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juniperallura · 7 years ago

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Woman King: Chapter Fifteen (Final Chapter)

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“This is why you need your own chambermaid.”

Keith pursed his lips as Lance’s face popped up from his chest. “I’ll get right on that, Your Highness. Perhaps I could borrow Miri, when you haven’t the need for her?”

A smile curled over Lance’s lips as he reached out to finger the tassels that hung from Keith’s shoulders. “Awful sarcastic tonight, aren’t we? All because the prince had to fix your buttons?”

“You know I am unused to this sort of thing.” Keith scowled, fussing with the hem of his formal jacket. “This attire, this ball…” His eyes dropped from Lance’s, surveying the prince’s quarters rather than meeting his bright gaze.

“Keith, love,” Lance’s hand tapped against his chest, “This is nothing to be anxious about. You’ve seen battle— this is dancing, drinking, feasting. We can finally let everything…melt away, yes?”

Keith glanced up. Lance’s eyes were soft, his smile hopeful. Keith frowned. “Well,” he sighed, folding his hand over Lance’s, “Not everything.”

Lance’s face fell. “Keith-”

“-I know.” Keith squeezed Lance’s hand, trying to swallow the lump that threatened to rise in his throat. “But, especially after everything that happened with your engagement…having to spend all night watching you dance with girls in the court— it is not a great prospect.”

Lance reached out to cup the side of Keith’s face. “I know,” he murmured, “Believe me, I wish things were different. What I would give to tell those girls to go harass Shiro instead, because all of my dances are claimed-” Keith chuckled, leaning into the warmth of Lance’s hand. “-But we will be together for the rest of the night. That is better than nothing at all, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Keith said, studying the crystalline eyes that glinted at him. He leaned forward to press a slow kiss to Lance’s lips. Nowadays every kiss, every touch, felt like reaffirmation. Lance was his, and he was Lance’s. Keith whispered, “Will you dance with me now, then?”

Lance kissed him again, smiling against his lips. “Of course.”

Keith slid his hand down to Lance’s waist as the prince entwined their fingers and laid his head against Keith’s shoulder. Keith rested his chin on the crown of Lance’s head and started humming, an old Gaian love song he remembered his father singing to his mother. It was barely a dance, the two of them swaying gently in a small circle, but it was enough. Just to hold Lance in his arms was enough for Keith.

“Lord Prince, Master Keith! You’ve been summoned!”

Miri’s voice came muffled through the door, ending their moment when it had only just begun. They pulled away with a sigh, Lance pressing his lips softly to Keith’s forehead.

“Alright then,” Keith said with a bracing smile, giving Lance’s hand one last squeeze, “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Attention!”

Silence fell over the crowd, all heads turning toward the grand staircase at the head of the room.

“Presenting Her Majesty, Queen Allura!”

Several gasps came from the bodies that pressed close to Shiro in the crowd, but he was silent. His mouth had gone dry, his jaw slack. All his bodily energy seemed to have gone into trying not to drop his glass.

She appeared in the candlelight like some idyllic vision, floating down to the ballroom with an elegance unparalleled. Her hair was pinned in curls like sculpted moonlight, exposing the gentle slope of her shoulders. Her dark skin was glowing softly and as she reached the bottom step the crowd parted to make a wide clearing, as if sensing they were not worthy to encroach on her ethereal sphere.

Allura glided first over to Coran, who clasped her outstretched hand with a deep bow. She leaned in and pecked a kiss against the older man’s cheek, whispering something in his ear that made him smile fondly. He replied, too low to hear, and patted her hand.

Next she moved to Lance, standing further down along the perimeter of the dance floor. He met her likewise with a bow, pressing his lips to her knuckles when she offered her hand. The prince opened his mouth as if to speak but Allura pulled him into a tight, albeit brief, hug. Smiles and whispers traveled through the ring of subjects, all perhaps wondering where the famously icy exterior of their Queen had gone.

Allura left Lance and began slowly floating down the line, meeting the greetings of the court with nods and smiles. With every rustle of her trailing skirts and flicker of her gaze a wave of fidgeting seemed to wash over the crowd, among the young men in particular. With the familial greetings completed, the ball’s attention turned to the question which had preoccupied Castle gossip since the announcement of the victory ball— whom would Queen Allura choose for her first dance partner? As she made her way further along the ring, intermingling expressions of disappointment and relief broke out among the rejected eligible.

Shiro watched the proceedings with amusement, trying to ignore the jealousy that crept into his heart at the sight of the knights adjusting their posture, their hair, their cloaks, in the hopes of catching the eye of the beautiful Queen. He reminded himself that it was only one dance he would have to watch, nothing more than a formality. She would choose the son of some Lord, perhaps one who had given the most resources to the war effort. It was only political.

But then, she paused before him.

For a moment Shiro forgot even to bow, so lost was he in her luminous curls and glowing skin and infinite eyes. She held out a gloved hand with an almost coy smile. Keith, standing beside him, elbowed his side. Shiro clamped his hanging jaw shut and bent low at the waist, delicately bringing her fingers to his lips. “Your Highness,” he murmured.

“Shirogane-” Allura spoke in a loud, clear voice for all to hear, meeting his gaze without trepidation. “-Warrior of Gaia, Valued Adviser, Bearer of the Blessing of Altea. Might you join me in beginning this night of victorious celebration?”

A tide of whispers rose from the crowd, but Allura only tilted her head at him, expression unchanged. Shiro pressed his lips together to hide a smile. He gave her another sweeping bow. “It would be my great honor, Your Majesty.”

Hand in hand, they walked to the center of the grand ballroom. From the far end of the room strings began to swell and she met his bow with a curtsy. The dance began, a traditional Altean waltz that had been popular during Shiro’s time as a Gaian officer. Their hands met and kept them anchored to one another as they slid apart, stepping in a circle at arm’s length. Even so close she was like a dream, glowing softly under the light of the chandelier. The crown that rested atop her head picked up the colors of her hair and eyes, its jewels glittering like a halo. Powder blue silk sloped off her shoulders, trailing sleeves draping against the folds of her skirt that erupted from her waist. Small flowers, embroidered in pink and orange, crawled up the hem of her dress and wrapped around her bodice, transforming her into some goddess of spring as she moved. Shiro was as stricken by her beauty then as he had been the first moment they met, when she had sat armored on her throne and stared down at him wrathfully.

“Yes, Shiro?” Allura hummed, catching his eye with a smile.

He blinked, her voice pulling him from his reverie. “I was only thinking that you look especially beautiful tonight, Queen Allura,” he said in a low voice.

A satisfied flush colored her cheeks. At a cue from the music they stepped close to each other, Shiro reaching for her waist as she rested one hand atop his shoulder and the other against his residual limb. “Well, you certainly look dashing yourself,” she murmured, “I like you in your military jacket, you know. You look sharp in black.”

A crooked grin pulled over Shiro’s face. “The music may disguise our conversation, but if you continue like that the redness of my face will surely expose us.”

Allura smiled softly as her gaze swept over the room that swirled around them. “Actually, that has been on my mind of late, Shiro,” she said, looking back at him and squeezing his arm. Her eyes became serious, searching his. “All those weeks when I was laid up in the hospital…well, there were times I wasn’t sure if I were alive of dead. But in those moments between my feverish dreams, when I had a glimpse of lucidity, my only thoughts were of you. When I awoke, and you were holding my hand- I never wanted to let go.”

“Allura,” Shiro murmured, resisting the urge to caress her cheek.

“Shiro, having you and Lance in my life is perhaps the only good thing to come out of this war-” Allura smiled, dazzling and full of hope- “And I do not intend to have either taken away from me. I have a surprise for you, later, that I believe will make things a little easier for us, and I think- well, perhaps the time for discretion is over. I am tired of hiding and sneaking. The war is over. Doesn’t it feel like a new chapter is beginning?”

The waltz drew to a close, strings settling into a joyous final chord. They had stopped moving, but Shiro was sure the room was still spinning. He met her shining eyes with a wide smile. “Yes,” he said, “It does.”

He stepped back, giving his partner a deep bow. The crowd clapped politely. Then, as Shiro straightened to lead Allura off the dance floor, he felt a hand gently catch the side of his face. He only had a second to register that her other hand had folded itself into his, and that her sweet perfume was wafting toward him from only an inch away, and that her lips were curled into delighted smile.

“I love you, Shiro,” she whispered.

She kissed him.

It was soft and chaste, like a phantom against his lips, but still, she kissed him before the whole room.

The applause ceased.

“I love you, too.” It came out like a breath, but he felt as if it were echoing through the silence, carrying up to the vaults of the ceiling. His chest erupted with a lightness he had never felt before, like he was suddenly floating an inch from the ground.

A whoop from somewhere in the crowd- certainly Lance’s doing- broke the silence, and another smattering of applause broke out. Allura, utterly unfazed, gave the room a sweeping gesture and called, “My victorious subjects- let the celebration begin!”

The music struck up again and the scandalized murmurs soon became lost in the hubbub of young courtiers scrambling to secure their first dance. Allura turned to him, her face still flushed with excitement. “I apologize if I took you by surprise, Shiro,” she said as she threaded an arm through his, “But I confess I feel as if an anvil has been lifted off my chest.”

“I could not have said it better,” he said in her ear. “And as always, your courage is the stuff of legends.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of twinkling candlelight, swirling dances, and bubbling drinks. Allura twirled across the dance floor, attending first to Lance and Coran and (a little to Shiro’s surprise) Keith, before giving the eager lords and knights their turn; she returned to snatch Shiro up as often as she could, although not as often as he would have liked. In the meantime, Shiro approached Lady Holt with a sweeping bow and led her to the floor while Matt and Katie- sweetly unembarrassed to be dancing with her brother- waltzed beside them.

Some time later Shiro found himself falling into a seat at the edge of the room next to Keith and Lance. Matt had shooed him away, having discovered that standing beside the man Queen Allura had publicly claimed as her own was efficient dance partner repellent.

“Having a good evening?” Keith smirked, taking a sip of champagne.

“And an eventful one, certainly,” Shiro chuckled. His smile dropped a bit when his eyes came to rest on the two younger men, whose only physical contact were the closeness of their knees. He lowered his voice, “I am sorry, really, that the two of you could not have such a moment tonight-”

“-Please, Shiro, do not apologize,” Lance cut in, raising his hand. “After all you’ve been through, you and Allura deserve your own night. And- we have our own moments.” He looked at Keith with a smile so full of fondness that it brought a surge of warmth to Shiro’s chest, and his own eyes flickered to where Allura was sailing across the dance floor.

“And besides,” Keith said, “With everything Queen Allura’s planning, change may well be on the horizo-”

Suddenly Lance shifted, and Shiro didn’t miss his elbow digging into Keith’s side. Keith went wide-eyed, bursting into a coughing fit and taking a long draw from his glass when he met Shiro’s raised brow. Both seemed oddly relieved when Coran approached and interrupted Keith’s attempt to speak again.

“Lord Prince, Young Masters,” Coran gave them a short bow, “Am I interrupting?”

“Absolutely not, my good sir,” Lance flashed a wide smile, gesturing for him to join them, “Are you enjoying the festivities? You most among us have earned a little celebrating.”

“Immensely, Prince Lance. I have not seen Altea this joyous in many years.” Coran bowed again, his mustache bristling with satisfaction. “But, if you’ll pardon the intrusion, I have business with Shiro— would you join me somewhere a little quieter, perhaps?”

Shiro drained his glass, throwing one last look at Keith and Lance, who seemed to be deflating in their seats, as he followed Coran into the hall. “Is something the matter?” he asked once they were away from the din of the party, “Has there been another development, with the Galra?”

“No, no, nothing of the sort-” Coran shook his head, a gloved hand reaching up to smooth his facial hair. His sharp eyes seemed to be scanning Shiro’s face rather seriously, but before Shiro could speak he started pacing a short length of the hallway and said, “Shiro, I have had the pleasure of serving the Kingdom of Altea for many, many years. First under King Alfor, and now under Queen Allura. I like to think I know her well. I was there when she was born, and her mother passed away- I had a bit of a hand in raising her, actually. I was there when her father passed, and I was there when she was coronated.”

Shiro swallowed. Memories of a talk which had begun very similarly came back to him, from when he was a only boy, caught flirting with the baker’s daughter when his mother sent him for their daily loaves. But that was long ago, and Coran was no village baker.

Coran, seemingly unaware of Shiro’s discomfort, continued, “She is the very heart and soul of our people. The joy that is so palpable tonight has her at its core.” He stopped abruptly, turning to look at Shiro. “But I did not realize until tonight, with her, ah, display, how closely you are tied to that joy. The way she looks at you- I have not seen such spark in her eyes for a long time. And as I told you before, Shiro, if the Queen trusts you, that is good enough for me.”

Shiro frowned, his gaze locked with Coran’s as he tried to discern exactly the meaning of the older man’s words. “Thank you, sir,” he said, slowly, “But I-”

Again, he was cut off with a hand. “As I said, I have become rather close to the royal family in my years, and as such I became custodian of a certain heirloom upon the King’s passing…” Coran reached into his jacket lining and Shiro’s heart skipped a beat.

Held delicately between Coran’s gloved fingers, glinting in the candlelight, was a ring. The delicate gold band was carved with floral motifs, all twisting toward a cluster of diamonds that shone brightly in the center.

“It was her mother’s.” Coran gazed at the ring with a wistful smile. “I was to hold onto it- in case she ever wished to marry.”

Shiro felt as if the bubbles from all the night’s champagne had gone to his head. With a pounding heart he reached out, hesitantly taking the bejeweled ring in his calloused, scarred hand. “Coran— I, I cannot thank you properly-” The words came out haltingly, caught in the growing rawness of his throat.

Coran only smiled, holding out his hand. Shiro tucked the ring safely away and then grasped it warmly— and to his surprise, Coran pulled him into a tight hug and clapped him on the back. “No thanks are needed, my boy.”

Some days later, Shiro was nursing a headache after a rough night’s sleep when a sharp rapping sounded at his bedchamber door. In the hall he found a young page, who bowed sharply to him and announced, “Master Shirogane, your presence is urgently requested by Her Majesty the Queen!” The page’s eyes flickered over him with an uncertain expression before he bowed again and called in a high voice, “You are also requested to be received by Her Majesty in formal garb, Master Shirogane!”

Shiro blinked, the pain in his head receding at the sudden declaration. “Urgently?” He grip tightened on the door handle, “Is something the matter? Is the Queen alright?”

The boy bit his inner lip, fidgeting with the edge of his tunic. “The Queen is alright, Master Shirogane, but beyond that I am not at liberty to say-”

“What do you mean, boy? What is going on?” Shiro’s brows knit, irritation beginning to replace his anxiety.

“Her Majesty forbade me from telling any more than I have, Master Shi-”

“-Very well, very well,” Shiro waved away the boy’s words, “Queen Allura has her way, doesn’t she? Wait here, I’ll only be a moment...”

A short while later found Shiro approaching the doors of the great hall, where he had first been led so long ago (for it couldn’t possibly be less than a year, with so much having changed since then.) Two guards stood between the doors and a group of young soldiers. Shiro vaguely recognized a few of them from his training, and as he came closer a familiar face elbowed to the front.

“Keith-” Shiro clasped his friend’s hand- “What is the meaning of all this? Were you dragged from your chambers as well?”

“Not quite,” Keith said, a smile on his face that Shiro didn’t understand. The swordsman threw a glance toward the doors of the hall. “All will be clear in a moment, now that you’ve arrived-”

As if on cue, the towering oak doors swung open, sending a gust through the hall. All murmuring ceased and the soldiers arranged themselves in pairs, with Keith and Shiro at the front. Suddenly a trumpet sounded and Coran appeared before the double lines, gesturing for them to follow as he turned solemnly on his heel and marched into the hall. Members of the court lined a central aisle and banners bearing the royal emblem lined the walls. At the head of the room, standing before her throne with a gleaming sword in hand, was Allura.

Shiro blinked, following Keith’s lead with uncertain steps. He caught the eyes of the Queen and the Prince, who stood behind her, but neither offered any explanation in their expressions. Finally, Coran approached the throne with a sweeping bow and called, “Queen Allura, I present the candidates for knighthood, distinguished by their valor in the Galran War.”

Allura was smiling at him. She spoke, something about honor and courage, but Shiro hadn’t been able to hear past word knighthood. Memories flashed before his eyes and started his blood pounding. He saw his badge, marking him as a Gaian officer, ripped from his chest and crushed under the foot of a Galra soldier. He saw his sword clattering to the ground as he cursed his left hand, useless and trembling from strain. He had found himself kneeling, battered and scarred, on a cold floor many times before, but now- now was so much different.

His heart soared as he felt the cold metal of the blade press against each of his shoulders in succession. A familiar voice said, “Rise, Knight of Altea.”

Shiro drew himself up, hardly able to keep the smile from his lips as he met Allura’s eyes, sparkling and proud.

He could see Lance beaming in the background as she did the same to Keith. One by one the soldiers that knelt on either side of him stood, each barely able to contain their happiness. The trumpets sounded again and Shiro turned to Keith, waiting for the crowd’s applause to signal the end of the ceremony; but his friendly only nodded toward Allura with a knowing smile.

She wasn’t looking at him, but a broad smile came over her face as she held up her hands to end the murmuring. “It is now my great pleasure to bestow additional honors on two deserving individuals, whose acts of bravery and loyalty to crown and country touched the hearts of all who bore witness—” She paused, fixing her gaze on Shiro with a fond smile as she approached with slow steps. When she came to a halt before him and Keith, a pageboy scurried to her side with velvet pillow displaying two Altean crests. “Sir Keith and Sir Takashi- I, Queen Allura, hereby offer the title of Lord to he who wishes to accept it. Take this as a display of my gratitude and good will, on behalf of the Kingdom of Altea.”

He and Keith answered in unison: “I accept.”

Shiro could not tear his eyes from Allura’s, shining like fire and ice, as she pinned the crest to his chest. Her hand lingered over his heart for a moment, before she turned to confer the same honor upon Keith.

He still felt blood rushing to his head when the ceremony was concluded and the crowd descended on them in their rush to the reception feast, but he managed to grab Allura’s hand in the crush of the hall and pull her out onto a balcony.

Shiro shut the door behind them with a slow sigh, happy to find a moment of peace after the unexpected excitement of the morning. The sun was at high noon, soaking Allura in its light and illuminating the young, early-summer greens that lay in the valley below the Castle.

Allura leaned with her back against the balustrade, surveying him with a smile. “So, did you enjoy my surprise, Lord Shirogane?”

Shiro could not answer, only crossing the balcony with a quick stride to cradle Allura’s face in his hand and draw her full lips to his. He felt her smile against his kiss as her hands settled around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. In that moment he didn’t care about all the titles and honors in the world; his only thought was of savoring her sweet perfume, her warmth, the touch of her skin against his, for another moment. “I love you, Allura,” he breathed against her lips.

Her hands slid down to caress the sides of his face. “And I love you, Shiro,” she mumbled, still brushing slow kisses against his mouth, “I meant what I said, that I would not let you be taken from me.”

He leaned in again, kissing her until they were both breathless and then wrapping his arm suddenly around her waist. He held her tight and spun her in a wild circle, free laughter bubbling up from his chest; she clung to him, squealing giddily like a school girl. “Lord Shirogane,” he said, setting Allura down with a grin, “I could have never imagined it, only a month ago— but I believe I could get used to the sound.”

“Good, it suits you.” Allura mirrored his bright smile, her eyes dancing as she caught her breath. “-And I hope this might give Lance and Keith a fighting chance.”

Shiro nodded, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “Now, shall we return to the festivities, Your Majesty?” He offered his elbow with a raised brow.

“If you insist-” She took his arm with a sly curl to her lip- “My Lordship.”

Hand in hand they returned, unable to keep the smiles from their faces as they dove back into the crowd; and so ended one chapter of their lives, and began another.

Epilogue:

The morning was almost unseasonably cool, one of those which seems to foretell the coming of fall, until the sun reaches its peak and warms the land again. But the sun had yet to graze the treetops, and it shed only pale pastel light on the two figures which circled each other in the center of the training pitch.

Shiro and Allura watched each other with faint smiles. The stillness of the morning, broken only by the crunch of gravel underfoot, was refreshing. Lately their training had become like spectacles for the members of the court, but alone at dawn they could conjure up old memories of clandestine sparring matches, fought in the bitter cold and near darkness.

Allura beckoned Shiro forward with a wave of the hand. They had decided to forego weapons that day, opting for skin on skin. “I haven’t got all day, Shiro,” she goaded, “Lance and Keith depart at noon, you’ll have to make your move before then.”

“The Queen of Altea, afraid to strike first? Must be losing your edge.” Shiro tried to keep match her reserve; but, as always, he couldn’t resist the jaunty smile that accompanied her taunts and lunged.

She anticipated him, of course, and lithely dodged his swing. With neither swords nor staffs their fighting felt tighter, faster, their bodies weaving together and pulling apart with every hit and feint. Every time one thought they were gaining ground, landing a few kicks or punches, they would lose it the next minute. Allura was all flashes of dark skin and silver hair; Shiro glints of feverishly focused eyes.

The sky had become colored gold with the sunlight that stretched beyond the treetops by the time their mingling cries ceased. Shiro hit the ground at the edge of the ring with a heavy grunt. Allura, triumphant, sat on his stomach with her forearm pressed to his throat. “Victory,” she declared through gasping breaths.

Shiro gazed up at her with a dazed smile. Her eyes were blue as the summer sky and piercing as the day he met her. Threads of her hair fell loose from her braid to stick to her tanned forehead, glistening with sweat. Her arm pressed mercilessly against his throat but somehow the words slipped out as though he were in a trance: “Will you marry me?”

Allura blinked. Her smile dropped as she pulled her arm away from him. “Shiro- are you-”

Shiro sat up and wrapped his arm around her waist, suddenly snapping out of his reverie. He looked into her eyes with a growing smile. “That was sudden, I know. But- I couldn’t help myself. I remembered our first match, when I thought you would have my head, and- and now here you are with your arm on my neck like a madwoman—” He let out a clear laugh as her expression only grew more confused. “And it just made me think of how much everything has changed. You came into my life and everything changed.” He shook his head in wonder, his hand reaching up to smooth back her hair. “Before I met you, I thought fate was cruel- like it only existed to bring me more pain, more misery. But then I realize that all of it, everything that ever happened to me, led me here, to you.”

“Shiro-” Allura whispered, her eyes glinting with moisture.

“Neither of our lives have been easy, but it comforts me to know that we can understand even a piece of each other,” he said, his voice softening. He reached into his tunic and drew out a ribbon that tied around his neck- at the end dangled a gold ring with a cluster of glinting diamonds. He quickly broke the ribbon with his teeth. “Coran gave this to me, on the day of the Victory Ball. Your mother’s.” Allura nodded, her lip caught between her teeth and hands fluttering unsure over Shiro’s chest. “Allura, I know this is not a simple thing to ask, nor an easy one to decide. But I promise that I will fight for you and with you until my last breath, and will help shoulder your burdens as best I can.” He sucked in a breath. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Shiro!” She hardly let him slip the ring onto her finger before she flung her weight onto him, pressing passionate kisses to his lips. Both tasted salt in their kiss, but instead of ragged breaths came breathless laughter. “It was always easy with you, Shiro, always,” she whispered, pulling back so she could search his eyes.

