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not-from-the-absence-of-violence · 4 years ago

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On assumptions, understanding, belonging and love.

Moments in Martin's journey understanding other people and finally himself.

Martin's journey in understanding, accepting and loving his asexuality.

a/n: some quick notes: Jon is sex repulsed, Martin is somewhere between neutral and favorable. While Tim and Sasha dont exactlty say they are aro they are! Jon is non-binary and uses he/they pronouns and i desperatly wanted to explore that but this is already twice as long than intended-

also while I am (half) Bolivian and speak spanish I am not at all fluent in Tamil so if there is any mistakes lmk! hope you all enjoy!

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Sasha had convinced them to go get drinks together, as it had been a rather stressful couple of weeks since Martin came back from the siege of his apartment by Jane Prentiss.

Sleeping in the archives was not exactly helping the situation for Martin, or Jon for that matter.

So they decided to go to a pub and try to force a sense of normality everyone really needed.

Martin was having a great time, with the relative calm and safety he hadn’t had in a while, even Jon had something like a smile playing on his lips as Tim told a story from one of his university mates that had accidentally thrown his roommate's engagement ring down a drain.

Martin zoned out for a bit, enjoying the pleasant buzz of the alcohol and his friends laughter and Jon’s animated movements that indicated that he was talking about something he actually found interesting.

Jon was apparently telling his own story with some relation to engagement, something about a girl at a wedding that had acted strangely, Martin caught something about “purposely spilling wine on her dress”, which Martin agreed was quite wierd.

“She was totally trying to woo you, Jon.” Sasha said as Jon got to the bit where they had to help her find some clean towels in a storage closet.

“I assumed she was just having a rather hard time,” Jon said, seemingly only now thinking of the implications of spilling wine on your dress and then faking needing help, to be fair to Jon that was a very weird tactic to pull and Martin would not have put two and two together either.

“Well what did you do in that closet then?” Tim asked with an incredibly over the top suggestive look.

Jon pulled a face then, Martin thought it looked rather endearing really with his nose all scrunched up and his eyes narrowed, but he was clearly uneasy.

“I don’t- I don’t really do… that sort of thing.”

Martin snapped back in the moment, feeling a weird but familiar anxiety in his stomach as the conversation lulled. He felt rather protective for a moment, instinctively knowing this seemed important. This turned out to be rather unnecessary, as Tim spoke up again quickly.

“Oh,” He and then, earnestly, ”I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Jon.”

And then Jon smiled, properly, like he didn’t often and waved his hand dismissively but pleased.

“Thank you, well it's not like you could have known that, but anyway as I was saying-”

It was but a moment, but it stuck with Martin for a bit, mulling it over and not really understanding his own reaction.

Eventually Martin settled back into the pleasant buzz, enjoying his friends chatter and Jon’s over exaggerated hand gestures.

It was an uncharacteristically slow day in the archives, not a worm in sight and Martin had only a bit of boring research to do for a very clearly fake statement.

Martin usually tried to be nice about it but this one featured a guy named “Richard Dickson” and was entirely about a fever dream someone had about a haunted accordion, he had listened to the recording that Jon had emailed him and it sounded like even he was having a very hard time trying not to laugh at it.

“Who comes up with this stuff?” Sasha said as she handed him back the statement. “Sure, I know we are being attacked by a worm woman but I really hope we can draw the line at haunted accordions that play spooky renditions of High School Musical and a prophetic dream guy called Dick Dickson.”

She was laughing too and Martin thought that she looked better than she had in awhile, it was nice, seeing her like this.

“Well at least I won’t have to stay extra time for the research of this one, I would go home early but.” he shrugged and gestured in a you know the whole staying here cause of a worm woman situation, she gave him a sympathetic look.

“Well I am leaving early, got a very fun evening planned.” she said with a wink.

She had looked really rather excited and somewhat giddy all day, Martin realized.

“Oh,” Martin said, “Who is the lucky person then?”

Sasha looked at him puzzled for a few seconds, slowly blinking at him, then the penny dropped.

“What? Oh no, I mean- Tim I guess, we usually have a sort of movie night every once in a while, this one is extra special though, because I found this book about the categorisation of demons, it’s partially in latin? Tim said he would help me look into it. ”

Martin felt his face heat up, feeling the urge to profusely apologize, Sasha continued however:

“It’s not like that though,” she said with a rather annoyed look, and then somewhat softer, “I am not really a dating kind of person, you know?”

