.”

Fenris stooped down in order to retrieve her forgotten belonging. A length of shiny purple ribbon rested in his closed fist, the ends dangling as he moved. In the rush to free her from her shirt, it had fallen from her hair.

Avery stopped in order to retrieve her lost item. She took the time to return it to her ponytail, tugging on the ends to make sure everything was straight. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before she turned to leave, still red faced.

The man bit his lips before he spoke. “I will see you next weekend for the marathon, then?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sure. Around noon, block your day out.”

He would kick himself for this later, but Fenris had to add it. “Also... I hope the next time we have the chance to... remove clothing... that it is far more enjoyable.”

The squeak that followed could have summoned dogs from all of Kirkwall. Avery slammed the door behind her so hard it dislodged dust. Mentally, he was already kicking himself as he watched her go. It had probably sounded better in his head.

Sighing, Fenris returned to his borrowed mansion. He had a sword to clean, and apparently a marathon to prep for. Since it was the kind without running, he could at least be assured that they wouldn't be going anywhere. At least, he hoped so.

---

“He did not say that!”

“I swear on Andraste's finely oiled Antivan strap on that he did!”

The Hanged Man had been the closest, and after that she had needed a drink. Avery would have rested her burning face on the table, but... well, it was the Hanged Man after all. Instead, she was working on her second ale. Next to her, Isabela was working on her third.

The pirate chuckled as she took a sip from her mug, placing it on the table in front of them. “And let me guess. You turned bright red and ran out of there like the void itself was on your heels.”

When the half elf didn't answer, she laughed. “Of course you did. Templars and raiders are no problem, but a handsome man you're interested in all but inviting you to sex is out of the realm of possibility.”

“Templars are only trying to stick me with their swords, you know.”

Avery sighed as she continued her drink. The way this went, it was going to be a very long night. Thankfully, she had quite a tolerance for alcohol and Varric was holding onto her phone until the next day.

She might not always have bright ideas, but that was one of them.

“Well, at least your shirt plan worked better than you thought it would.” Isabela didn't sound too convinced though. “What's next? Han Solo themed underwear? Do they even make those?”

“If I say yes do I have to reveal why I know it?”

The look the pirate gave her could have put the Blooming Rose out of business. Avery settled for draining her mug. Sometimes, it was better just to say nothing at all. At least she had plans for her next move.

There was a movie marathon just for two to plan for, after all.

#shoutout to reallyfuckinggay for help with the swearing #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Avery Hawke #Fenris #fenhawke #That Modern Dragon Age AU

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megadarkbouquettidalwavethings · 7 years ago

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The Best Wedding-Proposal Stories in 2017

Two days later, Ms. Tang shared the good news with Wilhelmina, and Mr. DeLuca followed by promptly dropping to one knee, again, this time to explain to Wilhelmina the significance of an engagement ring, “and how it is really about a commitment to one another,” as he said to her. He then surprised Wilhelmina with a tiny ring of her own, made of hearts and diamonds.

”In the same way that the ring I gave to your mother represents my commitment to her,” Mr. DeLuca said to Wilhelmina, “this ring represents my commitment to you.”

That left the outspoken Wilhelmina with just one question: “Are these real diamonds?”

Her mother and Mr. DeLuca were married Sept. 9.

2. Uzezi Abugo and Jacob Alderdice

Mr. Alderdice did not want anyone else to know about a secret proposal he planned for Ms. Abugo back in April 2016, so he took an old ring and a picture of her to a jeweler. From that, he picked out a diamond-encrusted double band as an engagement ring he thought would fit her.

A few days later, having enlisted the staff at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx to assist in his plan, he got down on one knee and proposed, with “Marry Me Uzezi” spelled out in wooden letters covered in flowers behind him.

She said yes, but the ring was not as accommodating.

“It didn’t fully fit,” Mr. Alderdice said. “But we had to have the picture of the ring in the proper position with the flowers in the background, so she kind of pushed it on.”