The joy that burst in his chest left him speechless. He pulled Allura closer, peppering kisses down her neck and along her jaw. She ran a hand through his hair, smiling as she leaned to press her lips to the crown of his head. Eventually she tilted his chin up with a gentle hand, giving him one last tender kiss and savoring the feeling of metal against her finger as she cupped his cheek.

“I hate to say it, but we should get ready to see the boys off,” she sighed.

Shiro chased her lips for another touch. “Would they really begrudge a small delay?”

Allura rose to her feet, offering a hand with a smirk. “I fear Lance will already resent us ruining his grand farewell with our engagement- I’m not sure he would forgive tardiness as well.”

“He already had his day- we threw a feast for his appointment as governor of the new territories, and yet another for Keith’s adjoining military promotion. Or does he forget?”

“Now, now,” Allura slipped her hand into his, pecking him on the cheek, “It is my duty to speak that way of my cousin, not yours.”

Shiro squeezed her hand, chuckling good-naturedly. “Of course, Queen Allura.”

“Ah! The thought just occurred to me-” She turned to him with a bright smile- “You will have another change in title to grow accustomed to, King Shiro.”

#i finally finished it?!?!? a miracle #shallura #klance #shiro #allura #keith #lance #also peep the ao3 link for notes at the end!#woman king #writing #shallura fic #klance fic #shiro fic #allura fic #keith fic #lance fic #voltron fic #medieval au #voltron medieval au

52 notes · View notes

jostepherjoestar · 3 years ago

Text

Rodeo Gyro

notsfw !! // gn reader // taking care of Gyro and thigh riding

notes/warnings: thigh riding, mild biting, gyro teasing reader

I really wanted to write an nsfw Gyro fic since that cowboy makes my brain mushy. So here it is 🥰 yeehaw besties 💖✨

link to AO3

–NSFW BELOW THE CUT– MINORS DNI –

“On your left!” You grunted out with a heave as you tossed the hay bale towards Gyro. Droplets of sweat trickled down your skin, forehead already soaked from the heat and the beads running down your back not making it easier not to flinch as they settled at the base of your spine. It’s another scorching summer and the stables are worse off than the outside. You were never one to hate a good nap in the hay come wintertime, but during summers like these you wished to step out of your skin itself for some relief.

The blond easily caught your throw, letting out a small sound on impact he’d rather you didn’t hear. Can’t have you thinking he’s handling this heat any worse than you, now can he? Although, his shirt has been long gone. He proudly announced that Italians know how to handle heat, boasting that his grandfather worked in 45 degree weather and never as much as peeped about it.

You had rolled your eyes at his statement but the annoyance at his antics soon faded when he had revealed his torso.

His skin was a beautiful olive hue, no tan lines, indicating he had probably spent his spare time just as shirtless as now. The muscled lines surging over him seemed sculpted by God themself, a dewy shine having already settled on his godly abs and pecs.

And his arms, oh his arms. Those hay bales had kept him fighting-fit and soon your eyes trailed the expanse of his chest where short curly planes of hair rested, only further emphasising his muscular pecs.

Like you were being guided by the valleys and streams of a gorgeous landscape, you arrived right at the river mouth: a trail of more short curly hairs barely visible by their champagne colour leading you down a path of despair you’d happily embark on. It led all the way from his belly button down to where his jeans started, his signature belt buckle making you realise just how dry your throat had gotten.

And all this in a mere second, or two. Or at least five, who are you kidding? You had cleared your throat and resumed throwing Gyro the hay bales one by one, trying your hardest to focus on the task at hand. It had been going well too, a steady pace made time fly by quickly. Just a couple more to go and you’d be able to gulp down a liter of water and a glass of iced tea to top it off.

If only that glimmer of a bead of sweat making its way down Gyro’s sculpted back hadn’t distracted you. As Gyro slowly turned, time almost seeming to have slowed, you threw the bale right at his middle, much lower than anticipated and landing it straight into his ribs. You gasped and rushed over quickly to your helping hand who was bent over and breathing out painful wheezes.

“Watch where you throw those! Christ…almost knocked me back to Napoli”

But he regained his unaffected self after a few deep breaths, while you knew how heavy these stupid bales were. He swatted you off as soon as you tried to check the place of impact.

“Sorry Gyro…I got distracted! Uh, if you want I can finish up alone!”

You felt bad for letting him get caught in the crossfire of your longing stares, cursing this damn heat once again. He only brushed you off with another quip and urged you to throw the last couple ones faster so you’d both be done quicker. You could clearly see the hit bothered him but he remained ever prideful and kept on working till the last bale was stacked.

“Hey I’m sorry, man. I’ll watch out better next time. I think I have a salve that’s really good at soothing pain. I can go-“

Before you could even finish Gyro tutted, waving his hands a little too close to your face and scrunching his nose.

“That’s enough, I’m a grown man, I’ll live”

And with that he grumbled off, back to the main house where Johnny had been resting on the porch, trying just as hard to beat the heat.

—

Ointment in hand and as stubborn as the Italian you were bringing it to, you knocked on Gyro’s bedroom door. He had his own private guest room at Johnny’s place, they’ve basically moved in together but neither is admitting to it for some god-knows silly reason. But as much as they’re best friends, you’ve also got a neat spot on Johnny’s moderate ranch he acquired after the race. A bed to sleep in and a roof over your head for when you’re helping out at the stables like today.

Your knock was curtly answered, the door being swung open in one swift move, sending your hair flying in the startling wind of his antics.

A bit taken aback by his brashness you cautiously stepped inside. You were used to Gyro’s behaviour by now and had a feeling he was feeling a little grumpy, since he always gets like this when he’s hurt but too prideful to admit it.

“So I got you the ointment…” you leaned on the heels of your boots tentatively, trying not to stare at him.

Gyro had moved back into the chaise longue that rested at the end of his bed, obviously miffed, clenching his jaw while crossing his legs. Obviously the idiot was in pain with every move, and badly trying to hide it too.

“Gyro, stop being such a baby. Here-“ you slid over and joined him, the little glass jar already opened by the time your behind fully met the soft cushioned seating.

“ ‘M not being a baby. Just- do your stupid ointment thing please” He huffed under his breath, uncrossing his legs again.

“You uh, you’re gonna need to take off your shirt for that. Do you need help?”

Your question might have been earnest, filled with care for your close friend and his well being, but a small part of you was chomping at the bit to see his beautiful torso again. This time, even closer.

“Fine. Try not to stare as much though, darling. That’s what got me stuck with this pain in the first place” his remark was quick, finally turning to face you, his big golden grin shining back at you. Like his grills were rubbing salt in the gaping wound you didn’t know he knew about.

“Oh-“ you paused, trying to control the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Well. Shut up before I poke your bruise!” you scooped up a small dollop of the cooling ointment, hand hovering just above the already purple spot forming on his ribs. You really did a number on him with that hay bale.

Gyro clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, friendly bickering between you two was never far off. But his cheeky annoyance quickly washed away as the cooling gel met his warm skin. Your touch was gentle, rubbing circles on the sore area while your other hand rested on his waist. You looked so focused, your brow scrunched up and lips pressed tightly together in concentration. He’d always thought it was cute how lost you could get in your tasks. And he was beyond pleased he was your task for the moment. So pleased in fact, that he found no use in holding back his wiles anymore. Perhaps the lack of sweet and caring touches got to him- not that his pride would let him admit that fact.

“Say, why’re you holding on to me so tightly, sweetheart? I won’t run” Gyro teased, his tone dropping down to a sultry smooth grit that made your cheeks heat up once more. His comment made you snap out of your focus, realising that he’d been right. His comment only making you want the earth to swallow you whole.

“Just trying to be thorough, Gyro. A-and you were squirming! Now let me finish-“ you defended yourself. Not that you seemed all too sure of your case, the way Gyro smirked at you made your resolve falter more and more with each second passing.

“I wasn’t squirming” his eyes had all but cast over with a deeper hue of alluring emerald. His calloused hand now gently holding your wrist. You could only helplessly stare up at him, the shift in mood not having gone unnoticed. A familiar heat already earning footing between your thighs. Somewhere deep inside you were scolding yourself, angry at Gyro’s effect on you. Letting yourself get distracted and now turning to putty when he’s only holding on to your wrist. Angry that you wanted nothing more than for him to continue whatever scheme he was up to.

With your wrist still in hand, Gyro closed the small glass jar of ointment and slid it further along the chaise longue.

“Well I must thank you for taking care of me, even if it was your fault I got hurt-“ The fires blazing in your eyes and the sour look you shot at his remark only made him chuckle.

“Yes, Gyro. I was there.” Through gritted teeth and nothing short of annoyed you tried to tug your wrist out of his hold. It only made him tighten it around you.

“I wasn’t done talking, darling.” He tutted.

“Let me return the favour. I’m feeling charitable today”

“Gyro, what?” You rolled your eyes, what was this idiot getting at? First, he gets all sensual and now he’s straight up teasing you. Not that it wasn’t just as titillating, his pet names for you only made your head swim and thighs clamp together.

His answer was clear, setting you down on his lap in a quick move that caught you by surprise. And there you were, the spot you’ve only fantasised of being. His natural musk having become the very air you breathed to survive. Stunned and still slightly confused you let him put your arms around his neck. Your legs however, were strategically placed on either side of one of his thighs.

“You in for the ride? I won’t hold it against you if you want us to stop” His tone was sincere, gaze softened just enough to let you know it was alright.

“Y-yes. Yes. I- yes Gyro” you sputtered. God, this was embarrassing but you were glad you didn’t sound as desperate as you really were to be this close to him. At least you thought so.

And with that, the blond cowboy was satisfied, letting out a little “nyoho” that somehow remained sultry.

You suddenly became all too aware why he’d placed you like this, over his thigh. But there wasn’t much time to think, not when Gyro moved into your neck, placing soft kisses along your jawline. His lips were softer than you’d expected. His breaths so nice and warm whenever he moved further down your sensitive skin.

“I’ve seen you ride,” he murmured into your skin just below your left ear. “Now show me how it’s done, cowboy” goosebumps rose all over your skin, letting out a shuddering moan as he bit into you. Not quite hard enough to make you yelp out in pain, but just enough for you to rock your hips straight into his tensed thigh.

He continued his assault on your neck, bites and kisses alternated on each side as you rocked your needy heat on him. With a particularly hard bite, your arm snapped to right next to Gyro, exactly where his hat had been laying on the chair. Even in the heat of the moment you grabbed it and plopped it down onto his champagne locks.

“Keep it on please” your breath shuddered as you continued. He had moved his lips to your shoulders now, moving away your top to reach every spot he wished to worship.

Every swish of your hips drove you further and further, lost in the pleasure as your head felt like it might just explode. Tingles had already started making their way up your abdomen when Gyro released himself from your skin.

“Tell me what you want,” He asked roughly. He was having a hard time keeping it together, it seemed.

“Y-you, Gyro” you whimpered, slowing yourself and burying your face inside the crook of his neck. Too embarrassed to face his stare just yet.

“I know that, sweetheart. But tell me what is you want exactly”

“Gyro…” you whined, burying yourself even deeper.

“Yes?” He quipped, pulling himself back and taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, that stupid grin antagonising you.

Cheeks heated and puffy you had no choice but to give in. “I want you to fuck me Gyro. Are you happy now?”

“Nyoho, very happy! I knew that” he laughed.

“Oh fuck you!” You grimaced, still trying to chase that fleeting peak that you were so close to.

“I like hearing you beg for it, darling” his lips had finally met yours, melting away any and all of his teasing, just like that. God, he made it so easy to give into him. He was just as playful now though, swirling his tongue and clashing his lips with yours like he was taming you.

As he continued his sloppy passionate kiss back down your jaw, you sped up your riding. Never one to finish last.

One last peck and one last tug of your skin between his golden clad teeth and you could feel fireworks rising all the way up to the top of your head. Gyro grinned widely as he admired you, using him like he’d asked you to. One less thing he needs to fantasise about, he’s living it. And eating up every single second of it, the throbbing in his pants nearly took care of itself. He stared in awe, your face contorting in pleasure as you tried your best to contain your desperate moans. Your breath was ragged as you came down from your high, letting your full weight rest on his thigh even though you were beyond sensitive at this point.

“You’ve never looked better riding like that, beautiful” a single soft peck touched the tip of your nose, the gesture was surprisingly gentle.

You had regained your senses enough to start up your own round of teasing. Sporting the same grin he had just a minute ago, you started pushing him down the chaise longue, landing him on his back.

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow. The pain in his ribs all but forgotten thanks to your treatment.

“I ain’t done riding just yet. Better hold on to that hat cowboy” slick as ever you dove down to return a forceful kiss that nearly knocked the breath out of Gyro. Not before letting out a “nyoho” in his surprise.

Oh, he was going to like this even more than your last rodeo.

#gyro x reader #jjba x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #notsfw #minors dni #gn reader #gender neutral reader #thigh riding #jjba x y/n #gyro imagine

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giggly-squiggily · 3 years ago

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Welcome To my Blog :3

Updated: September 30, 2024

💜 Fic/Dabble Requests: CLOSED 💜

💜 Headcanon Requests: CLOSED 💜

Hi! My name’s Squiggily, and welcome to my blog! I love writing fluffy fanfics and dabbles (With the occasional angst) of various fandoms and characters I enjoy!

Some quick things to note:

💜Tickling is not a fetish/kink for me. It’s totally valid if it is for you, I just personally enjoy it in the platonic/romantic sense only. Thank you for understanding! 💜

💜I’m exclusively SFW here on my blog! If tickling isn’t your thing, that’s totally valid as well! I have everything tickle-related tagged as “tickle”, “tickle ___” (fic, art, dabble, headcanon/tickle headcanons, tickle talks) for anyone looking to filter tags! (I also have anything non tickle related tagged as “non-tickle”/“non tickle”) 💜

💜 I don’t write exclusively tickling! I do take non-tickle requests and headcanons when they are open, so don’t be shy to send them in! Fluff, Angst, family dynamics, AUs, whatever it is I’m willing to give it a twirl :) 💜

💜 I’m exclusively a fictional person when it comes to tickles, so IRL tickle talks and teases aren’t my thing. I also don’t RP. 💜

- Other than that, welcome to my blog! Thank you for reading my fluffy content and feel free to drop in and chat whenever the mood strikes! :3

Masterlist

Ao3

Fluffy Forecast

Fandom Page

Let’s Go Cloud Watching! (Request List)

Cloud 9 (Taglist)

Clear Skies (Taglist Op Out)

Basic Rules

-SFW

- I WILL NOT write NSFW, Bondage/restraints, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Torture, Fetish-centric

- I DO NOT take requests from DMs. Special exceptions are made with friends, but generally speaking I’ll only take requests through my ask box when they are open! This is mainly because DM requests tend to get lost in the void at some point compared to inbox asks/submissions.

-I will write for the fandoms mentioned below. (I have more fandoms! Check the fandom page link for those! :3)

- I DO write Non-tickle focused content! Feel free to request some if desired! :D

-I am willing to write for all ships as long as they’re legal. (Will Not write incest, adult x minor, etc.) I also write both platonic and romantic pairings. (Some ships might be strictly platonic. Check 'Will Not Write For' List for those!)

- I do write for character x reader! All reader characters are gender neutral for inclusivity!

- I have the right to decline requests and prompts at any given time. I try not to do so but if I do end up turning a prompt down I’ll try to let you know.

Topics and Genres

- I do and will write for a variety of genres and topics! Here are my wills and wont’s:

WILL Write for: Tickling, Fluff, Angst, AUs*, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety and Panic Attacks, Grief, Body insecurity and various other topics similar to those. Feel free to ask and I’ll let you know what I can and can’t do.

WILL NOT Write for: Heavy triggering topics (Murder, Rape, Abuse of any form, Suicide, Self-Harm, etc.). That’s the big one but feel free to send in a ask about a topic; I’ll tell you if I’m able to write it.

*AUs: I am willing to try my hand at them, but if it’s a topic I’m not familiar with or the idea is too vague, I won’t be able to do it.

Free Request:

Free requests are like they are here on my blog! I write for fics, dabbles, head canons, and sentence starters/headcanons to dabbles when they are OPEN! Please check the pinned post before sending in a request!

Headcanon Requests:

I am more than willing to write headcanons for various characters in the fandoms I write for when they are OPEN. These include tickles, non tickles, ships, platonic bonds, etc. etc.

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps)***

I have a taglist for anyone interested! There's no limit to how many times you can take it- feel free to fill it out again if you wish to update your preferences/fandoms/etc. etc. I try to check it every now and again, so please have patience with me as I schedule things out. Thank you!

Also! If you ever decide you don’t want to be on the taglist or you wish to remove yourself from any tagged fandoms, I created a form for you to fill out!

Fandoms I Write For: (I do have more fandoms on my fandom page!)

Itallics: Been a hot minute since I've watched/played; still willing to write for it though!

Crossed Out: Need to rewatch/not that interested in at the moment

-Backflip!!!

-Big Windup

-Black Clover

- Blue Lock (Anime)

- Bungo Stray Dogs

- Buddy Daddies

-Cafe Enchante

-Code Realize

-Collar x Malice

-Chainsaw Man (Anime + Around Chapter 72 I think?)

-Cupid Parasite

-Danganronpa THH, SDR2 , V3

-Dr. Stone

-Death Note

-Demon Slayer

-Fire Force

-Free! Iwatobi Swim Club

-Fruits Basket

-Given

-Haikyuu!!

-Heartstopper

-Hell’s Paradise

-Hunter x Hunter (Up To Greed Island Arc)

-Jojo’s Bizzare Adventure Parts 2-6 (Anime only)

-Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime + Movie Only!)

- Komi Can’t Communicate

-Mob Psycho 100

-Moriarty The Patriot

-My Hero Academia

-Piofiore: Fated Memories

-Pokemon (Limited Requests: Legend Arceus, Gens 1-7, 9) **No longer taking requests for Sword and Shield**

-SK8 the infinity

-Spy x Family

-Rain Code Master Detectives

-Toliet Bound Hanako-Kun

-Tokyo Revengers

-Tengoku Struggle

-Vinland Saga (Mainly Season 2)

-Wind Breaker (Anime)

-Yu Yu Hakushou

Test Run Fandoms (Series I’m considering adding to my writing list but need to write more of them before I commit.)

-Chronicles Of Vladmir Tod (Tagged as V.T)

-Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney (First game)

-Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney

Characters I will NOT write for:

**/Italics: Might change my mind in the future

-Mineta (My Hero Academia)

-Overhaul (My Hero Academia)

-Junko (Danganronpa)

-Monokuma (Danganronpa)

- Gou (Pokemon) (This one’s more for a lacking of knowledge regarding the character)

-Akito (Fruits Basket)

- Most Pokemon Villain leaders (Exceptions being Hardenshipping and their respective teams, Guzma and his respective team, Volo)**

- Hisoka (Hunter x Hunter)

- Illumi (Hunter x Hunter)

-Ketta Kisaki (Tokyo Revengers)

- Muzan (Demon Slayer)

- Most Lower Moons (Exceptions being Rui, Enmu, and Kyogai) (Don’t really know much of any of them so...yeah.) (Demon Slayer)

-Arrow Demon/Temari Demon (Literally can't think of a scenario for them- sorry!) (Demon Slayer)

- Rein and their Tao forms (Hell’s Paradise)

- Adam (Sk8) (No hate- I just don’t know how to put him in a tickle scenario)

- Dio + Most of his minions (Jjba P.3) **Debatable depending on the stand user**

- Kira Yoshikage (JJBA)

- Tamami Kobayashi (JJBA)

- Diavolo (JJBA)

- Father Pucchi (JJBA)

- Solid Silva (Black Clover)

- Nebra Silva (Black Clover)

-Yomi Hellsmile (Rain:Code)

-Martina Electro (Rain:Code)

Strictly Platonic Ships List

Whether I can't see them romantically, I'm uncomfortable with anything beyond platonic, or I just really prefer them as friends. (No hate to any of these ships or to those who like them romantically! These are just personal preferences!) If I think of anymore, I'll add them to the list!

-L and Light (Death Note)

- L and Misa (Death Note)

-Yuno and Asta (Black Clover)

-Kageyama and Hinata (Haikyuu!!)

-Sae and Isagi (Blue Lock)

-Anya and Damien (Spy x Family) (Listen- they are cute! Hints of crushes are fine but I just don't feel comfy writing full blown romantic fics with characters this young)

-Draken and Mikey (Tokyo Revengers)

-Mista and Giorno (JJBA)

-Abe and Mihashi (Big Windup)

-Bakugou and Deku (My Hero Academia)

I think that’s about it! Thanks for reading!

Hey! Hey..*psst psst* Down here!

I got an art blog now 👀 @squiggilydrawsthings where I make doodles in the off-chance I decide to draw! Your girl's too shy to announce it lols

#squiggily speaks #Requests #Thank you!#welcome to my blog!

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hazbincalifornia · 2 years ago

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Year in Writing

My end-of-year writing reflection! And by reflection, I mean 'thing that's the equivalent of those 'post an art piece for every month' memes'.

Essentially, this is just a collection of writing snippets, one picked from each month. (Some of the ao3 links may have a different post time, that's because they were posted on tumblr initially during that month. Some are also NSFW, so be warned, but those will have a little note next to them.)

Here's to another year!

Jan- link

“So you’re the one who wanted the private show, huh?”

“Guilty as charged. I came to see your circus a bit ago, and I must admit, you captivated me. Such a perfect little specimen… I wanted to see you up close.” There’s adoration and delight tied up with a bow of something darker, dripping repression and obsession.

All four eyes are glowing, white pupils pinpricks as they focus on Blitzo. Electricity thrums up his spine as he’s seen, seen in a way that burrows down to his core, tail idly winding in the air before snapping like a whip and making the owl blink. His strained grin twitches, half-melting into something cockier.

Feb- link (nsfw)

“Hmm.” He crawled closer, cupping Blitzo’s face in both hands, and Blitzo’s mind swirled further as the heat bubbled the blood around his brain, deep purrs rumbling through his chest as everything wobbled the way the air always did on too-hot days when the tar melted underneath your feet. Magic thrummed throughout his body, but all he could tell was that it was making Stolas touch him, and anything that made Stolas touch him was good. “It seems that having little Stellaluna had some physiological effects.”

Mar- link (nsfw)

“Okay. Get on your knees.”

That was… unexpected. Kit blinked, and Clove twirled the watch again, sending a glow from his fingers into the case. It caught the light, the magic inside reflecting a prism on the wall for a brief moment before Kit decided to drop down, black jeans hitting the carpet. Clove ran his hands through his hair, murmuring soothing words about how he was such a good boy that pulled a purr out of Kit. He could live in this moment forever, looking up at the speckled quilt of skin and the pointed teeth and the mesmerizing way that Clove’s hair bounced with every little motion of his head, not quite feathers but not quite hair either.

