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alj4890 · 1 year ago

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Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

(Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis) in a Choices The Royal Romance Crackship AU

Masterlist

A/N This chapter focuses mostly on Olivia's thoughts and actions just as the prologue focused on Maxwell's. The following chapters will show both sides as they begin to see each other more and more during the social season. On a side note, you have no idea how delighted I was to replay Book 1 the other night and notice the colors Maxwell wore to the Masquerade Ball. It was meant to be 😉

Song Inspiration for Olivia: Cold as Ice by Ava Max

Chapter 1

Olivia's chambers, The Royal Palace, Night of the Masquerade Ball...

Olivia eyed her dark gray and silver gown critically. Even though Liam had seen her more times than anyone else in Cordonia, she still wanted to appear at her best for the new crown prince. After all, this was her moment to finally make him consider a future with her.

Who knew when Leo abdicated that this could be the beginning of a dream she'd held onto since she was a little girl?

There was no one like Liam. He was everything good, loyal, and true in her world. His patience and unending kindness was something she herself struggled with, yet admired all the more in him. Since he had the heart, she knew she could be just what his life was missing: strength.

Her very genetic makeup was overflowing with the attribute. It also was filled to the brim with a cold, calculated ruthlessness that few women of the Royal Court possessed. Since Liam's compassion might possibly make him a target, she knew she was the perfect person to protect that rare gift from the ones who would take advantage of it.

She finished brushing her hair, placed a diamond clip to hold her rich red curls in a cascade over her shoulder, and then reached for her locked travel case that held her jewelry she saved for balls and formal dinners.

Her eyes fell upon a rather worn set of papers that were slightly singed in places that she hadn't seen in a few years.

Without wondering why she was doing so, she lifted them out.

Maxwell's poem had caught her eleven year old self completely off guard. After all, she had eyes for no one but the younger prince. Maxwell might have been a good friend and fun playmate growing up, but to actually have him as a significant other...that was...well...

It was something she could never allow herself to contemplate, much less even give a chance. It was a forbidden, almost taboo subject that her aunt spent one of her rare visits harping upon.

She could recall her Aunt Lucretia's reaction to finding the poem a few days after she received it as if the irritating woman was recreating the scene in her room right now.

***************

"What is this, Libby?" Lucretia demanded.

"It's nothing!" Olivia felt both embarrassed to be caught with something like that and furious that her aunt had gone through her personal keepsakes. "Maxwell gave it to me."

"Beaumont? The Spare of Ramsford?" Lucretia's eyes narrowed. "Are you encouraging his," she spat out the next word, "love?"

"No!" Olivia snapped. "We're just friends! I don't know why he wrote that!"

"A Nevrakis doesn't have friends. She has allies, ones who give more than they receive." She crumbled up the papers that Maxwell had poured his heart into.

Before Olivia could stop her, Lucretia threw the wad of sentimental drivel into the great room's fireplace at Lythikos.

"You are meant for far greater things than some spare to a dukedom. Your parents intended you to sit and rule over people, not lower yourself for some lesser noble. You might as well dirty yourself with that commoner Constantine allows to live in the palace with his sons. That's closer to Maxwell Beaumont's level in society." Lucretia narrowed her eyes at her niece. "Besides, love makes one weak. It makes a fool out of people. We Nevrakis are never fools. Do you understand?"

Olivia nodded, watching as the poem began to burn along the edges.

"Good." Her aunt rang for one of the servants to have her car brought around and her bags taken. "I expect to never see anything like this in your room again."

Without so much as a farewell, Lucretia swept out of the room.

Once the door was shut, Olivia dashed over to the fireplace and quickly pulled the crumpled papers out. She ignored the burns to her fingers as she quickly patted out the flames. She gently smoothed the wrinkles out as best she could.

She didn't quite understand why Maxwell had given her this. He always acted strange whenever it was July, saying and doing things to get her attention. She just chalked it up to him being simply Maxwell. She also didn't understand why her aunt acted like a noble born from a bloodline almost as impressive as her own was basically a pariah social wise.

All she did know was that she wanted to keep this poem. Nothing would ever come from it, but it was still something that somehow held a great deal of importance to her. She felt almost a sense of pride for being the first girl amongst her peers to receive a love poem from a not so secret admirer.

She'd keep it hidden for herself as a trophy of sorts. There was no reason anyone should ever know just how important it was to her.

Or that she liked it.

****************

Olivia found herself rereading Maxwell's old love letter once more. Her lips curved somewhat as she came to the part where he described her hair as a crown of flames that put the beauty of a setting sun to shame. Shaking her head over such foolishness, she slipped it back in her jewelry case.

She'd gotten used to his overly dramatic professions of love. It at first embarrassed her, but as she grew older she simply took it for what it was: Maxwell saw her attributes and couldn't help himself. Olivia knew what others admired about her. She knew her worth and what her greatest assets were: her sharp mind and her striking good looks.

Why stop the compliments when it was simply the truth?

She noticed the time and quickly finished getting ready. Once her mask was firmly in place, she smiled at her reflection.

There is no way Liam will be able to even think of choosing someone over me.

***************

The ballroom was packed with nobles and dignitaries from around the globe. Olivia eyed some of her competition with an amused smile.

It's almost too easy. There's no way these other ladies can possibly compete with me.

Her attention snapped to the door when she heard Maxwell's name announced. Her amused smile slowly fell when another name was mentioned tied to House Beaumont.

Who in the hell is Riley Brooks? And why is Maxwell practically doting upon her?

Olivia meandered through the crowd, keeping the pair within her sights. It was strange that Maxwell had not looked around for a glimpse of her. He always sought her out at these types of events. She'd humor him for a while with conversation and a dance or two. He wasn't a bad sort and she probably was more fond of him than she would ever let on.

But he wasn't acting normal. His dimpled smile was directed only on this mystery woman. He was unusually calm. There was no thrumming with the excitement he typically had for a party. He didn't laugh. He hadn't even made a move to get out on the dance floor nor was he sneaking sweets from the nearby buffet.

Olivia despised change, especially in a man who up to this point behaved in a consistent, outrageous manner.

She also hated the unknown, an unknown who must be a suitor for Liam. Her prince.

Summoning a smile, she made her move once this Riley was talking to Drake.

"Will you excuse us," Olivia said in a syrupy tone that made Drake's eyes widen with shock, "but I must have a word with Lady Riley."

She grasped the other woman's arm and practically dragged her away.

"Hey!" Riley wrenched her arm free.

"You're new here." Olivia somehow managed to remain pleasant.

Her gaze swept down the woman's red clad figure. It lingered on the well placed horns.

She really is a devil, Olivia thought. Who else would have the unmitigated gall to wear my color?!

A devious smile curled Olivia's lips.

"Have you met the king yet?" She asked.

Riley shook her head. "No. Maxwell said he would go talk to him first."

"He did, hmm?" Olivia felt an unusual amount of anger flood through her in hearing that. "Let me give you some advice, since you're clearly not a Cordonian."

Riley only quirked an eyebrow in response. If Olivia was already not so set against her, she'd have admitted she was impressed with Riley keeping her cool.

"When you greet the king, remember to kiss his shoe."

Riley blinked. "Kiss his what?"

"Shoe." Olivia replied. "It is customary for all in attendance to pay homage to our king. We being so far below our monarch," her dispassionate gaze swept over Riley once more, "some more so than others, we all must prostrate ourselves before him."

"I see." Riley mumbled, eyes narrowing somewhat in thought.

Olivia noticed Maxwell approaching. She met his eyes and felt a jolt to her system. It was an unusually guarded look in those ocean blue depths of those eyes of his. She couldn't quite tell what he was thinking.

Feeling a bit off kilter in not seeing the obvious adoration in his gaze, she excused herself from Riley. She glanced back to see Maxwell smiling once more at this interloper. He took her arm to lead her over to the line of nobles waiting to greet Liam and Constantine.

Olivia couldn't find a good enough vantage point inside the ballroom. She slipped outside into the courtyard and made her way over to a set of glass paned double doors that allowed her a perfect view of the dias on which Liam stood.

Though she watched Riley with a hint of irritation greet Constantine with a proper non kissing of the shoe curtsy, she could not stop her attention drifting over to Maxwell. He was still acting so out of character. His ramrod posture. The proper tilt to his head. The simple polite smile. She wanted to go over and slap the back of his head to knock the real Maxwell back into place!

If there was one thing she always knew she could depend on, it was that Liam always did the right thing and that Maxwell was always doing his own thing.

She rather admired that quality in Maxwell. No matter what the consequences might be, he never hesitated in doing what he wanted. If he'd been a touch cruel and ruthless in his actions, she'd have thought that a Nevrakis might have at one time been with a Beaumont. But, his antics were innocent and almost always somewhat endearing.

What made him change?

She scanned the crowd for Bertrand. Was he the root cause of Maxwell's new behavior. When she didn't see that more serious minded duke anywhere, she settled her attention once more on Riley.

It has to be her that made him like this. When did it happen? How did they meet? What power does she really have over Maxwell?

And why does it look like she and Liam know each other?!

Olivia was practically seething. She briefly nodded to Kiara and Penelope when they joined her outside. Their conversation revolved around those in attendance and all the usual bits of gossip. Hana soon came outside to greet them.

She was one of the new women to enter their world. Olivia had investigated her the moment she was mentioned to be visiting Cordonia. She might be a possible contender for Liam. She'd been trained in everything and succeeded beyond what many of the ladies could do. She was gorgeous. She also seemed genuinely kind.

She's weak. Too weak. She won't be an asset to anyone, much less Liam.

If she'd known about Riley, she could have investigated her beforehand too. Now she'd have to go about it during the season.

Riley came outside, smiling brightly at them all, and settled between Hana and Penelope.

"Hello." She said to the others. "Everyone having a good time?"

"Of course." Hana replied, relaxing somewhat. "How did it go with meeting the king and Prince Liam?"

"Great." Riley sent a brief smug look towards Olivia. "Both were very happy to meet me."

Olivia humphed. "It looked like you and Liam already know one another."

"Funny how looks can be accurate." Riley quipped. "We've met before."

Olivia's eyes narrowed. Kiara and Penelope took their cues from her and also glared at this unknown entity.

"And where would someone like you possibly meet a prince?"

Riley shrugged with a smile. "The usual places."

"When?" Olivia snapped, irritated with getting nothing out of this woman.

"Once upon a time." Riley teased, thoroughly enjoying this conversation.

"Cute." Olivia bit out. "Regardless of your relationship with Liam, you don't stand much of a chance with him."

"And why is that?" Riley asked as if they were discussing the weather.

"Look around you. You are surrounded by noble ladies who possess the stature and knowledge one needs to reign over a country."

Olivia gestured towards Penelope and Kiara, explaining their lineage and talents.

"Even Hana has a better chance than you despite her broken engagement."

"Thanks?" Hana grumbled.

Seeing Riley still unfazed with the notion of competing with women so far out of her league, Olivia released her frustrations on Hana.

"You should be proud of yourself, Hana. I can't think of too many women who are brave enough to face everyone after such an embarrassing end to their engagement. I mean, to think that after being dumped by some minor earl that you could capture a future king is truly remarkable."

The tears filling Hana's eyes gave Olivia the reassurance she needed that she could still cut people down with her sharp tongue as well as she could with the dagger strapped to her leg.

Riley had somehow made her doubt that ability for a few seconds.

"Hana?" Riley reached out to comfort the distraught lady. "You don't have to listen to her."

"But she's right!" Tears began to fall down Hana's cheeks. "I should have never thought--"

Grasping her skirt, she fled back into the palace.

Riley whirled back towards Olivia.

"You," she hissed, "are a bitch!"

Olivia puffed up with pride.

Damn right I am.

"For what? Reminding her of her place in society?" She asked with a delighted smile.

Riley eyed Kiara and Penelope. "You're really okay with her talking like this?"

"Olivia's only speaking the truth." Kiara snapped.

Penelope added, "If anyone can't take it, then they don't belong here."

Riley glared at them. "I see."

"Do you?" Olivia needled.

"Oh, I definitely do." Riley replied. "Tell me, what makes you so far above the rest of us?"

Olivia began to explain her status as a duchess and why her chances were so great with Liam.

"He would be stuck with a friend like you." Riley taunted. "Good thing I'm here to save him from having to pick his princess from a bunch of children pretending to be so called ladies."

Before Olivia could respond to that, Riley went after Hana.

*****************

Later that night...

Olivia caught sight of Maxwell leaving a bedroom that must be Riley's. Determined to find out what was going on, she called out to him.

He paused mid-step and walked towards her.

"Good evening, your grace." He greeted politely. "Did you enjoy the ball?"

Olivia glared at him. "What's wrong with you?!"

He blinked. "Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're acting weird!" She snapped.

"I am?"

"Yes!" She hissed. "And I don't like it."

Maxwell's eyes drifted over her face.

"Why?" He asked.

"Why what?" She demanded.

"Why don't you like how I'm acting?" He reiterated. "I thought my behavior tonight was pretty appropriate for the most part."

"That's what I don't like! Since when have you ever acted like some proper, boring nobleman?" Olivia jabbed her finger into his chest with each word.

Her eyes widened when she finally noticed his suit. It was black and red...Lythikos colors. Had he chosen it on purpose for the Masquerade Ball or was it just a coincidence?

"You don't like proper, boring noblemen?" He asked, a hint of a grin forming upon his lips.

Her eyes lifted once more to his. She was not going to dwell on the fact that her colors suited him.

"Who does?!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "Did she make you do this?"

"Who?" He asked.

"That woman you brought tonight."

Maxwell put his hands in his pockets then propped his shoulder against Olivia's doorframe. He studied her about two heartbeats, then shook his head.

Olivia felt her frustrations quadruple. Maxwell was being unusually quiet for once in his life.

She hated it.

"Where did you find that woman?" She demanded.

"In New York." He replied.

"New York? When did you go to New York?!" She nearly screeched.

"Not too long ago."

Olivia groaned. He was giving her a headache with his evasive answers.

"Riley is House Beaumont's suitor." He told her.

"Yeah, I gathered that. And?" She prodded.

"And since this is her first time in Cordonia, I'm going to do my best to make her visit with us as pleasant as it can be." He explained.

Olivia took an involuntary step back.

"You like her, don't you?"

Maxwell nodded. "Of course I do. She's sweet and a lot of fun! Once you get to know her, you'll like her too."

His dimples deepened with his warm smile.

"Riley's really great." He added.

Olivia felt angrier than before she began this conversation.

He never says that about other women. I'M the only ONE he thinks is GREAT!

"I really need to go talk to Bertrand." He glanced down at his watch, completely oblivious to how upset he'd made her with his comments. "He just got to the palace."

Pushing away from her doorframe, Maxwell grinned once more at Olivia.

"See you around, Liv."

Olivia stood there in shock as he walked away without a backward glance.

#choices the royal romance #maxwell beaumont x olivia nevrakis #trr maxwell #trr olivia #trr crackship #can't take my eyes off you #choices the stories you play #choices maxwell beaumont #choices olivia #choices fic writers creations

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asksoldieron · 1 year ago

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X-1: Meet the Cast, and the Roll-A-Dance, and this here new, modified engagement function!

If there's a lot of engagement on this, this post is liable to get real long, beware before you expand. (This accidentally went live on the wrong blog for a sec, I bet I'll do that a lot!)

Welcome to the Engagement Lounge, for Meet the Roll-A-Dance (X-1) an extra! Short comments can go in the replies, but there's a character limit. Longer ones will need a reblog. Remember to @asksoldieron if you're reblogging someone else's reblog, so I can see it too!

This was a cute way to reintroduce the cast and transition into the timeskip after finishing up Tin Soldier and taking a long break. Erik's almost twelve in this one. When we see him again, he'll be nineteen, but he doesn't know it yet.

Barnaby's gone and there are a few new main characters who aren't there yet, but the plot goes on! If you wanted to check and see if you like this world, these people, and how I write about 'em, this is a good place to start.

I posted this February 17th, after being more-or-less absent for a year, as proof of life! Tin Soldier's actual anniversary is on April 9th. Technically, I started Tin Soldier very late on the 8th, but the clock switched over while I was putting the pilot up. I tried to stick to 12:01 AM from then on, but I screwed up a few times. (I simplified the time codes and cleaned up some mistakes after moving the site. Shh! Don't tell!) We'll call October 3rd Soldier On's birthday. Three excuses to put up extra content and party!

This one has a lot of band organ music in it, which I love. Those things make old school digital music. Music boxes are even older, and I love them too, but band organs are way more fun to watch.

On the way up from the States, I got to visit the Musee Mechanique in San Francisco and see a lot of both, and player-pianos, too! They had a BIG band organ behind glass that played the Beatles. I was in heaven.

I also got to see a transitional machine. Band organs and player pianos run ye olde MIDI files on punched paper rolls. Music boxes have a metal roll with itty-bitty bumps that plucks a tiny metal harp. How did we get from one to the other? A punched roll made of either very tough paper or wood that physically lifted the keys that play the instruments as it scrolled! Each key had a hook on it that would catch the holes in the roll and strike a note or an instrument. From metal harp to wooden keys to a pneumatic pump system that blows air through the holes!

Unlike the DDR we know, Roll-A-Dances have a mechanical dance pad instead of a digital one. They're slower, with nothing faster than 1/8 steps, so you don't foul the typewriter-like keys. I bet the early ones had the pneumatic input hooked up to the dance pad, and that would've been even slower. The one the household is playing with has a bellows in there, and needs magic and electricity. It's faster, but it's finicky!

We'll see the Roll-A-Dance again. Milo just loves it. You can't tell from his expression, but I gave you his joy in the coloured "light". I decided Milo should not be required to smile for you readers at home to know he's happy.