Unbeknown to him, Ms. Abugo’s ring finger was a size 8½. The ring he gave her was a 6½.

A few minutes later, Ms. Abugo realized that the blood had stopped flowing to her finger, which was turning a dark shade of purple, and after trying and failing to remove the ring, they jumped into a cab and headed for the emergency room at Montefiore Medical Center.

Continue reading the main story

“I told him, ‘If you don’t get this ring off soon, I’m going to lose my entire finger,’” Ms. Abugo said, laughing as she recalled the incident. “I told him, ‘I can’t marry you without a ring finger.’”

When they arrived at the hospital, “everyone thought it was hilarious,” Ms. Abugo said.

Though the ring needed to be cut off — leaving her with a scar now hidden by a resized ring — Ms. Abugo’s finger was saved, as was the painfully amusing memory of the day she got engaged.

They were married June 17.

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Ariana Austin and Joel Makonnen.

3. Ariana Austin and Joel Makonnen

Mr. Makonnen, an actual prince who happens to be the great-grandson of Haile Selassie, the last emperor of Ethiopia, and Ms. Austin, who is of Guyanese descent and is the maternal granddaughter of a Lord Mayor of Georgetown, the capital of Guyana, were engaged on Valentine’s Day 2014.

Their marriage had been more than a decade in the making when Mr. Makonnen bought a princess-cut diamond ring and showed up at the home of Ms. Austin’s parents with the bauble in one hand and balloons in another.

Perhaps a bit nervous, he knocked too loudly, leading Ms. Austin to think the house was being burglarized. She called her parents, who were returning home from a dinner party.

“She thought somebody was trying to break in,” said Bobby Austin, Ms. Austin’s father. “And it was just the poor guy trying to propose to her.”

Ms. Austin eventually opened the door, letting in her future husband.

“We always seemed to be in different cities following our ambitions and dreams,” Mr. Makonnen said. “But despite those long separations, I felt like I had proposed at exactly the right moment in our lives for us to make such a wonderful commitment to each other.”

Ms. Austin put less of a fairy tale spin on getting engaged to the prince. “It’s about time,” she said.

Continue reading the main story

They were married Sept. 9.

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Megan Prichard, left, and Amanda Rubenstein.

4. Megan Prichard and Amanda Rubenstein

Ms. Prichard and Ms. Rubenstein were engaged to each other twice, in a span of 17 days.

Ms. Rubenstein proposed first, on Dec. 10, 2016, sweeping Ms. Prichard off her feet with a surprise proposal on the beach in Laguna, Calif., complete with a gallery of pictures of their travels together and a guitar player singing their favorite songs. After returning from a trip to Bali on Dec. 27, Ms. Prichard “counter-proposed” as she put it, surprising Ms. Rubenstein with a treasure hunt around their Corona del Mar home that ended with an engagement ring served on a plate with freshly baked cookies.

“It was really important for both of us that we proposed to each other, so that we each had a full say in the matter,” Ms. Prichard said. “She’s the love of my life, and I wanted to be sure she wanted to marry me, just as sure as she needed to know that I truly wanted to marry her.”

They were married July 22 at the Seven Degrees Art Gallery in Laguna Beach, Calif.

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Lisa Bridge and Gilad Berenstein.

5. Lisa Bridge and Gilad Berenstein

Ms. Bridge was sitting at her desk in Seattle one Saturday when she received a card from Mr. Berenstein that featured a pair of matchsticks hugging along with the words “A perfect match.”

The card read: “Hey babe, change of plans for today. Please Uber to the Fairmont Hotel’s Georgian Room for a surprise. Enjoy! Love, G. Please arrive at 2 p.m.”

Her heart racing, she got into the Uber and told the driver, “I think I’m getting engaged.” She arrived at the Fairmont, “shaking slightly,” she said, and “expecting to see Gilad.” Instead, she saw her two closest friends waving her over to join them for tea.