“You want to be a good boy, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Kit replied automatically, and Clove stroked up one of his antenna before his grin widened and he spread his legs.

April- link

Daddy meant two things, to Stolas. When warbled or excitedly chirped out of the beak of his young chick, it was love and admiration and the knowledge of protection and security, that nothing could hurt her as long as Daddy was here. Daddy was a warm lap to rest on and a comforting presence that he was happy to provide for his stunning little starlight, his sweet blossom who peeped out the title with wide, innocent eyes and chubby, flushed cheeks.

When it was teased out from under the lips and between the teeth of his little circus imp, though, Daddy dripped with bloodied honey, slick and dangerous and powerful in an entirely different way. So often, Blitzo used it to remind him of the difference in their ages in addition to a jab at how the baby in his belly got there, even though when it came to prowess in sexual matters, the imp was the one with more practical experience. Daddy was the tip of a crop sliding along the skin before it struck, the fire burning in his stomach when cooed out like a prayer, the thrill of how wrong and yet right all of this was. Even when he was the one letting it slip from his beak, it was all a play, a dance to keep them both on their toes as they figured out together what this thing that they shared was.

May- link (nsfw)

Satan’s sweet pussy, he knew they’d said something about heats being worse if you don’t let one in now and then, but he’d soaked through his turtleneck and coat in mere minutes and already felt like throwing himself into a shallow grave just to fuck whatever worms happened to be crawling in and out. His hips gyrated in the air, and Loona’s nose twitched again before she pinched it shut, voice stuffy as she spoke.

June- link

He waits. He wants to justify himself, but what can he even say? She knows what’s been done- what’s been done by him to her lovely, brilliant spitfire of a child. She has his flame, he can see it in her eyes and how she holds her hands, but there are decades of bricks built up to keep it from being blown out.

“I know how it works.” She’s chopping some orange fruit into pieces. The knife is razor-sharp, and she spins it in her hand expertly before turning her head to face him with steely eyes. The words are well-planned as they spill out like a spool of barbed wire, and he realizes suddenly why this is the woman who named her children the way that she did. “You think that you’ll care, but you get the choice to run. He doesn’t. He grows attached so easy and he already loves the baby you put in him. I’ve spent eighteen years trying to keep them from cracking and sinking into the worst aspects of themselves like so many around here do, and I don’t want to watch my baby boy break because of you.” She impaled the point of the knife in the cutting board, and even though Stolas knows he could turn her to stone with a glance, he finds himself gulping. “If you’re going to love him, love him, and treat him like a prince. If you aren’t…” She trailed off, and Stolas can see his own distorted reflection interrupted by rivulets of juice running down it. “Don’t waste our time.”

July- link

His hand fell flat, and a nervous laugh bubbled from his chest as delight echoed in his blood. He could feel an echo of his own movement, curled up and curious as they prodded back out with their baby hand. They were safe. They were happy. They were tired. But when he draped his tail over his stomach, pure bubbly love of the kind he hadn’t felt since he was a kid curled around his brain like marshmallow fluff, sinking in and soothing away the self-doubt for just a moment.

They were excited enough to see the world that they were still spilling all over, but the flood of joy at simply living, at being himself, was overwhelming. (Had he ever really, truly loved himself this much?)

Aug- link

Fear and anger and boiling ancient magic bubbled inside her until they burst, swelling inside of her belly before riding up her throat. Stella coughed up a single feather as deep red as the back of a blasted skull. A moment later, droplets of her own navy blood splashed on top of it. Then… the flood.

Feathers choked out of her, smothering as they poured out fast enough to bury her form entirely with red and black and red and red and red as she clawed at the floor. Sticky and searing, her head split in two and also into a dozen pieces while they melted to her skin, sinking through her clothes even as something erupted from her back. It burned as it tore through the bone and muscle with a scream that not even the endless feathers could muffle. Her breath twisted inside her lungs as the growths on her head and back unfurled, fresh flesh still sore enough that it hurt to twitch. She could see everything cracked and shattered and from different angles as she slowly, shakily rose, fingers twitching as her claws extended at a thought even as they bled from the base.

Sep- link

Wisps of that same contentment as before trailed up his nerves, along with a tiny and muffled warbling coo. It wasn’t nearly as strong this time, but it had started the exact moment he’d started rubbing his stomach, so it had to be the kid saying ‘hi’ in the only way that she could short of bruising the inside of his skin by going for the boxing championship. It was a cheaper high than coke, at least, and a soft smile spread across his face at both the sound and their shared sense of serenity.

Oct- link

Blitzo’s eyes were blown wide, tail curling around his legs as he watched Stolas’s expression shift from confident to flustered. This was just like Kat and the Envy imp, he knew how this should end, but his racing heart at the thought of being captive was only equaled by the flames pooling between his legs at the thought of being wanted that much. “Shit, could have fooled me, but let’s put a pin in that one, alright?”

Nov- link

It had been sleeping when he left.

It was fine.

He was going to get out of here.

He was going to get out, and it would be fine, and Barbie would drag him to a nearby bar and scrub him clean of the sweat and dirt and cum and then she’d cake him in makeup to cover the bags under his eyes and things would go back to normal, and it would be fine, and someday they would be able to laugh about this like the time in Lust they’d had to-

It was fine.

Dec- link

“Incorrectomundo.” He pointed the tip of the marker at her. “I have changed my mind exactly once. I thought Stolas was taking the kid, then I felt like shit about the thought I’d have to do it, and now I don’t because I want her. Any other existential crises that happened between those points are none of your legal business, missy and mister.”

“Crises?” Moxxie raised an eyebrow, and Blitzo mimed a zipped lip.

“Like I said. None of your beezlewax. I’m keeping the kid and I will find a way to not have her fuck with business. My personal life is my problem.”

#shadow writes stuff #technically

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chelleztjs18 · 3 years ago

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Hello peeps!

Okay, this note will be a little long but please read until the end. I really appreciate it.

So I have been posting this Lost in Assistance series in tmblr as well. Today someone message me there asking my permission to translate this book and post it in wattpad put my name for the credit and they will send me the link. And being the stupid newbie I am in this whole online fanfiction writing world, I stupidly replied and agree. I asked them if it's gonna be in Portuguese because the profile said they are from Brazil.

They replied back and said yes it will be in Portuguese but they are thinking to name the Y/N character but they are not sure yet. So I replied back why have to rename y/n. But the message didn't go through. I replied 3 times and still didn't go through.

By the time I tried to screenshot the conversation, the profile is already gone. I don't know what is actually going on, I'm trying not jump into any conclusion and think negative about others but for the profile to be gone after that is totally suspicious and fishy, I'm thinking they might steal my story from Wattpad or tmblr, which is sucks. I still try to think they might still tag me though. I also posted in AO3 Archive of Our Own.

So I just need your help, if I don't get anything back from them, please keep your eyes on if you find any similar stories in any platform either with Lost in Assistance or any of my one shots with different character name in ANY language you understand and I really appreciate for you to inform me. Please let me know if you find anything similar in AO3. Let's use the power of internet, find this unbelievable human being. lol.

I was mad at first, pissed off actually because I took so many hours and effort writing these series/one shot but then I was thinking, "Oh well, shit happens. If they got famous, good for them! I don't want to be famous any way. lol" :D But I still want them to get reported at least.

I write this also to alert any newbie writers so they'll know and it won't happen to them.

I will update if there is any update about this matter (which I skeptically think I won't hear anything back from them). I don't know what's going on or what to do.

All I know, I write these fics and one shot to give me comfort and safe me from my darkest moment and make friends with lovely and awesome people like all of you and I know I write just not for my comfort but also for all the readers who find comforts in my story and that's what's make me feel better right now about this whole matter.

Not gonna lie, it kinda make me lost my motivation to write at this moment. 😔 Hopefully, I will feel better tomorrow and I can continue to write. I really don't want to stop writing specially when I know that there people that find comforts in my writing.

Thank you so much for your time to write this note again. As always, I really appreciate all of you.

Cheerio!

Chellez TjS.

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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Thunderfam Appreciation Post

I’m giving this a new post to prevent scroll city, but the original and several reblogs can be found by clicking the above link. Also, it’s an excuse to post a piccy of Virg cos any excuse, really :D

Many thanks to @willow-salix for writing this question list :D

Before I start, I just want to say that I value every member of this fandom. I’m often hopeless at communicating in group settings so I don’t speak to many peeps, but that is my failing, not anyone else’s. You are an amazing group and you have supported me and each other just brilliantly over the last nearly three years that I have been hanging with you guys. Thank you ever so much for all your wonderful support and encouragement. I’ve had so much fun and created so much stuff…you guys are amazing. Thunderfam rock!

Please note that my memory is pathetic and I will fail to mention everyone. Please do not take any offence if you aren’t listed below. That does not mean I don’t value you, I do, it just means I have swiss cheese between my ears.

-o-o-o-

Your favourite writer of your favourite boy.

@i-am-chidorixblossom You are a whumper and comforter after my soul. You speak the Virg :D @vegetacide I adore your turn of phrase and your description is to die for.

The person who's stories you will always read.

I try to read most fics that come across my dash, but there are a few that have me jumping up and down. @i-am-chidorixblossom , @vegetacide , @tsarinatorment , @scribbles97 , @the-lady-razorsharp , @janetm74 Of course, I regularly fail at this as some of you write a huge amount of fic and I am often playing catch up, but fic!

Who wrote the first fic you read in this fandom.

I landed on FF.net back in May 2018. I immediately ran into @the-lady-razorsharp who I knew from another fandom ten years prior and she was absolutely wonderful, drawing me in and introducing me around. I gobbled up several of her fics in the process.

Person you can talk to for the longest without a break.

I am hard to get started, persistence is required, but once started, it is usually hard to shut me up. @scribbles97 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment have all discovered that. Dangle a Virg, a plotline and stand back.

Person you can't be trusted to be left alone with.

Um, @vegetacide and I have plotted out the entirety of Warm Rain together…poor Virg. Add @the-lady-razorsharp into the equation and Virgil ends up with a beard, dressed in leather and riding a Harley – that was a hilarious evening. Between @tsarinatorment and @janetm74 Virgil gets grey hairs and has to go rescue Scott – because Scott inevitably ends up in the story :D @scribbles97 gets the blame for Gentle Rain – expand your horizons she said ::headdesk:: But then there was the time I left one random line about Eos visiting Virgil in the shower and went to bed. I woke up to hilarity and chaos as Thunderfam took the idea and ran with it! Love you guys :D

Person whose fic made you cry the most.

I know there were at least two fics that made me cry, but for the life of me I can’t identify them. I did cry writing my own fic – Flannel – and don’t tend to reread it for that reason. Purupuss traumatised me with A Quiet Day to the point I had to put it down and walk away for a bit ::wails::

Person whose fic made you laugh the most.

I have no idea. I know there are fic out there and I know I’ve read it, but without a complete list of everything I’ve read, I don’t have a clue.

Person whose fic made you think the most.

Aaaargh, I don’t have a master list so can’t remember everything. Staring at my paltry favourites list on FF.net (which was mostly gathered three years ago and never maintained), Purupuss’ ‘Brothers in Arms’ and her whole Quiet series has me wanting to write a Scott-Virgil telepathic fic (and she has given me permission to run with the idea, I just haven’t actioned it yet). Counterpoint by Swallow and Amazon is amazing and likely contributed to Sotto Voce.

Person you have laughed with the most.

I’m really not liking this ultimate one person idea. I’ve laughed with a lot of people in this fandom. I’ve candy cannoned a bunch of you as well :P There has been mad plot cackling, evil conspiring, fic written to stir pots and delight on purpose. Hell, I’ve even written fic that was purposefully a giant virtual hug because I’m so far away that even if half the world wasn’t in isolation, I couldn’t hug most of you. Sure, I talk with some of you more than others, and there is laughter in those chats…oh, god, so much cackling, poor, poor Tracy boys. But then there are also so many smiles both vocalised and not. Thunderfam is one of my happy places. Bring on the belly laughs :D

Your comfort fic that you'll go back and read again on a bad day.

I will often resort to my own fic when I’m really down simply because it helps me get to sleep :D and it is kinda tailored to me ::grins:: (and my memory is that bad I often forget what I wrote anyway – yes, it is that bad) But there are also a few on my FF.net favourites list. Mostly hurt/comfort in a Virg flavour. Cheesycheese, nhsweetcherry, A Small Rescue by Nalina, Breathe Easy and Under the Weather by @loopstagirl – several of hers, in fact – the Virg ones :D Pretty much anything that has Virg fainting and being looked after apparently :D Chiddi and Veggie fic, of course.

Favourite piece of fan art.

I have never been so honoured by artists before. This fandom has some amazing skills and I have been gifted some beautiful works. You guys are amazing (I keep saying it like a broken record, but you are).

Again, I’m stuck on having to list one and I can’t. I think Fanart Appreciation Month in January pretty much summed up my opinion.

Who have you known the longest in the fandom.

@the-lady-razorsharp followed by @vegetacide both wonderful peeps. I can’t miss out on @weirdburketeer either for her amazing support almost from day one.

Favourite OC.

I have to say that I really enjoy reading about Ray from @i-am-chidorixblossom ‘s fics :D He is so gentle and kind and just ::sigh:: Virg likes him lots :D Selene by @willow-salix is, of course, a major presence in the fandom and amazingly written. @hedwigstalons ‘ Claire is lovely.

Person who supports your work the most.

The Thunderfam? There have been some wonderful people who support all the time. @hedwigstalons @cg29 @janetm74 @weirdburketeer in particular have been amazing support liking and commenting on just about everything I write. I honestly don’t know how they do it. Plus several peeps over on FF.net and Ao3 who support me over there.

And then there are the poor souls who put up with me in chat and listen to my wibblies and whining and character checks and field random chunks of writing that get thrown their way. @scribbles97 @vegetacide @the-lady-razorsharp @tsarinatorment @i-am-chidorixblossom @onereyofstarlight @godsliltippy @willow-salix @janetm74 all have had random passages thrown at them at all times of the day and night by a crazy me begging for feedback. Does this work? Is this in character? Am I insane? What the hell is Scott doing? Is this John??? I give up, tell me what to do? Virgil is driving me insane! So, um, yeah

Person who's progress you are the most proud of.

I love those peeps who appear in fandom who start off poking around commenting and generally being lovely and then all of a sudden get out their own pens and start writing and they are frickin’ amazing! Both @janetm74 and @hedwigstalons come to mind in this department. Like holy cow – ‘here is my first fic and I’m not sure’ ::reads it:: Omigod! Where did you come from? That was amazing. Sit down here now, keep doing that writing thing, bloody hell! I think being brave enough to pick up a pen and join in is a major thing :D

Person who's story you think is underrated and should be read by more people.

If I find fic I like, I reblog it and shout about it. What I like is definitely skewed in a Virgil direction and this dictates often what I’m going to read first. I can’t reblog what I haven’t read. So, this equation will always be skewed by ‘reasons I haven’t read a fic’ which mostly involves either Virgil or the fact I’m juggling RL. So, my answer to this is if I think a fic needs to be shouted about, I shout about it.

Something you think people would say about you.

She’s nutty.

Silliest 'thing' you do with someone.

I’ve been known to write fic on the fly directly into chat windows to try and distract peeps going through shitty times.

Favourite pairing you now Stan because of someone's fic.

Virgil/Kayo because of @vegetacide for reasons I have blamed her for multiple times. @the-lady-razorsharp and @weirdburketeer were accessories to the fact.

Favourite headcanon from someone's fic.

Um, Virgil and coffee? I got that from somewhere and it has infiltrated my fic…a lot.

Ultimately, though, I feel most people I interact with contribute to my fic and how I’m feeling. This has been a wonderful experience. I try to return the support as much as I can, but sometimes it is a juggle between writing more, my stupid fluctuating mood, the demands of RL and my own creative drive. I hope I’ve helped a few peeps, because you guys have certainly helped me ::major group hug::

And yes, I hug a lot, because to be honest, I have no other descriptor to communicate how I feel, so you get buckets of hugs :D

Tagging the Thunderfam. Feel free to grab these questions and run with them. You’re all part of the gang whether you write, read, art, gif, screenshot, chat, babble, stare at Virgil all day...I know I do a lot of staring.

Nutty

(Thunderfam rocks!)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #thunderfam rock

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hermionetickledthedragon · 4 years ago

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Fanfiction Recommendations

So we decided to do Fic recs cuz, why not?

THIS IS THE FIRST TWO CATEGORIES FROM THE 10 WE ARE GONNA DO. IF YOU NEED LINKS JUST DM.

HERE YA GO PEEPS

Starter's Fanfic Rec

•Classic and amazingly written fanfics without any crazy plot

~Isolation by Bexchan ~Mature ~Summary: Post HBP. Ron and Harry are Horcrux hunting and Hermione has been left at Hogwarts to help the Order make it safe for the other students. Draco is forced by Snape to stay in Hogwarts for his own protection, but he can't leave the room he is given; Granger's room. Hermione is the only student trusted with this information, so her and Malfoy share the small space, and Draco tries to avoid insanity as he becomes increasingly isolated with only the Mudblood for company. Something's going to give... ~Site and words: Fanfiction.net, Ao3, 49 Chapters, 248k words ~Note/tw: A must read, smutty, gore and angst

~Little, Fragile Toys by Bexchan ~Mature ~Summary: "That incident, their first kiss, always reminded her of a car crash; people often described how they could recall every moment before and every moment after, but the impact itself was lost or hazy, like when you find a new bruise and can't remember where it came from. And Hermione could genuinely remember every detail that followed the impact. Every detail." ~Site and words: Fanfiction.net, Ao3, 1 chapter, 12k words ~Note/tw: Smut, ptsd

~Bathwater by xXBeckyFoo ~Teenage ~Summary: It's their 7th year,the Dark Lord's dead and the Death Eaters are all rounded up. Nothing could go wrong, right? There's a sense of peace in the air, but how long can it possibly last when the Ministry's throwing people together for all eternity? Curse the new Marriage Law. ~Site and words: Fanfiction.net, 31 chapters, 132k words

~Remain Nameless by HeyJude19 ~Mature ~Summary: How did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion all at once when he looked at Hermione Granger. ~Site and Words: AO3, Fanfiction.net, 32 Chapters, and 200,969 words ~Note/tw: WIP, regular updates, PTSD, smut.

~Traditions by raven_maiden ~Mature ~Summary: She straddled him slowly, still biting her lip, her hands on his shoulders. He held her hips tightly as he stared up at her. “So beautiful,” he whispered, and she flushed prettily, like she always did from his compliments. “You never need to hide from me." Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy fell in love during the war. One year later, they're heading home for the holidays so he can finally meet her parents. There's just one teeny little problem: her parents think they're both Muggles. ~Site and Words: AO3/ 14 Chapters, and 68,721 words. ~Note/tw: flashback mid-war, Complete, Light angst, Minor character death, perfectly written.

~The Wedding Rings by Masha19 ~Mature ~Summary: He was the sweetest drug and she refused to give it up even at the expense of losing herself. ~Site and Words: Fanfictionnet/ 10 Chapters, and 31,661 ~Note/tw: Post-Hogwarts, Complete, angst, infidelity.

Multi Chapter Fanfics

•Ranging topics for the novel length fanfic readers

~Breath Mints and Battle Scars by Onyx and Elm ~Mature ~Summary: For a moment, she's almost giddy. Because Draco Malfoy's been ruined by this war and he's as out of place as she is and — yes, he has scars too. He's got an even bigger one. She wonders whether one day they'll compare sizes. ~Site and words: Fanfictionnet, Ao3 48 Chapters, and 141,675 words ~Note/tw: PTSD, emotional and psychological abuse, trauma, self-harm, post-war, WIP, beautifully written.

~Ordinary People by inadaze22 ~Mature ~Summary: "Let me be clear about something tonight, Granger. You're the only woman I've ever wanted. It's always been you." Draco steps in the fireplace, drops the Floo powder, and disappears in a burst of green flames. ~Site and Words: Fanfictionnet/ 18 Chapters, and 133,759 Words ~Note/tw: Post-war, Pro-Pansy, Pregnant Hermione, fluff, angst, Complete.

~99 days by Ruthy4vrSmoaked ~Mature ~Summary: Hermione needed some time away from loving couples and her lonely reality. Draco was stuck with a non-refundable pre-honeymoon cruise and decided not to let it go to waste. 99 days on board of the ship Arcadia. Peace, sun, and sea. That was the plan. ~Site and Words: Fanfictionnet, AO3/ 55 Chapter, and 180,811 Words ~Note/tw: post-war, complete, adventure, romance, fluff, angst, smut.

~The Sapphire Princess by starkidsftw ~Mature ~Summary: He was marked when he was sixteen. She was marked when she was twenty. His is a snake, hers is a willow. One was a choice, one is an obligation. Neither is truly understood, and both will change everything. "You shall collect the Princess, Draco Malfoy, and you will bring her back where she belongs." Hermione Pureblood story, Dramione War AU, Blood Magic ~Site and words: Fanfiction.net, 36 chapters, 122k+ words ~Note/tw: WIP, angst, romance, plot twists

~The Dragon's Bride by Rizzle ~Mature ~Summary: 7th year. Draco & Hermione awaken in a Muggle hotel room, naked, hung-over and tattooed. They also happen to be married. Thus begin a desperate search for a solution to their sticky situation. ~Site and words: fanfiction.net, 61 Chapters, 225k words ~Note/tw: inebriated, angst, sweet ending tho, NON CON SCENES

~Eros & Psyche by RZZMG ~Mature ~Summary: Draco challenges Harry and friends to play EROS & PSYCHE, a scandalous card game with a dark, mysterious history. It's Slyth vs. Gryff, male vs. female, pride vs. desire in the ultimate game of hearts and amour! Pairings: Draco/Hermione,Blaise/Ginny,Ron/Pansy,Seamus/Lavender,Theo/Daphne,Harry/Tracey. AU 7th yr. Secrets, romance, angst, and sex await the turning of the first card... ~Site and words: Fanfiction.net, 67 Chapters, 433k+ words ~Note/tw: Not that long. Each round has 6 chapters for each pairing. Simply skip the rest of the 5 chaps to only read dramione.

The next two categories are going to be posted real soon.

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water-fan-art · 4 years ago

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My Jasper fanfics (click title for links)

Find Something Better To Do With Your Life- Set directly after she was shattered. I wasn’t particularly happy with the canon ending, so this fic explores the time between her last two appearances in a way to make me feel better and give a healthier context to her final appearance. It includes some heavy mental health themes, and an unlikely companionship between her and Connie which leads to her connecting with some uncorrupted Quartzes. This fic is complete! There’s a total of 9 chapters.

The sequel named “Finding Life” hasn’t been updated since June. It most likely won’t be updated again for a while- as I focus on my art and other fics- but I do plan on working on it more at some point.

Healed And Coerced AU- This AU is based around the idea of Jasper being healed after Mindful Education. Having being healed by just Steven, she has issues with her physical form that makes her gem no longer self sufficient, and results in a lot of problems for her. This fic also includes heavy themes, and can get graphic at times. I have the most fun when writing in canon events! This fic has 3 arcs so far- which is a total of 16 chapters. It is NOT completed, but is currently on hiatus.