My music references, available on YouTube, are: A fairground organ playing ABBA; A fairground organ playing Bohemian Rhapsody; and of course you know Toccata. Butterfly and Captain Jack are DDR references, but they - and the other songs - are not, to the best of my knowledge, available in organ form. Yet. They do have Caramelldansen! Band organs give less than a shit about copyright and I agree with them!

[Back to the Site?]

#tin soldier and soldier on #band organs #fairground organs #ddr #ye olde digital music #a little piracy never hurt anyone #extra #instalment #engagement lounge

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allthemusic · 2 months ago

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Week ending: 22nd October

And we inch ever closer to "real time". And with a three-song week, no less! It's been a little while, hasn't it?

Sea of Love - Marty Wilde (peaked at Number 3)

Like most of Marty's hits, this was not originally his, but rather an American hit, the only hit for its original artist, one Phil Phillips. He was working as a bellboy when he wrote it, and reportedly only was ever paid $6,800 for recording it. He didn't manage any other hits, and his original didn't chart at all in the UK - it's enough to make you feel kind of sorry for him!

The song itself's a dreamy little number. We jump from the opening, with its whimsical whole-note harp glissando, which sounds like nothing more than the sound effect that cartoons use when they want to signify that the subsequent events were all just a dream, and from there we slip into a rolling 6/8, with a guitar playing these arpeggios that just drift into each other, as we get lyrics exhorting Marty's love to come with me / To the sea, the sea of love. In fact, this is basically all you get, apart from a few vague references to when Marty and his love met. Otherwise, we're just drifting off to the sea of love - which isn't actually a super intuitive metaphor, but it all kind of works, anyway, in a vaguely surreal romantic way.

There's a melancholy sort of delicacy to the song - the harmonies are kind of bluesy, and Marty sings like he's holding back, almost tentatively, dipping down to those final last notes in a strangely cautious way. And this does seem to have been ported across from the original, though Phil isn't quite as quiet or gentle about it. He's got a very precise sort of enunciation, though, that I do wonder if Marty was trying to emulate? If so, he hasn't quite succeeded, but it still works, as a way of singing the song - honestly, having listened to both, I think I possbily prefer Marty's take on it?

Travellin' Light - Cliff Richard and the Shadows (1)

And like clockwork, Cliff's back on top of the charts - you really can't go too far through the British charts without bumping into him at the moment, it seems. Notably, this is the first record he made where his backing band were credited as the Shadows, and not the Drifters - the name changed to avoid confusion with the American band of the same name.

Style-wise, this song feels a bit like his previous chart-topper, Living Doll, minus everything that made that song creepy. It's a softer, more sentimental, less biting brand of rock and roll compared to some of Cliff's earlier stuff, and it does kind of make me wonder what the point of having the Shadows at all is, because Cliff really isn't making use of them, here. We've got a bit of strummy guitar backing, the odd little steel guitar flourish and some sort of clinking percussion in the background, but really, it's Cliff's show, here, as he croons his way through a laid-back, unhurried folksy ballad, all about how relaxed and unburdened Cliff feels as he hurries to see his baby.

It's romantic, and not just in the usual, amorous sense of the word - no, in a broader sense, there's a real romance to Cliff's depiction of the travelling life, as he describes how he's got no bags and baggage to slow me down, or how he's got no comb and no toothbrush, I've got nothing to haul. Add the country touches, and little folksy turns of speech as he sings about being a hoot and a holler away from paradise, plus the rather American-looking travellin', with its casual little apostrophe, and you've got a song that's distinctly reminiscent of American folk songs like King of the Road, which only came out later, but which draws from a whole tradition of American "hobo songs", all glorifying and romanticising a life spent "on the road", riding the rails or tramping around America without much tying you down.

It's an odd genre for Cliff, a British artist, to be trying to slot into, but he does a reasonably charming job of it, and even if you can't 100% picture Cliff hopping a freight train to get home to his gal, the general idea of somebody being excited to see their special someone is a pretty universal one. Sure, for somebody who's apparently rushing home so fast my feet ain't touchin' the ground, Cliff sounds rather unhurried. But if you look past there, there really is something endearingly earnest about it all, especially in lines about how Cliff's carrying just a pocket full of dreams, a heart full of love / And they weigh nothing at all. D'awww. Cheesy, but kind of sweet.

Broken Hearted Melody - Sarah Vaughan (7)

And to round it all out, we've got Sarah Vaughan, a jazz singer, with a song that I definitely feel like I've heard somewhere? The start, at least, feels familiar to me, with its jazzy mix of strings and backing singers. Or perhaps it's just a chord progression that's familiar - there's something a little bit showy and slinky about it all, like if a Bond theme and a Broadway chorus line had some weird bastard offspring. I like it a lot, it sets a fun tone, even before Sarah's started singing.

And then she does, and my goodness, does Sarah Vaughan have a lovely voice! I could listen to this song on repeat and focus purely on all the little vocal decisions Sarah's making, because they're fascinating. One minute, she's floating over the whole thing, her voice soaring upwards on the very first line, then dipping down deeper for the verses, and jumping around in-between, going a little throaty for some lines, then taking fligh intio these little whimsical ooooh bits at the end. It's the sort of thing that sounds completely effortless, but you just know if you tried to sing like that, it would sound like a train wreck.

I like the lyrics here, too - they're kind of bittersweet, all about the titular broken-hearted melody, which I can only assume is a song that Sarah and her love used to listen to. Once you were our song of love, she sings, but now you just keep taunting me / With the memory of his tender love. On the surface, these are really sad lyrics, a story about a lover who's abandoned Sarah and spoiled a song for her that she once loved. But there's a joy and an excitement to the music and the delivery, too, almost like Sarah's getting caught up remembering the things that were good about the relationship, lost in fond memories, despite herself. And we do thus end the song in a slightly more optimistic place, asking the song itself to sing to him until he hears / For when he returns, no more will he be / A broken-hearted melody. It's a slim hope, but it's a hope - perhaps Sarah's love, wherever he may be, will hear the song and be reminded, just like she was, of all the things they had together.

I'll say it now, this song feels like it should be a standard with, like, a million cover versions - and yet, there really doesn't seem to be much. A crying shame, because it really is lovely.

I liked all three of these songs - they all had a sort of dreamy, delicate, romantic vibe to them, nothing too harsh or abrasive. It feels perfect for a rather dreary autumn evening - a warm, cozy hug before bed. And one of the songs, in particular, struck a chord with me. I haven't listened to anything else by Sarah Vaughan, but I think I might have to? If nothing else, she's a real breath of fresh air after all the British rock and rollers - a female voice, and a particularly pretty one at that.

Favourite song of the bunch: Broken Hearted Melody

#uk charts #1959 #marty wilde #cliff richard #sarah vaughan

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cantfightmoonlight · 6 months ago

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"Oh I don't know, us?" She pointed out with a raised brow as if it was obvious. "I'm not going to stop you from going home, Suresh, but I am trying here." She hadn't poured her heart out apologizing to him after the dodgeball game for nothing. Nor had she offered to take off her daylight ring for the rest of the day for him just because. That ring on her finger was the most important thing she owned and, not because it kept her from burning under the sun, but because it was her father's, who she lost when she was a child. It was irreplaceable and offering it to him to hold onto was her way of showing him that he was too. "And I don't have it in me to try for that much longer," She admitted. She was tired. Every decision she made seemed to upset someone or another. She was picked apart left and right. Every move she made was hyper examined by the whole fucking town from the day Theodore died and she found that bloody fucking heart in that box.

Even after losing capture the flag, her vampires were more together now than ever. Ken and Rio were working together and Ken actually wanted to participate for once in his life. More than that, he wanted to win. But, prioritizing her team came at the expense of him and, the fucked up part, was she wasn't even surprised. She hadn't meant to hurt him when she let the sprinklers off at dodgeball. She acted out of impulse. Something she rarely if ever did because it always backfired on her. But, she was tired and grieving. She was overwhelmed under a weight of soul crushing responsibility and these past few days felt as though she was moving underwater. Going through the motions. Like the light was only half on or dim. So, she made a mistake and was berated left and right for it, because that was her life. It's why Poppy and her short lived fling fell apart. It's why she barely had any friends in this godforsaken town and, one of the few people she thought she'd have in her life no matter what, seemed to be willing to throw forty years of friendship away over something he hadn't even told her was a boundary of his until now. Over something that happened to a game. "Let's be real with each other, Suresh. You don't give a shit about some points in a town retreat. So, how about we cut the bullshit, hm?" She raised a brow up at him in question as she told him point blank, "I love you. There, I fucking said it. I'd do anything for you and have. You're my best friend. There have been so many things I could have harped on you for that I let go, because you mean more to me than all of that. But, if you don't feel the same, just say it and I'll walk away and you can go file a fucking complaint to Town Hall about your points if that's really all you care about right now."

Features locked into something of a snarl, Suresh, his cicada-like wings still beating on his back, nevertheless made no effort to fly as he trudged down the street. He hated this entire bloody spectacle. It was stupid. It was ridiculous. He did not know why he even bothered trying. None of it fucking mattered anyway. So be it. He would go back to his suite and stay there, tucked away, spend time on more worthwhile endeavors. Seeing Meena, however, Suresh allowed his shoulders to roll, but his expression did not falter. He met her eye, gritting his teeth, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "What's there to talk about? I'm having a bad day, and I want to go home." He pursed his lips. "Besides, I'm disqualified, so I ought to get off the road for the victors' parade or whatever bloody comes next. It's funny. The lines seem vague, what's tolerable and what's not, don't you think?"

#suresh ft. meena #c: meena

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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

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tolerate it

part 2/2 of cardigan!

so, this is the follow up to my first ever one shot (guess not anymore LMAO) up here! i sincerely hope that you guys like this, because it was like pulling teeth for this one. every now and again i’d find a golden one and smack it in there and hope that one decent line made up for all the others.

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

this was the hardest thing ive ever had to write (simply because there was so much emotion in it and it was hard to reel myself back in just to cast out again) and i had to write a paper on nathaniel hawthorne.

warnings: pretty angsty for me, bittersweet, um- why do i write angst, DRAMATICS hahaha

word count: 4.5k!

would like to remind you that i do not own taylor swift songs! this one borrows a little from tolerate it, the best song on evermore imho (tied with coney island).

You knew that opening the door was going to be a hard part, but what you didn’t prepare for was actually listening to her. You could have stared at her for eternity in silence, just harping on everything good and bad that ever happened between the two of you. You could imagine a thousand different scenarios where the two of you were happy and none of this had occurred, but that wasn’t the case. She didn’t come to you to stare and leave.

“Thank you,” Natasha said, her voice throaty as she took a cautious first step into your space. Your space. It sounded weird, and you knew that it felt weird to her. You two had shared everything for the longest, and now you had your own place to live in. “Thank you for letting me in.”

“You came to talk,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, and she didn’t miss the obvious tell of your body language. “I won’t make you waste your time. Say your piece, and then...” you trailed off, both of you knowing full well where you were going with it.

“Can I just start with the fact that I’m so sorry,” she blurted, and you have her an unamused look as you sat on your couch, and she sat on the edge of it. “And that I don’t know why that happened. I don’t expect for you to ever forgive me, and I don’t forgive myself. I won’t ever forgive myself for hurting you so badly, and having such a lapse in judgement. I’m sorry.”

“What was it that was different?” You asked, the question that had been haunting you for a while now finally escaping your lips. When she gave you a confused look, you stared back at her. “What was so different about whatever happened on the mission?”

You didn’t ask what you did wrong, because you didn’t do anything wrong. It took you weeks to know that, weeks to come to the conclusion, but you knew. It wasn’t anything that you lacked, it was something that Natasha did. Whether it was loyalty, restraint, a moral compass, or even something else, you didn’t think that it was you.

“There was nothing different.”

You were trying to hold it together, but you knew that you were seconds from falling apart right in front of the person who had destroyed you. “You don’t have to lie.”

She made a face. “There wasn’t. There was nothing about her that was better than you, I swear.”

But there was nothing different. There was nothing different in the way that you held her to the way that Abigail did, then. There must have been nothing different in the way that you kissed her in the morning. Nothing special about how you would dance with her on the third of the month simply because you liked the number three. There was nothing special about the way you held her hand and rubbed her back and sometimes sang her to sleep when she needed it. And there was certainly nothing different or special about the way that you let her put her head on your chest, just so that she could hear your heart beating.

Maybe what you did was different or special to you and not to her. And maybe it was time for you to finally realize it, whether it hurt or not.

Your emotions were threatening to come through, and you couldn’t have that happen. “I thought you came to talk. Talking requires truth.”

“I did,” she rushed, and then she sighed and wiped her palms on her thighs. You knew what that was. Of course you knew what she was. That was her being nervous. “I just wanted you to know that I love you, I love you so much, no matter what you choose. I never meant for any of it to happen, and I hate myself for making you feel that way.”

“You knew what happened with the others,” you said, and you knew that she knew that you were talking about the men who used to cheat on you without thinking twice. You saw her wince. “You knew how I felt about dishonesty. You knew how long it took me to be fully trusting of you, and you ruined it for two months of fun?”

“I know I did.”

“Do you know that, Natasha?” You asked, your voice starting to raise a bit. “I trusted you, and then I gave you everything I had. There wasn’t a piece of me that wasn’t for you, don’t you get that? I painted a portrait of us with the best colors I had and you opened the door on me doing the finishing touches and threw black paint over it.”

She was surprised that you were actually allowing yourself to be angry, and that made you even more upset. You were allowed to be pissed. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out, a thin layer of tears in her eyes.

“I did- I had everything lying out on the table for you emotionally. It was wrapped so pretty for you when I helped you through your own stuff, and it waited until you were ready. There wasn’t a thing you didn’t know, not a secret kept from you. And I still can’t believe that you returned me being in love with you, with that.”

“It didn’t mean anything to me. None of it meant anything to me at all, I swear.”

“It meant something to Abigail,” you said, and you saw her flinch. “It meant something to the girl that told you that she loved you. And if I’m not mistaken, you told her the same. So did it really not mean something, or are you an even larger liar than I thought?”

“It didn’t mean anything.” For a spy, she was quite easy to read. Or maybe you just spent so much time knowing her that it was impossible to not know her inside and out. You knew her every movement that she made when she lied, and you knew what she looked like when she was telling the truth. This, this wasn’t it.

And it destroyed you.

“Don’t you understand how that feels? It feels like being cut a thousand times by the fancy blade that you made yourself. It feels like being bitten by your own dog. It feels like being nearly drowned in the oceans that you’ve swam in for forever. We were so close! We were so close that I was sure that we were predestined or some of that cheesy shit, Natasha. I could have sworn that we were meant for each other, but now I know that we were, because the betrayal that you did cut me down into a million pieces. That was something that neither of the others were able to do. That’s something that only you could do, and I trusted you not to do it. I never thought you could do it. I thought that you loved me far too much to pull the shit that you did.

“Maybe I was foolish enough to make the knife right in front of you, but I trusted you to know it was there and not use it against me. And you still stabbed me with it.” Your voice cracked and you could feel warm tears falling into your hand, but you didn’t care. You had to keep going. “How could you see me give and give and give to you, for you, and then tolerate it and go see someone else?”

She was breathing heavily after your rant, like she had spoken the words instead. A singular tear came down her face, and you thanked whoever was sitting above and watching for the crack in her mask. You were begging to see her half as emotional as you, half as hurt by her own actions.

You knew that it was different when you saw her wipe her tear. She never wiped her tears around you. You were the only one who got to see them, but you supposed not even you were allowed to see it anymore.

“I can’t even begin-” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I regret what happened.”

“How do you regret-” you pursed your lips and shook your head, closing your eyes for a second as your heart clenched. “How do you regret falling in love with someone?”

“I don’t love her-”

“Do you love me?” You asked.

“More than I love anything else in the entire world.”

“You loved her more if you risked me losing me, Natasha.” You said, and her brows shot up at your conclusion. “You know what would happen if you did that to me and I found out. You knew you would lose me, and you did it anyway. So you two must have had something special. Congrats.”

“No, you’re-”

The temper that you tried to keep in check was bubbling over again, and you realized that there was no checking yourself. “Do you know how long I waited for you and never cheated? Never had sex with anyone else, never went on a date with anyone else? For just as long as you were supposed to! And I managed! So what’s wrong with you?”

“Y/N, I think we should calm down a little. Let’s talk it out for a second.”

“I’ve been talking it out. All by myself, actually, because you’re too afraid to do a damn thing and admit that you fucked up for two months straight.” You closed your eyes again as you felt the hurt come back up. “How do I know it was just that time? How do I know that?”

There was a silence that spoke volumes. “You don’t.”

“And what if we got back together, after all of this?” It was hypothetical, but seeing the hope perk up in her sparked something that you hadn’t felt towards her in forever. Or, you had, it was just smothered by the heat of your fury. “How would I know that you aren’t off pulling the same thing you did earlier?”

“You’d have to trust me.”

“Well, I can’t do that. I literally can’t,” you cried out, putting your head in your hands and shaking you head. It was quiet except for the sounds of your cries, and it was ominous. There was never a quiet moment between you and Natasha, but you were dying out, fizzling away. You already had your Big Bang, now you were creating black holes that would forever remain on opposite sides of the universe. And you both knew it.

“You- you humiliated me,” you shook your head from left to right again, face still hidden. “You had an affair with a younger girl, you did it in front of the people I shared a living space with. You did it shamelessly in front of the people I cooked meals for every day, the people who’s fucking uniforms I ironed! They were my friends too, Natasha, and you humiliated me. You made them keep your dirty secret, did you apologize to them?”

“I haven’t spoken to them much.”

“I had to figure out from Pepper in front of the wedding dress store,” you continued, your throat tightening. “I was there getting the dress that I was going to walk down the aisle in. Everything was perfect, and then you did something that shattered what I thought couldn’t be broken.” You had thought that you and Natasha were rock solid, the hardest stone. You two were diamonds that sparkled and prevailed together, until you learned that you were truly just glass.