She was soon handed another card, this one adorned with an image of a fluffy white cat in between chocolate and graham crackers that read “I want s’more of you!” Inside was another note: “Hi babe, I hope you enjoyed the tea and stories. I can’t wait for our next tea adventure! Your next surprise awaits you at 1427 5th Ave. You’ll know it when you see it. Love, G.”

She made her way to that address, which turned out to be her favorite nail salon, and there she saw two more friends who had flown in from Dallas. As they chatted, Ms. Bridge was Facetimed by yet another close friend who shared a few memories. As tears streamed down her cheeks, she was given yet another card: “Congratulations for being sexy and intelligent at the same time.”

Continue reading the main story

That card also recalled the night Ms. Bridge helped Mr. Berenstein celebrate his 30th birthday at a nearby favorite restaurant, where she found two more girlfriends, who had flown in from Los Angeles.

Ms. Bridge was soon handed a final card that read: “You are my bucket list.”

The card instructed her to return to the bar where she and Mr. Berenstein had their first date. Once there, she found him holding two glasses of Champagne. He escorted her to a private room with Frank Sinatra songs playing in the background and red roses set on a table for two.

“He looked at me with tears in his eyes,” Ms. Bridge said. “He told me how much he loved me and that he wanted to spend his life with me.”

With no more instructions needed, Mr. Berenstein dropped to one knee and proposed.

They were married Oct. 7.

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Dr. Michael Flaherty and Dr. Danielle Saly.

6. Dr. Danielle Saly and Dr. Michael Flaherty

In June 2016, four years after meeting at Baystate Medical Center in Springfield, Mass. — where the groom was completing his intern year, and the bride her third-year medical school rotation in pediatrics — Dr. Flaherty invited Dr. Saly to a purported screening of an independent film at the Regent Theater in Arlington.

Unbeknown to her, he had actually rented the theater just for the two of them to show a 30-minute video he had created of friends and family talking about their relationship.

The owner of the theater, who pretended to be an usher, said to the couple: “Business is really tough, it’s hard being an independent theater, but we actually have two other people coming, so you guys go ahead.”

Just before the movie started, Dr. Flaherty excused himself, but Dr. Saly was still alone when it began. She knew something was in the works when an R rating — “for romance” — appeared on the screen. Then came the movie’s title, “The Making of the Flalys,” a combination of their surnames, and soon after came a parade of family and friends onscreen, including a cameo by her grandparents, who live in Israel.

“I was completely overcome with emotion, laughing one minute, crying the next,” Dr. Saly said. “It was unreal.”

Continue reading the main story

As the final credits rolled, Dr. Flaherty was back in the picture, dropping to one knee to propose.

They were married Nov. 4.

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Lin-Manuel Miranda, the creator of “Hamilton,” with Leah Michalos, left, and Rachel Pitkin.

7. Leah Michalos and Rachel Pitkin

Ms. Michalos and Ms. Pitkin also took turns proposing to each other, albeit with a heightened sense of drama.

Ms. Michalos, a theater director, decided to make her pitch on the stage of “Hamilton,” because Ms. Pitkin, a history teacher, had a special affinity for the musical.

Ms. Michalos enlisted the help of a colleague who worked with Lin-Manuel Miranda, the creator of “Hamilton,” and when the time came for the event, Mr. Miranda led Ms. Michalos and Ms. Pitkin through the backstage of the set. Then, Ms. Pitkin recalled, Mr. Miranda discreetly left them alone on center stage after giving a brief description of Alexander Hamilton’s marriage proposal to Eliza Schuyler.

“I did not get down on one knee,” Ms. Michalos said. “I could not for the life of me remember what I actually said — my heart was coming out of my mouth and pounding in my chest.”