Crystal Gem AU- It is currently set during the gem war- Jasper joins the rebellion after she is in the palanquin and witnesses Rose shape shift into PD. While set during the war in the beginning, I am planning for Jasper to survive the Diamond Blast and live on Earth with the CGs. This means Amethyst will come along, eventually so will Greg... and Steven. This is my newest fic- there is only one chapter so far.

Notes:

These fics won’t have nsfw content.

While it can be nice content to consume, I don’t plan on making any of these into ship-fics (I just feel like I don’t see much Jasper content on AO3 that isn’t ship related).

The first two fics (FSBTDWYL and H&C-AU) are a lot heavier or ‘angsty’ than my third one (CG-AU) is planned to be- however my third fic won’t exactly be rainbows and sunshine. Jasper will just have less ✨issues✨ than in canon & my other fics.

The aims of my fics are to show sides to Jasper we wouldn’t normally see, but to also give her a happier ending. It does get low at times, but I don’t plan on ever keeping her at a low.

I try not to be biased when writing other characters, especially ones I’m not as fond of. I also try to keep these peeps in character! Even if they’re in non-canon situations.

I only started writing fics this year- and it had been a fair few years since my writing days, so the writing may not be perfect! I’m just doing this for fun.

If you choose to read any of these- I hope you enjoy!

#jasper fanfic #steven universe #steven universe fanfic #jasper su #steven universe au #su fanfic #jasper fic #su au #jasper #update

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jowritesthingss · 4 years ago

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Excuse Me Sir This Is My Emotional Support Eldritch Being

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing(s): n/a

Rating: Teen (for swearing)

Content Warning(s): rabbits, food/drink, mild(ish) swearing, not!Sasha, eldritch beings, spoilers through early s3-ish

Length: 2,190 words

Brief Summary: The archival team adopts a rabbit. (Part one of the Emotional Support Eldritch AU!)

AO3 link in reblogs bc Tumblr is a biatch!

“What is it?”

Jon levels a suspicious glare down at the fluffy blob comfortably stretched out in the middle of the overstuffed break room couch.

Tim blinks owlishly at him from behind his mug of tea. “A...rabbit?”

“Yes, but are you sure it’s a rabbit?” Jon asks insistently. “Not a—a spirit, or...an animated doll, or a clown in disguise or something?”

Sighing, Tim sets his tea down on the counter. “Look, I get the whole ‘suspicious of us being murderers’ thing—no I don’t, actually, but that’s beside the point—it. is. a rabbit.” For a good measure, he walks over to sit on one side of the rabbit, reaching a hand out to the little guy’s fluffy head. If a rabbit could smile, he suspects this one would be doing so as it leans up into his hand.

“No fleas or ticks...or worms, so it’s not some Jane Prentiss Pet Sematary crossover, I promise—” Tim rolls his eyes, “—the veterinarian confirmed as much when I brought the poor thing in. Out of the mud and the rain of the gutter,” he adds, not even attempting to hide the guilt-trip. He wishes Martin were here, with his ridiculously effective puppy-dog eyes.

Tim knows this is Jon he’s talking to, but surely even he can’t be that cold-hearted. He rather thinks that Jon will enjoy not being alone anymore down here during all his late nights. If he’d let himself, surely Jon would enjoy having company in the form of a teeny tiny creature that can’t and won’t harm him—which, uh, certainly is not why he’s lying about his current flat not permitting pets, no siree.

“...Fine. Whatever.” Jon points an accusing finger at him. “But we’re not keeping it,” he stresses. “The moment you find it a different home, it goes. The moment.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tim chirps, although as he begins a staring contest with the rabbit’s curious red eyes, he has no intention of actually doing as Jon says.

Martin chooses this moment to walk through the door. His eyes light up. “Aw, is that a rabbit?”

“No, this does not mean you’re allowed to bring in more strays,” Jon snaps.

The light in Martin’s eyes fades. “Okay,” he says mournfully as he crouches to pet the rabbit, sulking.

“So what should we name him?” Tim asks Jon when the Head Archivist comes into the break room the next morning.

“Oh—my—” Jon startles where he stands by the counter, attempting to make himself some toast with the Archive’s horrible fifteen-year-old toaster—toast that now splatters across the floor. Somehow in his sleep-deprived stupor he must’ve missed Tim sitting on the couch with a white rabbit on his head. He never seems to really notice Tim, but at this point it’s fine enough; Tim has accepted that the guy has impossibly poor taste.

The rabbit clambers down from Tim’s shoulders, jumping off of the couch and padding over to investigate the new human(?) and the mess he made.

“How about Thumper?” Tim puzzles aloud, stretching leisurely and acting as if he doesn’t notice Jon frantically scrubbing up raspberry jam and trying to avoid the rabbit’s investigative snuffles all in one. “No, no...that’s too cliché.”

“I really don’t see the point in naming it when it shouldn’t be here more than a few weeks,” Jon comments, shooing the animal in question away before it can try to lick up any jam.

“Maybe Joe?” Tim continues loudly, as if he hadn’t heard the other. When the rabbit ambles back over to him, he scoops them up, pressing their noses together. “Ligma?” He shakes his head at the rabbit. “No, no. We need to have more sophistication as we go about this.”

“You could do with applying that sophistication to your work,” comes the grumbled retort.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jon abruptly turns to burn another piece of bread in the toaster.

“How about Marshmallow?”

“What on Earth—” Jon shrieks, jumping in his desk chair, and a sheaf of papers is sent flying around the office.

“The rabbit. Should we call him ‘Marshmallow’?” Tim smiles as innocently as he can manage, standing out in the hall with his head peeping into his boss’ office. “Marshie for short?”

“I am in the middle of a statement!” Jon sputters. “Get out!”

“Okay, okay....” Tim fluidly shrugs his shoulders. “What about ‘Bob’?”

“Out!”

But Tim continues to pop into Jon’s office unannounced throughout the day, tossing out name suggestions. He even manages to rope Martin into doing it too, and notes with savage delight that between the two of them and his work, Jon doesn’t get much more than a moment to wallow rest for the remainder of the day.

Between the two of them Tim and Martin manage to compile a surprisingly long list of names:

Snowball,

Posy (Martin is partial to this one because he thinks it’s cute),

Bungen Leitner,

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt (“is that too American of a reference for a fanfic taking place in the UK?” “what?” “what?”),

the Bunholding,

Michael (Jon is especially averse to that one for some reason),

Cottonball,

Fluffy Bastard (Tim’s own favorite),

Bugs Bunny,

Eldritch Horror (Tim tosses that one in as a joke; no way the rabbit that eats his own shit is some kind of otherworldly being),

Big Bungus (“it’s a play off Big Chungus!” “d’you seriously think anyone else here even knows what memes are”), and

the Vampiric Count Sir Maximillianus-Who-Is-Also-A-Werebun

(Despite badgering Sasha multiple times in an attempt to get her thoughts on the matter, the only name she offers up is “Dinner”, which makes Martin cry, so that one is out.)

None of the names quite seem to fit the little white puffball that has now taken over the realm of their break room, however—so Tim and Martin find themselves going back to the drawing board. They reluctantly leave the Institute at the end of the day, still without having decided upon a name.

“JON JUNIOR!” Martin screeches excitedly the next morning as they’re congregating once more in the break room, zombie-like before their tea and mid-morning snack time (primary schools don’t get all the fun, okay).

Jon and Sasha startle, and for once even Tim himself jumps. The rabbit doesn’t seem to care much where he is, nibbling at some hay in his corner litter box.

“I—what?” Jon asks, flabbergasted, although he manages to not drop his toast this time. Character development.

“We should name him Jon Jr! After you!” Martin explains eagerly.

“Absolutely not,” Jon tries to say, but before he can finish, Tim is jumping in.

“I think that is an excellent idea,” he says, grinning broadly. “Thoughts, Sasha?”

“I’m not emotionally invested in this.” Sasha shrugs, uncaring. “I’m going back to my desk.” She takes her drink and walks out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.

“All right, since Sasha doesn’t care, I’ll decide her vote for her,” Tim says, carefully containing his glee. “So that’s three votes for and one against, then. Majority rules.”

“What? No!” John protests, but Tim is too busy looking at the rabbit for confirmation.

“What do you think, little guy?” He walks over, bends down, and lightly boops the rabbit’s nose. “Are you a Jon Jr?”

The rabbit twitches his nose in agreement and poops.

“Well then!” Tim stands, clapping his hands together. “That’s been decided upon.”

No, it hasn’t,” Jon insists, but Tim cares little for his boss’ objections. He’ll accept his fate as Jon Senior eventually.

To Tim’s utter surprise and fascination, it happens sooner than later.

Jon, Tim quickly realizes, is a lot like the one dad who says “no dog” and then ends up loving the dog more than he loves his own children.

Despite his initial objections, the daft fool ends up getting caught up in Jon Jr’s big, innocent, rabbit-y gaze (worse than even Martin’s puppy-dog eyes, they conclude gravely), and by the end of the day Friday Jon has announced that he supposes the rabbit can stay with him over weekends and holidays.

“We’re still not keeping him,” Jon reminds them all, even as the rabbit gathered in his arms, giving his nose kisses and knocking his glasses askew, says otherwise.

He gets caught trying to sneak the rabbit into his office on more than one occasion, but Martin raises a fuss about it.

(“He’s all of ours! Jon Jr is our department’s mascot now,” Martin protests defiantly. “You can’t take him away from the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” Tim adds, mostly just to stir up drama—he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. “You can’t just swoop him up and file him away like one of your statements.”

“Just don’t let it get out and chew at my electronics,” Sasha says, distractedly typing something on her phone, probably to that weird new boyfriend.)

To stave off the imminent coup, Jon Jr becomes an officially-declared resident of the break room. He slowly amasses chub around his middle and a cardboard kingdom of bunny toys, houses, blankets, and treats. A rabbit could want for nothing more.

And perhaps—perhaps a human could want for nothing more, too, Tim thinks as he looks down at the figure curled up on the sofa, rabbit nestled against his chest.

He doesn’t love the man, not by a long, long shot—doesn’t even particularly like him half the time—but Tim can’t deny that the scene is adorable. And, regardless of his very vocal protests, Jon Jr may very well be what Jon Sr needs to finally process things and move the hell on with life.

Tim smiles grimly. It’s about damn time.

He quietly closes the door to the room and heads back towards the Archives. He’ll leave Jon to wake himself up.

(And to discover for himself that Jon Jr has peed on his pants leg.)

Of course, this is the Archive we’re talking about, so naturally the peace is abruptly shattered, and everything goes horribly, horribly wrong.

Tim isn’t entirely certain what happens or why, but all of a sudden Sasha isn’t really Sasha, and he and Jon have gotten backed up and cornered in the tunnels as this not-really-Sasha stalks towards them, predictably with the intent to kill, just like the rest of the spooks they are so lucky to deal with.

Tim and Jon Sr slowly back away until they hit a dead end. Meanwhile, Jon Jr licks at Tim’s arm—he’d been scooped up as they ran into the tunnels, Tim doesn’t entirely know why—and despite the fact that they are most probably about to, y’know, die, the little kisses almost feel strangely reassuring.

The thing-that-is-not-Sasha cackles, her—their?—its?—voice distorted and echoing throughout the tunnels. It stalks towards them.

All of a sudden, Jon Jr wriggles loose and leaps smoothly down onto the ground. He scampers in front of Tim and Jon, heading towards bitch-give-me-my-Sasha-back.

“No! Get back here!” Tim hisses at the rabbit, even though he knows it’s pointless. He hates to admit it, but he’s becoming rather fond of Jon Jr, even if Tim mostly brought him in to piss off and totally not help Jon. Jon—who, speaking of, seems to be equally fond now, judging by the deflating tire of a terrified squeak he makes, and the adorable immature grabby arms he makes at the little bugger.

“Junior,” Jon calls out, sounding like a toddler who’d just been told Santa wasn’t real (he is, they have the statements to prove it, he is). And Tim wants to laugh, albeit hysterically. The first time he sees his brick wall of a superior cry and it’s over a rabbit, and he’s not even going to have time to gloat over it because they’re about to die. “No! You’re going to—”

Jon Jr stops and sits in front of wholly-absolutely-totally-not-Sasha-what-the-fuck, who looks down at him, bemused through its murderous bloodlust.

The rabbit lifts a dainty paw up to his mouth, and suddenly—suddenly it’s twisting and huge, towering up to the ceiling of the tunnel, its skin hairless and tinted a sickly, glowing gray, with five, six, seven...a whole lot more limbs than a rabbit is supposed to have.

The not-rabbit unhinges its now meters-long jaw and snaps up the creature.

Tim and Jon stare at each other, wide-eyed.

There is a loud gulping sound, then a deafening crack, and suddenly there is a very normal white rabbit sitting in front of them again, carefully cleaning one paw with a very normal pink tongue.

“Wh—” Tim chokes on his own words.

The holy-shit-it-really-is-an-eldritch-horror-after-all stretches, yawns, and flops over in a dead sleep.

“...We’re keeping the rabbit,” Jon says faintly.

“I—yeah.” Tim nods, light-headed. “We’re keeping the rabbit.”

Jon Jr the rabbit-slash-eldritch-abomination gets a very hearty dinner of romaine lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumber peels that night.

(Tune in next time* for the terrible, terrible realization—“Jon Jr is a girl?!” (Also why is there another dead body again, dammit, can’t we go one week))

Fin

First || Next

(There may or may not actually be a next time. It depends. )

Behold. What very well may be the stupidest thing I have ever written. Ahem. Did I say stupidest? I meant most brilliant. Clearly I meant it’s the most brilliant thing I have ever written. Obviously.

Let me know if you enjoyed this! I have a bunch of ideas to continue this ridiculously silly AU of sorts, but idk if I’m going to quite yet and am not certain that I’ll be continuing to write for TMA. atm I’m focused on a different fandom, and I’m only on s3, so the really big idea I had has to wait, anyway.

Want to chat or be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

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kmomof4 · 5 years ago

Text

State of Emergency: Code White

Here is the third and final part of my State of Emergency universe, originally inspired by the 1997 Tommy Lee Jones movie, Volcano. This picks up about six and a half months after State of Emergency: Future Glimpse, Part 2 of this series. All the love and thanks in the world to @profdanglaisstuff for her beta services, @thisonesatellite for sharing her earthquake knowledge with me, and @hollyethecurious for her listening ear and her assurance that this idea wasn't garbage. And last but certainly not least, @searchingwardrobes and @stahlop for their help in deciding on a title. I hope you enjoy this conclusion and let me know what you think! Read more link after the first scene, unless Tumblr ate it.

Tagging my peeps: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Ao3 link

Also muchos love and flails to @captainsjedi for her picset for this fic!!! It is so perfect, I can’t even!!!!

August 28, 2021

A squeal that was nearly loud enough to break the windows drew Emma’s attention away from where Killian was checking them into the Hotel Casa del Mar for Graham and Ruby’s wedding the next day. She turned just in time to hold out her arms before Ruby barrelled into her nearly nine months pregnant belly.

“Emma!” she exclaimed, “Look at you!” She grasped Emma’s shoulders and held her away from her, scrutinizing every part of her with an eye that only a best friend of many, many years could accomplish. Apparently satisfied with what she found, Ruby pulled her close and rubbed her tummy all while murmuring to her honorary niece or nephew.

“Hello there, my darling,” she cooed, “How is my little angel today? I hope you didn’t make the drive down too difficult for your mom. I can’t wait to meet you in just a few more weeks.” She ended her questioning monologue with a kiss to the top of her belly. If it had been anyone else, Emma would have introduced them to her fist long before now, but this was Ruby. Her best friend since junior high. Certain privileges came with that kind of longevity.

“I’m fine, too,” she laughed, “Thanks for asking, Ruby.” Ruby rose up laughing at her sarcasm and drawing her close again.

“Ohhh,” she breathed, “I’m so happy to see you! We cannot go three months without seeing each other ever again.”

Killian turned away from the counter with a wide grin before Ruby released Emma and greeted him with an enthusiastic hug as well. “You hear me, Jones?” she asked, pulling away, “Emma and I cannot go three months between seeing each other ever again.”

“Duly noted,” he replied. “Where’s Graham?”

Ruby turned away as her tall, sandy haired fianceé sauntered over to where the three of them still stood. The men greeted each other with a firm handshake before embracing.

“It’s good to see you, mate,” Killian greeted his best friend as Graham returned the sentiment. They moved away from the check in counter, toward the elevators finalizing plans for dinner in a couple of hours. Emma was happy to see everyone, but she was really looking forward to a nice long soak in the whirlpool tub in their room and maybe a nap beforehand. The ride down from Sacramento had been brutal. The whirlpool jets on the tight muscles in her lower back where the achiness had settled would feel like heaven. The normally about five and a half hour drive had taken them nearly nine, with her bladder demands every hour or so and needing to stretch her legs.

They all rode the elevator together, Ruby and Emma keeping their arms around each other the entire way. Finally making it to their rooms, the men had to nearly peel the ladies away from each other.

“Come on, Swan,” Killian cajoled, “that whirlpool tub is waiting.” He waggled his brows suggestively, earning him an eye roll.

“All right, fine,” she whined, releasing Ruby. Ruby immediately stepped into Graham's arms and they turned back toward their worn out friend.

“We’ll see you downstairs at 7:30,” she said. “That should give you enough time for a bath and rest for a little while. Have to make sure you’re taking care of my niece or nephew, ya know.”

Emma and Killian both grinned. “We’ll see you then.”

~*~*~

Emma entered the elevator and stretched her back with a grimace on her face and a soft exhale at the achiness there. Killian was by her side instantly, his hand rubbing circles into the small of her back.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asked. “Need another soak in the tub when we get back to the room tonight?”

Emma turned to him with a smile on her face at his concern. “Those jets felt wonderful. Another soak after dinner may be just what the doctor ordered. All those hours in the car, just…” she trailed away with another stretch and quiet groan. “I know you love that car, but we are NEVER traveling out of town in it again.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out to find Killian’s brother Liam and his girlfriend, Elsa already waiting. Liam was an Anglican priest and would be performing the ceremony the next day. Elsa, while not a bridesmaid, had been welcomed into the group when she and Liam had started dating last spring and so she was invited to enjoy all the festivities with the wedding party. They were still sharing hugs and greetings when Mary Margaret and David and then the bride and groom arrived.

They moved the party to one of the best seafood places in Santa Monica. Right on the water, it served steak and fresh out of the ocean seafood. It had been a favorite when she had lived here and she had informed Ruby that she was resigning as Matron of Honor if they didn’t eat there sometime over the weekend. She may not be able to eat any shellfish, but she could still have her filet mignon.

The evening was filled with good food, good drinks, laughter, and stories. Emma got to share the story about when she and Ruby had tried to fake-ID their way into a hot new club on the beach back when they were in high school. All Ruby’s idea, of course. But then, in retaliation, Ruby had to tell the story about the first time Emma got completely hammered, after their college graduation.

“Single mom, graduating summa cum laude,” she shrugged, with a smirk, “I was entitled.” Her smirk softened into a more genuine, grateful smile. “I couldn’t have done it without Ruby, David and M’s.”

“Damn right!” Ruby exclaimed, toasting Emma’s raised glass with her own. Laughter broke out from around the table and more toasts were raised to Emma’s success and to the happy couple. Finally, Graham stood.

“Who would have guessed that one of the greatest natural disasters that California has ever seen would lead me, lead us here.” He smiled down at Ruby, affectionately. “Killian and I have been friends for a decade. Ever since he hired me right out of college to work at the Geological Survey. When he was promoted, he brought me along with him to work as his assistant. And it was that position that led me to this beautiful, wonderful woman by my side this evening. The woman that I am so blessed to be marrying tomorrow.” He looked back down at his soon-to-be bride, as she fanned herself dramatically, trying to hide her blush. He leaned down and pulled Ruby’s chin up and captured her lips in a tender kiss as whoops and hollers from around the table were directed at the happy couple. He sat down and draped his arm around her shoulder as she snuggled into his side, red lips smiling widely.

Killian rose then. “I’ll keep this brief, since we still have the Dudes Day Lunch tomorrow,” he began, as loud guffaws broke out over the name. “Hey!” he exclaimed, “don’t laugh at me! It was old man Liam’s idea!” He pointed at his brother whose face flamed red at being outed for coming up with that ridiculous name. “Anyway, Graham fell for Ruby nearly as fast as I did for Emma. And I could not be happier for the both of you. But I have to say, mate, I made better use of my time.” More laughs came from the gathered friends as he waggled his eyebrows salaciously at his wife as he sat down.

“Well, you were on more of a time clock than I was, mate,” Graham reminded him. “Had to fit the wedding in once the Governor decided he wanted you in Sacramento.”

Killian nodded in agreement before drawing Emma into his side. He couldn’t help but rub his hand on her swollen belly before kissing her on the temple. Now that the speeches were over, the dinner party quickly wound down. They made their way back to the hotel and all went their separate ways, wishing each other a good night and reiterating the plans for the morning.

Emma came out of the bathroom over an hour later, hair and body scrubbed clean until it glowed in the low light of the lamps of the room.

“How’s your back, darling?” he asked, quietly, “Still aching?”

“Yes,” she yawned, climbing in the bed. “But I think that soak and more than an hour in this bed will go a long way to helping it feel better. I’m really looking forward to the massage in the morning. I’m sure I’ll be right as rain after that.” She snuggled as close as she could into his chest before looking up and drawing him into a kiss.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed against her lips. “I’m sure you will be too. Goodnight, Swan.”

She turned in his arms that tenderly cupped their unborn child. “Goodnight.”

~*~*~

Killian couldn’t stop the grin that spread his lips as he caught sight of the female portion of the bridal party exiting the elevators that brought them down from the spa on the top floor of the hotel. Emma was radiant, hair and makeup done to perfection and appearing to be even more relaxed than she had been when she left their room that morning. Apparently, a good night's sleep in a very comfortable bed plus a facial and pregnancy massage did wonders for his beloved wife’s countenance.

“Swan,” he called, approaching her as the party made their way toward the hotel restaurant. She turned toward him with the most beautiful smile on her face, she nearly took his breath away.

“Hi,” she replied, meeting him halfway and turning her face up to his for his kiss.

“How was the spa, darling?” he asked, rubbing circles into the small of her back. “How does your back feel?”

“Amazing,” she gushed, “Rose was my therapist and I nearly fell asleep under her fingers. I have had a couple of twinges since the massage, but nothing like yesterday on the way down.”

“Good,” he replied, “I’m glad to hear it. We’ll be at the oyster bar if you need me,” he said, pointing across the lobby. The smile she graced him with was full of happiness. He leaned down and brushed her lips with his own again. “I’ll see you after lunch.”

She hummed as he let her go. Emma couldn’t hide her appreciative smirk as she watched her husband saunter away before she caught up with the other ladies at the matré d’s podium. “Bridal luncheon for four under the name Jones,” she informed the man.

“Right this way, ladies.”