She leaned forward, giving you a look that you knew meant honesty. But it was far too late for that, and it wasn’t going to do Natasha much good now. “I wish every second of the day that I didn’t do it, Y/N. Every second of every day.”

Your lips turned into a scowl. “Wishing doesn’t do anything for us. We’re not little kids and we’re not princesses.”

That word, wishing, must have been the one to do her in, because she was sobbing right into her own sleeve, an arm covering her eyes from your sight. Your tears were subsiding, and you watched her with thinly pressed lips. Watching her cry was never pleasant.

“I’m so, so sorry. I can’t- I can’t imagine how you must feel, but I’m so sorry. I don’t know why- I can only apologize to you and beg that you’ll welcome me back to you, where I’m supposed to be.” Your eye twitched as you listened, and told yourself to keep your strength up. “I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, baby, but I know now. I know who I’m meant to be with, and it wasn't her. It’s you, it always has been.”

You knew that. You had always known that. It was a fact, something that had always rang as true as the beating of your own heart. You knew that it was written in the stars for you by some gracious god who decided to reveal what could have been your present and future to you, but you guess the other half of the tale never saw it herself. She knew now, sure. But she learned a little too late for your taste.

“Please, you have to know. You have to know that I didn’t- that I would never do it again.”

How could you tell someone that their apology wasn’t enough? How could you reject someone when they were at their lowest point? How were you going to find the strength in yourself to turn down the woman that you still very much loved? The one that you thought that you lost to another was right in front of you, begging for a second chance, but was it right for you to give it to her?

But how could she see you at your most vulnerable every day and know that you loved and cared for her with your whole heart and still do what she did? How was she okay with ruining you after all that you had been through? How did she not feel bad for two months about betraying the one person who she knew would be forever in her corner?

Whatever her method was to do things that hurt the people she supposedly loved, she found a way. And so would you.

“Have you said what you needed to?” You asked, your tone slow and deliberate as you fought for your tears not to ruin your words. Just as slowly, she nodded. “Then, please leave.”

A noise left her throat. “Please, wait. Wait.”

“There’s nothing left to say, Nat. We said it all.” You stood up, and she followed. “Fix your relationships at the tower, alright?”

“Don’t,” she muttered, tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t tell me that you don’t want to try and then act like you care about me.”

You both walked to the door, because you knew that I the end she would do what you asked of her. “We were friends first.” You insisted. “We were friends first, Natasha, so I care. So, because we were friends first, I’ll tell you to get better. Work on yourself. Fall in love with someone else. Maybe not with two people at the same time.”

Her face was utterly pitiful. Her eyes were watering in a way you had never seen them do before, and her hands were shaking. You had seen the most of Natasha that anyone had in the entire world, yet you had never seen her so torn apart, so open. She laid it all out for you like you had been doing for her for years, and now you were finally the one to ruin the pretty picture. “Please.”

As soft as a gentle breeze came your next word. “No.” You yanked your apartment door open, and then you were both shivering. She looked up at you, her face full of an expression of the most shattered you had seen her yet, and the part of you that still ached prayed that it would be the last time you would ever see her at all.

Your body moved on its own. It asked for one more point of contact, just one more before you deprived yourself from the person you loved the most. Your lips pressed against the crown of her head as you told yourself it was for your own good. Your eyes shut as you put your hands on her shoulders, and tears were turning spots of her red hair dark. She was shaking underneath you, crying even harder than you were. You pulled away from her and opened the door wider.

“Wish you all the best, Nat.”

She walked away, off of your porch and into the night. You shut the door.

§§

You figured that you would miss her, but it wasn’t as bad as it was in the early part of leaving. By the time you moved on, it was far past the date of the wedding and even further past your anniversary. Sometimes it still hurt to think about how your life could have been had she chosen to stay faithful, but you learned that the scenarios hurt more than they helped and stopped.

You had a steady job, could keep up with the rent on your apartment, had enough for groceries and even had spare to get your nails done if you wanted to. You were doing it all, and you were doing it well after being attached at the hip to someone else for years and years.

There was a time where you would have thought that living without Natasha would be excruciating. The first night after you stormed out and cried yourself to sleep, you were sure that it would be painful, every night without her next to you would be like a stab in the gut. But after a while, it really wasn’t.

At first, it was. You missed her terribly, and, a part of you still did. You missed the good things that happened, but you realized that the good didn’t erase the bad, and that the bad didn’t erase the good. So, after a long time of thinking about her, your stance on Natasha Romanoff wasn’t hateful, or upset, or vengeful. You barely had one.

You thought about her and saw a book that you had finished reading a long time ago. Impactful at the time you read it, of course, and it could leave a longing imprint, but it was over. You could never relive that exact moment ever again that you read her, not a good one or a bad one. The hardest, most intense part of it was over, so far behind you that you could breathe again.

And damn, did it feel good to breathe.

§§§

Seeing her was awkward, and it was something that came straight out of your outdated imagination. You were by yourself buying apples at the market that you always went to because you adored fresh fruit, checking for bruises on them that were never there. You were carrying four in a bag with a content look on your face, just walking around and looking at other fruits and vegetables when you felt someone’s eyes on you. You looked up.

Sam Wilson was looking right at you, his jaw a little slack as he recognized you. You hadn’t seen him since you stormed out of the compound god knows how long ago. Within seconds, your life at the tower and memories with him flashed in your head. You two would cook together side by side often, and that's where you would do most of your bonding and talking with him. Your heart clenched for a moment, and then you raised the hand that wasn’t occupied and gave him a wave and a half smile, one that you hoped told him that you weren’t angry.

You looked back to the vegetables and then at the sign on the table. Damn, that’s kind of expensive. You shrugged your shoulders and put the greens on the weighing machine anyway, and pulled the money out of your purse for it. You smiled at the vendor and left with your new bag, wiggling your eyes at the strawberry table and starting your approach.

“Hi,” an achingly familiar voice called out while you were steps away from the table of deliciously red strawberries. You could smell them from where you were at. You turned around still, even after easily identifying who the voice belonged to. “How are you?”

She was as beautiful as ever, the top of her head under a blue ball cap and her eyebrows perfectly done. Her eyes were hidden by shades, but you didn’t need to see them to know what she was thinking. Her arms were loose at her sides, but her fingers were moving strangely, and you noticed them immediately as her nervous tick. You took in a deep breath.

“I’m good, how about you?” You asked Natasha back, and she gave you a pained smile.

“I’m alright.”

“Oh, sweet,” you said, and then gave her a parting smile before turning towards the strawberries.

“Wait,” she called out.

You stopped and turned your head, even though you wanted more than anything to forget that you ran into her. “Yes?”

There was a moment of silence between you two, and then she took a step forward. “Are you still upset?” She asked, voice lower in volume than usual.

You almost scoffed at her. “I’m an adult, I can’t really be sad for long or I’ll forget to pay a bill or something.”

“Can we talk?” She started, and you held up a hand.

“Let’s not open up old wounds,” you said, already knowing exactly where she was going with all of her hesitance and fiddling with her thumbs.

“I need to apologize for what happened.”

You shrugged. “I forgive you. Actually, I forgave you weeks and weeks ago. It’s okay. We can move on from it.” We need to move on from it.

You saw your old lover’s face light up in just the slightest, but just as fast as you saw it, it was gone. Her lack of wanting to express to you didn’t hurt anymore. “We?”

“We can move on,” you repeated, “just not together.” Her face dropped at what you said, and you shrugged your shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I fucked up.”

Yes, you did. “It’s in the past now.”

There was a pause, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You wondered when your heart started to beat on its own again and not for the woman standing so close yet so far away. You wondered when you started to do anything for just yourself, and you wondered when you had stopped doing that in the first place. Her voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Is it?”

You almost had to ask her to remind you what the conversation was about. “Oh. It is,” you said gently, but your voice was still stern. “All good things must come to an end, and what we had was good. It was great, and that must have meant that we were destined to end fast.”

She shook her head slightly. “If you- if you forgive me, it doesn’t have to be over.”

“It does.” You looked at your phone and sighed. “I have to leave.”

“Okay,” She said softly after a moment, and finally took a step back. It was a small one, like her body was trying to override her brain. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you, Nat.” You saw her wince, and if you hadn’t made peace with everything, you would have, too.

She took another step back and cleared her throat, just as Sam started making his way over. She nodded at you, and you gave her a small smile, almost encouraging. Just walk away, this is the last time you’ll have to do it. “Later,” She said, her voice a little hoarse as she turned on her heel and walked right past Sam.

“Later” meant never. And you didn’t know if you were supposed to feel nothing or everything about it.

§§§

The last time you saw Natasha Romanoff was a year later, when you were holding hands with a pretty woman from an art show that you went to. She stole your heart with her work, and she turned out just as beautiful on the inside as she was with a brush, and on the outside. Her name was Julie, and she was great. She was honest.

You really liked Julie. She wasn’t Natasha, though, and it was both refreshing and saddening, because you knew that what you felt with Natasha was a one time thing. You two had one chance to keep the bond that was seemingly inseparable and stronger than steel together, and everyone was rooting for you. And then, it just fell apart.

You knew that Natasha was your first actual love, and the only person who was ever going to be able to love you emotionally like you needed to be. The two of you were, in your mind, made for each other. If soulmates existed, Natasha would have been yours, and you would have been hers. You knew that even five years after not being with her, and while the hole in your heart wasn’t hollow, you had a feeling that a little something was always going to be cold, like a cavity that was never filled. Someone saying her name or asking about her was like chewing ice on it.

But people moved on. Just like you did. And you had moved on from the beautiful yet icy mountains of Natasha and into a soft and whimsical meadow, and that meadow was Julie.

You were holding hands with Julie, arms swinging as you were leaving the donut shop and talking about silly things that made the both of you grin when you caught a familiar flash of red. Out of instinct, you looked over your shoulder, and what you saw made you freeze.

Natasha Romanoff was with a girl with brown skin and black hair that was glinting in the sunlight, and she wasn’t focused on the way that you and Natasha locked eyes in that moment, the moment that seemed to last years. You didn’t think you were still moving, and it certainly didn’t feel like you were taking a step, but you were. You saw her blue-green eyes blink at you, and like you were still stuck on the same wavelength after all that time, you both raised a hand and gave a timid wave, small smiles gracing the both of your faces.

You saw the girl tug lightly on Natasha’s arm, and your grin stretched. Natasha looked over at the girl, and an immediate smile, one similar but not quite the same as she used to give to you, was on her face. You turned your head forward, a light smile still on your own face as you watched it all happen in a split second.

You both kept walking.

*****

ahahaha wow, that hurt really bad actually - never doing angst again i’m a fluffy type of gal

so i’ve never done a taglist before! so i hope i’m doing it right otherwise this’ll make me look incredibly dumb-

@messuhp @username23345 @fishlikestuff @thelastavenger-3000 @grievingfortheliving @madamevirgo @dontmindmejustreading @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @sourpatchspinster @fayhar @sarcasticallywitty15 @normanijauregui

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff angst #gay!natasha #this saddened me #my fics

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

Note

Hey! Those are my three favorite Links too lol. Got any head canons for them?

No way, really? That's awesome!

And yes I do!

(Kinda long, so it's beneath the cut)

- These three, coincidentally, have the longest hair out of all of the Links. I know that JoJo draws Legend with a close cut, but all the official art has him with hair that falls past his shoulders, and I love it to much to accept anything else (I still love how JoJo draws him tho!)

- Walking fashion disasters, all of them. They like it though and no one can really stop them (they like that even more).

- On a scale of gremlin-ness, Wild ranks as a nine (he's not always trouble, but a lot of the time), Legend just behind him as a 7 (he just covers up well) and Four is so chaotic that they're on four different places of the chaos scale all at the same time!

- Legend and Four both are super close to Sky after some time, although Legend is more the 'needs to be toned down and asked to behave' while Four and Sky are more of the chill bros kinda thing. As a result, they're have a bit more of a sibling dynamic in that 'we're both close to the same person but we clash as much as we get along, but we're also stuck together' kind of way. Sky mentoring these two melts my heart :)

- Four is, of course, four people in a trench coat, and while Legend isn't, he does have the ability to split into multiple people as well, thank to adventure 6 in Hytopia. They have definitely bonded over this weird experience, and I know because I'm writing a snit-fic about it!

- Fire children, all three of them. Four tries to act somewhat responsible, but Red is a fire gremlin and there's really nothing the other colors can do to control him. Once the flame-based weapons come out there is no stopping them.

- Wild and Vio are both amazing archers, and if/when Four splits they will happily exchange tips.

- All three of these boys are crazy curious. Legend and Wild are both item's collectors and Four has Vio living in their head, so if the Chain finds something new, rest assured that these three will be the squad to try and figure it out together.

(Getting new tech or items is like Halloween for these boys, and they'll happily toss stuff back and forth like the trio of nerds they are, taking notes and trying stuff with it).

- Because they share interests, they are also highly touchy about when the others can join them in stuff. Wild's the most likely to let others join him in stuff, Legend can be touchy, but he will eventually cave if he's not too set on having his space. There is no bending Four's will.

- Legend is (of course) Fable's brother. But, while she got Hylia's powers and stuff, Legend got the musical talent. Fable can't sing for shit, and her fingers are as likely to get tangled in her harp strings as they are to break them.

- Four is the most firm out of the three, and the most stubborn. He's often the voice of reason (he does have a playful side though).

- Four likes teaching Legend smithy things. Since Legend never finished his apprenticeship, he's only got so much knowledge, and after the "when will you learn" incident, Four determined that he'd knock some sense into the vet's pink head.

- Both Four and Legend have at some point ended up in their alternate forms, and Wild was chill as could be. He thinks its cool, but he respects their boundaries and tries his hardest not to call them cute to their faces (he can't stop himself from thinking it though).

- Other than Wind, who could probably beat them all, they are the lightest footed Links, and each are skilled dancers. Four's batter at folk stuff, Legend at performance, and Wild at ballroom and barn dance related stuff, but once Twi pulls out a fiddle they're all quickly swept up into dancing because none of them can resist. They're all good dancing partners too, and with Wind at their side, they've managed to work out some stuff they can all dance to together.

- The least judgmental about shadows. Unlike the others, Wild has never met his shadow, and while Legend has, it was kinda brief and not particularly traumatic (shadow Four on the other hand still haunts his dreams) and of course we all know that Shadow and Four are besties 🥰

- On that note, Legend is highly protective of the other two. Wild because he's still so young at heart, and Four because the last thing legend wants is to see Four corrupted. He remembers the Palace of the Four Sword vividly, and he doesn't want a repeat. (It absolutely breaks his heart that he knows Four doesn't get a happy ending).

- Wild plays accordion and while his voice is untrained, he's got a decent set of pipes!

- Four play Ocarina, not as well as time, but it's still very beautiful.

- Legend has flat feet

- Barefoot trio. Flat feet are a nightmare in shoes, and Legend was a farm-boy, he'll shuck off his shoes the instant he can and just enjoy the grass or stone beneath his feet. Wild does the same for the very simple reason of being a feral gremlin who is very happy to lose his clothes and go wild. Four's feet are kinda odd shaped after transforming into a Minish so many times, so he also likes shedding his shoes (he had to make a special pain that would actually fit his weird lil feet) and just enjoying nature.

- Four and Wild are rediculously in tune with nature, Four because of his connection to the elements and Wild because he's Wild. Legend isn't closely connected, but he's got his own sort of love for different weathers and seasons after his 2'd adventure.

- The most colorful out of everyone, they are also the most artistic Legend paints and embroiders, and Four is good at sculpting, carving and, of course, metal work. Wild really likes to draw and his food itself looks like a picture (his frosted cakes are to die for, no one knows how he makes frosting do that)

- More of a niche headcannon related to a fic of mine, but; Wild has vitiligo. Most of it is hidden what with his heavy scarring and clothes, but while he's naturally pretty tan, he's got some big ol' white spots underneath his clothes and along his arms.

I will hold off on any more, I have a speech I need to rehearse and I got way too carried away with this 😅

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu four #lu wild #lu legend #lu shadow #linked universe headcanons #asks and answers #idiot answers

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midnightinwales · 10 months ago

Text

@grapesnolives that STH session is fascinating, thank you. This is such a pivotal song in the history of music that we may forget that they had to actually sit down, write it, rehearse it, work on it. But from the very beginning there’s this lightness to it, openness and wistfulness. You can also hear how important the drums are to the mood of the song – they lift it up immediately. And that solo is great too, but I can see why they didn’t choose it. It’s a bit too bluesy for that song, imo. Goes in a different direction that the rest of the song. I’m also fascinated by the different lyrics Robert’s using. Piper will open up the river?? I’ve got to listen to it more carefully later.

How do you feel about Stairway in general? I know that for a lot of people it’s nearly as overplayed as it is for Robert, but for me it’s always very special. I’ve always loved Celtic and folk music and that feel of Stairway is unmistakable. Jimmy does here one of the things he does so wonderfully as a guitarist – he’s playing guitar, but it mimics another instrument. In Stairway it’s the harp. There’s also the masterful saxophone solo in SIBLY. There’s a lot to be said about Jimmy Page, not all of it positive, but his musical sensibility has always been unmatched. “The master of mood” indeed.

Thanks for the next link. There are so many bootlegs out there. It’s surprising considering how much they were always trying to keep everything hush hush. I concur your need for footage. They could even be doing nothing interesting, but to hear and see them interact naturally with each other would be wonderful. Even just voice recordings. There are so many hilarious ones of the Beatles.