After the couple left the Richard Rodgers Theater, they had a glass of Champagne in a Times Square boîte, and then Ms. Pitkin, rather than going to the restaurant that Ms. Michalos had reserved for their engagement dinner, insisted that the two set off on a different route.

As they neared the Walter Kerr Theater, Ms. Michalos turned to Ms. Pitkin and said: “I don’t know if you know this, but the Walter Kerr, that is the night I first realized I loved you.”

They proceeded about 20 feet farther down the sidewalk and there, in chalk that had only partly been obliterated by rain, Ms. Pitkin had inscribed almost exactly the same words Ms. Michalos had just uttered: “This is where I knew I loved you.”

Continue reading the main story

And, having not known that Ms. Michalos’s proposal would precede it, she’d added her own: “Will you marry me?”

They were married Sept. 16

Photo

Charles Bentley, left, and Drake Carden.

8. Charles Bentley and Drake Carden

When Mr. Bentley proposed to Mr. Carden in May 2016, he brought along a 3-year-old named Al who carried the ring, which was attached to his bow tie. Al was neither a family member nor family friend. He was, in fact, a terrier mix, the couple’s dog.

“Yes, our dog was wearing a bow tie,” Mr. Bentley said. “Yes, this is ridiculous.”

As it turned out, Mr. Bentley had beaten Mr. Carden to the proposal punch.

“I had planned to propose at the end of the summer,” Mr. Carden said. “We were taking a vacation at the beginning of August in Central Europe, so I was hoping to do it there. He really did just beat me to it.”

As for Mr. Bentley, he never let on that a proposal was in the works.

“I thought he might be plotting something with this romantic weekend away, but he was very calm the entire day, Mr. Carden said. “He takes a lot of pictures so it wasn’t that odd that he set up a tripod to take a photo of us on a timer, so I didn’t think he had anything up his sleeve.”

If only he had searched Al’s bow tie.

They were married May 13.

9. YJ Fischer and Daniel Schwerin

In September 2017, Mr. Schwerin, who was the director of speechwriting for Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign, finished helping Mrs. Clinton with her new memoir, “What Happened.” The day after the book was published, he and Ms. Fischer left for a vacation in Italy.

Not usually an avid social planner, Ms. Fischer insisted on choreographing their first full day in Rome. She decided to string together several romantic events — a picnic in the Villa Borghese gardens, a Rossini concert in an old church and dinner in a charming neighborhood trattoria in Trastevere — so there would be a few opportunities to propose.

No moment seemed quite right until the end of the night. After a full day and a delicious dinner, she pulled Mr. Schwerin into a narrow cobblestone side street in Trastevere and got down on one knee. “Will you marry me?” she asked in a bit of a role reversal, rendering the speechwriter momentarily speechless. It took him a minute to realize what was going on, but then he laughed and said yes.

Continue reading the main story

They were married Nov. 24.

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Mansi Snehal Kothari and Sushil Raja Atmakuri.

10. Mansi Snehal Kothari and Sushil Raja Atmakuri

In December 2015, the couple visited Central Park and stopped at a bench behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art that Mr. Atmakuri’s family had donated in honor of his grandparents — and by virtue of what they both called “a double proposal,” they became engaged there.

A small crowd gathered when Mr. Atmakuri, a gold wedding band in hand, went to one knee to pop the question, but the crowd grew considerably larger, and noisier, when Ms. Kothari, also holding a gold wedding band, took a knee of her own and returned the favor.

“At that point, people started coming over wondering what was going on,” Mr. Atmakuri said. “We are firm believers in gender equality, and I really feel that there is a gender imbalance when it comes to traditional wedding proposals, where the guy also asks the girl if she wants to marry him.

“But I have so much respect for Mansi, I felt she had the right to ask me the same question. Fortunately, we both had the same answer.”

They were married May 29.

Continue reading the main story

VINCENT M. MALLOZZI

The post The Best Wedding-Proposal Stories in 2017 appeared first on dailygate.

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