He led them across the gleaming marble floor toward a beautifully appointed table only a few feet in front of the floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the beach where Ruby and Graham would be exchanging their vows in about six hours. The ladies oooo-ed and ahhh-ed over the view and the richness of their surroundings. Settling themselves in their chairs, their server appeared pouring water in their glasses and taking their drink orders before disappearing again.

“Ruby,” breathed Mary Margaret, “this is absolutely beautiful!”

“I know!” their friend agreed. “Isn’t it? They had a picture of the restaurant on the website and when I saw it, I knew this is where I wanted everything to be.” Ruby sighed, happily. “I’ve always dreamt of a sunset wedding on the beach.” From where they sat, they could see the area where the wedding coordinator and her crew were already hard at work getting ready for the nuptials that evening.

“Don’t I know it.” Emma rolled her eyes, good naturedly. “I’ve been listening to it for years.” She drew her best friend into a side hug as the other ladies looked on, wide smiles on their faces. “And I couldn’t be happier for you both.”

Their server returned with their drinks and took their orders for lunch. Once he withdrew, Elsa raised her glass to the bride. “I know that I’m not as close with all you ladies as you are to each other, but I’d be remiss if I neglected to tell you all thank you first for including me in your festivities and second for welcoming me into your group with such open arms. I know that Liam is so thrilled and honored to be joining you and Graham in marriage this evening, Ruby, and we both wish you every happiness and blessing in your union.”

Tears glistened in Ruby’s eyes as she rose from her place at the table and came around to gather Elsa into a warm hug. “Thank you, Elsa,” she choked out. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally be marrying Graham. And having you here to celebrate with us makes it that much better. There are truly no words for how happy it makes me to see Liam so happy. How happy you’ve made him.” Elsa’s lovely face flushed at Ruby’s words. “When I met Killian, he, and then Liam, joined David as the brothers I’d never had. So it does my heart good that you’ve found each other.” Ruby let go and returned to her seat just as their lunches arrived.

~*~*~

“Hear, hear!” The four men raised their pints and toasted Graham’s happiness after Liam had spoken a few words that if the ladies had heard, would have earned them all eye rolls and playfully indignant slaps at the raunchiness of the teasing. Well, except maybe Graham. Ruby would have been just as likely to laugh and raise her glass with the rest of them.

After taking a sip, Killian rose from his seat. “As Best Man, and the reason that Graham met Ruby in the first place, I have a few words to say.” The laughter among the men died down as they all fixed their attention on him. “Graham, words cannot express how happy I am for you that this day has finally arrived. I knew the moment I entered the control center two and a half years ago that there was something different about you, and when you smiled at Ruby I could immediately see what it was.” Graham’s face broke into a soft smile as his eyes took on the dreamy quality of pleasant memories. “There’s nothing like a disaster of epic proportions to drive people together. You were smitten with Ruby that very first day. It has been a joy and privilege to watch you fall in love with the wonderful woman that you will make your wife in just a few hours from now.” He raised his glass high again in a toast. “To Graham and Ruby.”

“To Graham and Ruby,” the others echoed, raising their own glasses.

“May you find every happiness in life together, for you certainly deserve it.” Killian took his seat just as their server approached with their meals.

~*~*~

The ladies had enjoyed their lunch and were waiting for their Death by Chocolate desserts when Emma rose. Stretching her back with a grimace, Emma placed her hand on her back and waved away M’s concerned face. She looked down at her best friend and smiled gently.

“Ruby, you’ve been my best friend in the world since we were twelve years old and you moved into my school district. I’ll never forget the first time I saw you. You came into our 7th grade Theater class like a whirlwind.” Ruby chuckled at the memory. “You sat next to me and didn’t let my natural shyness and ‘prickly-ness,’” Emma placed quote signs around the word that Ruby had undoubtedly used many times in referring to her, “deter you. You were gonna be my friend if it killed you to do it. You were my closest friend in no time flat and I am so grateful. It’s been my joy and privilege to grow up with you, to travel the ups and downs of life with you up to this point, that I’ll now be handing off to your husband in just a few hours. And also to watch you fall in love with the love of your life. There are no words to express my happiness for you both.”

A gasp broke from Emma’s lips as a tightening in her back that radiated around her front caused her to hunch over and grab the table before her. The silverware and glassware rattled as the ladies exchanged nervous glances.

Emma laughed, breathlessly, “That really hurt,” she gasped, trying to sit down again. “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

The tableware continued to rattle and Emma followed M’s and Elsa’s gaze upward to where the large chandelier hanging over their table was swinging back and forth.

“Earthquake!” M’s cried, “Everyone under the table!”

Emma got down on all fours and made her way under the table along with the others. Terror overtook her as the shaking continued. Thoughts of Killian on the other side of the lobby and Henry still in Sacramento raced through her mind as she prayed for their and her own and her baby’s safety. The shaking was beginning to subside when the table collapsed on the four of them, forcing Emma to flatten herself on the floor, her face buried in Ruby’s lap. The pain that ripped through her caused her to scream in agony before everything went black.

~*~*~

The shaking had finally subsided, but the scream and sudden silence from Emma terrified Mary Margaret more than the earthquake had. “Emma? Elsa? Ruby? Everyone okay?”

Ruby, her back facing M’s and bent over from the table on top of them was the first to answer. “I’m ok, but Emma’s unconscious. Her head is in my lap.”

“Okay, we have to get the table off of Emma. On the count of three everybody push as hard as you can. One, two, three!”

Groans from the others filled her ears, but she was barely aware of them as she pushed with all her might against the heavy surface of the table above her. Suddenly, the table gave way as it and the chandelier that had fallen on it flipped off of them. The sunlight nearly blinded her and it took a moment of furious blinking before M’s was able to scan over the others before she scrambled to a still unconscious Emma.

“Emma? Emma!” she cried, checking her pulse and respiration before noticing the wetness that was spreading out from under her sister-in-law. “Ok, I need everyone to surround Emma to help me turn her on her back. Very carefully. I think her water’s broken.”

A gasp broke from Ruby at M’s speculation. M’s eyes met Elsa’s pain filled ones as she realized that she was holding her left arm across her chest. The darkening bruise that took up most of her forearm clued her in that Elsa’s arm was badly broken and she wouldn’t be much help in moving Emma.

“We have to get Emma on her back so I can see exactly what is happening with the baby. As soon as I’m done with that, I’ll get your arm splinted.”

Elsa nodded. “Making sure that Emma and the baby are okay is more important. I can wait.”

“Okay,” she agreed, “Ruby, can you get Emma’s shoulders turned to the left? I’ll handle the torso.”

Ruby nodded and took her position. “On the count of three. One, two, three.” With a mighty heave they were able to get Emma on her back as she let out a low moan at the action.

The front of Emma’s dress was soaked. Mary Margaret wasted no time in shucking the maxi dress she wore up around her waist and removing her underwear. Ruby was gently shaking Emma’s shoulders and murmuring in her ear trying to get her to wake up as Mary Margaret checked to see how far along in labor she was.

“She’s six centimeters,” M’s announced, with obvious relief. “The baby’s coming. Ruby, I need you to get to the front of the hotel and find some paramedics. Hopefully there’s some nearby and you won’t have any trouble getting out there or getting them back here. If you see any employee’s on your way out, tell them we need water and towels here, ASAP.”

Emma was finally starting to come around as Ruby was maneuvering out from under her. “What happened,” she mumbled.

M’s moved to Emma’s head. She placed both hands on her cheeks and held her attention. “Emma, I need you to look at me. Do you know where you are? Do you know what’s happening today?”

“Uh, we’re at the hotel? And we just finished lunch? Ruby and Graham are getting married.” It was really more of a question than she would have liked, but at least there weren’t any memory gaps.

“Yes, that’s good!” M’s exclaimed, “Very good! There was an earthquake and we were trapped under the table. We’ve gotten the table off of us, but your water has broken. The baby is coming.” The calm that normally characterized her in an emergency situation descended on Mary Margaret. She may not have expected to deliver her niece or nephew, but she was far from inexperienced in matters such as these.

“The baby is coming?” Emma cried, “I’m not due for another five weeks! Will he be okay?”

Looking into Emma’s eyes, she could see that panic threatened to overtake her. She infused all the confidence she could muster from the less than ideal situation into her smile before she shared her expectations for the situation.

“At thirty-five weeks, the baby will almost definitely be fine. At this stage of pregnancy, the baby is mostly gaining weight and preparing for delivery. Our only concern is the setting. This is obviously far from ideal.” At that moment their server arrived with an armful of towels and two water pitchers.

“Thank you,” M’s said, taking the supplies from him. Turning back to Emma, she continued. “You are six centimeters dialated and I expect you’ll be ready to push here in about an hour.”

Emma nodded, trying her best to find some measure of comfort that M’s was with her and would do everything she could to ensure a safe delivery of her child. Wanting nothing more than for Killian to be at her side, she closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. She could feel the tightening in her back again spreading around to the front that she had become familiar with since yesterday. She should have realized that the pain was early labor and not just uncomfortable seats in Killian’s beloved classic SS Chevelle. But there was nothing to do about that now. She could only pray that Killian was unhurt and making his way to her and their baby.

~*~*~

When the earthquake finally stopped, Killian and the other men came out from under the bar where they had taken cover when the shaking began. It was all he could do to breathe as terror filled him as he looked around the restaurant and out to the lobby beyond. It was obviously a major earthquake, but the damage he could see was relatively minor. He knew that it would take him some time to get to Emma, however. He looked over to his companions.

“Everyone alright?” he asked.

A chorus of “yesses” and “fine” met him. “I’ve got to get to Emma,” he blurted out, picking his way around the debris as he headed toward the lobby.

“Hold on, brother.” Liam approached and grabbed him by the arm.

“Don’t you try to stop me,” Killian yelled, jerking away from him. “I have to make sure she’s safe. She and the baby.” The terror rose again and tears filled his eyes as the possibilities played out in his mind.

“I’m not trying to stop you, Killian,” Liam agreed, “I’m simply telling you that we’re coming with you. We all want to make sure our ladies are safe.”

Killian deflated. “Of course, brother,” he replied, chagrined. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“They’re safe. They’re all safe. I have to believe that. Everybody, here? Okay, lets go,” Liam called.

~*~*~

BREAKING NEWS scrolled across the television screen, drawing Henry Jones’ attention away from the comic book he was looking at. He was hanging out in a gift shop at the airport terminal before his flight to LAX started boarding. He stared at the monitor in horror as the newscaster was reporting on the 6.7 earthquake that had just hit Los Angeles. Footage of the destruction took his breath away. He hadn’t seen anything like it since the volcano erupted in LA two and half years ago.

A helicopter above the carnage was relaying live pictures as the anchor scrambled trying to report on the disaster. He looked over at the screen where his three o’clock flight was listed. A red CANCELED already flashed next to it. He could feel the fear rising up within, threatening to choke him. He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer for his parents and friends. Especially his baby brother or sister.

Taking a deep breath, he could hear his dad’s voice in his head telling him to stay calm. He was a smart kid and to think about what he needed to do. Feeling at least a little less agitated, he pulled his phone out and texted his friend Thomas to come back and get him due to the cancellation. Thomas was his section leader in the trombone section of his high school band. They had a long rehearsal yesterday to learn the new halftime show for this Friday’s game that he couldn’t miss, not if he wanted to maintain his place in the show anyway. Arrangements had been made with Thomas’ family and for him to fly down on Sunday instead of driving down with his parents the day before. Once that text was sent, he texted his mom and dad. He’d lived in California all his life, so he knew with the level of destruction he was seeing that cell towers weren’t going to allow him to get through if he called.

Moments later, a text from his dad came through. Henry released the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding as he was assured that he and the other men were all safe but that his mom was at the bridesmaid’s luncheon when the quake hit and he was still trying to get to her. Henry could feel the panic rising in him again as he read through the rest of the text of his dad promising to contact him as soon as he got to her. He slipped his phone back in his pocket to wait. It was all he could do.

~*~*~

Killian put his phone back in his pocket after texting Henry the gist of the situation. The men were making progress out of the oyster bar, but they still had about a hundred yards to cover to get to the entrance of the restaurant that the ladies were at. Killian could only hope for the best when they got there. As they entered the lobby, Graham let out a cry so full of joy and relief that Killian immediately knew who Graham was calling for.

“Ruby!”

The tall brunette turned toward them, and even from that distance, they could see the way her face lit up. “Graham!”

“Where’s everyone? Is Emma okay?”

“The baby is coming,” she called. “We were trapped under the table. Emma lost consciousness for a few minutes, but was coming around when I left. M’s sent me to find paramedics and get them to her. Her water broke and M’s said she’s about six centimeters dilated.”

Killian could feel the blood drain out of his face at Ruby’s report. A strong hand grabbed his bicep, grounding him and his own hand covered it in thanks. “She’ll be alright, brother. We’ll get there in time.”

Killian nodded as he scanned the carnage in front of him, keeping him from his wife and child. Determination filled him as he pushed the panic back and looked at his brother. Nodding again and making sure that David had caught up with them, the men forged ahead into the ruin before them.

~*~*~

M’s mopped Emma’s head from the sweat that had gathered there as another contraction eased. Emma’s exhausted body rested up for the next contraction on the bottom of the upended table.

“I can’t do this,” she sobbed.

“You can, Emma,” M’s cajoled, “You’re almost there. It’s almost time to push.”

Elsa murmured her own encouragement as well, her good hand firmly grasped in Emma’s. Once M’s had gotten Emma as comfortable as she could, she had turned her attention to Elsa’s arm. She had been able to break off one of the chair legs and fashioned a splint and sling out of it and one of the towels their server had brought.

“I want Killian!” Emma cried, head thrashing back and forth as another contraction started. “What if he’s hurt? What if he can’t get to me? To us? What if he’s dead?” The thought that she hadn’t let herself even think of to this point poured out of her in her excruciating pain and despair. She was dimly aware of movement around her when suddenly strong arms enveloped her pushing her up so that she was nearly upright and the voice that she longed to hear was in her ear, telling her to hold on. She melted into the embrace and wept with joy.

“Come on, Emma. You can do it. I’m here,” Killian whispered in her ear. He slipped behind her so that she could recline against him as he held her to him, assuring himself of her safety.

“Killian,” Emma sobbed.

“I’m here, Swan. You can do this.”

She shook her head, vehemently. “I can’t. I can’t. It’s too much. It hurts too MUUUUUUUUCH!” She ended on a scream as another contraction ripped through her.

“Ok, Emma,” M’s looked directly into Emma’s face as the contraction subsided. “It’s time. It’s time for you to push. Can you do that for me?”

Emma shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.” Her chin trembled and her face shone with sweat and tears as she looked at her doctor, her friend, her sister-in-law. M’s just beamed at her.

“You can do this, Emma,” she stated, confidently. “You really don’t have much choice in the matter. Your child is depending on you.”

Killian whispered in her ear. “You can do this, my love. You are so strong and you have never been more beautiful. Our baby needs you. You can do it!”

Emma sobbed again as she nodded and pushed herself up on Killian. “Emma, when the next contraction comes, I want you to push with everything you have in you, okay?”

Emma nodded again as the next contraction hit. She could barely hear M’s counting to ten between the blood rushing in her ears, Killian’s harsh breathing, and her own screams creating a cacophony of sound that completely overtook all other senses.

“I can see the head, Emma,” M’s cried. “Our little prince or princess has a head full of dark hair! Just like their Daddy! You’re almost there! One more big push for me!”

Killian pressed his lips to Emma’s neck. “You’re almost there, my love. One more push and we can meet our child.”

Emma nodded once more, too worn out to speak, as she prepped herself for one more push. The pain rolled over her and with a mighty cry, Emma pushed through the burning and tearing pain that felt like it was ripping her in two. As she collapsed against Killian, a new sound broke the silence. The cry of a newborn baby.

“It’s a girl,” Mary Margaret announced. A cheer broke out around them as the small gathered crowd celebrated the safe delivery. Emma turned her face to meet her husband’s lips while M’s went about the business of cleaning up their daughter.

Releasing her lips, Killian pulled out his phone to text Henry that he had a new baby sister.

“Did I miss it?” Ruby’s voice shouted, indignantly. “What do you mean, Emma? Having this baby without me?”

Emma laughed weakly and a chuckle rumbled through Killian’s chest at Ruby’s pique. The rattle of a gurney reached their ears as the paramedics arrived. M’s rose to speak to them after placing their baby girl in Emma’s arms.

“She’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Isn’t she beautiful, Killian?” she asked, turning towards him.

“Aye, beautiful.” He placed a kiss to Emma’s temple and reached out to touch his daughter. She caught his pointer finger in her own tiny fist, filling him with an unspeakable joy. The tears began to fall as the realization that in the midst of destruction, injury, and even death, he had helped bring life into the world. Hope filled his heart as he held his wife and daughter tightly, thanking God that they were safe.

The paramedics loaded mother and child onto the gurney. “What do you want to name her, love?”

“After all this, what do you think of Hope? Hope Margaret?”

He couldn’t stop the grin that broke over his face at the similar thought he had just had. “I think that’s perfect, darling.” He pressed a kiss to her lips as the EMT’s started to make their way through the chaos around them.

Once they arrived at the ambulance in front of the hotel, he was informed that they only had room for Emma, Hope, and Elsa inside the ambulance. Elsa tried to hand off her place to the new father, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

“I’m sure that M’s took good care of you, lass, but you need to get to the hospital before I do.” He smiled gently at Emma and Hope as they were loaded in the vehicle. “They’ll want to get you all checked out, and we won’t be far behind you. We’ll see you soon.”

Elsa finally agreed, and after a parting kiss with Liam, climbed in just before they shut the doors.

Killian turned to M’s and David before gathering M’s in his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered, choking back tears. “I owe you everything. They are everything to me.”

M’s hugged him back just as tightly. “I know. They’re fine. They’re both fine.” Letting go, she grasped him by the shoulders and leaned back so she could look him in the eye. “Let’s get to the hospital and see our family.”

Nodding, Killian turned to David with his hand outstretched. Ignoring it, David gathered him into a bone crushing hug of his own. Killian could no longer keep the tears at bay. As a father himself, David knew exactly what Killian needed. He held his friend tightly as he sobbed out all the fear, panic, and joy this day had brought. After several minutes, Killian’s tears abated. Releasing him, David patted him on the back, expressing all the love and support without a single word. Then it was Liam’s turn. The brothers embraced before Liam let go with a teasing twinkle in his eye.

“My little brother is a father,” he exclaimed. “What am I gonna do now?”

“Stop calling me ‘little brother’ for one,” Killian groused, “and second, get a move on yourself!” Everyone laughed as Liam’s face flamed in embarrassment.

Graham, his arm around Ruby with matching grins on their faces offered their congratulations next. “I can’t believe she had the baby without me. But I’m so glad she’s here and safe.” Ruby’s expression sobered. “This could have been bad.”

“It could have been,” Killian agreed, “but, it wasn’t. Thank God.”

“Amen to that. Now let’s get to that hospital. Make sure everyone’s okay.”

Picking their way through the torn up streets, it took nearly an hour before they finally made it the block and a half to Cedars. By the time they got inside, Emma had already been moved to the Maternity floor and Hope had already been cleaned up, checked out and given a clean bill of health as well.

Once everyone had been assured of Emma’s, Hope’s and Elsa’s well being, they all settled in to discuss what to do next. Emma and Killian were texting back and forth with Henry, sending pictures of his new baby sister.

Ruby sat down on Graham’s lap with a pout on her lips. “There’s no telling when we’re gonna be able to get married, now,” she very nearly whined. “It will take months to rebuild enough to rebook everything.”

Elsa threw a questioning look at Liam. “What’s stopping you from getting married here? Now?” she asked. “It’s not a sunset wedding on the beach, but isn’t ‘getting married’ the whole point? No matter where it is?”

Liam raised his eyebrow at the couple as they looked at each other, silently communicating their desires.

“We’re fine with it,” Graham said, never taking his eyes off Ruby.

“Well then,” Liam exclaimed, “Let’s have a wedding!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma exclaimed, “We need to Facetime Henry. He was planning on being here, too, after all.”

Everyone agreed and waited patiently while Emma connected to the hospital wi-fi and called Henry.

Graham had entrusted the rings to Killian before they had left their rooms for the Dude’s Day lunch. He may have forgotten about them in the excitement of the afternoon, but when he patted his pocket, he found the box safely containing both rings. He removed them and handed Graham’s ring to Emma.

With a beaming smile on his face, Liam began. “We are gathered here today, in the presence of God and in the aftermath of an earthquake and a birth, and with an assist by technology, to join together Graham Humbert and Ruby Lucas in Holy Matrimony.”

The joy on the faces of the bride and groom and all the people in the room could not be contained. Emma couldn’t hold back her tears anymore as Graham said his vows to Ruby, promising to love, cherish, protect, and honor, before placing a beautiful white and rose gold twisted vine ruby ring on his bride’s finger. Thinking back on all their years growing up, dreaming of this day and all the love and happiness that awaited her best friend, it was all Emma could do to keep from sobbing instead of just happy tears rolling down her face.

With as crowded as the room was, and Emma confined to the bed, Liam, Ruby, and Graham stood at the end of it. Emma handed the ring to Ruby, but she had eyes for no one but her groom as she spoke her own vows of love, fidelity, and honor, and placed the matching rose gold ring adorned with small rubies on his finger.

“It is with great pleasure that I now pronounce you, husband,” he looked at Graham with a smile, “and wife,” Liam intoned, beaming at the happy couple. “You may kiss the bride.”

Ruby let out a whoop and launched herself into her husband's arms. The cheers that rose around them startled Hope enough that she added her wails to the delight being expressed by everyone in the room.

Emma couldn’t help but laugh as the nearly inappropriate PDA continued between the newlyweds. “Let’s keep things PG in here please,” she called.

Henry joined in as well, covering his eyes. “Teenager in the room, guys! Young eyes don’t need to see that!”

“Old eyes don’t need to see it either,” Killian grumbled, drawing his wife and daughter into his arms. Ruby and Graham finally broke apart, both flushed and breathing heavy. “It’s time for you two to find a room.” Graham at least had the decency to blush as he drew Ruby into his side.

M’s came over to Emma and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “We’ll get out of here and let you rest. You’re definitely gonna need it.”

Emma cooed to their daughter as Killian wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gazed lovingly at the two loves of his life. He placed a tender kiss to his wife’s temple then the crown of his daughter’s head before rising to see everyone out of the room.

Smiles, hugs, and murmurs of congratulations and relief were exchanged as everyone bid them goodbye and left the room. Killian turned back toward the bed to see Emma sound asleep with Hope laid down in the crease between her legs. He smiled and came back to the bed, picking up his daughter and sitting down in the rocking chair next to Emma’s bed.

Staring down into his daughter’s grey blue eyes, he was overwhelmed with the blessings bestowed upon him. The love of his life had just given him a daughter in the middle of an earthquake. Yet another state of emergency. A profound sense of gratitude filled him as he raised a short prayer of thanksgiving that they were both safe. He laid his head back, shut his eyes, and began to slowly rock. It was no time at all before father and daughter were sound asleep.

The End

#cs ff #State of Emergency verse #State of Emergency #Code White #krystal writes #artwork by captainsjedi

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royallyanxious · 5 years ago

Text

Deep water

Summary: Roman used to have blue eyes.