I always thought the drum solo/guitar solo/NQ key solo/acoustic section were practical inserts to ensure all members had a chance to rest during what were often really long, exhausting shows. – yes, I kind of think that too. Let’s be honest, Robert had enough limelight as it was. But I think he sometimes didn’t feel quite as much a musician as the other three. His ‘theatrics’ were always there I think, due to the loudness of the music, his interactions with Jimmy’s guitar, emulating the style of other singers (Steve Marriott, Janis Joplin etc). But by 1973 his ‘original’ voice was gone and he might have been overcompensating with his behaviour a bit. Not that I complain, quite the contrary. It’s glorious. And Robert is always Robert – he might be exaggerated, but he’s never fake.

Yeah, the solo were very definitely self-indulgent as the time went on. To be fair, it was LZ style to be over the top, massive with sound, always more and more than a mere mortal could think of. Extending and extending and keeping you on the edge. You could say that about RP’s singing at times too. And yeah, Moby Dick. I used to skip it a bit at the very beginning of listening to LZ, but now I relish it. You can really appreciate the power and creativity of JB then. What you said about his drumming vs many other bands is very true. To me he doesn’t simply play them, he dances the drums. There’s a rhythmic and dynamic quality to it which makes me think of Latin American dances – not the type of music, mind you, the dynamics. Each part of the drum set is a dancer which exchanges moves with the others. They bounce of each other to create beautiful movement. His drumming is never flat or one-dimensional. It’s a whole dance ensemble. And there’s heat and sultriness to it.

Well, when it comes to IMTOD at Earl’s Court there’s only one thing I can focus on no matter how hard I try. Maybe one day I’ll be able to look past it 😉

Are there any tracks where you prefer the studio to live? – boringly so, Stairway, probably. Cause I’ve known it long before the rest. But I’m sure it will change and keep on changing at different times in the future. It’s only been a couple of months since I started listening to LZ and I’m only now leaving the first stage of walking around the flat with my jaw on the floor 24/7. Soon I’ll be able to appreciate more details and I suspect my preferences may change a little. What about you? Do you have any favourite tracks or even moments in the songs? Particular bits or performances?

@lara1606 – I’ m not sure Jimmy was angry at that comment, at least outwardly, rather embarrassed. It wasn’t very smart of Robert to say that. Bonzo certainly wasn't impressed. It was one of RP's ‘on the verge of outing them’ moment. It was probably filed in Peter Grant’s book of ‘shit Percy most certainly should not have said in public.’ I bet there was a book like that. Or at a least a thick file ;)

It's interesting the circumstances of LZ appearing in our lives when they're most needed. There's definitely something to it.

@grapesnolives thank you for the link, I'll check it out during the weekend. I agree that their experimentation is always beautiful and fascinating to hear. They had singular sensitivity to the emotion – sound axis. And you can never be bored with it.

I've moved us to a new post, since our conversation is veering off the topic of the original post and I think we've hijacked enough of that already ;)

Unfortunately, I don't have the source for that quote about Robert, as I have been consuming a lot (and I mean A LOT) about LZ in the past few months, but in quite a chaotic manner and I haven't been taking notes. But If I come across it again, I'll send it to you. I was also surprised by it, but I guess it makes sense, since it was originally Jimmy's band and I believe that as time went by and Jimmy was losing his grip on reality more and more, Robert might have felt constricted a bit or started to develop a need for more independence. Nothing unusual in that, it happens in pretty much any band. He might have also been genuinely annoyed at the endless solos, quite like Bonzo, and JPJ probably too. I mean, to make a six and a half minutes long song into 45 minutes is both amazing and unnecessary lol. And Robert did have a bit of an imposter syndrome, still has, actually. He often spoke about them as 'three musicians and me'. 'I'm just a wedding singer who sang with musicians', and how his elaborate singing style developed as a method to stay in the song, cause the long musical intervals made him feel irrelevant. He definitely wanted to impress Jimmy and there was a lot of reverence for him as the worldly, knowledgeable, experienced musician who created his own band. But that began to disappear when Jimmy got heavily into heroin imo and definitely lost after 1977. Robert's priorities changed. His view of life changed. The love was still there, but Jimmy was no longer someone that Robert had to live up to, so to speak. Now he was someone to protect (and, in a way, someone to mourn). But the initial experiences formed Robert as a singer, set his standards and informed his view of musical expression.

I've also noticed that he makes fun of Bonzo (the diarrhea jokes will live with me forever, thanks Bob :/ ) and JPJ (and himself, occasionally), but not of Jimmy. IMO that's because he and Bonzo were 'bros', mates, and that's typical friendly behaviour in this kind of relation. JPJ was also a guy in the band and concert is entertainment, so it's only fair to make people laugh. It created a sense of dynamics, each band member had his quirks and image to play with. But with Jimmy he is only ever sweet and attentive. Not least because Jimmy Page can't take a joke imo. He's quite fragile and Robert knew it very, very well. But this doesn't read to me as reverential, but rather as caring. He knew not to make Jimmy the centre of attention that he might not see as entirely friendly. And his mysterious image had to be uphold too. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but whenever Robert speaks to Jimmy his tone of voice slightly changes. It becomes softer and warmer. ‘is it alright, love?’ kind of thing. He definitely wanted to be in Jimmy’s good books and for more than one reason.

I’m not surprised you thought they were a duet, seeing the photos. I recall seeing photos of LZ throughout my life and they’ve always been focused on J and R. I didn’t know what the other band members looked like before I started listening to the band. I knew Bonzo’s name because of his tragic death, like I do many other musicians’ who met their ends way too early, and knew that he is recognised as one of the, if not the greatest rock drummer of all times. But that was about it. IMO, he is the greatest of them all and he’s the only one whose drumming makes me genuinely tear up. There is as much emotion in Bonzo’s drumming as there is in Robert’s singing. Astonishing.

If you’re asking how I got into the story of J and R, it was quite simple really. I remembered the photos I’ve mentioned (mostly the WLL mic in the hair singing) which have always looked very suggestive to me and had heard before that part of the magic of LZ was the interplay between the two, and so when I finally got into their music I started doing my research to see if my initial impression was correct. And found plenty of evidence to confirm it, some of it much more straightforward then expected. But if you’re asking how I got into LZ then I’d say it was time for them to come into my life. One night on YT they appeared on my list and the journey began. I knew some of their songs before (STH, WLL, Dazed, a couple of others) and I had quite an emotional experience listening to Stairway as a young teenager, but that was the extent of it. I firmly believe that music comes to us at the right time and there’s no point in forcing it. It will find you if it’s meant to. And it will be a journey you’ll never forget.

Have you always been interested in drumming or is it the first time when it has captured your attention so much? Have you been into LZ for a long time?

#led zeppelin musings

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goldenxddeonu · 3 years ago

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Unravel His Soul

paring: prince!niki x princess!reader

genre: royal au x rich kids au

warnings: violence, mentions of death

Word count: 2.4K

Authors note: this is my piece for the collab <33

Fall was slowly disintegrating, making winter the talk of the kingdoms. Winter might just mean snow and cold weather to anyone, but to the royal families it meant the annual winter ball. Fabrics and shoes swiftly snatched off of racks, whispers filling the cold air on who the prince will choose this year as his partner. “Rumor has it, the prince isn’t even allowed to choose, it’s all set up. And then, the prince shoos off the princess in the with money. These modern day princes throw around money like it’s nothing.” You heard a group of girls gossip over. You didn’t care about silly things like that, you had your own kingdom in your hands. You didn’t need to care— just yet.

“Find your way to the door. Now.” A sharp raspy voice stated, followed by a thud. An envelope, which you supposed was money, thrown at a girl who looked about your age. “You were here for this anyways, no need to beat around the bush.” You stood there in the door way of the extravagant castle. Sunoo, the eldest brother, stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at his brother, he looked tired, tired of this ongoing cycle, a cycle you never knew about, but felt the presence of. Both doors open, causing a gush of wind to come fleeing in, causing everyone to turn their heads to look at the commotion. You standing there, followed by two knights, each by your side. Riki’s anger in his eyes softened, turning into confusion. The boy at the top of the stairs jolted towards you, powered by the strike of understanding what was going on. You weren’t stupid, you knew what was going on too. You showed up too early and you saw something you weren’t supposed to see, backstage work that wasn’t for display, the secrets of the magician.

The girl’s eyes brimmed with tears, embarrassment smeared all over face. She grabbed the money and stormed out. Just as she did, one of the knights got ahold of her to let her know a few things before she leaves. “If any of what just happened now is spoken about to anyone, you and your family’s head will be hung above the kings’ bed.” The room went painfully quiet. Sunoo offered you to sit, and you did. Right in front of you was the one and only, Riki. He looked ashamed. “Is this what’s been going on?”, you stated. “You imbecile” you scoffed. “Let me guess, I’m next? I’m not going to spend my time and love into someone who’s going to shoo me away with money in the end. No need to worry about hurting me, I wasn’t expecting anything anyways.” Riki’s eyes flickered anywhere towards you. You stood up and adjusted your dress. “Which way to my room?”

Sunoo quickly got up, leading you up the stairs. “I’m so sorry you had to see that princess..” you laughed, “No need to ponder in the past, plus all of the royal families had a feeling something was off.” he laughed with you. You had finally made it to your room. “Here you are princess. Let us know if you need anything, from food, to clothing, or just company!” he said beaming. You felt your self unintentionally smiling back. Everything about him was so contagious, his smile, his peppiness, and his overall aura. “I shouldn’t get too used to things here, it’ll all be over soon..” you thought to yourself. You spent all your time mocking all the gossip about this family, and swearing you would never even come close to the Kim family. And now you were apart of them. Who knew the king would choose you, of all people to accompany his son. You took a look around the room, soaking in every inch of it, white cabinets embroidered in gold, shiny marble that covered the floor. You laid down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, concealed in beautiful colors, every bit told a story. Angels holding harps, clouds on clouds.

Just as you were about to unpack, three little knocks on the door were heard followed by a, “Princess, the Prince requested to meet you outside!” One of the servants stated. You prayed it was Sunoo, there was no way you would face Riki after being so harsh. You got into your outside attire, and left the room. You were lead to the garden, bright pops of pink and yellow flowers showered the garden, beautiful vines wrapped around the bright white gazebo right in the middle of it, trickles of water were heard due to the fountain, kissing the air as it gracefully spewed water. You looked around eagerly waiting for Sunoo. Sadly your prayers were not answered. There stood Riki. Just as he showed up, the servant placed two cups of tea and left. “Do take a seat, please.” He said quietly as he pushed your chair out and bowed. “Well, someone straightened out.” You said slightly taunting him. He was about to open his mouth to explain what happened but you cut him off. “You don’t need to explain to me. I know what’s going on.” You said as you took a sip of your tea. He smiled, looked you in the eyes and thanked you. Those eyes. So sharp yet so pretty, bittersweet. The servant walked in. “I hope didn’t interrupting anything, but it’s almost time for the ball.” Riki thanked her for letting us know and she left. “We should get going” he said. And with that you both took a leave.

Riki left first, he got to his room and immediately started to get ready. You and Sunoo on the other hand, decided to play around. Looking at the frost bitten windows, You gasped, “It’s snowing!” You heard you voice echo through the halls of the enormous castle, causing you to go red, and Sunoo to laugh. He grabbed your hand and pushed the doors open. You two were running and chasing each other like children, chucking snowballs at him and screaming after. Riki looked down at you at the window. He felt his heart ache. A tightening feeling at the bottom of his stomach. He was jealous. Jealous his brother got more along with his partner more than him, and angered more by the fact that you saw him at his worst.

You and Sunoo were pulled inside by the guards like children. Still laughing over what just happened. Your cold hands aching at the feeling of being in the cold for that long. You and him were thrown in your rooms, getting your make up and hair done. You were quickly thrown into your dress, and you were done. “That felt like a blink of an eye, you guys work so quickly!” You exclaimed. “It’s our job.” The servants said smiling softly. You were escorted out of your room, and to the stair way. At the bottom of them stood Riki and Sunoo. As you walked down the stairs, Sunoo was clapping, cheering you on. You flashed a smile, and as you did breathless Riki’s eyes shot down to the floor, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, except he did. He had all the cares in the world . “Alright it’s time we go in, everyone’s waiting.” You slithered your hand into Riki’s and whispered “Shall we?” He looked down at you and replied, “We shall.”

Just as he said that, the doors of the ball room opened and there was everyone. You even spotted your family. You two walked down the stairs, all eyes on the both of you. You two taking steps at the tempo the orchestra was playing, gracefully glancing at the guests. You made your way to the table. You sat down next to Sunoo and whispered, “Was I okay?” “You were magnificent.” “I hope so..” you laughed. “I’m going to go say hello and pay my respects to the people of the other kingdoms.” Riki said to you. “Alright! I’ll be here with Sunoo.” “That’s the problem..” he whispered so ever quietly. “What?” “Nothing-“ he shot back and left. As he left, music started to play. “Oh my gosh, this is my favorite song to waltz to-“ Sunoo stated. Just as he did you pulled him up and took him straight to the dance floor. You both bowed and placed your hands in each other. You two swayed left and right, immersing yourselves into the music. Riki was with a group of his prince’s he grew up with, looking at you two. “Isn’t she supposed to be yours?” The brothers Sunghoon and Jake stated laughing as they jabbed at him, throwing their hands over Riki shoulders. Riki pushed their hands off of him angered. Not just angered at this, but angered at everything that’s happened between you two. It isn’t fair, the way you walked in the castle, immediately face to face with the most horrible version of himself. If only you knew how he would go to “check up on your kingdom to make sure everything is in check”, but in reality, he just likes the way you look when you work. Face full of passion and strength. Or the way you gifted the little girls and boys of your village flowers, hugging them with all your might.

You and Sunoo went back to sit at your table, tired from all the dancing, to come back to cake placed prettily in front of each seat. You both sat back and ate. “Say aaaa~” Sunoo laughed at his own remark. “Aaaaa~” you laughed back, not expecting him to actually do it, but to your surprise, he actually did it. You laughed uncontrollably, just thinking about how everyone in the ballroom probably witnessed all this. All of this was put to a stop by Riki, making his way to your table, “Sunoo. We need to talk.” The way he was speaking, his facial expression. It was just like the first day you walked in. Sunoo got up, surprised.

And just like that they left the room. Leaving everyone to whisper. You sat there uncomfortably, being eaten alive by your own thoughts. “Is it about me? Did I do something wrong?” You thought. And then it hit you: you haven’t been spending time with Riki. He was the reason you were there. Could he be offended? Maybe he was jealous?.. You waited a couple seconds after they left so nothing looked odd to the guests. You bunched your dress in your fists and ran to the door. The live music getting quieter, and your breathing getting louder.

The doors shut. Riki and Sunoo, outside noses pink from the snow. “What’s going on-“ his question was answered by a punch. “How come you never let me have anything? How come you can just sit back and watch me finally have something good? You can’t watch your younger brother succeed, right? It hurts your pride too much.” Sunoo’s lip was bleeding, he was getting dizzy, the world wouldn’t wait for him. He finally got up and shot a punch at his brother. “What are you talking about?” Sunoo stated, his voice harsh. “Y/n.” Riki said, wiping the blood off of his cheek. He grabbed Sunoo by the collar, and pushed him against the walls of the castle. “You know I like her, why are you playing your cards?” He said sobbing. He dropped Sunoo, leaving him on the floor. He wiped his tears and gritted his teeth, “Dont come after me, I don’t even want to see you.” Riki passed right by you, slamming the door after him. You stood there frozen in the cold.

“Sunoo are you okay?-“ his head rising from his knees, his eyes drained from life. “I’m fine. There’s no need for you to worry about me. It’s better that you don’t anyways.” You wanted to reply, but all your words seemed to die at your tongue. He wiped his tears, dusted his pants and left. The moon was the only presence you felt at the moment. It felt reassuring to know that the moon wouldn’t leave you, always illuminating through the night. Your feelings finally catching up to you, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the past week. A few tears falling from your face. They were warm, and stung against your cold face. You were called back in by the guards, wondering where you’ve gone. Everyone had left by now. You entered the quiet castle, ever so still and peaceful. You grabbed a candle to light the way to your room. Just on your way up, you heard something from one of the other bedrooms.

It was from Riki’s. Sniffles and quiet cries were heard. You felt your heart sting, he seems so misunderstood. You took a deep breath in and slipped in quietly. His back was facing you. He was sitting on the other side of the room. You swiftly walked up to him, placing your hand on his back, startling him. He quickly wiped his tears. “Stop that, all you’re doing is suppressing how you feel.” He turned to you, eyes beat red from all the crying. His glossy eyes glowed under the moonlight peeking through the windows. “I’m sorry I’m the way I am.” He said, arrow straight to the heart, picking at your soul. “It seems unfair for me to judge you based on the way you acted, you were angered. I’m sorry for that.” You said putting his hands in yours. He looked down at the sight, causing him to smile. A lightbulb went off in your head. “I have an idea.” The confused boy tilted his head at you. You pulled out a tie from his drawer and wrapped it around his eyes. “Should I trust you?” He sheepishly asked laughing. “I don’t know you ask me.”

You took him in one hand and in the other the candle, the warm light reflecting on the walls. You walked him down to the ballroom. You quickly played music and ran back to him. You ripped off the tie, and placed your hand out. “May I have this dance?” He cringed at your statement, “I thought you’d never ask.” He said bringing the same energy to the table. You two danced all night until your feet were aching. Both of you fell to the floor, laying on your backs. “Thank you..thank you for hearing me out, you know? I feel like I’m just perceived as this evil monster, when no one even takes into account of what I go through.” He said chuckling, even though you know he was hurting. You sat up, looking down at him. You brushed his hair out of his face with your fingers. He held your wrist, softly pulling himself up and pulling you closer. “Everyone deserves a second chance.” You whispered. And with that, your lips met. Both of you cautious at first, slowly testing the waters. A warm kiss that sealed the envelope of the birth to a new young love.