Martin wasn’t sure he fully understood what she meant, but that was fine and she was clearly still very excited, so he relaxed.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have assumed, I do hope it’s not one of those books Jon goes on about, they aren't exactly...friendly.”

Her eyes lit up once again.

“Oh it's definitely not a Leitner! I do look out for that sort of thing, the interesting thing about the book is though-”

And she went on for a bit, the moment somewhat unimportant in a way but it still churned in Martin’s mind.

Things with Sasha...shifted after the Jane Prentiss attack, everyone had different ways to cope with trauma of course, Martin knew that.

Maybe that was the thing really, while Tim, Jon and Martin himself were having a hard time processing (even if Tim and Jon refused to properly acknowledge it) Sasha seemed fine, a few weeks of being shaken maybe and she was now back to her regular old self.

She even had a new boyfriend, Martin had no idea why that irked him so much.

He’d said as much to Tim, who was sitting next to him while both slacked off from their jobs on the stairs to the back courtyard of the institute (why there even was a courtyard was one of the great mysteries of this place).

Tim looked uncharacteristically solemn, seldom did he let his walls down like this.

“I thought I was in love with her you know,” he said rather suddenly, “I mean we’ve been friends for years now and there was- is no one I would rather spend time with, so I mean if not her then- then who?”

He sighed and Martin made comforting noise, trying not to break whatever spell had made Tim genuinely speak about his feelings.

“I mean I figured out I wasn’t in love with her before this whole...thing, we talked about it, I think? Some stuff is hazy. Just- I shouldn’t be jealous you know? She is allowed to have a boyfriend.”

“Your feelings are valid no matter what they are.” Martin said seriously.

Tim sighed and leaned into Martin, who enveloped him in his arms.

“Sure, doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck though.”

And well there wasn’t much Martin could say about that.

After a bit of comfortable hugging silence Tim spoke up.

“Maybe her boyfriend is a vampire though, I totally get to be jealous about a vampire.”

“Tim don’t say that.” he said, trying to hide a smile.

“What?” Tim said, pretending to be serious, “Everything is possible Martin, worm women and all that, I could obviously not compete with a vampire and their sexy glittering skin.”

Martin shook his head, not able to contain his laughter anymore.

“Can’t believe you are exposing yourself as someone who watched Twilight.” he said.

Tim smiled wickedly up at him from where he was still half cuddled into him.

“The fact that you got that reference exposes you in turn,” he said, sticking his tongue out, “Check mate.”

“Touché.”

Then Tim stood up and said:

“Well, Time to go back to our trans containment zone.”

“The fact that we just happen to be trans and were transferred to the archives is a coincidence.”

To that Tim only answered: “Trans-ferred Martin, can’t you see? You cannot call that a coincidence.” winked and back in through the door he went.

Martin let out an exaggerated long suffering sigh.

Back inside they walked to their respective desks.

“Well lets hope work gets lets shit.” Tim said. “That’s such a low bar, and yet.”

“Paciencia y fé.” Martin said, which was in his repertoire of spanish phrases that just didn’t pack the same punch in english along with “ya pasara” and “digamos que si”.

Tim shrugged.

“Don’t think whatever grandmother made up that phrase could have imagined it being applied to our situation.”

“And yet we still have to hope for it to get better don’t we, see it works.”

Tim flashed him one last smile as he sat at his desk and Martin went to put on the kettle.

Martin had assumed Jon’s I-don’t-do-that-sort-of-thing included dating as well and it hadn’t bothered him really, he enjoyed clinging to his crush to Jon like a small steady comfort, even if he knew it wasn’t actually going to amount to anything, there was no harm in day dreaming after all and Martin was perfectly capable of caring about him as a friend too, it was harmless.

Of course the fact that he now knew Jon had been staying at his ex-girlfriends place and the fact that Jon might actually date people didn’t really change anything.

At least that is what Martin tried to tell himself as he shakily poured two cups of tea and mustered the courage to walk to Jon’s office.

And he was at least a little right, even if Jon dated people, even if Jon would return his feelings (which Martin really did not let himself dwell on), these were particularly unfavourable circumstances to start a relationship, there was the matter that neither of them was able to string together a conversation, because the mundane ones sounded so inane and hollow and the important ones required being genuine and vulnerable and they might just be somewhat allergic to that.

And there was the matter of the impending apocalypse they had to stop.

Martin knocked on the door and he heard a soft: “Come in, Martin.” from the other side of the door.