Pairing: romantic roceit

Word count: <5k words

Trigger warnings: brief mentions of blood, injury mention, sea being cruel

Ao3 link here

The story was inspired by this post

Author’s note: Not gonna lie. This fic is for two amazing people @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 and @ellistruggle. Thank you for inspiration

The legend says that Roman used to have blue eyes.

Various versions of the story were passed around between ships of both mortal and immortal, of both holy and unholy ones… Every soul at the sea knew the melody of this song but nobody could sing it without a hitch. It was one of the tales that never made it to the books but lived in many hearts, for many years. For some, it was the proof of the highest price one must pay for living at the sea. For others it was a confirmation that gold is the only real treasure. Finally, there was a small group of people who didn’t believe the story - those led the loneliest of lives.

Because it was real. This legend. The tale of Roman and the love of his life. The love of his life gifted with the voice of an angel, the body of a monster, the soul of a devil and a quivering heart that ached for Roman only…

It was a tragic love-story between Roman and a merman.

***

“Logan… You’ve been sailing with Roman for so long…” sing-sang Patton, gently patting Logan’s forearms while Virgil subtly pushed the bottle with rum towards them.

“I will not ask for another free pass for you, Patton.” Logan stated sternly, suspiciously eyeing the bottle in front of him. Those young ones… so naive for thinking that something like that would make him talk.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare!” Patton innocently fluttered his eyes. Damn, his long eyelashes and soft lips. “It’s just that Virgil and I…” he stopped in favour of playing with the hem of his shirt, “It’s just that we…”

“Yes?” Logan arched his eyebrow. The rain outside intensified. Internally he thanked Roman for docking tonight, instead of setting off as they originally planned.

“Patton means to ask if you know what really happened to Roman’s eyes!” blurted Virgil, clenching his hands into fists. Logan couldn’t help but smile a little bit. In his opinion, Virgil was not a fit for a pirate. But he was undoubtedly loyal and loyalty was something highly treasured in the sea.

“Roman’s eyes?” Logan repeated, as if he didn’t know what they were talking about.

It was hard not to notice though. The flash of crimson at the centre, the dark shade of drying blood around the irises. The teasing sparkles that pulled out the most poisonous of scarlets. The brilliance of rusty reds and vivid corals paired with razor-sharp gaze that made people shiver and avert their eyes. Logan - quartermaster on Creativity - shuddered. It was hard to forget Roman’s blood red eyes.

And it was even harder to stop having nightmares about them.

Patton scooted closer, pulling Logan out of the maze of his memory. Patton’s hands rested on Logan’s shoulder, curse him for that warm skin.

“You know…” Patton started lowly, “They say that they weren’t always red. His eyes.”

Logan licked his lips and glanced at Patton and Virgil. Their round faces, scattered with freckles, their earnest eyes, the hollows on Virgil’s cheeks, the scar running over Patton’s temple. They looked like a good kids...

Completely ignoring the rum, Logan sat on the table, pushing Patton’s hands away. He didn’t need those forms of encouragement to tell the story. Sighing heavily, Logan wiped his glasses, leaving wet smudges. If there was one thing he hated in living on the ship, it was the constant humidity.

“First of all, I want you to know that when I met Roman, his eyes have already been red,” Logan started carefully, watching for reactions. Virgil and Patton immediately moved, pushing the barrels they were sitting on closer to Logan. Their noisy curiosity was truly endearing.

Once they settled down, he nodded with content. He was almost sure that they wouldn’t tell anyone of what they would hear today, “So mind you that everything I will tell you tonight is a passed story.” Logan added nonetheless.

“Is that a warning?” Virgil laughed anxiously. Not a fit for a sailor at all.

“It’s a promise.” grinned Logan in response. “It’s a promise that you will hear this story again and again and again from people who know Roman from legends only. Every single time you hear the new version, you will start doubting which is the authentic one.”

“And who told you your version of the story, Logan?” peeped Patton. He was practically shaking from excitement.

“Mine?” Logan’s thin lips stretched into a wicked grin, reminding everyone just why he was the quartermaster, “Oh, I heard it from Roman himself. He's, perhaps, the least trustworthy source...”

***

Roman’s eyes used to be in the color of the horizon. The color of the future. That peculiar shade of teal which can be seen on the thin line dividing sky from the ocean. The resemblance was uncanny.

And they said: one evening, as a child, Roman looked into the mirror and saw the world opening itself right in front of him. He saw the treasures hidden deep on the bottom of the ocean, the diamonds waiting for him in the caves that weren't drawn on maps and the pearls shyly peaking through the parted lips of the green clams.

The very map of the most valued of values was hidden behind the thick veil of Roman’s eyelashes, at the teal bottom of his eyes. And he saw that every route and every track leading to those riches was drawn with azure line that pointed beyond the horizon.

But, Roman saw something more. Something that he promised to never share with anyone before he could grasp it with his own hands.

He saw gold. Shining in the sunlight, shimmering under the water. He was young, so young back then, and he thought that it must have been golden coins glimmering in the crystal clear water. Twinkling brightly under the surface just like the stars twinkle on the midnight sky.

It became a sole purpose for Roman. To touch, to grasp, to own this gold treasure.

The sea lured him, the ocean tempted him, the salt on his tongue mocked him. The deep waters and secrets hidden within them were what he was meant for - he realized and set off into the open seas of the unknown future.

***

“Did he find it?” Patton gasped, clenching his fingers around Logan’s wrist. The quartermaster didn’t bother to shake it off.

“Shush, don’t interrupt him, Patton,” tsked Virgil. His eyes were as big as saucers. Beneath a thick layer of interest, first sparks of longing were waking up to life. Logan smiled internally. This must have been what Roman meant when he said that Virgil had a potential that needed to be encouraged. Just like everyone who ended up in the sea, Virgil too longed for an adventure.

“I can’t stand the tension!” pouted Patton, looking impatiently at Logan. “So… did he find it? Did he find the gold? The treasures?”

The quartermaster’s lips broke into a smile but his eyes remained sad. Troubled even. He reached out and swiftly pulled the abandoned bottle. The room filled with the biting scent of rum. Logan watched the liquid in the bottle. In the candlelight the glass looked as if it was made out of jade, reminding of the treasures hidden in the seas.

“Yes,” Logan said finally, corked up the bottle and put it away. “At last Roman found the gold, he dreamt of.”

***

Sun after the storm - that’s how Roman referred to that day, that hour, that moment. There was also another expression he used to describe it. The other term that he uttered in secret, in complete silence when he was alone as if he was afraid that the demons may come after him and rip the words out of his throat.

“The fateful day that gold came to life.”

He was the only survivor from the storm that wrecked their ship. That much was clear. Roman watched all of his companions sink in the sea. He didn’t remember hearing the screams but he remembered the loud crash of waves above his head and that was enough. It was his first thought when he drifted back into consciousness.

His eyes - his teal eyes - were heavy and his lungs - warm with red blood lungs - were still full of the salty water. The soil beneath him smelt of algas and fish. And yet there was no saying, even then, that Roman woke up to live up to his dream.

The island appeared deserted. As deserted as he could tell by far. The sand was white and warm and the forest teased him insufferably with the possibility of finding something edible. But Roman was smarter than this. The most beautiful sceneries were hiding the darkest secrets.

So he walked down the shore, watching the familiar line of the horizon, enjoying the softness under his feet, breathing the air that he missed deeply when caged under the water.

The cove was small, too small for any ship to dock there. It was beautiful, yes, but if on a ship Roman would pay it no mind. But he had no ship and it was still a cove - probably the only place on this island that could possibly keep him alive. Sighing, Roman slipped down the rocks, hand clasped around long, sharpened stick.

His footsteps were perfectly silent. The way he walked, the way he sneaked, it was an art itself, it was a part of Roman that he kept buried deep inside. The delicate, fanciful side. The side that yearned for beauty.

He became a part of the scenery before he realized it - the only survivor with his hair tossed back, with his shirt stiff with the remaining salt and with teal eyes that mirrored the color of horizon.

The colors were spilling into the cove like an avalanche, brashly flashing with intensive hues against the shy whites of the sand. The greens as fresh as spring sprouts, the bronzes that tasted like chocolate, finally the azures and pale-blues bearing a peace and comfort. Beauty and grace was blossoming in the cove as one watched, leaving no space for wrongness.

Nothing, however could prepare Roman for the beauty he saw when he crouched on the big rock and looked into the crystal clear water.

The way it shone in his eyes, the way it shimmered, the way it teased his senses. It was a song itself. The gold was singing to him before Roman even heard voice. Before he even learnt that his gold - his beloved dream - had a voice.

His eyes raked over the long trace of golden scales - tiny but beautiful. His appreciation was growing with every inch covered with golden beads. He was taking in the view for as long as long the tail was - until it started melting into something softer, something wavering beneath the surface, something that made his breath hitch.

“Mermaid-” he gasped, instinctively backing away.

That sound itself was enough. It had to be because - what Roman didn’t know by then - he also had a voice that sounded beautifully in mermaid’s ears.

The surface rippled, the miniature waves hit the rocks and tiny bubbles of air rose to the surface. Roman blinked and suddenly there was a person - a man - leaning over the stone right in front of him. He was gazing curiously at Roman, his head tilted a little bit as if Roman was something to examine - not something to lure into deep water and drown. Drops of water were scattered across his cheeks, neck and shoulder like tiny freckles. They sparkled like a brilliant glitter.

“Don’t come any closer!” squeaked Roman and the man smiled in response.

“It may come as a surprise to you,” he replied, his voice mellow and relaxed, “But I can’t really step out of the water whenever I can.” his golden tail for a moment appeared over the surface, splashing the water at Roman.

And maybe it was the pirate’s soul in him or maybe it was the velvet-like tone in merman’s voice but Roman reached out, trying to grasp the gold that he had been searching for all his life. And soon there was hand in his hand and it was cold and slick but somehow it fitted perfectly and if earlier Roman had any doubts on the situation, now his fears were long gone. He chase for long but now the treasure was under his fingertips.

“I’m Roman,” his thumb ran over the barely visible scales on merman’s hands.

“I don’t have a name that you could use beyond the surface.” the merman shook his head. His eyes - golden eyes - were earnestly shining with hope and something akin to shame. “Every name I would tell you, would be a lie.”

“May I choose a name for you?” Roman leaned down, gazing at merman from above.

“You may choose your name for me. And I will wear it proudly.”

“Then, I choose a name ‘Deceit’. Since everything is a lie.”

The merman - Deceit - laughed loudly and it was like thousands of bells started ringing all at once. “Darling,” he purred, “Everything might be a lie, but I’m plenty real.” he smiled showing a row of sharp teeth. And Roman? Roman smiled because before his heart was long gone and his eyes and teals were now meant for one person only.

That was how their fate sealed before it even finished forming and the maps in Roman’s eyes were flooded with hot and crashing waves of passion.

They talked about this moment later, sitting almost side by side - Roman above the water and Deceit beneath it. They talked about it when they were almost touching - nothing more than the delicate weight of one hand on the other. They talked about this moment trying to figure out what brought them together and how they knew that they were meant for each other. Trying to figure out how was it possible that they responded to bonding song so quickly.

Like the tidal waves, they meant halfway and clashed into each other with a force so strong that it was enough to wake up the monsters sleeping in the oceans. And by the way water flowed around them and by the way the horizon darkened, they knew that their love had no chance against the power of the sea.

***

In the books that are no longer readable and in the memories of people who died a long time ago there are stories. Legends. Warnings.

If a man or a woman are married to the sea, they have no right to fall in love with the Child of Waves and Tears.

The sea is not a forgiving lover, not a merciful partner, once it closes the heavy lid over your head - it won’t let you out. And if you try to escape it will reach out for you, it will chase after you until it catches you, crading the soft body and warm skin close to its chest.

That’s how the sea loves its lovers.

That’s how it forbids them to meld with its children.

***

Roman wasn’t blind. He could see the dark clouds over their heads. Deceit wasn’t mute, he could hear the way sea roared for them. Both of them. Every day was pushing them straight into the arms of tragedy.

Therefore, their first kiss was chaste and filled with as much excitement as fear.

Deceit was so close and when Roman leaned down like he always did, it turned out that they were much closer than expected. The smell of salt and home. Their shared home - the sea.

When the skin brushed the skin and when the lips brushed against the lips, the sky above them opened, tearing the taste off their lips.

Roman guessed that Deceit tasted like salt and water but he couldn’t be sure. The sea didn’t let him find out. He could watch and he could touch but he couldn’t melt into Deceit as he used to melt into cold waves that lulled him into sleep for so many years. He longed.

Once the rain stopped, they read the signs on the sand. Deceit’s tail was reflecting the colorful shades of the rainbow above their heads.

“It appears clear to me that Mother doesn’t want for us to stay together,” whispered Deceit, his lips dangerously close to Roman’s ear.

“Mother?” echoed Roman.

Deceit looked at the horizon. Its color reminded him of Roman’s eyes. Deceit had always dreamt of crossing the line of horizon.

“The sea may be my mother but you pledged yourself to her and she likes you too much to let go off you. It’s obvious by the way she favours you. She was merciful enough to bring us together. Throwing me into the cove and throwing you at the shore. It’s her doing.” Deceit ran his fingers up Roman’s thigh. He wished he was strong enough to fully pull his body out of the water. “She felt our destiny but didn’t expect for it to fulfill the rest of our life.”

“So the sea…” Roman’s voice broke a little bit. The song in Deceit’s ears had never been sadder. “She wants us apart.”

***

“But Roman loves the sea!” Patton explained, barely holding back his tears. “He couldn’t just give up on that!”

“He couldn��t,” Logan agreed quietly. The waves shook the ship, trying to push the memories out of his head. “Neither could Deceit. The sea made both of them. Gave them purpose in life, gave them solace and home. And they offered their life in return.”

***

Love is like a double edged sword - it is a perfect weapon but it could easily be used against the warrior holding it.

The sea was smart - she knew that they would give up their life for each other so she had to take something much more precious from them. She had to steal something imprinted in their memory. Something as precious as their most hidden treasures. She had to break them apart with their own weapon.

The storm broke in the middle of the night when everything was as dark as spilled ink. They never slept close - Deceit needed water to restore his energy and Roman needed the tiniest amount of warmth that a shelter could provide.

Two screams intertwined in the sky in one, shared song. It was barely audible over the loud thunder and thick streams of rain.

Roman could feel the sharp cut of the wind and water on his legs, arms and face. It didn’t stop him though, he kept walking towards the water, step by step, inch by inch. He thought he could hear a broken sob in the air. It was wet, heart-wrecking sound and Roman knew that it was the sea crying for him and Deceit. She hated their suffering but she also hated the idea of them being together even more. One final blow of icy cold wind slapped Roman across his face, digging into his eyes, forcing tears out of them, making the maps and plans slip down his cheeks. He didn’t stop to gather them. He didn’t shove them into pockets. Instead he walked over them, crushing teal veils under his heels.

One thought - get to Deceit as fast as it was humanly possible. He didn’t even get that only last chance.

Roman passed away midway through the beach. Just a couple of meters away from his beloved.

***

Deceit pushed himself up the shore while his arms screamed in pain. He knew that he had to get away from water unless he wanted it to throw him into the darkest corners of the globe, for so long that he would lose his way back to Roman.

“Better now or never.” he hissed through clenched teeth, focusing on the skin under the golden scales on his tail. Some merfolk could transform their tail into legs but Deceit had never tried that before.

He expected the pain, he expected the turmoil. He didn’t expect the fire. Filled with cold blood and used to the icy water Deceit knew no warmth except of Roman’s. The fire ripping his scales of was unbearable. Every scale felt as if it was set on fire as if it was trying to burn out the remaining gold.

He tried moving further, dragging his barely-legs behind himself.

He passed away midway through the beach. Just a couple of meters from his beloved.

***

“And what happened next?” Patton inquired, practically leaning on Logan’s side. His stubby fingers were digging into quartermaster’s arm. Virgil with fevered eyes was peaking over his brother’s shoulder.

Logan shrugged, knowing well that his answer would disappoint the audience. It happened to the best of stories - it was tempting to colorize the ending. But Logan promised to himself that he would tell this story as it was told to him.

“That’s the end. Roman and Deceit never met again.” he sighed, hopping off the table, “Few days later Roman was found unconscious on the drifting boat. His pockets were full of golden coins. When he opened his eyes they have already been red.”

Patton’s face dropped, “So the color…”

Helplessly, to show just as little of comfort he had to offer, Logan opened his arms. What was he supposed to say? That Roman’s eyes lost the color when the sea hit him with the final blow? That the teal canvas slipped off and buried down in the white sand on some neglected island? Logan was a pirate, he had seen many strange things but even he sometimes had doubts for this part of the story.

“I told you at the beginning,” huffed Logan, pushing the table back under the wall, “Roman told me this story and you know that he has a tendency to… embellish some aspects.”

Virgil nodded thoughtfully. The adventurous sparks were still shining in his eyes. Maybe he was a fit for a pirate after all.

“What did Roman do with the gold though?” Patton poked Virgil’s cheek.

“Oh, that?” Logan asked and drained the bottle, “He spent all of this money to buy Creativity and hire the crew. And, among many others, I was lucky enough to be a part of that first crew.” he added with a very self-pleased smile. It was clear that he was very proud of that.

The storm outside shook the windows. More of the violent raindrops drummed against the glass, splashing the streams that were already running down them.

“Now that you know this story you can stop asking.” finished Logan, talking a step towards the door. “But don’t mention Roman that you heard it from me. Although I know that he wouldn’t be angry for telling you, he just… doesn’t like being reminded of Deceit.”

With these words Logan left the room, leaving Virgil and Patton alone with their thoughts and silent mourning after the tragic love.

***

The rainpour was getting bigger and bigger as Roman slipped into the mostly abandoned warehouse. The door closed behind him with a barely loud squeak. Tentatively, Roman looked around trying to see through the darkness surrounding him. Slowly, as his eyes got used to the darkness, the shadows started reminding more of shapes than a blurry nothingness. The barrels, empty caskets, piles of wood and finally - the skeleton of a ship that was never meant to be finished.

Feeling vaguely secure Roman stepped further into the warehouse. He could hear the water splashing against the sharp edges of the stones where the water met with the ground.

His heart was pounding inside his chest. He really hoped that his feeling wasn't wrong. But no, it couldn't be. He doubted he could ever mistake the song in his ears for something else. Every sound and every tune was perfectly audible for him, despite the rain trashing the harbor outside. The song was growing louder and cleared over the past few days, ever since he saw the dark clouds of the horizon.

Rain, yes rain. The stormy clouds - the twin sisters of the sea.

It was… Familiar. How could he possibly forget both the song in his ears and the sound of rain that aimed to drag him away from the singer.

Roman took another step forward. Wet stone crunched under his heel.

"Silence did not become one of your traits, I presume."

Roman froze. He thought that he was prepared. He wasn't.

"Dee…" He uttered, frantically looking for a familiar shadow under the water. The song in his ears stopped.

Melodic laugh vibrated through the air, shaking Roman's body to the core.

"Last time I checked you called me another name," replied still shapeless, bodiless, faceless Deceit.

With shaking hands Roman tried to light up the matches he was clenching. Only lonely spark jumped into the water, for a moment, brightening the darkness beneath the surface. There was nothing there.

Letting out a shaky exhale, Roman laughed nervously, "I thought that giving you a nickname would be a nice touch." He said, fumbling with another match.

And suddenly there were hands on his hand - cold and silky wet - and there was a weight on his back and if someone was leaning over him. And there was a breath on his earshell and it smelt like salt and home.

"It is a nice touch, I must admit." The whisper was much closer this time. It was the voice of the devil, the voice of the monster, the voice of Roman’s greatest love.

Roman watched the cold hand lay over his and press the match against the flint. Fire erupted in front of his eyes. He quickly lit up the fuse of his lantern and the room filled up with warmth that Roman felt in his heart. It was hard to turn around. Not yet. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. Even though he waited for so long. The thunder slashed the sky above the roof, sending sparks through his body.

“Well, I guess that Mother’s not happy for our meeting.” laughed Deceit bitterly, pressing his cheek against Roman’s shoulder.

Wet laugh rolled down Roman’s tongue. It turned out to be more of a sob than a laugh. There was a shift behind him and then there were lips pressing against his neck and a whisper against his earshell.

“I want to look into your eyes, Roman.”

And Roman had always been weak for that sweet voice, for that beautiful song. In a split of a second - as if someone finally pulled his strings - he turned around and it was like all the air fled from his lungs.

“Deceit.” he uttered and pressed his lips against the lips, for the first time tasting its salt. It was somewhat sweet of Roman’s tongue.

The kiss was returned within a second, of course it was. It was the first time they could actually kiss even if it was just for a moment, even if it was just for a minute.

The wind and rain had already been banging against the doors and windows when Roman stepped away, his hands still resting on Deceit’s arms. Only then did he realize that Deceit was standing, standing, in front of him without any help.

“I learnt how to turn my tail into legs,” explained Deceit, seeing Roman’s gaze. He sounded almost embarrassed and Roman’s heart flipped in his chest.

Soon enough however that shy expression melted under the pressure of something gloomier. Deceit’s hand moved to cup Roman’s cheek, thumb running over the skin beneath his eye.

“I see. That Mother wasn’t entirely merciful for you either.” He said, letting out a pained sigh, “Your eyes.” he added, sensing Roman’s confusion, “They used to be different color.”

“I cried the color out of them when I realized that we parted.” said Roman smiling slightly, brushing his fingers against the reddened scales covering a half of Deceit’s face.

“Ha, and here I thought that I was the bigger liar among the two of us,” Deceit chuckled, winking at Roman. “I know the sea's doing when I see it.” His legs wobbled a little bit and he had to brace himself against Roman’s arm. The other didn’t complain. “I’m sorry, it’s still hard for me to stand like that for too long…” he bit his cheek, “Would you mind if I...?” he gestured at the dark pool inside the warehouse.

Instead of answering Roman scooped him into his arms and - as if Deceit was lighter than a feather - carried him into the water. It was obnoxiously hard to let go off this weight. Roman imagined that he could easily carry Deceit around all day long. The small pleasant noise that Deceit let out was at least a little bit of a reward.

“It’s not golden anymore,” Roman noted pointing at the newly reformed tail, without a surprise.

Deceit shrugged. “I wear my punishment proudly,” he added, waving his crimson fin at Roman.

Another massive blow hit the warehouse. This time both of them glanced at the creaking, wooden roof.

“I’m afraid we should go soon. The storm will calm down once you leave the dock.” said Deceit after a couple of moments.

Roman’s heart lurched to the side. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. Shut the door, lay bricks in the windows. Just give him some more time.

“Will I see you again?” he asked instead. It came out weaker than he expected. He leaned down and gripped Deceit’s hand. It was so slippery in his own. He was afraid that it would slip out of his grasp any moment soon.

“Yes,” replied Deceit instantly.

“When? Where?”

“I don’t know when and I don’t know where.” Deceit shook his head, “You must look out for the dark clouds in the sky and red trail in the water. There I will be.” he added, trying to pull his hand out of the hold.