[five month times skip]

There both of you were, looking down at the kingdom that now the both of you share. You laid your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his roaring heart. All it took was to unravel his secrets piece by piece to bring his soft soul to the surface.

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft layouts #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen niki #enhypen sunoo

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years ago

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The King and the Bard

Analogical week Day 2: Song / Stars Word Count: 1518 CW: Poison, drugs, mentions of death

Virgil drew the bow over the violin strings, beginning to play a tune. He was the only one in the throne room at the moment, simply tuning the instrument and fooling around on it. He switched almost mid stroke from something rousing and lively to something calming and sweet. He cleared his throat before singing, his voice loud and clear as it rumbled through the lyrics. He closed his eyes and let the music move through him.

King Logan stood in the doorway, just listening to his bard as he did the standard maintenance on his instruments. He stayed there for a while, watching him carefully check each instrument before playing a tune on it. The next instrument was the violin. Logan watched him take his time with that one, saw him change the tune midway through the first one as he checked on his last instrument: his voice.

Logan’s eyes slipped closed as he listened to the voice that came from the court bard, someone he’d fallen for as the years went on. He didn’t know if the man loved him back or even thought of him as more than a sovereign but Logan loved him with his whole heart and couldn’t imagine life without Virgil in his.

Virgil’s voice faded off, the final notes hanging in the air as if they too were reluctant to end, as the violin kept playing for a few more seconds. Logan decided now was an appropriate time to enter and did, hearing the violin almost screech to a halt as Virgil noticed him. “Your Majesty!” He jumped to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the floor, sweeping into a bow more elegant than Logan normally saw from the nobles of his court. “My deepest apologies, I hadn’t heard you enter.”

Logan waved a hand. “It’s fine, dear bard, and please, just calling me Logan will suffice when we are alone. The choice to not announce my presence was mine. Please, continue.” He seated himself on his throne, settling back into it. Virgil drew his bow across the violin once more, producing a soothing note that he held for a moment before descending into an almost mad rush of notes, as if he were proving his skill.

Courtiers came and left, nobles prancing through the room as if they owned it. Still, Virgil played on, sounding just above the voices but not so loudly as to be distracting. Logan was grateful for the frenzied tune to latch onto, a tune that perfectly captured his mood as he sat and entertained the court. He was desperate to do something productive but all he could do was wait until it was time to receive the complaints from the people.

Finally, that time came. Virgil’s frantic playing turned softer as he put the violin away and produced a harp, playing a tune that was dignified and stately but had a touch of whimsy to it and, unless Logan was looking too deeply into it, a hint of sadness. Virgil didn’t sing along like he clearly wanted to, choosing instead to hum to the tune as he played, harmonizing with the harp.

Logan received the people’s requests and had a scribe write them down along with Logan’s initial idea as to how to solve it. Many times, it was a dispute over land and property or profits, simple things with easy fixes. Occasionally, there came a time where Logan would question what to do but he’d pause and listen to Virgil’s music and calm himself down enough to think.

A few days went by where it was business as usual, Logan entertaining the court before moving on to taking the citizens’ requests or complaints and spending the rest of the day fixing them or improving the kingdom in some way, all to the background sound of Virgil’s wonderful playing. However, a day came where there was a different bard setting up his instruments when Logan entered.

Instead of lingering in the doorway, King Logan strode forward. “Who are you and where is the usual bard?”

This man turned, a broad grin on his face and a hand propped on his red-garbed hip. In fact, he seemed to be garbed in red from neck to ankle as his black boots were the only speck of another color that could be found on him. “He was taken ill last night. I was called in to play in his place.”

Logan shook his head, distressed more than he cared to admit to this stranger. “Where does he live?”

The red bard gave him directions and Logan hurried there, longing to see Virgil’s signature black outfit. He knocked on the wooden door and, when no answer was given, pushed to see if it was latched. It wasn’t. He stepped inside and surveyed the small room. It was sparsely furnished, nothing as lavish as the rooms Logan roamed on the daily, and clean. In the corner, a raised bed housed a familiarly black clad figure.

Logan moved to Virgil’s side, kneeling by the bed with no regard for his expensive clothing. “Virgil?” He called, hesitant to touch him lest the illness be infectious.

Virgil groaned, rolling onto his side. “Who’s ‘ere?”

Logan smiled, reaching out to put a hand atop his blanketed shoulder. “It’s me, Logan.”

Virgil’s eyes opened slightly, just enough to see his face. “Your Majesty?”

Logan smiled, relief in his voice. “I thought I told you to stop calling me ‘Your Majesty’, Virgil.”

Virgil shrugged with one shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Logan shook his head as he stood, pushing his sleeves to his elbows. “Well, I’m here now. How can I help you?”

Virgil groaned again, cradling his stomach and curling into himself. “You can leave. You might catch whatever I have.”

Logan looked around the room, feeling at a loss as to what to do. Finally, a thought came to him. “Fine, I’ll leave but I’ll be back soon.”

Virgil didn’t hear him go, slipping into an uncomfortable sleep instead.

When he woke, his bed was softer than before and hand was wrapped around his. He drifted awake, his eyes taking in the canopy that hid the bed from the rest of the room with a section tied back for the hand-holder. He glanced at them and found it to be none other than the king of the realm, Logan Kelsey.

He startled and tried to pull back but the sleeping king had a tighter grip than anticipated. Virgil only succeeded in waking the man whose head rested on the mattress instead of escaping him. Logan lifted his head and stared straight into Virgil’s eyes.

The bard loved the man in front of him, loved the way he dealt with both the common people and the pompous nobles, loved the way he clearly enjoyed the songs Virgil played for him, loved that he was able to play whatever he wanted and the king would be enraptured. He loved this man with his whole soul but never felt worthy of him, thinking his beloved needed to marry someone of nobility or higher.

Logan’s eyes gazed softly into Virgil’s, trying to discern his thoughts. He wanted to ask a million questions but the only one that came out was, “How are you feeling?”

Virgil rolled joints that must have been stiff. “A lot better. I don’t know what you did and have no way of paying you back, but thank you.”

Logan smiled, “It is I who must thank you. It seems one of the cooks was planning to poison my dinner tonight and you inadvertently sampled that dish. You saved my life,” his other hand came up and his palm cupped Virgil’s cheek, “I just wish it wasn’t at the cost of your suffering.”

Virgil’s own hand came up and covered Logan’s, his eyes dipping down to Logan’s lips by accident. “I would suffer something ten times worse if it meant that you were safe from harm, Your Majesty.” This time, the title came out as a whispered term of affection for the king Virgil would gladly lay down his life to protect.

Logan smiled, leaning in but stopping just short of actually kissing him. Virgil closed the distance between them. When they pulled apart, Logan rested his forehead on the other’s. “Will you marry me?”

“I’d do so in a heartbeat if it were allowed.”

Logan pulled back. “‘If it were allowed’? Who said it wasn’t?”

Virgil shrugged, not meeting his eyes but keeping his hold of Logan’s hand on his cheek. “I simply assumed you’d be required to marry a noble or a royal of another kingdom. Not a simple commoner, not a bard, like me.”

Logan smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “My dear, my darling bard, no such rule or law exists. I am free to marry whom I choose.” He leant forward again. “And you are my choice if you agree to be.”

Virgil’s own face was graced with a smile as he leant in. Before he kissed him again he whispered, “I agree wholeheartedly, Your Majesty.”

#bard!Virgil #king!logan #analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #I promise this has a happy ending #poison #drugs mention #mentions of death #ace writes

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michaelarowrites · 3 years ago

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Excerpt from Honor the Words

Akaryu Masaomi is drinking coffee when he feels the kick to his chest.

It knocks the wind out of him, causing him to drop his mug and instinctively crouch down, holding his abdomen as he tries to catch his breath.

“Akaryu-san?” says one very alarmed military analyst. Other onlookers have stopped what they’re doing in order to stare at him in concern, since by all accounts, he had collapsed for no reason. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Masaomi says, already straightening himself and forcing a smile. “I’m just fine. My apologies, I just got dizzy for a second.”

Damn it, Youji! he thinks as loudly as he can.

I’m sorry! comes a thought that isn’t his, loud and clear in his mind. I forgot!

It’s the fifth time this week!

Youji-san, I wish you would be more careful, says a new voice in his mind, familiar but still not his.

I’m sorry, Shi-chan.

Masaomi exits the military kitchen, moving towards the training yard where he knows he’ll find Yamazaki Youji.

Hey, you just left your coffee cup on the ground. A third voice appears in his mind. Go back and clean that up!

Make me, Masaomi fires back, abruptly slamming all thoughts down, doing his best to sever the unwanted connection he now shares with three other people.

The strange telepathic communication that sometimes shares thoughts and feelings between the four is especially frustrating because it’s not like the usual mind-reading Masaomi knows how to handle. From a very young age, he’s known how to compartmentalize his thoughts and keep them controlled, with mental shields and wards to prevent unwanted spies in his mind. Threats of mind-reading and mind-compulsions and otherwise dangerous psychic attacks were not that uncommon in his daily life of political intrigue in the Capital.

But this is different. It’s nothing like the magic he knew how to guard against, and it chafes against him like someone has put a collar around his neck.

That same bond pings again, and he looks to the left where the connection is coming from and sees Shiori sitting in the shade. This is enough to waylay his path, as he detours to talk to her. “Shiori, are you okay?”

“I am fine, Masaomi-san,” she says curtly. She stands up from her seat on the bench, and presses down the folds of her plain kimono. Shiori always did like to dress in traditional clothes, as was common in the Capital and in the main Estates, but once she wore silks and it pains him now to see her so low. She looks at him coolly, as if sensing his thoughts (which, all things considered, she might have) and then says, “You do not need to spare any thoughts toward my well-being.”

“Shiori,” Masaomi winces. “You can’t be like this forever.”

“Like what, Masaomi-san?”

“Mad at me. I’ve apologized, and you’re just being stubborn. I thought we were friends.”

“We were friends, Masaomi-san, and then left me to die,” Shiori says, smiling sweetly. “That sent a very clear message about the boundaries of our friendship.”

“I didn’t think they’d actually kill you,” Masaomi says, but he knows it sounds hollow. “At any rate, this absurd higher ground is ridiculous. You’d have done the same.”

And yet, strangely, I didn’t.

He hears her thought loud and clear, and she looks mortified once she realizes what she’s communicated. “Shiori,” he starts, his voice softer this time.

“Excuse me, Masaomi-san. I have business elsewhere.”

It’s a lie, and their new bond means he knows it’s a lie, but he doesn’t stop her as she walks away.

Masaomi finds Youji in the training yard, talking to the pretty gumiho woman he’s made friends with over the past couple of weeks.

“—stop dodging, how are we supposed to have a proper fake battle if you keep avoiding hits?”

“Sorry, Mi-chan, I guess I’m squeamish about being hit.”

“Uh huh. Oh look, your rich boyfriend is here.” Sakurano Michiru looks over at Masaomi and smiles. “Hello, rich boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Youji says.

“And I’m not that rich anymore, considering the other grand dragons froze my accounts,” Masaomi says.

“So you keep saying, but I’m not sure I believe you,” Michiru says, talking to Youji. “Although, you were making out with Corporal Toma last night. Get any?”

“He left early,” Youji says.

“He always does. I could’ve warned you. That man’s a tease.”

“I didn’t mind. It was an honor to be teased,” Youji says with a grin. Masaomi manages to hide his scowl but the irritation is probably communicated anyway.

Oh, so that’s where you were last night, Masaomi thinks, despite himself.

I was invited for drinks. You could’ve come along.

I wasn’t invited for drinks.

Out of the three of them—no, out of the four of them—Youji is the only one who is settling in nicely with the Magpies. Even Hinami seems irritated at how easily Youji is fitting in with the ranks. Just looking at the two of them, Youji would be the one people might think has been here for years, and Hinami the newcomer.

Then I’ll invite you next time, Youji thinks.

I don’t want to be invited, Masaomi snaps back, still irritated.

“See, and now you two are staring at each other intensely, which is a thing you two do a lot, and is certainly giving the impression to everyone on base that you guys are madly in love with each other,” Michiru says conversationally. Youji looks like he’s going to protest again, but Michiru just says, “I’m going to spare you the lie, which I’m sure will be very believable and convincing, because I have to go. I got a summons.” She waves her wrist, where the gold Cicada indicates a message received. “Be good, boys. Don’t do anything scandalous without me.”

“Lovely woman,” Masaomi says as she leaves, admiring the movement of her hips as she walks away.

“You’re staring.”

“That is the confident walk of a woman who clearly expected me to stare. It would have been impolite not to comply.”

“Uh huh. Well, behave. I like Mi-chan, and she would eat you alive. That was her kick earlier.”

Masaomi rubs his stomach, still convinced he can feel the dull ache. “Duly noted. You said you were going to be more careful in training sessions.”

“I got distracted, sorry,” Youji says. Hinami’s sparring sessions aren’t as intense, and she rarely gets injured. So far, it’s only Youji who keeps sending these inconvenient flares of pain through their unasked-for bond.

“Apologize to Shiori,” Masaomi says coldly. “She’s a court lady, and isn’t used to pain.”

“I did apologize to Shi-chan,” Youji says, his voice mild. “She’s very forgiving.”

Masaomi scowls, since there’s no way Youji doesn’t know what Masaomi and Shiori were talking about five minutes ago. “It’s all a front. Her grudges could freeze mountains.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. He likes harping at Youji, because Youji never seems to mind. But after his conversation with Shiori, he can’t help but be keenly aware that Youji is the only one on this base who doesn’t treat Masaomi like he’s an evil villain. Abruptly, he asks, “Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“For what?” Youji says, perplexed.

“For—you know. Leaving you to die, and what not.” Youji had already been shot by the humans. Masaomi left him thinking he was dead, or near-death.

“I had no expectations that you wouldn’t.”

“Ouch,” Masaomi says, surprised by the genuine hurt he feels at that statement. But then, he’d already betrayed Youji once before, so of course Youji would have expected that he’d do it again. It’s completely absurd that he feels hurt, when clearly Youji was right not to expect better of him.

“That’s not what I meant,” Youji says, frowning quizzically. His thick eyebrows move like silkworms on his face, and it actually makes him look charming.

“No?”

“I meant—I didn’t expect you to stick around. I didn’t expect anyone to stick around. Why would you have? We just met each other. You didn’t owe me anything.”

It’s everything Masaomi has been telling himself these past couple of weeks—I had every right to leave them! I owed them nothing!—but hearing Youji say it like that just sounds bare and false. “Well. It’s unlikely I’ll do it again.”

Masaomi hates how awkward that sounds. Youji just grins at him and says, “So were you worried when I didn’t come back to our room last night?”

“I wasn’t worried,” Masaomi says, bristling. “You’re my jailer, not my roommate.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

The fact that they’re sharing a military bunk is something that still chafes, because Masaomi has never shared living quarters with anyone. Much less a room that’s little better than a closet. But when they’d first arrived on base, Hinami had said, “I don’t trust you not to run away.”

“There’s nothing you could do to stop me,” Masaomi had said. But their bond was brand new at that point, and he didn’t know how to stop himself from automatically thinking, Youji would probably stop me from leaving. That thought had, quite embarrassingly, been transmitted to the other three. Youji had looked flattered, Shiori had looked coolly intrigued, and Hinami had said, “Good, then Yamazaki will room with you and stop you from leaving.”

The fact that Masaomi is sure that Youji could stop him from leaving—or at the very least, would be able to track him down and bring him back, if he did leave—upsets him more than the fact that he now has to share a room. Not that he plans on leaving, (he’s learned from that mistake), but he’d like the option.

“Maybe you wouldn’t want to leave so much if you made more friends,” Youji says helpfully.

“Stop that.”

“I can’t help it, you’re broadcasting your thoughts so loudly,” Youji says, his voice abashed.

“I am not. I have complete control over my thoughts. This is ridiculous. Call the divine Avatar and tell her to stop this stupid bond thing. I refuse to be a divine champion if I have to keep sharing my thoughts with the three of you.”

“I keep telling you, I don’t know how to summon her. She just shows up. I’m not sure why you keep thinking I have special access to Madhuri anyway.”

“Probably because you call her Madhuri like she’s a childhood friend and not a divine Avatar,” Masaomi says. He’s only known this man for three weeks, and he’s still not sure if Youji is purposefully evasive or if he’s genuinely bad at understanding subtext. Because it has certainly occurred to Masaomi (and Shiori, he’s sure) that Youji is the one whom Madhuri chose to rescue Masaomi from prison. Of the four of them, Youji is the only one Madhuri has talked to without the presence of the others. Masaomi doesn’t believe for a second that Youji is too dim to understand that makes him different from the rest of them.

“What else am I supposed to call her? She didn’t give a family name,” Youji says, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Masaomi gives up.

“If she shows up again, tell her to remove the bond,” Masaomi says, turning to leave. “Or I’m not helping anymore.”

#mikki writes #Honor the Words #The Magpie Chronicles #akaryu masaomi #yamazaki youji #kitahara hinami #nakahara shiori #My writing #exceprt

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yankingmyvajane · 4 years ago

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Beauyasha Meta

For anyone who can’t read the pictures with the small text. I’m sorry about that!!

When Beau and Yasha met in that tavern in Trostenwald, Beau was immediately drawn to Yasha. Obviously a lot of that was just base level attraction to her, because let’s face it, Yasha is hot as fuck.