The office was a mess as always and Jon looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and had aged about ten years in the last few months.

But Martin’s breath caught in his throat anyway because, as was usual for Jon now, he also looked just a little more...comfortable, as you could anyway. They were wearing a hoodie with cats on it that was just slightly too big and a long flowy patterned skirt.

Jon clearly caught martin staring because he ran his hand through his hair a bit self-consciously and said: “I know it goes against dress code, but I think you get a pass after you get kidnapped by an evil circus.”

“Oh I mean, you look nice, I mean it looks nice on you. I didn’t mean to uhm, stare?”

“It was- I was just joking.”

“Oh.”

They just stared at each other, painful silence falling over them.

Jon broke the silence clearing their throat.

“So... you brought tea?” They said.

“Yeah, it's for you.” Martin said and immediately cringed because who else would he have brought Jon’s favorite chai exactly the way he always takes it.

Jon smiled though, reaching out to take the cup from him. Their hands brushed just a little and Martin's brain briefly shut down and he realised that maybe he should admit to himself he was really hopeless and too far gone.

That is though, how he ended up stupidly staring at Jon’s hands and how he spotted the shiny black ring on the middle finger of his right hand.

“Thats a nice ring, don’t think I have ever seen you wear jewelry before.”

That seemed to snap the tension out of the moment a little, Jon looked down at the ring and smiled a little.

“It's an ace ring,” they said, “I used to wear it a lot a while back, not sure why I fell out of the habit, but now I guess I think I am allowed whatever small comfort I can get.”

They were looking at the ring and then at Martin.

Martin wanted to freeze the image right there, at the small not quite guilty smile Jon had as he looked up at him, at the feeling that things were OK, good even just for a bit.

Then something fell off Jon's desk and they both startled, flinching at the sudden loud noise.

All the worry and tension flooded back into the room immediately.

“Right.” Jon said. “Did you need anything else?”

Martin wasn’t sure how to even answer that.

So he just shook his head and started to leave.

Just before he was about to turn around Jon called his name, Martin turned around to face Jon that seemed to be fighting for the words he wanted to say.

“Yes, Jon?”

“Thank you.”

Martin smiled a sad smile.

“Anytime.”

It’t not that Martin had never heard the word asexual before, or that he didn’t know Jon was ace, he’d just never dwelled much on the actual meaning of it.

He had however never heard of ace rings before and he gave it a google for curiosity's sake.

A black ring usually wore on the right middle finger to indicate the wearer is asexual (“ace”).

It seemed nice to Martin, small token of your connection to a community, of course his curiosity did not end there, he had assumed previously Jon didn’t do relationships at all, and if he did, what did asexual mean then?

He found out rather quickly that asexuality was about sexual attraction, and aromantic was another thing all together, he also found out that asexuality didn’t mean a person couldn't have a libido, or like sex.

And maybe he just stood there staring at his laptop screen for a while knowing that sexual attraction had never really made sense to him, maybe it felt like something clicked.

And so knowing he definitely did not have the time or the emotional energy to deal with it he quickly closed his laptop, he had an apocalypse to stop and a boss to dispose of after all.

Martin was trying very hard to read Hija de la fortuna by Isabel Allende, every other sentence he sighed and grabbed his phone to look up a word the meaning of which he didn’t know.

It was frustrating, he once had been almost fluid in spanish as a child, but then his dad had left and his mother wasn’t able to and didn’t want to maintain his fluency. He hadn’t exactly had time or money for classes either and so now he attempted to regain some of it by watching movies and reading books.

It was not just the language of course that made it hard, Martin was so entirely full of worry. It was rare he got to spend a day in his flat these days, usually cooped up in the Institute hiding from something, or at the side of Jon's hospital bed talking to him, reading to him on occasion.

The anxiety, the fear, the pain, it had festered into Martin, the tiniest sounds made him jump and even when he got tiny little moments in which he wanted to, needed to, rest he still felt like a watched prey animal, or the full force of grief threatening to crush him.

Today he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, nothing remarkable had happened in a handful of days and it made him uneasy, he was waiting for Melanie to call him about a new attack, he was waiting for Peter to summon him with a weird cryptic request.

And you would think that with all this other worry he wouldn’t be fretting about his sexuality.

But apparently there was plenty of anxiety to go around for all the areas in his life and he just couldn’t get that moment, months ago now, out of his head.

He sighed at set the book aside, grabbing his phone and opening google.