“Can you promise that?” Roman demanded, tightening his hold. His heart was hammering against his ribcage.

In a flash:

Lips against his lips. Salt that tastes sweeter than it should.

His hands left empty.

One echoed whisper. “I promise”

Roman was alone. The rain outside stopped raining.

***

They fell hard. As hard as the waves crash against the shore. As hard as the dead body falls into the cold water of the ocean.

Their love was hot and wild. As hot as blood pumping through their veins. As wild as the water under their fingers. Hot and wild like blood in Roman’s eyes and Deceit’s scales.

When they were apart they were singing lullabies for each other. The moonlight being the messenger. Their melodies danced on the peaceful surface of the sea.

When they were together, the tornado was shaking the world. The edges of their bodies were as hazy as the clouds in the sky.

One slash was enough to cut them apart, two slashes were enough to give them a reason to fight.

The sea.

The way it opens in front of them, cold and eager. Ah, so eager. Endless, deep, ruthless, selfish and demanding.

The sea.

The way it closes it shell, trying to keep the warmth inside, trying to keep its children away from each other. It doesn’t realize that it has already marked them as each other’s forever.

***

Roman opened his crimson eyes.

The waves were crashing against the sides of Creativity. The sky above him was darkening with beautiful navy color. He looked at the horizon. Where the sun was touching the sea, he could see the tiniest red glow.

“Change of the course, Logan.” called Roman sharply, “We’re sailing into the west.”

the end.

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agentianlegend · 4 years ago

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DPxYJ Recognized Fic - Diagrams and Notes from Chapters 14-18

Hey, peeps, I thought some of y’all would enjoy a peek into the pages and pages of notes, timelines, diagrams, thoughts, and general research which I put into my fic. I’ve already thrown out 30+ pages (not including the pinned note in my iPhone’s Notes app where I quickly typed out ideas or lines of dialogue as they came to me. The infamous “Tweet tweet, mofo” originated here).

[SPOILER WARNING IF YOU HAVEN’T YET READ RECOGNIZED! Read it now on AO3 or Fanfiction before continuing. And don’t worry; a passing glance as you scroll past the images won’t spoil too much; it’s only if you start reading the text. 😁]

These are nothing compared to the wonderful doodles and fan arts which have been made by some of my readers like 13thcat here on Tumblr (check out @13thcat‘s blog for other fantastic art), Weshney on AO3 (MAJOR spoiler at this link), and Alien of Pluto on Fanfiction. But, they are how I approach blocking the action of my stories, especially as a former architecture student who thinks better in 3D with construction documents and photographs for reference lol.

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

First, here’s a breakdown of the two neighboring London Banking District skyscrapers which featured in the climactic battle, 22 Bishopsgate and Leadenhall:

And second, this is a more detailed perspective doodle of Bishopsgate’s construction progress in March of 2018 when the story takes place. This particular photo is from August, so it’s more advanced in its progress; here’s the progress in February 2018, so you can average the two out and get an idea of how much it had progressed by the end of March. (In these images you can also see the tower in relation to Leadenhall - the “cheese grater” - next door.)

For some reason Tumblr won’t let me load a 3rd image, but basically it was a minute-by-minute breakdown starting at 8:00pm Thursday evening when everyone is preparing to converge upon London, taking into account the time difference and length of a typical transatlantic flight which would place the team and Maddie on the ground Friday morning London time. It then goes through the morning, into the afternoon and then evening into Paris. I also googled what time sunset was in Paris on that day so I could time Dick and Danny’s arrival appropriately.

So yeah, there’s a small glimpse into the mind of a perfectionistic fanfic writer who loves grounding his works with real-world locations and parameters to make the stories that much more imaginable/realistic for the readers’ imaginations. I hope you enjoyed this and also the story itself. :)

If any of y’all come across other fan art for this fic or my other works, be sure to tag me or send them my way! I absolutely L O S E M Y S H I T when I see what you guys come up with :D

Thanks to @whats-up-everybody, @cyroclastic and @dp-marvel94 for being so encouraging and helpful behind the scenes. Peace out, y’all, and stay tuned for more fic updates, occasional development doodles and maybe [eventually] my own art. :)

✌️

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turtle-ier · 4 years ago

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Hey this is a secret link so don’t click ‘read more’ unless you care about really boring rambling about a fanfiction you haven’t read.

Now that they’re gone, hi all.

If you’re here then you’ve clicked on the super-secret hidden link at the end of this series. This text here isn't a piece of fanfiction, which is why it isn't tagged with any characters/relationships/categories, etc (or even on AO3, I might put this on my Tumblr), so if you aren't interested in hearing more about the inspiration behind my fanfiction series “Something Else is Out There”, and some of my thoughts as a writer behind the process, then don't be afraid to click away.

I have plenty of other fics in this fandom that are worth a look. Personally, I would consider ‘Bring Back Pluto’ to be one of the best pieces of fanfic I have ever made, so I’d encourage you to check that out instead.

I just wanted to say a huge thank you to anyone who clicked on this series, even if you didn't read it all or only came to have a look, it still means a lot that you spent any time at all on this series.

I wanted to go into some details about the things I included or removed from these works because I, personally, didn't really know I was making these references until I looked back and went ‘oh damn’ so I thought it would be fun to take a glance and look at it through the 20/20 vision of hindsight.

To start with, I'll talk about things that I included in ‘Two Worlds’ that allowed this series to blossom, then about some of the difficulties linking the first piece with the other two. I’ll talk about a couple of specific inspirations, one throughout the whole series and one in a scene I really like, and I’ll go into details I added last minute that really changed the themes and tone in the stories.

All links, stories, Wikipedia pages etc I mention will be put in the notes at the bottom of this in order mentioned.

The tree-people were not supposed to be in it

It’s crazy to think, looking back, that I originally intended the big bad guy in ‘Two Worlds’ to be the darkness, the grue, and nothing more. The idea of the other-George was added in the middle of writing Chapter three: the slow burning fuse, as I didn't know what was chasing George; a personification of the night, a monster, or his imagination? I think originally I was intending for it to just be the darkness eating away at the torch George was holding, or perhaps Dream following him, but then I wasn't sure what to do with it.

Basically, ‘Two Worlds’ was boring. I had to fix it.

I’m actually writing about doppelgangers for my dissertation, and with other uni work I have done in the past I often re-adapt my fan work themes and settings to make them into original stories, and so I guess since I had been doing research into books like ‘The Picture of Dorian Grey’ and ‘The Silent Companions’ over the summer, it was planted in my mind. I tend to think of my more modern fanfics as a trial for my “”real fiction”” (fanfic is real fiction too, don't let anyone tell you otherwise), and I guess ‘Two Worlds’ took my dissertation and multiplied it by ten.

The idea of Dream changing with the seasons originally came from a pair of works, the first called “Wake Me Up When September Ends” by SilverShadowBeliever, and “he turns orange in the fall,” which has been orphaned by the author. These are both fics I read when I was first joining fandoms, and they're both for the Yogscast.

I also mentioned that this fic was inspired in part by 'You lit a fire in my soul' by Yikes (CoralFlower) before, but I’ll just say it again, their fic is really cool.

‘Two Worlds’, ‘Archipelago’, the chapter title for the introduction in T.W, ‘A Cold Open’, and the chapter titles in ‘Archipelago’ for chapters 8 and 9, ‘Darkness’ and ‘A Very Long Game,’ were all yoinked from Don’t Starve and it’s adventure mode, but the last in that list comes from a fanfiction series by Asidian, again to do with Don’t Starve. The work in that series, ‘Out of Darkness’ was also a major inspiration, although I fear you may not understand the concept behind it if you are not someone who has played the game. Either way, their works are brilliant too.

Things that became difficult the longer the series went on

This is essentially a ‘if I had a time machine’ section.

I would mention George’s relations to the other characters sooner. Bad, Ant and Skeppy in ‘Ice Bridge’ feel shoved in at the end and rushed, with little character development outside of dialogue and Dream’s observations about them. Not to mention, at points in time I mention things like “Phil was like that – caring” or, “Techno was always one to protect others” which is the exact opposite of what you’re supposed to do, but when characters like Niki or Tubbo had two or no lines each in the second part of the series it was difficult to suddenly try and flesh them out.

If I could change ‘Two Worlds’ now, I’d have a scene, possibly in chapter 2, where George and Dream discuss people they knew. It would be a good way to imply about George knowing more than just Sapnap, and for Dream to perhaps hint that he doesn't know or remember anyone. It would also make his statement to Sapnap in chapter 3 of Archipelago false – a hint of Dream withholding information, of him being perhaps jealous of Sapnap and George’s relationship, and perhaps of selective hearing.

This kind of brings up my thoughts on Dream too – while I like some of what I did with him, often I felt like he was just the naive, new guy and nothing more. I feel like there should have been a scene in Ice Bridge where he gets into a fight or something. It gets a little tiring reading back because he just doesn’t know anything, even though he is sort of the ‘key’ in understanding all of it (there’s a term for that sort of thing – like the Ring in ‘Lord of the Rings’ or the Heart of the Mountain in the Hobbit – but I can't for the life of me remember it).

There were also some issues with connectedness. At one point there was Ant on Dream’s shoulder, and when he returned to Bad and Skeppy, Bad also had Ant on his shoulder. Dream had his knife and George also had the same knife in ‘Two Worlds’. Techno’s wound on his side suddenly moved to his leg in Archipelago. Things like that.

Inspirations that I didn't realise were inspirations at first

As (I think) I have mentioned a few times, I’m at university. One of the books I had to read in my second year was ‘Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’ which got me all kinds of fucked up.

Gawain and the Green Knight is possibly the single greatest piece of fiction I have ever read.

It’s over 500 years old, with the original poet unknown, and had been passed down for generations prior to the smug original poet writing it down. It could easily be one of the oldest pieces of fantasy fiction EVER, and it is definitely the oldest piece of written fantasy to have come out of England.

Did I mention that I love this book/poem?

I’ll link a free version that I found and referenced in the notes/at the end, as with everything else, but if you have the patience to get through the first three parts the fourth will knock you off your feet.

Essentially, the inspiration that Gawain and the Green Knight put upon me came in many forms. The most obvious ones being things like the idea of decay – worlds existing before the characters great, great, great grandparents even existed, abandoned homes, remnants of ancient religions which had been forgotten in time.

I know most of my readers are probably American, but listen up UK peeps – we live on graves. Our country is founded in ruin. In Lincoln, the nice grassy parks at the top of the hill can't be built on because they are PLAGUE PITS! In Cambridge, farmers have to be wary of where they plough their fields in case they come across these unmarked grave sites. And in London, they regularly have to stop building works and underground digging for the same reason – and this poem was written down between two plagues. The themes of Gawain and the Green Knight are intentional – death surrounded them then, and it surrounds us now. We are a country of decay. Unless your house was new when you bought it there’s a high chance someone died in it, too.

The hill at the end of ‘Two Worlds’, the one Dream climbs and they all spawn near, and same the one the ‘mysterious people’ reference, is a reference to the Celtic burial mounds that is also referenced in Gawain and the Green Knight – it’s become the chapel that the Green Knight calls his home, a grave. I think I subconsciously linked the two together. It would be ironic that the thing Dream climbed to try and save them was a memorial of failure for the world that had existed before them.

In addition to this, winter is another big idea surrounding this for obvious reasons. Winter means cold, it means famine and disease, less sunlight and lower mood. It means hard times, and for many, tragedy. In Gawain it’s mostly used as an excuse to link the role of the Green Knight to the new year – the death of an old year and the cycle to begin anew. Again, we live on graves. The old die, and we forget them, and we begin again.

The nature symbolism is another big thing in Gawain, as it’s a symbol of the wild vs civilisation, of evil vs good, and of the temporary and the permanent. In Gawain, the Green Knight intentionally carries around an axe (another symbol of evil, similar to the weapon of choice for executioners and woodsmen), and I thought that would be a neat little symbol for George. Not only is it a threat against Dream (I think it’s mentioned somewhere that George feels bad for felling trees), but it’s a sign that George is not as out of his depth in the wild as he may seem. He believes himself to be out of his depth, but Dream asking George for help to make his own axe could be a similar idea – Dream doesn't belong where he has been placed.

One thing I only noticed upon reflection is the similarities between Gawain and George. For starters, since this is a tale about King Arthur’s knights, it’s expected that anyone who sits around the round table is a courageous, forward thinking individual, but Gawain is a coward. He is told to seek the Green Knight and at first refuses to, intentionally biding a year at Camelot to avoid humiliation and death at the hands of the Knight. While George is not necessarily cowardly, he is a bit of a wimp sometimes. Similarly, at the end of Gawain and the Green Knight, Gawain has the back of his neck cut by the Knight in a so called ‘beheading game’, but he is called a coward for it since he relies on an enchanted item rather than his own guts and intuition to pull him through. George isn't given the option of a magical artifact, but he does get scarred in a similar way, although, it could just be because of the way other-George died.

You could also compare Dream to the Green knight for obvious reasons. Nature symbolism, changing with the approach of winter, immortality, a representation of a lost world, someone who doesn't fit in with modern society, the last of his kind (for a little bit), the list goes on.

But one comparison I really wanted to make was between Phil and King Arthur. King Arthur hardly makes an appearance in Gawain and the Green Knight. He’s at the beginning, boasting about how he won't eat until something spectacular happens at his feast, and at the end where he refuses Gawain’s warnings about Camelot one day falling. As I’m sure you remember, Phil is crowned by Techno in ‘The Long Goodbye’, and he mentions Phil’s legacy living forever. I guess in some ways it translates across. While Phil is no king, he accepts the defeat against Techno and lets him go. He understands that the life he wants, the one where he and his friends last forever, won't happen. While in the legend of King Arthur he goes into slumber on the isle of Avalon to be woken up when England next goes to war, Phil doesn't have the same pop-out-the-grave party trick, and it’s kind of like Phil is more the embodiment of what Camelot stands for than Arthur. Phil is flawed, even if the others insist that he isn't, and he will one day fall. The legend that Techno alludes to is when Phil’s story will become like Arthur’s. A hope in darkness, and a reminder that he will always be remembered even if he is really gone.

ONE THING I didn't notice myself, but my friend noticed when I was describing the texts, was the links between Fundy, Techno and the deer/elk in the other-world. In the Green Knight, specifically the third act, there’s a scene where the green knight and his court go on a hunt. They kill a white ‘hart’ (aka a stag), which represents what the human world wants from the forest – an easy meal, a dumb animal to chase, and to not spend much time out in the woods. They chase and kill a boar too, which is a representation of power, of a bridge of sorts between their worlds as the humans would want it for its excessive meat but would not want the fight, while the Green Knight’s court would want it for the challenge of taking down a great foe. Similarly, hunting a fox is useless to humans as it doesn't hold much meat, but to the Green Knight’s court it’s a symbol of intelligence and wit, of a great prize they didn't need to seek but did anyway, and it’s a clear difference between their ideologies.

I didn't intend for the link to be there, and I only used the idea of a ‘white, three-eyed deer-thing’ because of the mythos surrounding a white hart in England, which is just a symbol of magic or goodwill (or bad luck, depending on who you ask). Many people don't realise it’s Celtic origins (again, the Green Knight is a symbol of these lost Celtic religions and lifestyles in medieval England) and so while I didn't intend for the symbol to be there at first, I think it fits in quite well that it appears at first in the other-world, and then in the over-world when the darkness is trying to untangle the two worlds, as it’s a kind of nod to the magic/evil properties of the ‘others’.

Also, a final note, often the fae in Arthurian myth (evil beings of mischief and chaos in medieval texts) operate near water. Think of the Lady of the Lake, Mermaids, Sirens, etc. I thought that was neat and made other-Sapnap mention it at some point. I just like water. It’s an adaptive metaphor.

That’s enough about general themes and me ripping off a story that may or may not be a thousand years old.

Please let me talk about a painting called ‘Allegory of Fortune’ by Salvator Rosa.

‘Whispers’ was a challenging chapter to write in ‘Ice Bridge’ purely for the section at the end where Techno is in his house.

You see, Techno in his videos is a pretty smart guy. He presents himself well. He studied Greek tragedies in university (he references Helen of Troy in a video of him, Schlatt and Travis disassembling a KFC) and talks regularly of Sun Tzu, not to mention some casual Shakespeare references sprinkled around like he’s Salt Bae. He’s a smart cookie. He seems like one of the smartest cookies on the Dream SMP. He seems like someone who plans things, thinks them out, and only takes chances when he has to.

And the goal he has in this was a risk, all right.

This is the whole thing behind that totally unnecessary reference I made. First of all, it references the painting, which depicts the roman god of fortune, Fortuna, as she is bestowing her gifts of fortune upon the undeserving ‘animals’. Animals is quoted because Rosa is heavily implying in the painting that the animals are important Italian figures, including a donkey with the royal red cloak of the pope on it (yikes), a pig with the king’s crown(YIKES) and multiple animals standing on books representing education and law (Y.I.K.E.S.). The animals are also standing on roses – a reference to the artist himself (and btw that was like the only reason why he didn't get beheaded or something because of it).

The line Techno thinks something along the lines of ‘mules are not nobles’ etc is an actual adaptation of what Rosa said about his piece when he was questioned on its meaning.

I thought it would be fun for Techno to make reference to the work in a kind of satirical way, especially since in the painting the pig is shown to be undeserving of the crown, and Techno believes he is worthy, when later he gives it to Phil after he realises that he is indeed unworthy of it.

What changed in the edits?

Everything changed in the edits. Also hardly anything did.

The first big edit I did was in chapter 10 of ‘Archipelago’ where Sapnap and George are talking. Multiple lovely, wonderful, incredible commenters pointed out how they didn't really understand what the other-Techno was on about, and while I intended to fix that in ‘Ice Bridge’, I panicked and changed it to happen then because otherwise it might have been an unsatisfying end. Techno was supposed to figure out that it was like a brain transplant to become immortal, but it saved me time later so it didn't really matter.

Originally, I was planning for Sapnap to die in the other-world, like permanently. It was going to be a reason for George to doubt Dream, and for Dream to leave the settlement and all the others behind, but instead I decided to let him live for the sake of tension within the group later. I didn't want Sapnap to die, but if I were to go back I don't know if I would make the same decision. It could have gone either way.

Chapter 5 in ‘Ice Bridge’ was originally two separate ones, splitting in half when Dream realised he couldn't remember anything from before he met George, but it got too muddled to be kept separate. A similar thing happened with chapter 14 in the same story, where it was supposed to be separated when there was another knock at the door, but that time the resulting chapter afterwards, which was going to be chapter 16 or something, was too short to be justified.

In ‘Ice Bridge’, two chapters swapped titles, ‘The Long Goodbye’ and ‘Standoff’. Chapter 14, ‘snowfall’ and chapter 15, ‘ice bridge’ swapped locations too since I felt that the piece finishing with Dream and crew was more fitting as an ending than the one with Techno, Niki and Phil leaving the other tower.

The porcelain mask was another big one. I didn't know whether to include it at first and only added it after I had posted chapter 5 or so of ‘Ice Bridge’. I figured that it would be a big symbol of closure, of Dream getting what he was looking for on his adventure and being able to return home guilt free. I understand that it may feel a bit like an unnecessary emotional kick to add, but I did feel like it was the finale of Dream’s character arc.

The final last-minute addition was the fight between Phil, Techno and Niki. It was supposed to be a breakdown, a sign that Techno had pushed too far and that Phil wasn't the man that they had all expected him to be, but I believed that a more dramatic end was necessary.

To be honest, I remembered Lindsay Ellis’ videos on Game of Thrones. I haven't watched the series nor read the books, but I remembered her reaction to a fight breaking out between a mentor character and his apprentice, two morally good characters with differing goals. Phil may be Techno’s father figure, but there is only so far you can lean before you break, and this was supposed to be Phil’s breaking point.

See, Phil would know Techno was stronger than him, a better fighter, someone more willing to take a calculated risk, but he was desperate, deluded, and pushed to the edge. When words are not enough there are only so many ways that someone can act, and Phil decided to speak Techno’s language.

I also let Niki fight in the scene because I didn't think she had done much up to that point, and having her established to own weapons earlier and then not use them later seemed dumb. I wish there were more female characters that I could have included, but no one seemed right. If I were to change something, maybe I’d have her go into the ‘Other-World’ with Sapnap or something. It might be interesting to see how the other-Techno would react to someone he hasn’t seen before.

Final thoughts

I really like this fic. I put so little thought into it at the beginning and now it’s a huge thing that contains two of the longest fics I have ever done (I keep mentioning it, but I’m still in awe. I struggled a lot with things over 5,000 not so long ago) and some of my most intergrained references. There’s a few hiccups, I will admit, but I don't think there’s anything so big that it ruins the whole experience.

I really liked how I figured out Techno and Phil’s relationship in the third part, and while I like the Dream/George stuff, I will admit that shipping isn't my ideal reading (even if I can write it) and it did feel like I was cheating you all out of DNF content a bit until the end there.

If I could start again, idk what I’d change. It’s like 2 am rn. I just wanted to talk about Gawain and the Green Knight. Please do check the story out again because I think things will make more sense with a second reading. I’ll put a link to everything I mentioned below.

I also just want to thank you for being here on this journey. I’ve also mentioned before that I had a new year’s resolution both this year and last year to write 100,000 words, and while I completed it last year with 115,000, I doubled my writing amount this year and the end of this fic brings me to 215,000, which is insane. My total wordcount on AO3 is only slightly less than double that, which means these past two years on the platform has produced 80% of my total fanfiction to date. Again, it’s insane.

Thank you again for reading. I hope you enjoyed my rambling if you read this whole thing, but please don't be afraid to say you didn't lol. I get that literary references and introspection isn't for everyone, and it honestly isn't for me either. I write fiction better than essays and it shows in my grades, but either way I hope that this was comprehensive.

Thank you all again. Drive safe and message me when you get home. Happy end of 2020!

Links:

“Wake Me Up When September Ends” by SilverShadowBeliever : https://archiveofourown.org/works/852143

“he turns orange in the fall,”, Orphaned Work : https://archiveofourown.org/works/966375

“Out of Darkness” by Asidian : https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071196/chapters/13915320

“Gawain and the Green Knight” Free copy online : https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/English/GawainAndTheGreenKnight.php#anchor_Toc178583491

Sparknotes reading of “Gawain and the Green Knight” (easier to understand than the free copy) : https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/gawain/

‘Allegory of Fortune’ by Salvator Rosa : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allegory_of_Fortune

Lindsay Ellis’ Game of Thrones video part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hys_m3BPTS8&ab_channel=LindsayEllis

Part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGr0NRx3TKU&ab_channel=LindsayEllis

Also, bonus! I did a lot of painting (forgive me, I’m not great at it and didn't paint before 2020) to help block scenes and stuff when I was writing Archipelago so please enjoy my not very good but also I’m-quite-proud-of-these paintings. I’m mores posting them here as a neat little bonus, but also to do something with them other than have them in my desk draw lol.

#moron writes a book

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hopeisour4letteredword · 5 years ago

Text

look through your textbook (cause i’m history) ch1

Content warnings: implied/referenced domestic violence

Summary: After dropping out, Yuri’s life is a haze of working and trying not to lose his damn mind. Then he meets Estelle.