But, there was just something about Yasha that drew Beau in. To me, it feels like both Beau and Yasha understood and felt that pull, but they also had an unspoken agreement that their dynamic couldn’t be anything serious. It was just playful and flirtatious. At this point in time, Beau had fully convinced herself that she was happier being lonely, if she never opened herself up romantically, she couldn’t be heartbroken again. So, she decided that she would be alone forever, and would use occasional hook ups as a band aid to get by. Yasha was sure that she would never move on from Zuala because she didn’t want or deserve to. If she moved on, Zuala would be gone. How could she ever love another person ever again when she was the reason that this woman was killed? There was too much regret and too much shame in her heart for that to ever be on her radar. There were moments where Beau considered hooking up with Yasha, but that might’ve made things weird and Yasha left the group frequently. As they started to get to know each other more, Beau was considering making a move, but then Yasha, Fjord and Jester were taken by the Iron Shepherds. Then Molly died, which fundamentally impacted and changed both Beau and Yasha as people. Yasha left again, and we know through the art book that Beau missed her and considered her a part of the Mighty Nein. Once Yasha came back, Beau was very gentle with her, making sure that she was okay. Making her feel safe. I think that it brought Yasha comfort to be able to slowly start to jump back into the way things were with the Nein. Whether she liked it or not, she had grown to care deeply for these people, and now that Molly was gone, they were her only family. So, their relationship slowly started to get back to the flirtation of the earlier campaign, except this time Yasha started to reciprocate. Then Yasha told the entire group Zuala, and Beau cared way too much about Yasha to ignore the fact that she was grieving. Beau understands loss, and she couldn’t just swoop in like an asshole trying to flirt with Yasha like she had before now that she knew Yasha’s struggles. But then there was that night in the barbed fields when Yasha initiated flirtation with Beau. That was the night that they opened up to each other about things that they hadn’t told anyone else about.Yasha is still the only one who knows the full story of Beau and Tori’s relationship. For the first time, this unspoken understanding of their pull to one another was made explicit. “I’ve seen you.” Which to this day, is such a perfect quote to summarize their relationship. Beau was making an off-handed comment to belittle herself, and Yasha flipped it to show Beau that she understands her, values her, and cares for her. This one scene has so much depth. Beau checking in on Yasha. Yasha reassuring Beau that no matter what she may see in herself, no matter what she’s been led to believe about her character, Beau is deserving of respect, of love, and Yasha isn’t the only person who believes that either. Yasha listening to Beau’s pain and making sure that she knows it is just as valid as her own. Beau making it known that she has been paying attention to Yasha, and that she can see that there is something truly special about her. Yasha makes sure to find a moment to make Beau laugh. These two women who have emotionally closed themselves off from the world, on multiple levels, opening up to each other about love and loss. Realizing that their lives have been connected long before they even knew the other existed. That they are more similar than they could have ever thought. A moment of understanding and recognition of the other’s experiences of love, and the pain of their loss. A then, a glint of realization that maybe someday, they could both find someone who is worth risking that same pain all over again. Or maybe…they had already found them. Beau’s response was subtle, though. Maybe Yasha was just being kind. It probably didn’t mean anything, and besides, Beau had made a choice. She had decided to back away, and she swore that nothing would ever happen between them because it was too complicated. Yasha was still mourning her wife, and as much as she cared about Yasha, maybe even because she cared so much, it hurt Beau every time Yasha left the Mighty Nein. Which she did frequently. How could Beau let herself care if Yasha wasn’t going to stay? That is exactly why she decided to be lonely. No feelings means no heartbreak. Everything changed once Obann took Yasha away from them. Beau began to realize how much she truly cared, because she felt how much it hurt that Yasha was gone again. She barely slept for several nights after Yasha was taken because she wanted to hear a storm. She wanted some confirmation that Yasha would be okay. Maybe the Storm Lord could bring her back to them. As much as she tried to avoid confronting the pain of losing Yasha, Beau never gave up on her, and knew that what they were seeing wasn’t really her. During this time, Beau developed a crush on Jester. Once Yasha came back, their relationship grew similarly to the way it did after Yasha came back from leaving at Molly’s grave. It started slow and careful, but eventually began building back up to the ways things were. The playful flirtation between them started back up. No matter what Beau convinced herself of, she always came back to that connection she has with Yasha. She began to realize that her feelings for Yasha were stronger than her crush on Jester. She has been avoiding her feelings for Yasha because she has been avoiding confronting her future; with Yasha, it has always been more than a crush. She called her beautiful at the fish market, she blue screened over her getting stronger overnight, she watched her play her harp on the beach and smiled at her while watching her from a distance. At the same time, Yasha once again began to slowly initiate flirtation with Beau in her own ways. She always protected Beau in combat, and couldn’t help but get flustered around her. We know that she has been harboring guilt over what she did to Beau in the chantry, which probably held her back from doing more. I imagine that moment also motivated her to open up more as well, though. Perhaps she began to realize the fragility of life, and maybe she was struggling with balancing the knowledge that she needs to say something before it’s too late, and the shame and regret of the things she has done. Then they went to Rumblecusp. There was that night in Vo where Yasha played her harp and everyone could see just how much she had healed. We watched the layers of emotion hit Beau’s face. I think she started to realize in that moment that while Yasha had grown, so had she. They are not the same two people who met in a tavern before a carnival. They have both been through so much shit, and yet here Yasha was, playing her harp in front of everyone, displaying this gentle beauty that Beau knows has always been within her. It was in that moment that all of the feelings Beau had for Yasha began to click for her. Then, there was the flight. Ever since going to Kamordah and seeing the hag, Beau had been struggling a lot. The realization that one day she would lose the Mighty Nein was massive for Beau, because she realized that despite everything she had told herself, she is terrified of being alone. Flying with Yasha was the first time since going to Kamordah that we saw Beau carefree. She was even (trying) to say that she felt better than she had in a long time (good long time). In my opinion, that moment completely solidified Beau’s feelings for Yasha in Beau’s mind. This woman that she has been harboring feelings for since the moment they met just sprouted literal angel wings for the first time in her life for the sole purpose of catching Beau and taking her on a flight over a waterfall. Beau also knows that the fact that Yasha’s wings were no longer skeletal means something, and I am absolutely certain she could tell how much the moment meant for Yasha. To be the person that this woman gets to share one of the most important and symbolic moments of her life with is not a small thing. Combine all of that with the fact that Beau was starting to accept that her feelings for Yasha were much more than playful; everything that the two of them went through as individuals, all of their personal growth only brought them closer together. Beau knows that she doesn’t want to be alone anymore, in fact she realizes how terrible being lonely is, and now she also realizes that as terrifying as it may be to think about, she has started to think about what a future might look like with Yasha in it. And the best part? She actually feels like running towards that future instead of running away from it. In order to let herself fully accept this and say it out loud to someone, Beau needed to know that Yasha wasn’t going to leave anymore. Yasha’s absence was always the biggest setback for them. So, Beau asked Yasha outfront, and Yasha told her, with a knowing and loving smile, that she isn’t going anywhere. Wherever the Nein go, wherever Beau goes, Yasha goes. Despite this, Beau does not expect anything of Yasha, because she knows she has her own shit to deal with. Yet there is still that glimmer of hope in her mind. So she tells Fjord. Then she tells Jester. The ball has to be in Yasha’s court because Beau respects Yasha too much to overstep. And Yasha, who has been fighting with the parts of herself that are holding on to her mistakes and the part of her that cares deeply about Beauregard, is now coming to terms with the dream she had the night before. She had a dream, or maybe it was more than a dream, that gave her the tools to forgive herself for the things she has been holding on to for so long. Now that she is beginning to forgive and to let go of the guilt, what could her future bring? She has a dream about letting go and growing her wings, and the very next day she uses her newly feathered wings to catch the woman who she has developed strong and passionate feelings for, and gets to share this life changing moment with her. Then she talks to Caduceus and he echoes a sentiment very similar to one that she shared with Caleb. If you care for someone, you should tell them before it is too late. Who knows how much time is left. If you have the opportunity, why not make the most of whatever time you do have left. He tells her that she deserves to go for the things she wants. And she knows that he is talking about her feelings for Beau. So she tells Jester how she feels, she makes it real for herself. There is no going back now, and so they come up with a plan to tell Beau in the perfect way. And she writes the poem, but decides that what she wants to tell Beau needs to be more candid and real; more specific to who Yasha is, and to who Beau is. So Yasha writes a letter telling Beau that she sees her. Just like she did all that time ago in the barbed fields. She sees Beau, every part of Beau, even the parts that Beau thinks are bad or unloveable, and she tells Beau that she cherishes every part of her. She highlights her strengths in a way that she knows Beau deserves to hear. It is clear that Yasha understands Beau intimately by the words she wrote, and by the way that Beau reacted to what she read. The ball is now back in Beau’s court. As we know now, Beau is planning something for Yasha. She looked for flowers and wanted Caleb to change the tower somehow. These two women who have experienced so much loss and heartbreak, whose lives and journeys have mirrored one another and became intertwined the moment they met are taking their time and waiting for the perfect moments so that they absolutely get it right. Each of them knows that the other deserves nothing less than perfect. Yasha, who never got to share her love with the world, whose love was taken from her unfairly and cruelly. Yasha, who had closed herself off emotionally to protect herself from losing anymore loved ones, yet who protects and gives love without ever needing or asking for anything in return. Beau, who has been dismissed, undermined, and neglected by her family her entire life. Beau, who has given so much of herself just to feel valued and acknowledged, and who desperately wants to feel seen. To truly be loved.

#beauyasha #sentinel girlfriends #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #critical role spoilers

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

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Not Your Average Love Story (SPN x CM)

Sam Winchester x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~3490

Warnings: Show-level violence, but that’s about it! It’s bizarrely fluffy.

A/N: My first square for @cmbingo: “meet the parents.” This is essentially a rewrite of Supernatural 12x01, “Keep Calm and Carry On,” except Spencer and Sam are adorable dorky murder boyfriends.

Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67 for the read-through!

When Spencer realizes he’s in love with Sam, he’s on a plane, hoping to make it to Kansas before the sun goes dark.

He looks out the window at the too-orange light, thinking, this is a weird twist for a love story. He turns that thought over in his mind and realizes: love.

Oh.

It takes him by surprise, for some reason, but only for a second. He’s starting to get used to surprises.

* * *

Spencer has always been self-aware enough to realize that his intellect and his lack of social skills would not make it easy to strike up a traditional relationship. Then, of course, you factor in his obsessive tendencies, his attachment issues, and the stresses of his job, and it’s not actually surprising that he made it past the age of thirty before he fell in love for the first time. Considering how that ended, it’s definitely a surprise — if not a minor miracle — that he’s made it this far with Sam.

Then again, nothing about their relationship has been predictable. Spencer never guessed he’d meet his future partner while dissecting a dessicated brain.

Ever since Spencer Reid met Sam Winchester, his life has been one surprise after another.

* * *

The third unanswered call makes him nervous, but he figures Sam must be asleep, or at least he should be asleep. If Spencer finds himself doing ninety mph in his tiny rental car, it’s mostly because Kansas highways don’t seem to follow the usual laws of physics. They’re flat and endless and eerie in the grey pre-dawn light.

The moment he opens the door, Spencer knows something is wrong. He spares a wishful thought for his Kevlar, and then he draws his gun, falling automatically into the too-familiar stance as he silently descends the stairs.

There’s blood on the floor.

This doesn’t surprise him in the slightest.

* * *

Spencer tends to spend a lot of time visualizing hypothetical problems and their solutions. He’s good at imagining all the potential outcomes of a particular scenario and calculating their likelihoods based on given variables. He frequently does this at night, instead of sleeping.

In other words, he worries a lot.

If he were in a normal relationship he would probably worry about normal things. For example: whether Spencer was misreading the situation, whether it was okay to run a thorough background check on them, and what to wear on a date. What would their first argument be about? What would their parents think of him? What would his mom think of them?

About thirty-six hours after they met, Sam saved Spencer’s mom from a wraith; first impressions don’t get much better than that.

The normal worries were rapidly eclipsed by Sam-specific worries. For example: what if he got cursed, what if he got possessed, and were there angels or demons after him this week. Why couldn’t Dean either drive a little slower or get a car with less antiquated safety features? How would Spencer help if Sam got hurt on the job? Should he tell the B.A.U. what he’s been learning about the supernatural?

He does end up telling them everything; Sam and Dean show up at a crime scene, Hotch almost arrests them, and it turns out that one of the serial killers they’ve been hunting for a decade is actually a skinwalker.

But the point is that when Spencer sees blood on the floor, he isn’t surprised. He’s visualized this scenario — and several hundred variations on it — before.

* * *

He hears a raised voice in the library and takes the steps two at a time. There are two complete strangers there, a blonde woman aiming a gun at a man, and Spencer’s training kicks in before he can figure out why she looks familiar.

“Federal agent, hands in the air,” he barks.

He can see the split-second when the woman thinks about turning her gun on him, but she seems to think better of it, and she sets the gun down slowly before putting her hands in the air.

“Who are you?” the man demands. “What did you do with Sam?”

“What — Sam?” Spencer asks, panic rising in his throat. “Spencer Reid, FBI. Who —”

“You’re Spencer?” he asks, brow furrowed.

Spencer realizes: “You’re Castiel.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey, gun down,” Dean interrupts. “It’s okay! She’s okay, Spence!”

“Dean? You’re alive?” Castiel grabs him before he can say anything else.

Spencer lowers his gun slowly. He’s starting to hyperventilate. He wants to know how Dean is still alive, yes, but he’s watching the way they embrace, the smile on Cas’s face and the way Dean’s shoulders seem to drop like he’s relaxing for the first time in a long time, and all he can think about is —

“Can somebody tell me where the hell Sam is?” Spencer asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

“He’s not here,” Castiel says.

The woman looks between Cas and Spencer, eyes wide, and it’s not clear who she’s talking to when she asks, “Who are you?”

“He’s my —” Dean starts.

Cas cuts him off by saying, “He’s Sam’s —” at the same time Spencer blurts out, “He’s an angel.”

“Come again?” the woman asks, and when she sees the way Dean shifts nervously, she adds, “Not that, I don’t care about — you said angel?”

“Angel. You know. Wings, harp.”

“Not actually,” Spencer tells her, just as Cas scowls and says, “No, I don’t have a harp.”

“Cas, Spencer,” Dean says, and he pauses, swallowing hard. “This is Mary. Mary Winchester.”

Spencer and Cas speak in unison again, Cas in a gruff monotone as Spencer’s voice goes squeaky: “Your mother?”

Of all the things Spencer has worried about, he never thought he would never have to worry about making a bad first impression on Sam’s parents. Sam’s parents are dead.

Except… apparently not. Apparently Sam’s mom has been resurrected, and Spencer just pulled a gun on her.

“Nice to meet you,” Mary says softly, with a tentative smile.

For a second he freezes, staring at her, and his mind starts racing, recalculating, replanning, getting his worrying done after the fact, and Spencer has no idea what to say. He never made a plan for this.

“Nice to meet you,” he responds, flushing. “Um. Sorry about that.”

“I’d have done the same thing if I were you.” She smiles, and she doesn’t look much like Sam, but the kindness in her eyes is so very familiar. Spencer’s breath catches.

“She’s not kidding, shoulda seen the way she pinned me when I tried to introduce myself,” Dean grumbles. Then he turns to Castiel and says, “Tell me what happened to Sam.”

As Castiel starts to explain the details, Spencer calls Penelope.

“FBI, office of the brilliant but under-caffeinated,” she says, slightly less chirpy than he’s used to, and Spencer realizes how early it is. Oops.

“It’s me.”

“Oh! Boy genius! They did it, huh? Hotch called us back in, like, as soon as the sun came back on, because apparently criminals don’t stop just because the world is ending, or whatever, but he wanted to give you a day at least — hey, are you okay? How’s that handsome lumberjack of yours?”

“Sam’s missing,” Spencer says without preamble. “I need your help.”

It takes Penelope approximately a minute to find the car and identify the driver, but the identity of his passenger is a little more elusive. She types away, keys clattering ceaselessly in the background, as Spencer yawns.

“Got it! Okay, I have a cell number. If you call her, I can track it. You ready?”

“Dean, give me your phone?” Spencer asks, holding out a hand. “You stay on the line with Penelope. She can tell you as soon as she gets the address.”

“I can make the call,” Dean says. “I want to have a word with this bitch.”

“Dean,” Spencer snaps. “First of all, I’m the only person here who’s trained in hostage negotiation. Finding people is literally in my job description.”

“This isn’t a fuckin’ bank holdup, this is my brother,” Dean retorts. “It’s my job to take care of him.”

“If you call her a bitch and start in on your threatening macho bullshit, she’s going to hang up, or worse, she’s going to believe you, and then she’ll be trying to get you before you can get to Sam. I know how to talk to people like this. If I can convince her I’m scared, that I’m not a real threat, she might give something away.”

“But —”

“Secondly, the only people who know you’re alive are in this room right now, which means you’re our best chance to take her by surprise when we get there, so shut up and let me do my job.”

“You really think you can find him,” Dean says, and it’s not a question. He holds out his phone with a look of begrudging respect.

“Yes.”

Spencer thinks, I have to.

* * *

People aren’t all the same, but if you could quantify the concept of normal, if you could look at it statistically, most people would fall within the standard deviation. Most of their lives take an even, predictable shape, Spencer thinks. There are plenty of other people like them, and they seem to fit with each other, too, interlocking in an easy way that Spencer has always envied.

Spencer’s got all these awkward uneven edges and strange angles. He’s not normal, and he’s always known that.

For a long time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find someone who’ll fit easily, not without changing him, trying to reshape him in some way. He doesn’t want to change, but he gets lonely. Most people (friends, let alone lovers) don’t last long before they get sick of his quirks. Some try longer than others, but one way or another, there’s always some jarring part of him that doesn’t match what they want.

What if they like to sleep with the windows open, even in the winter? Or if they sleep with the air conditioning cranked up in the summer? Spencer knows he should be better about compromising on little things like that, but he really prefers things a certain way. He knows it’s neurotic. He can’t help it.

Spencer is used to people staring blankly when he starts talking, but at what point will it drive someone away? When will they stop pretending to care about his Doctor Who opinions? When will they get bored of his info-dumping?