He felt like he was 14 again asking his mother what gay meant and getting only a nasty look in return, or 17 and anxiously looking for a book about being trans in the library.

It was silly to look it up and read articles about how to know you were ace, because he already knew somewhere, but he desperately needed the confirmation.

The third or so blog post he opened was about a woman in her 50’s that had recently figured out she was ace.

Its freeing the article read it’s freeing to be who you are and to understand yourself better, even if you aren’t sure, its OK, it will be OK.

Martin was only crying a little, he laid down his phone and stared at the wall.

He thought about how he had never quite fit, he wasn’t quite english, not with the people asking him where he had come from or asking his mother as a child where she had gotten him from. He wasn’t Bolivian either, he had never been there, his spanish was limited, he could only cook about three and a half recipes that the internet had taught him.

He had never been a woman and he would never fit what society thought of as a man. And what that exactly meant for his relationships.

He never understood other people, but he never thought he was bad enough to seek help for it.

Sexual attraction was vague and he didn’t get it, but in the few relationships he had had in the past he hadn’t minded sex, he enjoyed watching a nice movie together just as much but there was a nicety to it, especially taking care of someone else, having them unravel infront of you. And he had found it weird that he didn’t want anything back, that he felt uncomfortable sometimes.

He imagined he meant he was wrong, like with everything else Martin Blackwood also couldn’t do that right.

But maybe there was something here, in Martins corner of human experience, in the small stack of books about Bolivia that he read, in the trans pin on his backpack and patches he sewed onto his clothes, in calling himself gay man even if that didn’t cover the nuances because it felt good, in the chew necklace that hung around his neck because it eased his anxiety.

Just like all of those things, Martin was ace, he wasn’t wrong or broken he was just different and there were all those other people who were different too and it was nice.

And Martin was crying because of the overwhelming sense of belonging, and because he finally understood Tim when he had once asked “But what does romance even mean, Martin?” and he would never get to tell him, because this is yet another thing he and Jon could have talked about if the world had been kinder to them, this is something he could be talking about to Jon if he wasn’t in a coma.

But even in these miserable circumstances Martin made sense to himself a little more and no one could take that away from him.

The past week in the safehouse had been a whirlwind of emotions, but both Jon and Martin were trying, trying hard to heal, to learn how to feel safe again, to love each other.

For all that trying they hadn’t talked about it much, it was hard still, but Martin was quietly holding on to the hope that they would get there.

Today had been quiet, with the biggest setback being that Jon had found it hard to find all the ingredients for the sambar he wanted to make for dinner.

“I know it won't be like my Pāṭṭi (பாட்டி) taught me, but you would think they would at least have coconut.”

Martin found their grumpiness adorable, reveled in the mundaneness of this worry. And he hadn’t been able to contain his laughter when they finally had found coconut and Jon had held it up triumphantly.

The food had been delicious and now they sat on the couch, it was hard Martin craved touch so dearly but it was like stepping into hot water after standing on ice for a while and Jon flinched so often, not used to not being hurt and sometimes Martin��s unnaturally cold skin brought up unpleasant memories.

They could have wallowed in guit and yearning, but they were both stubborn, and so even if it took a while and millions of slow movements and asking if something was OK they managed.

So it was that Jon had his legs draped over Martin's lap, enough to bring comfort, not too much as to be overwhelming, and their hands were lightly on top of eachother.

Jon seemed pensive, but not worried, Martin shot him a questioning glance.

“We went at this in such a sideward way,” Jon said, “I mean we live together now but we haven’t really...talked about it. We never- we never asked?”

There was a beat of silence where Martin just looked at Jon and then a smile spread over Martin's face.

“Jonathan Sims do you want to ask me out?”

Jon averted their gaze in a way that meant even though Martin couldn’t see it they were definitely blushing.

Martin just couldn’t contain his delighted laughter.

“Must you laugh at me,” Jon said, faking offence, he was also smiling now.

A bit of seriousness returned to his voice as he spoke up again.

“I don’t care that we have done it all backwards Martin,” they said, “But, I love you.”

And as he said that Martin stared at him, mouth agape and his heart thundering in his chest, he lost his ability in any language. Jon said it firmly and securely and Martin really didn’t know what he was supposed to do with all the feelings he had, Jon continued however.

“And we don’t have to do anything but it just feels like we are dancing around several conver- Martin? Are you alright?”

It was only then Martin realised he was crying and he could only ask:

“You love me?”

Not because he didn’t know, but because sometimes you just need the confirmation.