Read it here or check the notes for the link to AO3.

It’s late—too late, the community center isn’t supposed to be open at this hour—and there’s a crying young woman with blood on her face holding Yuri’s hand in both of her own.

Yuri really wishes he could say it’s the first and last time this will happen to him. Unfortunately, it’s neither.

“P-please,” the woman stammers. Tears streak down her cheeks, right through the abrasion that mars her cheekbone. Ouch. That must sting. “Please, I just—I can c-clean myself up, I just need a—a first aid kit and, and a place to spend the night—“

“This is a community center, not a shelter,” Yuri says, as gently as he can to soften the blow. Her lower lip trembles. “Hey, none of that. I can help with getting you cleaned up, and when you calm down a little bit we can think together about where to put you up for the night. Alright?”

“Th-thank you so much—“

Yuri waves his free hand dismissively. He fishes through his pockets for his keys so he can unlock the front door.

“Ladies first,” he says, using his captive hand to guide her inside. She sniffles valiantly, releasing his hand and inching inside the dark building. Yuri steps in after her, locking the door behind himself, and flicks on the lights. She flinches away from the sudden glare. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s n-not your fault.”

“The first aid kit is in the staff room. If you want, you can wait right here—”

“I’m sorry, I d-don’t want to be alone, s-sorry—“

“Hey, you’re fine, that’s cool. Come on, then.”

They troop through the main community room. Yuri kicks in chairs that didn’t get pushed all the way back to their tables at the end of the day. That’s what Hanks gets for letting Ted help close up for the night. At least the kiddie zone got picked up so they won’t slip on any errant toy trains. The young woman flinches with every creaky floorboard and groaning pipe. Poor lady. This isn’t exactly a new building. There’s a lot of those noises.

Yuri unlocks the staff room, and this time has the presence of mind to warn her, “Lights going on.”

“Thank you....”

“So what I need you to do for me is to sit down and try to keep your hair back while I patch you up. Sound good?”

“You don’t—don’t have to—“

“Yeah, but I’m gonna, so quit trying to tell me what to do. Hair back.”

She obediently sinks into one of the shitty folding chairs Hanks keeps in the staff room. Shaking fingers hold her pink hair away from her face. Yuri sits down on an adjacent chair and tries to touch the abrasion as little as possible while he moves away some stray strands that she missed. She trembles, but doesn’t make a peep.

“Okay, what I’ve got here is hydrogen peroxide—“ He shows her the bottle. “And I’m just gonna pour some onto these cotton pads and wipe your scrapes down with it. It’ll sting like a motherfucker, but then it’ll be over with.”

“O-okay.”

“Chin up. You got this.” He holds her face steady while he makes the first pass. She still jerks back so hard that he almost gets her in the eye with the soaked cotton pad. “Whoa there.”

“I’m s-so sorry—!”

“Shit happens. Ready for the next try?”

“Ye-yes....”

Her jaw clenches under his fingers. She whimpers a little when the pad touches her cheek, but doesn’t move. What a trooper.

“There you go. One more pass, okay? We don’t want shit stuck in there when it heals up.”

She nods, firmly, and barely winces with the last pass. Yuri tosses the bloody cotton into the trash and reaches back into the first aid kit.

“Any other scrapes?”

“My—my knuckles.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see ‘em.” Yuri swipes them down with one pass. They’re not nearly as bad as her face. “You know Neosporin?”

“N-no.”

“Really? Damn. Well, it’s just antibiotic goop. Shouldn’t hurt as much as the last stuff.” She watches as he spreads some onto a gauze pad. “I’m gonna tape this to your face. Little weird having tape on your face, but in my personal experience, better than having an open bloody wound.”

“Y-yuck.”

“That’s the spirit.” He carefully tapes the gauze in place. Luckily, the scrape isn’t too big. Plenty of room to put the tape down without catching her eyelashes or the hair framing her face. He pops open a box of finger bandages and goops up a few to patch over the worst of her knuckles. “All set. We have some pain meds here, too. Want any? I got ibuprofen, naproxen, Tylenol...”

“Can I... ibuprofen.”

“All yours.” Yuri slides her the bottle and rises from his chair to search the cabinets. Where’s the goddamn cups? Oh, hell, that’s right. Hanks moved all of the cups to the kitchen. There’s only mugs in the staff room now. He grabs a “#1 GRANDPA” mug. “Lemme get you some water for that.”

He passes it off to her. She slips a pill into her mouth and drinks it down. Both hands lock around the mug when she lowers it, and she stares down into the leftover water, trembling.

“You cold?”

“H-huh? Oh. Um. A little.”

Yuri opens and closes a few more cabinet doors before he finds Hanks’s old high school letterman jacket neatly folded and stashed. Evidently the blankets they used to keep in here have been relocated, too. “We’ve got this. Might smell a little like mothballs, though.”

“That’s—that’s fine.”

Yuri drapes the jacket over her shoulders. She hunkers down under it without putting her arms through the sleeves.

“Do you want, like. Tea? We got tea, I think. In the kitchen. Not sure what kinds. I’m not really a tea person. I’m a heathen, I drink black coffee because chugging bitter sludge makes me feel like a badass.” She makes a hiccupping noise that’s something like a laugh. “There we go. Feeling a little better?”

“Yes. Thank you—so much. Really.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave you there.” He scratches at his chin. “I’m gonna need you to get a head start on thinking about where to spend the night. I have to remember why I came here in the first place.”

“Oh, no, I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” What did he come here for? He tips his head back, staring at the ceiling. He was home for the evening... bartending ended early tonight... he had already walked Repede... oh, shit. That’s right. “I’m going into the kitchen anyway, so seriously, do you want tea?”

“N-no, thank you.”

“Okay, your call.”

She still scrambles to her feet and follows him, so close that he keeps waiting for her to step on his heels. He’s not gonna be the jackass that tells her off, though.

“I just want to preface this by saying I’m an amateur chef, not a serial killer, and you can hold onto the knife until we go our separate ways if me having it freaks you out,” Yuri tells her, as he turns on the kitchen light. She gives him a horrified look, mouthing knife? He goes to the sink. The meat cleaver is exactly where he thought it would be. He can always trust Hanks and Ted to leave his good knives someplace where they rust and get covered in gross shit. He grabs a scrubber sponge and wipes it down, one side then the other, before drying it and bundling it into a dish cloth.

He offers the bundle to the young lady. She shakes her head, quickly. The mug is still tightly clasped in both hands.

“Why is y-your knife here?”

“I lent it to them,” Yuri says. “To the staff here, I mean. Well, I’m also staff, sometimes, but that’s not the point. They had a few whole chickens to prepare today, and someone made off with their old cleaver a couple weeks ago.”

“That was. Nice of you.”

“Sure, I guess.” Yuri tucks the knife bundle under one arm and leans back against the counter, considering her. Her hair is pulled back with an ornate clasp, aside from the bangs that drape over her abraded cheek. Under Hanks’s jacket, she’s wearing a fancy dress, something sleek and silky and blue that pools around her feet. It is, predictably, covered in dirt, dead leaves and grass stains up to knee-height. Her face is wan, with big, sad green eyes. A bruise is starting to mottle her cheek around the scrape. The very image of an abused socialite. “Can I get your name?”

“I’m...I’m Estellise.”

Yuri whistles. “That’s a mouthful.”

“I g-guess so.”

“How do you feel about ‘Estelle’?”

“Es...Estelle?” She perks up a bit. The moue of her lips twitches up just a little. “That’s nice. I like that.”

“Alright, sweet. So, Estelle. I’m Yuri. Do you want to tell me how you ended up here at one in the morning with your face all banged up?”

Estelle looks back down into the mug. “...Do I have to?”

“Nah.”

“Wha—I don’t?”

“Nope. It’s not really my business. I mean, I can make some pretty educated guesses, but you don’t technically need to tell me anything.”

“O-oh.”

“I can just straight-up ask what I really need to. You want me to take you to a domestic abuse women’s shelter?”

“I—“ The mug shakes in her hands. “I d-don’t count.”

“You don’t count?”

“It’s n-not like that. I c-couldn’t—I couldn’t take that space from someone who really n-needed it.”

Yuri sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Uh... I guess you would know your situation better than I would. How about... no offense, but I have no idea how old you are. Are you a very fancy teenager? Should I be thinking more along the lines of children’s shelters?”

“No. I’m eighteen.”

“God, you are a fancy teenager.”

She laughs a little, but it’s hysterical. “Y-yes.”

“I guess... shit. I’m just stuck on women’s shelters. You really don’t want to go? You sure? I can find a lady to drive you if you aren’t comfortable with—“

“N-no! It’s not you. Y-you’re fine.”

“Do you want...did you come here to find Hanks? I can call Hanks.”

“Who’s H-Hanks?”

“Oookay, that answers that question... Not gonna lie, I’m kind of confused about what you want.”

Estelle makes a miserable noise. “I am too.”

Yuri takes a hard look at her. The scrape on her face isn’t so bad she’s bleeding through the gauze right away, and her hands aren’t fucked up too badly. Definitely not a hospital situation. Poor girl probably doesn’t have the money on her to deal with the hospital right now, anyway. The way she’s acting, he’s pretty damn sure there’s some kind of abuse at play, but she doesn’t want to go to the women’s shelter. She’s too old for programs targeted at children. So what exactly is Yuri supposed to do with her?

...Fuck it. He’s tired, she’s tired, he’s overdue for his next scruffy stray. “Look, if you’re comfortable with it, you can come to my place for the night. I’ve got a one-bedroom, not a studio, so you can take the bedroom and lock me out if that makes you feel safer. I can sleep on the couch.”

“I c-couldn’t—!”

“Sure you could. I’ve slept on the couch for stupider reasons.”

“But—“

“If you’re scared, we can call somebody you trust and tell them where you are, so you’ve got witnesses if I decide to murder you.”

“I don’t think you’re going to murder me,” she says, scrunching up her nose at him and then wincing when it pulls at her cheek. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Okay, but I don’t care,” Yuri says. “So I don’t think it really counts as imposing. I’m going to text Hanks—he’s the director of the community center, by the way—that I have a very sad young lady staying at my apartment tonight, so that the next time you ask a total stranger for shelter, you think of that and remember to have some degree of self-preservation.”

“Y-you don’t have to—“

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, minor detail—are you allergic to dogs?”

As it turns out, Estelle is not allergic to dogs, but it’s possible that dogs are allergic to her.

“He’s like that sometimes,” Yuri says, absentmindedly, while Repede staunchly ignores Estelle’s attempts to make friends with him.

“He isn’t friendly?”

When Yuri glances over his shoulder, she’s staring back at him with sad, disappointed eyes. She kneels beside Repede on the floor, bundled into spare clothes Yuri dug out of the community center’s storage for her. Wearing second-hand clothes, making undignified kissy noises at his dog, she looks much younger than she did at the community center. The pouty face she’s making at Repede probably isn’t doing her any favors in the maturity department either.

“He’s not so hot about strangers. Seriously, don’t take it personally.” He gives the chicken soup one last stir. Cooking at 2AM isn’t his favorite, but it is, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence nonetheless. “Alright, there’s soup if you want any.”

She accepts a bowl, but waits until Yuri has his own. She watches and copies him as he lifts it to face-level, carefully blowing across the surface, and drinks some of the broth. He almost snorts some back up laughing when her eyes go wide, and she visibly tries to swish the hot broth around her mouth to cool it.

“You have to blow like you mean it.”

“I don’t want to spill!”

“Just don’t burn yourself.”

Yuri has a table, because he isn’t a complete disaster. He and Estelle stand around next to the stove anyway, slurping soup directly out of the bowls. When the broth-to-solids ratio declines enough, they break out the spoons.

“You’re a really good cook,” Estelle says, sounding wistful. “I wish I could make stuff like this.”

“Keep in touch with me when you get your feet back under you and maybe I can teach you someday.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Thank you!”

Once they’ve drained their bowls, Yuri does a lick-and-spit clean-up job on the kitchen while Estelle does a circuit of his living room, snooping through his stuff. He hears her pause over the rush of the tap and doesn’t think anything of it until she ventures to say, “Is... is this Flynn? Flynn Scifo?”

“Probably,” Yuri says. He cranks the faucet off and turns to see what she’s looking at. It’s the picture Coach Niren took of the two of them at their first fencing tournament. Yuri’s still got the last chub of baby fat rounding out his cheeks, and he’s laughing with delight over some stupid shit Flynn had said. Flynn grins back at him, gangly and awkward with adolescence. He has his arm thrown aroun d Yuri’s shoulders. He looks like a damn puppy; he still needs to grow into his limbs. Yuri would die before he told anybody, but it’s one of his favorite pictures. Flynn was grouchy as shit in high school. Every smile Yuri could wrangle out of him was a privilege. “Yeah, that’s Flynn. You know him?”

“Yes... He’s, um, a student of my guardian’s.”

“Your guardian works at the university, then?”

Estelle fidgets a bit, wringing her hands. “Yes....”

Yuri mentally stores her nervous response for later discussion. He can give her a break at ass o’ clock in the morning. “You and Flynn get on well?”

“Yes! He’s very well-read. We talk about books together.”

“Ah, nerd club. Of course. Sounds just like him.”

“Are you...” Estelle glances over at him. “You know, I didn’t think of it until I saw this picture, but I think he’s mentioned you. Yuri? You’re his best friend, aren’t you?”

Yuri doesn’t answer her for a moment because he’s too startled by the fact that Flynn is, apparently, still calling Yuri his best friend even though they haven’t seen each other in a year and almost got in a fistfight last time they ran into each other. Not that Yuri doesn’t also still consider Flynn his best friend, but, like. Standards, Flynn. Have some. “Huh. Yeah.”

A shy smile spreads over her face. “You’re just like he described you.”

“Oh, geez. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior from here out.”

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your behavior.”

Yuri stares at her again. “...I think we’re having two different conversations. How does Flynn describe me? Because I assumed he told you I was a pain in the ass.”

“What? No! He said you’ve got a big heart and you always try to help others.”

This is too much for Yuri to deal with at 2AM in front of a stranger. Or friend of a friend, apparently. Dammit. It’s always Flynn.

“Well, um. He did also say you were trouble.”

Oh, thank God, stable ground. “That sounds more like it. Come on, I’ll lend you some pajamas. We should both get to sleep. In the morning—like the real morning, not the fake morning right now—we can go back to the community center and talk to Hanks about your options.”

A week later, Estelle is still in his apartment. Yuri thinks she’s starting to grow on him. Not like a fungus, because Estelle is one of the only people he’s ever met that he would wholeheartedly describe as lovely. Terribly naive, mind-bogglingly sheltered, but lovely. So maybe like some kind of nice moss or something? He’s lost the trail of this metaphor.

He has bartending in the evening, these days, but when he’s at the community center in the mornings he tries to give her his attention. She seems overwhelmed by all the things she needs to find solutions for: housing, income, banking, emergency medical care... At least a few of those, he can help with. Hanks is a bigger asset. He’s got a lifetime of experience with helping uprooted young adults. Yuri is happy to put Estelle up for as long as it takes them to sort her shit out.

Still, he does sort of wonder if he’s gotten ahead of himself when Hanks texts him asking to talk to him and Estelle in private at his house. Hanks is usually fine with having personal conversations at the community center. Whatever he has to say must be serious.

“Should we have brought him something?” Estelle asks, a little nervously. She’s wearing clothes loaned from one of Yuri’s coworkers with Hanks’s jacket thrown over them. The ol d man refused to take it back from her when they met, and she’s barely taken it off since. She throws herself into hand-me-downs with an eagerness Yuri wouldn’t have expected, given her clothes the night they met.

“What? No. Why would we bring him something?”

“Well, you’re supposed to give your host a gift when you visit someone, aren’t you? Like a bottle of wine?”

“I know you grew up in the fancy rich high society life or some shit, but this is the Lower Quarter, princess. We don’t have the money for that kind of etiquette here. The only ‘wine’ Hanks is getting is the kind that comes out of my mouth.”

Estelle laughs quietly as Yuri knocks on the door and then shoves it open without waiting for a response.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Hanks calls, gruffly. Yuri shepherds Estelle in the right direction. Hanks has his back to them as he puts the finishing touches on a couple bowls of salad.

“Wow, breaking out the fresh vegetables for us and everything.”

“Someone has to make sure you kids get vitamins,” Hanks says, without looking up. He offers one of the bowls to Estelle. She peers into it curiously. “Spinach, bacon, cucumbers, and cherry tomatoes. I’ve got salad dressing in the fridge if you want some.”

“Yes, please,” Estelle says. Hanks waves her toward the small kitchen table while he goes to the fridge.

“Both of you have a seat. Estelle, what kind of dressing do you want?”

“Um. I’ll have whatever Yuri’s having.”

“Don’t let Yuri be your role model for everything,” Hanks warns her, even as he passes her the Italian dressing. “He’s a troublemaker.”

“I think he’s nice,” Estelle mumbles.

“You poor, misguided soul,” Yuri says. He takes the bottle from her when she’s done. “Hanks, you needed something from us?”

Hanks eases himself down into a chair across from them, groaning the whole way. The stubborn old man is going to hurt himself one of these days if he doesn’t give in and get a cane. “I did. Well, there’s not really a good way to get into this. Here. Take a look.”

He takes a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and unfolds it, dropping it on the table in front of them. It’s a flyer, the kind small local businesses will have on community boards or that gets slapped up on light posts on the street. It reads:

MISSING PERSON: ESTELLISE SIDOS HEURASSEIN

LAST SEEN AT ZAPHIAS UNIVERSITY, NEAR MEDICAL SCHOOL

18 YEARS OLD; 5’5” TALL; PINK HAIR AND GREEN EYES

CONTACT ZPD [(XXX) XXX-XXXX] OR DEAN ALEXEI DINOIA [ [email protected] ] WITH INFORMATION. REWARD IF FOUND.

In the middle of the page is a poor-quality, grainy picture of Estelle. It’s water-stained, with the colors distorted so that her face is barely recognizable. Yuri’s not convinced he would recognize her if he didn’t already know who it was. The flyer must have been outside. Along the bottom are tear-off tabs with the police number and the Dean’s email on them. Yuri recognizes the domain; it’s the official university mail service, so it must be the Dean’s professional email. It seems like an odd choice for a missing person ad. Looks like a few tabs have been taken.

Yuri glances sideways at Estelle. She stares down at the flyer, pale and scared like Yuri hasn’t seen her since their first encounter. They just stopped gooping up the scrape, so it’s scabbing over now , and the bruising has turned a sickly green as it heals.

“I...” She swallows, hard, putting her fork down. “I don’t...”

“Listen,” Hanks says, with a sigh. “I’m not about to turn you in. I don’t think Yuri will, either.”

“Fuck, no.”

“But I can’t promise nobody in the Lower Quarter will. Folks here are hurting for cash. Someone who sees you at the community center might take them up on it, even if they aren’t proud of it, so they can put food on the table.”

“...Yes. I understand.”

Hanks scratches at his beard. “I guess all I’m askin’ is that you think about stopping by the police station yourself. I don’t want Yuri to get charged with kidnapping.”

That makes Estelle jerk her head up, eyes wide. “Yuri could get in trouble?”

“Sure. He’s been on the wrong side of the law before—“

“The tweedles deserved to get pushed into the canal, you know that—“

“I do, son, but the police still weren’t none too happy about it. They aren’t much fond of him, and now he’s got a missing person stashed in his apartment. Ain’t a hard case to make.”

“But he’s not making me stay there!”

Hanks shrugs. “They could argue coercion if they get a bee in their bonnet. That’s why I’m suggesting you stop by the police station yourself, to let them know that you left under your own will and you aren’t missing. It doesn’t mean you have to go back to your old life. The community’s happy to help you figure something else out, like we have been.”

Estelle wrings her hands under the table. She looks down at the flyer again.

“I don’t want to go back,” she says, voice small.

“I’m telling you, you don’t have to.”

“If I talk to the police, they’ll make me go back.”

“You’re eighteen,” Yuri says. “You can go wherever the hell you want. They can’t make you go back if you don’t want to.”

“Will you come with me? To the police station?”

“Probably not a good idea,” Hanks says. “Remember, we want to show them that you’re staying in the Lower Quarter under your own free will.”

“I can still drive you there and wait nearby, though,” Yuri says. “I’ll hang out in a parking lot or something. Just scream real loud and I’ll come grab you.”

“Don’t scream unless you have no other choice, the police don’t like that.”

“Who cares what the police like? If they try to mess with you, break their eardrums.”

“Yuri, for God’s sake, don’t get the poor girl in trouble.”

Estelle giggles a little, high and anxious. The smile slides back off her face quickly, though. “I can... can I still stay with you? After I talk to the police?”

“Sure.”

“Really? I promise I’ll—I’ll stop by the bank, and get a new account set up. Then I can try to find a job and pay you b—“

“Estelle, chill. There’s no rush.”

“But—!”

“We’ll get it sorted out. Might take a bit, but we’ll get you there. You don’t need to freak out.”

“I just—“ Estelle sniffles a bit. Oh, God, no. No crying. Please no more crying. Yuri is terrible at comforting people. “You’ve been so kind, both of you, and I haven’t even told you anything and you’re still helping me, and I feel so bad, and—“

Yuri fidgets with a lock of his own hair. “I mean. This isn’t exactly a huge mystery. You’ve got big bruises on your face and you don’t want to go back somewhere. I might not have a fancy education, but I can put two and two together.”

“I... I guess that’s...”

“We don’t really need more information than that. Anyway, you’re a friend of Flynn’s. He would kick my ass if he found out I didn’t look out for you.”

“But you offered to let me stay with you before you knew—“

Hanks reaches across the table to pat her shoulder. “Don’t bother, miss. Let Yuri believe the rest of us think he’s a tough guy. We all know he’s really a big softie.”

Yuri splutters indignantly. “Hey!”

“He climbs trees to get children’s cats down for them,” Hanks stage-whispers to Estelle. She giggles, more genuinely this time. Yuri would be pleased if it weren’t at his goddamn expense.

“One time! Was I just supposed to leave Ted’s cat stranded?! He had a broken leg!”

“One time? Son, you’ve done that twice in the last year.”

“Tell Ted to get a better cat! I swear, next time I’m leaving the damn thing up there.”

“Yesterday,” Estelle tells Hanks, solemnly, wiping a tear away from the corner of her eye, “He held two babies for a busy mom. At once.”

Hanks chortles. Yuri groans, aggrieved. “I changed my mind, you can’t stay with me. You’re a menace.”

“No, no. You’re right, we can’t risk Flynn’s wrath. The young lady is here to stay.”

Estelle catches Yuri’s eye again and gives him that small, shy smile again. Yuri shakes his head, fond despite himself. He returns a wry smile. Of course she’s staying. He never should have expected anything different. On some level, he thinks he didn’t.

“Alright, princess. I guess I’m stuck with you.”

“I’m in your care!”

#fluri #yuri lowell #Estellise Sidos Heurassein #tales of vesperia #Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In #flynn isnt here but yuri Pines #long post

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