And then there are the really difficult questions. How does he tell someone he used to be an addict? What if he doesn’t want to tell them about being kidnapped and tortured? What if he does, and then they start asking questions? How does he explain his PTSD, or his nightmares, or his bedtime routine of triple-checking every lock and setting his gun within arm’s reach?

At first, when he met Sam, Spencer worried about arguments and parents and all the other normal things, but more importantly, he worried about himself. He wondered which of his irregularities would finally make Sam give up on his attempts to fit Spencer into his life.

Neither of them sleep much, but when they do end up sharing a bed, Sam has his own routine; while Spencer checks the locks, Sam draws warding symbols, lines each window and door with salt, and sets his gun within reach. He likes the windows closed and the thermostat above 68, because, he explains simply, “Lucifer runs cold.”

Speaking of Lucifer. Sam understands addiction, kidnapping, torture, PTSD, and nightmares, and he doesn’t ask Spencer to tell his stories before he’s ready. Sam has stories of his own.

Sam also has his own Doctor Who opinions, and those opinions were the cause of their very first argument. Sam is wrong, but Spencer loves that he cares enough to argue.

The first time Spencer started rambling about serial killers, he noticed Sam frowning and cut himself off, embarrassed, ready to apologize. Sam just pulled out a journal and asked him to repeat what he’d said, so that Sam could do more research on the subject later.

Sam doesn’t expect him to change. He doesn’t try to re-shape Spencer. His life is just as weird, and by all logic they shouldn’t fit, but they do. And Spencer doesn’t feel any less himself, but suddenly he realizes that he must’ve changed along the way, because he can’t imagine his life without Sam any more; if they can’t find him, his absence is going to tear Spencer apart.

* * *

It’s a tense car ride, to say the least.

Hell of a first impression, Spencer thinks again, glancing at Mary’s pale, worried face in the rearview.

Castiel and Mary are in the backseat, and they’re trying to make small talk, but Castiel seems to be about as good as Spencer at the whole “casual conversation” thing. Sam’s told him so much about Castiel, Spencer feels like he knows him, but they’ve never actually crossed paths before.

And then there’s Dean, who’s got his jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. Spencer gives him directions, and he grunts or nods, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Dean intimidates the hell out of him, but they’ve always gotten along fine, maybe because Spencer’s never yelled at him before. He’s very aware that arguing with Dean Winchester is usually fruitless at best (and deadly at worst), but he’s never been good at holding his tongue when he’s upset.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer manages to mutter eventually.

“Huh?” Dean looks at him, frowning.

“About earlier. I didn’t mean to — um.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean says gruffly.

“I was upset. I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugs, and he hesitates before adding, “You were right.” He looks as surprised to be saying it as Spencer is to hear it.

Spencer blinks at him a couple times before hurriedly saying, “Turn left. There.”

Cas and Mary are having a quiet conversation about the weirdness of technology, and Spencer is about to join them when Dean speaks up again.

“Garcia — she said something funny.”

“Uh oh.”

Dean snorts. “Nah, not like that. Before she hung up, she told me not to worry. Said of everybody she knows, Sam probably has the second-best odds of escaping any poor sap who tries to abduct him.”

“Second best?”

“That’s what I said. But apparently that title belongs to you.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it. All I can do is talk myself out, he’s stronger.” Spencer gives him a crooked attempt at a smile; it feels awkward on his face, but he means it when he says, “He’ll be okay.”

* * *

The funny thing is, Spencer has been in this situation before.

When it was Maeve, though, he panicked, because all he could think about was how she must feel: scared, helpless. Spencer has too much empathy sometimes. Imagining Maeve’s helplessness made him feel like he was drowning.

This is different. He’s not exactly zen about the whole situation, of course; it feels like a piece of him is missing, but he’s clear-headed, because he knows that Sam is anything but helpless. He trusts Sam to take care of himself.

Aside from the supernatural element, Sam’s job is astoundingly similar to Spencer’s, and he’s astoundingly good at it. The Winchesters have consulted on a couple cases, now, for the B.A.U. (Spencer’s still not sure how Hotch manages the paperwork) and they try to find cases in the same general area as wherever Spencer winds up, so they’ve gotten to work together a few times. Sam’s sheer competence at his job might be the most attractive thing Spencer has ever seen.

Spencer used to imagine a quiet, mundane romance. He always just assumed he’d find someone whose life was more normal than his, and he was resigned to the stress it would cause in a relationship. He’d forget to call, he’d miss dinner, he’d have to cancel plans and be absent from so much of what constituted a normal domestic life, and his partner would be left at home, alone, all too aware of how much danger Spencer could be in, helpless to do anything about it.

Instead, Spencer found Sam. Spencer never has to feel guilty about missing dinner, because Sam isn’t at home worrying about him. Sam is out there saving the world.

Sam is not going to wait for Spencer to rescue him; he might not even need rescuing, at this point. Instead of worrying about what Sam is doing and whether he’s scared, Spencer can focus on his own plan.

* * *

He and Dean circle slowly around the house. They spot the entrance to the basement, and Dean almost runs right to it, but Spencer grabs his arm and points to the sigils around the door.

Spencer notices movement through a window next to the back door, and when they creep up to get a glimpse inside, he sees two women. One is the blonde — the brains of the operation — and the other is stockier, clearly the muscle.

After a quick conversation in whispers and gestures, Dean sneaks around to the side of the house opposite the basement, and a second later Spencer hears him shout. He waits a couple seconds and glances in the window again, and sure enough, the bigger woman is gone while the blonde is watching something on a computer monitor, looking agitated. Security cameras, maybe.

Spencer is about to go inside when he sees the blonde start, look around, and grab a cattle prod. Then she’s hurrying toward a door, sliding back a heavy deadbolt, and Spencer sees a dark stairwell that must lead to the basement.

He slips through the door and follows her.

For a split-second, the scene in the basement almost stops his heart. Sam is lying on the floor, completely still, his head surrounded by a puddle of blood.

But before Spencer can really process what he’s seeing, let alone react, Sam is in motion: lashing out, grabbing her by the throat, shoving her against the wall. Spencer descends the stairs quietly with his gun at the ready, trying not to make any noise that might distract Sam right now.

Sam doesn’t need his help. There’s blood on his damp clothes and his arms are shaking as the blonde goes limp in his grip, but he’s alive; he doesn’t need Spencer’s help, and Spencer isn’t the slightest bit surprised.

When Sam turns and sees him, he doesn’t look surprised either. He just smiles, all dimples and sparkling eyes in spite of his obvious pain as he limps over.

“Sorry that took me so long,” Spencer says casually, trying to control his grin. He doesn’t want to holster his gun yet, so he keeps it trained on the woman and hugs Sam one-armed.

Sam wraps his arms around Spencer, holding on tight. Spencer rests his forehead on Sam’s shoulder, taking a second to breathe as he feels missing pieces sliding neatly into place.

“Love you,” Sam says, and the words sound like a sigh of relief. He pulls back, and he looks surprised, like he didn’t actually mean to say that out loud.

Spencer’s about to reply when he sees the woman struggling to her feet, reaching for her cattle prod, and so instead he says, “Look out.”

Sam steps sideways to give him a clear shot. Spencer shoots her in the thigh and she screams as she falls to the floor.

“See how you like it,” Sam tells her, with a vicious little smile.

“I love you too,” Spencer blurts out.

For a second they both pause, grinning at each other like idiots, their surroundings forgotten.

Then there’s a sound from overhead, and Sam asks hurriedly, “The other one. Did you take her out already?”

“Dean’s got her,” Spencer tells him. “We should check on him, then we can come back down and deal with — Sam?”

At first he can’t figure out why Sam’s mouth drops open like that, shocked and disbelieving. Then he remembers.

“Dean’s alive?” Sam asks, a smile spreading slowly over his face. Spencer nods, wrapping an arm around Sam’s ribs, supporting him as he limps gingerly toward the stairs. It feels like he’s forgetting something.

There’s another noise, and then Mary is in the doorway, looking down at them.

Oh.

Sam turns to Spencer silently, like he’s waiting for confirmation that she’s real.

Spencer nods. “Yeah. So — um. Surprise?”

Sam doesn’t actually seem all that surprised, because… of course he doesn’t. He blinks at Spencer a couple times and then he grins.

“You met my mom before I did,” Sam says, breathless and amused, and grabs the banister to haul himself up the stairs. Spencer laughs and follows him, smiling to himself.

It’s not your average “meet the parents” scene, but somehow, it fits Sam and Spencer perfectly.

Nothing about their love story has been normal. Why start now?

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds #supernatural #sam winchester x spencer reid #spencer reid fic #sam winchester fic

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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For Karin's backstory, do you usually go for anime one? I prefer datebook backstory, even though it's not detailed. Because manga showed one panel of Karin being experimented on with her arms showing bite marks. So I always believed that healing bites ability is result of Oro experiments. It makes more sense to me. Also, I am uncomfortable of anime backstory. And grass village confuses me. Didn't they still exist after the fourth war? I guess in fic, we could just say it no longer exists.

I love this question.

Okay, so the short version is that I usually do a mix of the two. I’m going to do a quick rundown on the differences between the two backstories for anyone who isn’t familiar. This means we’ll be touching on some very questionable subjects, because the anime went to some very concerning lengths. It’s going to be under a cut, because... yeah. Long.

The only solid canon, as in from the manga, that we have for pre-Orochimaru Karin is the Chuunin Exams flashback, wherein she is in a Kusa (Grass) headband, and is saved from a bear by Sasuke, which kicks off her crush on him.

The first backstory we received from Karin was in the databooks; this backstory came out prior to the Exams flashback in the manga. It stated that Karin was living in an unspecified village, sensed an army coming to destroy it, and tried to warn the rest of the town. Nobody believed her, so she ran to hide (I think in some nearby foothills/forest?), and everyone else was killed. Orochimaru then came by, tried to recruit her, and then let Sasuke convince her. Sasuke didn’t really have to do much beyond saying he was Oro’s student in order to get Karin to come along.

Now, given that Kusagakure still exists post-timeskip, at least in the Blood Prison movie, the village that was destroyed wasn’t Kusa. Either Karin was in a different village, or Karin’s backstory doesn’t include the village destruction element. I tend to go with ‘a different village,’ but I’ll get to that later.

The anime gives us a different backstory, one that takes Karin’s Kusa headband from the Exams as fact.

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Karin’s backstory is not presented as a backstory, but rather an alternate timeline from her Eternal Tsukuyomi dream. I don’t know what the animators were thinking, deciding to use this hell as her dream of a ‘perfect world,’ but at this point the dream is treated as her default anime background so like??? Sure. Sure. We’ll use it, but we’ll also judge Studio Pierrot for it, because there’s “I don’t like this character” and then there’s “I’m going to have this character’s dream of a perfect world include over a decade of violating her health and bodily autonomy on a level of systemic abuse that is truly horrific, edging on fucking csa” because fuck you I guess? I’m still mad. I’d have been okay with the backstory as backstory because it fits her personality, but why the hell was it presented as her Eternal Tsukuyomi dream???

Listen LISTEN Eternal Tsukuyomi is supposed to be a perfect world for each individual You DREAM WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPIEST and they gave her a decade of physical and medical abuse, bordering on extended csa, only to die at sixteen because they'd 'used her up.’ like???

When I say SP had a grudge against Karin...

Anyway. Anime backstory:

Karin’s mother (unnamed) came to Kusagakure following the destruction of Uzushiogakure, and was granted refugee status in exchange for working at the hospital, having a similar ‘bite me and you’ll heal’ power as Karin does in canon. We don’t know who Karin’s father was; he may have been a Kusa citizen, or an Uzushio man who died prior to Karin’s mother’s arrival in Kusa.

Karin’s mother dies at some point during Karin’s childhood, having been used as a chakra healing battery to the point of dying of chakra exhaustion. At this point in the anime, Kusa orders that Karin must take over her mother’s duties as a healer, because such a technique is too useful to just leave alone. The bites start out on her forearms, eventually going all over her body, including areas that, despite the intent not being sexual in nature, do qualify as child sexual abuse.

She is bitten on the chest and thighs, by people she barely knows, with minimal consent on her part. She is a minor. This is csa and I hate that people forget this, or choose to exclude it to more easily vilify her.*

(Manga canon also has her with bites on her chest, at sixteen, most of which we can assume are not Sasuke since he seems to not know that biting her chest is provides better healing when she tells him to do it. Again: underage, coercion, chest bites, violation of bodily autonomy. It’s long-term csa in every canon. It may not be explicitly stated, but this is the most explicitly shown example canon has of this particular kind of trauma.)

Now, again, this is her Eternal Tsukuyomi (for some fucking reason), and not her technical backstory, and in that context she just... never gets out. She keeps getting used and abused, the bites eventually even covering her face, and then she dies before hitting twenty.

...so how do we reconcile this?

Elements we have:

Kusagakure headband during the Chuunin Exams (manga canon)

Saved by Sasuke, causing her crush; implies she was very poorly treated by the people around her prior to their meeting (manga canon)

No visible bite marks on her arms during the Chuunin Exams, but with the caveat that the marks are also not visible during Boruto, so it’s possible that Kishi, and in turn SP, just didn’t feel like drawing the scars. (manga canon)

Karin’s healing abilities were present at some point prior to Sasuke recruiting her to hunt down Itachi, but it’s unclear if it is a Kekkei Genkai or something nurtured by Otogakure. (manga canon)

Kabuto’s abilities during the Fourth War include Karin’s ‘rejuvenation’ and ‘life force,’ which implies that it may be a Kekkei Genkai but leaves it frustratingly ambiguous.

Experienced a village destruction, followed by Orochimaru taking her on, due to a Cassandra Truth incident, using Sasuke to convince her to join Oto (databook)

Her mother came to Kusa at some point post-Uzushio destruction; iirc Uzushio fell when Kushina was a teenager, so Karin’s mother either spent a decade or so wandering around prior to deciding Kusa was better than nothing (possibly when she got pregnant), or lived in Kusa for a period of time prior to becoming pregnant. (anime)

Karin was forced, via coercion, to use her healing abilities while in Kusagakure following her mother’s death (anime)

Kusa still exists post-timeskip (anime)

Here’s what I usually go with:

I do think Karin was a Kusa genin. The databook and anime both state that she joined Orochimaru after Sasuke, so she’d have no reason to wear the headband during the Exams other than actually being a genin of Kusagakure.

I err towards the biting being a Kekkei Genkai, which means that it fits with the anime’s suggestion of Kusagakure having used her as a chakra healing battery prior to her arrival in Oto. THIS IS OPTIONAL in other people’s readings, because it’s not manga canon and it’s obviously an incredibly hard subject to work with.

So, Kusa kid, dead mom, chakra healing battery, genin at the Chuunin Exams, then... Otogakure. In order to work in the databook’s element of the destroyed village, we either have to wipe Kusa off the map, or it’s another village.

I’ve generally gone with stating that Karin was on a long-term mission as a healer in a larger civilian village, or possibly the country’s capitol (though that’s less likely). Kusa was obviously willing to send her away temporarily, as with the Exams, so if the price was right, they’d probably send her out on out-of-village missions as well. Would she have a team? Maybe.

Given her poor treatment in this scenario, and the implied distrust/abuse of refugees in the anime, it’s possible that any teammates she had either didn’t trust her as a person, or didn’t think her skills were as good as she claimed. Possibly they assumed that they’d be able to fight off a smaller attacking force, and that Karin was exaggerating or mistaken when insisting that they evacuate. In any case, whoever was with her, if anyone was, also died in this attack.

The army was very likely sent by Orochimaru, and it’s plausible that Karin was actually the main target. I imagine that a spy would have gotten word to Oro about a redhead with extreme healing abilities, and Orochimaru going “Gotta catch ‘em all, Ooh! An Uzumaki!” and deciding that the healing abilities played well enough into the immortality plan to be worth sending an army (and then going in person, with Sasuke) for.

Given how canon played out, she was worth it.

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

* Okay the reason I harp on the CSA thing in particular: there was a significant period of time where two headcanons were prevalent: that Sasuke was sexually abused by Orochimaru in his time as Oro’s student, and that Karin was a wannabe rapist.

The Sasuke thing was based on a manga cover and one of the anime openings, but had no actual textual basis beyond Orochimaru being a queercoded villain, which is a whole different problem. The Karin thing was based on a fan’s mistranslation of a single panel, along with later arguments failing to take slang into account and often had by people who don’t actually speak Japanese.

Ultimately, I’m furious that a large portion of the fandom painted a canon CSA victim as a wannabe rapist while pushing that same backstory element onto a different character which they often put as her hypothetical victim, oftentimes just to get her out of the way for shipping purposes. This is a long-standing grudge.

#Uzumaki Karin #Karin Uzumaki #Karin #Naruto #Team Taka #Phoenix Posts #character analysis #text analysis #screen analysis #csa mention #coercion mention #medical abuse tw #physical abuse tw #violation of bodily autonomy #child death mention #systemic abuse #Anonymous

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screamingatanemptyroom · 4 years ago

Text

Restricted Magic Arc 3 pt 8

On October 13th, 2018 I wrote a short story based on a Fictober challenge. That ended up turning into a 3 arc fantasy adventure story of Erin and Gerald, and my first ever long running series on this blog. Before that I had pretty much only done short stories. Unfortunately about a third of the way through the last arc, I hit major writer’s block, and abandoned the story.

Until now.

2 years later, I’m posting a new part. I won’t promise steady or frequent updates to this, but I am going to definitely try to finish this story. It was one of my favorites, and I want everyone to be able to enjoy it to the end with me.

Masterpost is linked here.

Arc 3 pt 7 linked here in case you want a quick refresher on where I left off.

Enjoy!

_____________________

“We’re running out of time.”

Elsinore whispered to herself, crossing her arms across her chest as she shivered with cold. Her fingers dug into her arms, the skin breaking along the tips of her nails. Rivulets of blood ran down, soaking the sleeve of her prison uniform, the pain of the injury dulled by her inner panic. Pacing back and forth around her cell, she stepped in the fluid dripping off her clothes, tracking red footprints on the well-worn floor.

The illusion of Sophia sat on her bed, watching her with a bored expression. “Pretty sure we have nothing but time, living contained in a cell like this.”

“SHUT UP!” Elsinore glared at her sister’s image. “You heard her! Erin is going to MERION!” She threw up her hands. “Merion! Why would she do this to me? I swore never to return there!”

“Is that what happened?” Sophia tapped a finger to her cheek, “Why do I seem to remember that you were banished?” She grinned, jumping to her feet and walking towards her. Her ghostly image tracked over the pooled blood without disturbing it. “But sure, you can pretend it was your choice to not return. Definitely not your punishment for betraying the country… and selling me to the Devil.”

Elsinore clutched her head, trying to ignore the voice of her dead sister, knowing it was her own illusion magic, her own delusion. “Roderick is planning something… why else would he bring her there of all places? No! We have to kill him before its too late!”

“Is that what you told my daughter?”

“She’s betrayed me.” Elsinore paced faster, her eyes wildly looking around the room. “She’s lost focus. So many years. So many sacrifices. And now she’s forgotten everything and abandoned me?!”

“You mean she’s finally looked to a future beyond killing her father? Wanting to survive, get married, have a life that’s about more than just one horrible man?”

“IT’S ABOUT AVENGING HER MOTHER’S MURDER!” Elsinore screamed at the figment of her imagination. “AVENGING YOUR DEATH! THAT’S ALL THAT MATTERS!”

“Elsinore…”

“SHUT UP!” She waved a blood stained hand, unsure if the dripping fluid was real or not, her gaze focusing inwards. “I haven’t lost sight of the goal. If she won’t kill him.”

“Sister…”

“Then I will. “

There was a moment of tense silence, broken finally by the screams of the guards outside.

“Fire!”

“The whole building’s burning!”

“Here, this way!”

The door to her cell opened, several armed men ran in, their eyes wide, staring at nothing. Elsinore smiled, spreading her hands widely.

“Why thank you, gentlemen. You’ve served your purpose beautifully.”

The men looked at each other with confused expressions, that slowly changed into ones of horror as their minds fell prey to her magic.

“The witch escaped! Don’t think you can run away!” Facing off, they drew their weapons, each striking the other accurately, and slumping to the ground. Even as they died, their faces were confused, unsure of what was real and what was not.

“Illusion is so close to reality, isn’t it.” Elsinore chuckled, stepping over their quickly cooling bodies and walking out the door. “You really shouldn’t be fooled by such simple lies.”

“You’re one to talk!” The image of her dead sister snorted with laughter, but she ignored her.

“Let’s go.”

She walked down the hallway, her pace casual, unhurried as if she were walking in her own home on her way to tea rather than a bloody hellhole.

Along the way she was attacked several times. They never got near her, striking uselessly in the air as they were caught in her magic again and again. One man brushed passed her, and slumped with shock as she restricted his magic. He had time to scream in fear before dying under the confused attacks from his fellow guards.

The building was burning around her, the heat singing her hair as she passed by.

Elsinore passed by the bodies, the carnage, the destruction of her captors, and she quietly began to laugh.

“Sister…” The illusion of Sophia tried to reach out, but Elsinore could no longer hear her as her laughter grew louder and louder.

She walked out of the door, turning briefly to enjoy the sight of the government building that had been her prison going up in flames.

The fire burned brightly against the quickly darkening sky, the smoke filling the area. Elsinore watched it with fascination, unsure if it were truly burning or not. The guards had fired multiple blasts of flames, it was possible that one of them had begun it accidentally, destroying her former prison. But it could still be her illusion magic, Elsinore simply wasn’t sure.

Not that it mattered either way.

Beyond the crackle of the flames there were no other sounds, everyone else beside Elsinore was dead. She leaned her head back, taking a deep breath to calm herself as her laughter died out.

“Roderick… I’m coming for you.”

Finally he would pay for his sins.

Only then would she truly be free.

_____________________

Olivia and Frederick sat in the front car of the magical transport, each enjoying the trip in their own way.

Olivia was looking out the glass window, watching the scenery as the large metal locomotive moved forward, skimming across the sand as if it were as slick as ice. Resting her chin on one palm, she was a picture of calm. However, every once and a while she would shoot an annoyed glance further into the metal car where a banging noise could be heard.

“Frederick I swear, if you break this transport and we have to walk to Merion, I will destroy you.”

CLANG!

An even louder noise filled the small space, as if to mock her threatening words, and a grease-stained Frederick poked his head up from a small compartment in the floor where he had been happily working.

“Really, you will destroy me?” he grinned. “You and what army?”

Olivia studied her nails, ignoring his sarcasm. “It’s strange…I seem to remember during our last sparring session one of us being defeated… badly.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Like, so badly it was humiliating.”

“Ugh, please don’t…”

“I wonder who that was again?” Her grin was vicious.

Frederick glared. “Fine. Point taken. But keep in mind, I’m not breaking anything!”

“Really? That banging noise I heard was you just passively observing?”

“No, but all I’m doing is trying to get a closer look at this mechanism.” His eyes brightened. “It’s incredible to see a magical artifact like this, something so huge but it moves so smoothly!”

With one hand gesturing further down into the space below the floor, he continued to excitedly explain. “A level 5 earth artifact like this is the stuff dreams are made of. It actually combines several different magics involving the connection between the vehicle and the ground as well as speed adjustment, terrain variability…”

“STOP!” Olivia gave up. “It’s so boring. Please don’t make me listen to another hour long lecture on the wonders of artifacts!”

“This isn’t just an artifact!” He argued back. “This is a work of art!”

“Still boring.”

“How about we compromise? You listen to me gush about how awesome this artifact is, and in return, I’ll let you talk as long as you want about a topic you want.”

“Fashion.”

He winced at her immediate answer. “Really?”

“It’s that or we talk about the many horrifying and disgusting ways the human body can break down and how to fix them with healing magic.”

“…” Frederick sat their silently with a pained expression.

“Well?”

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking!” He gave a long sigh. ”Fine. Fashion it is.”

Olivia rubbed her hands together. “This will be fun!”

“Okay, but first I get to talk about this artifact.”

“Deal.” She stuck out her hand, which Frederick grasped and shook briefly.

“So, the first thing I love about the mechanism of this particular artifact…”

“Hey you guys!” Christopher interrupted Frederick’s impassioned words as he walked into the car with a pleasant smile. “Enjoying the trip so far?”

Frederick and Olivia didn’t turn to face him. Frederick looked back down at the hatch with a frown, while Olivia pulled out a filing board and began touching up her nails. Neither bothered to respond.

“It looks like you were studying the engine?” Christopher noticed the open hatch in the floor, his cheerful expression fading a little. “That could be very dangerous, I really wouldn’t advise that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Frederick snorted with laughter. “I know what I’m doing. If I want your opinion on something that you actually know something about, I’ll ask for it.” Rubbing his head with one hand, a trail of grease was left on his forehead.

Olivia pulled out a handkerchief, cleaning him off. “That’s bold of you, assuming he knows something about any topic.”

“Don’t be silly!” Frederick flinched at her scrubbing, but rolled his eyes and finished letting her clean off his face. “He knows a lot about a ton of different subjects!”

“Like what?”

“How about flirting with everything that moves like a dog in heat?”

She nodded solemnly. “You’re right! How could I have forgotten?”

“There’s also harp playing.”

“How about fiancé stealing?”

“Puppy murdering?”

“Hey!” Christopher broke into their back and forth with a frustrated groan. “I thought we had agreed to put that awful nickname behind us?”

Frederick nodded seriously. “You’re right. It was getting old. We need a new one anyways.”

“That’s not what I…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m looking for Erin. Where is she?”

Olivia and Frederick glanced at each other, and then answered simultaneously.

“She died.”

“Who’s Erin?”

Christopher’s face was twitching, he seemed to force himself to hold a friendly expression.

“Guys, can you tone down the hostility? I’m her fiancé. It’s not like I’m trying to hurt her.”

“You think this is hostility?” Frederick laughed. “That’s cute.”

“I’m really a friendly guy once you get to know me.”

Olivia laughed. “Just keep telling yourself that, Kitten Killer.”

“Ooh I like the new nickname!” Frederick politely applauded.

“I thought the alliteration would give it a certain flair.”

“It certainly did.”

“WE’RE GETTING OFF TOPIC!” Christopher’s voice was raised. He paused, seemingly shocked at the crack in his normally impervious polite mask. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he continued in a more reasonable tone. “Look. I’m just asking a simple question. Do you know where Erin is, or not?”

Olivia stood up, her face grim. “I’ve been wanting to say this for a while.” Her finger raised in the air, poking Christopher’s chest hard enough to force him to step back. “Erin is a better person then you or I will ever be. She’s my best friend in the whole world and I would crawl naked over broken glass before betraying her again. So no, I don’t know where she is, I will never know where she is.” She glared. “At least as far as you’re concerned.”

Christopher stared back at her, confused. “What do you mean again?”

“Olivia, you don’t have to tell him…” Frederick tried to interrupt, but Olivia quickly took over.

“No. He should understand this.” She turned back towards the golden haired young man with a frown. “I made a mistake. I let myself be used by Erin’s enemies. I used an artifact to steal other people’s powers and let her take the blame. I even kidnapped…”

“YOU USED WHAT?!” His earlier calm completely erased, Christopher reached out and grabbed Olivia’s shoulders, shaking her back and forth, silencing her. “You stole other’s powers, leeched their magic, and she FORGAVE you?” He snorted derisively, his face still red with rage. “Impossible. She must not have realized what you were doing! Otherwise she would have left you, there’s no way…”

BAM!

Frederick had moved, almost faster than the eye could follow, and pushed Christopher away from Olivia, slamming him back against the wall of the transport. His fist slammed against the wall, fire magic blazing around his fingers.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” Frederick looked calm, but his eyes showed the anger just underneath the surface.

“What, no quippy jokes?” Christopher raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned by the burning fist mere inches away from his face. “How unlike you.”

“Just keep going in this direction, and I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

The young man sighed, looking tired. “Fine, fine, I can take a hint. I’ll go away. You can stop threatening to set my hair on fire.”

Frederick stepped away slowly, the flames around his hand sputtering out, and Christopher turned and left through the door towards the next car without another word.

“…” Olivia stepped forward, a complex expression on her face. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem.” Frederick shrugged with a grin. “It’s not your fault you’re so weak that you get bullied by everyone else… but it’s more fun if I’m the one who gets to do it.”

“…”

“Olivia?”

BAM!

“OW!”

_____________________

“You okay?” Gerald reached over from his seat across hers and held Erin’s hand between his own. They had grabbed their own passenger car after Frederick loudly complained about their public display of affection blunting his cynicism and hatred for the world. Erin had rolled her eyes at the time, but was now appreciating the space. The car was quiet, with only the low rumble of the engine moving the transport to break the silence.

She shrugged, staring out the window as the land raced past.

“I’m not sure what’s ahead, but worrying about it won’t change anything. We have to face it.”

“Hey at least the worst is behind us.” At his words, she turned to look at him incredulously.

“What do you mean?”

“EXAMS ARE OVER!” He pumped his fist in the air, a goofy smile on his face. “I’m so happy we survived.”

Erin sighed. “Even ignoring the fact that you somehow have placed exams as the worst thing after we have faced murderers, assassins and entire ARMIES together… you do realize we still have to take final exams at the end of the year before we can graduate?”

“…” Gerald stared at her, looking shocked.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

His only answer was a sad groan. Chuckling, Erin patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you prepare.”

“Well at least there’s that.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, both watching the scenery from the window.

“Gerald, I’m worried.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, taking comfort in his warmth.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m starting to lose control.” She rubbed her forehead. “It used to be easy to keep things hidden, keep things restricted, but now… It’s like something is unbalanced inside me. How many times have I destroyed whole buildings since we’ve returned?”

“I mean, I’m just saying, if your father and that brat of a fake fiancé would leave you alone you could stop rearranging the school architecture, …”

“Maybe it’s from using Aunt Elsinore’s magic for so long… maybe it’s something else. I don’t know…”

“Well maybe we can ask her… have you heard anything from Aunt Elsinore?” Gerald asked her quietly.

Erin shook her head. “No, not since our last conversation, even though I’ve tried several times to contact her.” Her hands curled into fists. “Do you think…”

“Think what?”

“Think my father got to her?” She closed her eyes. “She’s never been out of reach before… and now I worry…”

“Erin…”

“That she’ll end up just like my mother.”

“ERIN!” At Gerald’s shout her eyes sprang open. The window next to them was cracked, the seat around her torn to shreds. It looked as if a storm had raged in the tiny passenger cabin. Erin stared around her, feeling shocked.

“You see?” She reached out, gently touching the cracked glass. “Ever since we fought that army, even the artifact isn’t doing much anymore.”

Gerald sighed. “Your magic flows a lot more easily now then it ever did. With my level 5 Insight you glow like a sun. The amulet holds back less and less each day.”

“It was always supposed to be a temporary solution. But I need it to shield things for a little bit longer. A foreign country is not exactly the best place to confront my father.”

She sighed, placing her head in her hands. “I think he suspects my true powers already.”

“Well, I’ll contact my parents, ask my people to look into what’s happened to Aunt Elsinore.”

Erin smiled at his attempt to comfort her. “Really? It would make me feel a lot better to know she’s safe.”

“Of course! I’ll call them as soon as we arrive.” His head snapped up as he finished talking, seeming to sense something, as he turned towards the door of the cabin with a furious expression.

“No need.”

The words were spoken quietly, barely audible within the passenger car, but the effect on Erin and Gerald was instantaneous.

She leapt to her feet, her face pale and angry, every muscle in her body tense and ready for a fight. Gerald also stood, putting his body partway between Erin and the new arrival, his posture clearly communicating an intent to protect as hers was to attack.

General Roderick smiled, the expression causing cold chills to run down Erin’s spine. “Sit down. We’re not going to fight here.”

Reluctantly, Gerald and Erin sat back, down, this time on the same side. Slowly, her father walked closer, sitting across from them, casually looking around, ignoring the increasingly tense atmosphere.

“What did you mean by ‘no need’?” Erin’s mind was racing as she thought back through their conversation. What had he overheard? How long had he been standing there?

Gerald squeezed her hand reassuringly beside her, and Erin calmed down slightly, with his insight there was no way her father could sneak up on them easily.

“Your inquiries after your aunt.” Roderick’s smile widened. “I’m afraid she’s no longer to be found in her government residence.”

“You mean her prison.”

He ignored her interruption, continuing. “She burnt the whole place down, killing all of my men.”

“…” Gerald and Erin stared at each other in shock.

“I assume you will see her soon enough, so need to waste the time looking for her.”

“What do you…?”

“She’ll be on her way to kill me.” Even as he discussed her aunt’s murderous intentions, he seemed… bored. “I expect her sometime in the next few weeks.”

Erin stood up again, struggling to hold in her magic as anger took hold. “You could be lying. She might be still imprisoned, injured, or…or dead…”

“Oh, Éirinne.” He threw back his head, laughing. The sound filled the room, filling her with unease. His eyes met her own and she nearly stepped back at the sense of danger. “I have no reason to lie. She means nothing to me. Her hatred, her desire for vengeance, mean even less to me than yours.”

At these words he turned to leave the room, almost running into Christopher.

“FINALLY! Erin, I’ve been looking for y…” The golden-eyed young man trailed off as he stopped in front Roderick. His face paling, he sketched an elaborate bow. “Pardon me, General.”

Her father frowned, stepping back away from him as if wary of being too close. “Be more careful in the future.”

With that, he was gone, and Erin could breathe once again.

“Well, at least you’re good for something!” Gerald grinned, although the expression was strained. “Driving away nuisances like General Roderick.”

Christopher shook his head, looking offended. “I didn’t drive him away! He was already leaving.” Hesitating, he took a step towards Erin, who stared impassively back at him.

“Erin, can we talk alo…”

“No.” Her answer was short, she turned away from him to face the window. Undeterred, Christopher stepped forward again.”

“I just need to…”

“I cannot tell you how very little I care for what you want or need to do.” Her gaze met his, and Erin didn’t bother to hide her rage. “Leave me alone, and you can still leave in one piece.”

“…” A silence came over the room. Gerald stood at Erin’s side, arms crossed. He didn’t comment but his posture made it clear he supported Erin’s words. Finally, Christopher sighed.

“FINE.” He threw up his hands. “Just bury your head in the sand, try to pretend the world isn’t ending. I’m trying to save it, but you are so wrapped up in hating me, that you can’t see it!” His face for once did not hold his pleasant, masklike smile but a snarl of frustration. “You know what? Forget it! I’m tired of all of this. You can come crawling back to me when you regret it, and hopefully it won’t be too late. ”

He turned to walk out, but paused to say one last thing.

“How could you be so different from your mother?!”

And with that he was gone.

Erin felt her head spin, and unsteady, sat down, clutching the edge of the window for support. The seat cushion underneath her began tearing, the wood groaning under the strain as her poorly controlled magic bent it away from her. The spider web cracks deepened on the window, the frame warping around it.

“Erin, are you okay?!”

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Erin looked up at Gerald, trying to take deep breaths, to control her emotions, her magic.

“How does Christopher know my mother?”

#writing #restricted magic #i updated it!#not a huge update considering how much time has gone by #but if i don't get started somehow i never will #wish me luck #this doesn't mean i'm dropping please fix the story either #that's still the primary project #this is a passion piece that i'm determined to finish #fantasy #revenge #romance #arc 3

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