Jon squeezed his hand gently.

“Of course I do.”

Martin wanted so badly to answer him, to reproach but he couldn’t, not yet, instead he blurted.

“May I kiss you?”

Jon smiled, a tad nervously.

“That's sort of what I wanted to talk about,” they said, “boundaries?”

Martin understood the necessity of such conversations he really did, but it did not mean he was going to enjoy them.

It did come as a surprise however that Jon suddenly got very nervous and said.

“I mean- I just- I am ace, Martin.”

Martin cokced his head in confusion and said:

“Yeah, I know.”

Jon mirrored his confused look.

“You do?” and then more sour, “You listened to the tape?”

And fine Martin admitted to himself, maybe they should talk more.

“No? You told me, like ages ago.”

Jon laughed, relieved, happy.

“Sorry,” he said, “Ironically my memory is foggy. It has been a rough couple of...years.”

Martin hummed something of affirmation, because he also knew this seemed like a nice moment to come out, and he felt the very familiar anxiety in his belly. Idiotic anxiety because Jon was also ace and there were no stakes in this situation at all.

Maybe it was just the fact that he had never said it aloud.

Martin heard himself speak:

“I think I am too,” and he could hear how stupidly nervous he sounded, “ace, I mean.”

There was a vague ringing in his ear and if he had been in the position to he might have just run out of the room, apparently facing down unknowable monsters didn’t make coming out easier.

His fear was cut down by the fact that Jon was absolutely beaming at him.

“That's great!” they said, “I mean not that I would have minded if- but it is nice to have someone understand, that's all.”

It was, it was amazing to have Jon here smiling up at him holding his hand and understanding him.

“It really is,” Martin said, then gently bringing the back of Jon’s hand to his cheek and leaning into it, “Doesn’t mean we don’t have to talk boundaries though.”

Jon smiled at the small gesture and then said serious:

“I don’t want to have sex, ever.”

Martin knew it sounded like people had tried to debate them on it before and it made his chest ache.

“I know,” he answered and then because honesty was key, “I am not adverse to it, but obviously if you don’t want to, we won’t, ever.”

Jon sat up a bit then, lifting his hand from Martins and gently cupping his cheek. Martin's pulse quickened, his hand moving almost automatically to Jon’s arm.

“How do you feel about kissing?” he asked.

“It's nice,” Jon said, smiling a bit cheekily leaning forward, “So long as it isn’t tongue kissing that is.”

Martin leaned forward until their breaths mingled at their lips where all but touching.

“May I kiss you then?” He asked, breathless.

Jon could only nod and they both leaned forward the last inch.

Time must have stopped for a bit as they kissed, gentle and full of a thousand promises.

They both moved away from the kiss gently, they were both tearing up a little, Martin felt so much so strongly and he pulled away from Jon completely.

“Just need a moment.” he said and smiled at Jon's reassuringly if a bit shaky.

“Take all the time you need,” Jon said and then softer, “Anything you need.”

And Martin was sure he had never loved anyone more.

On the fourth day of their third week in Scotland Jon had gone to run some errands in town and had come back with an incredibly nervous air about him they were sitting across from Martin at the table twirling their hair and checking his pocket every once in a while.

It was making Martin incredibly antsy and by the third time Jon had looked like he wanted to say something only to then go back to the crossword he was definitely making no progress on Martin had had enough.

“Sol mio,” Martin said, very much enjoying Jon’s wide eyed flustered he always got when Martin called him pet names. “Will you please tell me what is wrong.”

Jon looked at him sheepishly.

“There is not something wrong, per se.”

Martin gave him a look.

Jon sighed and stood up, grabbing a small box from his pocket.

“Nothing is wrong I just… bought something for you beloved.”

Martin very nearly had a heart attack when Jon opened the box and there was a ring inside. Upon closer inspection it was a beautiful black ring and Martin understood.

There was silence as Martin could do no more but stare at the ring and then at Jon.

“I see how a ring might come over as a gift now,” Jon rambled nervously, “it is not like that- I mean that is something we will have to talk about. I was afraid it would be too much? It is engraved too and I just hope I didn’t-”

Martin cut him off: “Jon let me see it properly.”

Jon handed him the ring.

Martin lifted the ring out of the box and saw the engraving on it.

நான் உன்னைக் காதலிக்கிறேன். I love you. Te amo.

Martin promptly sat down again, it was so sappy, just a tad ridiculous and stupidly cute. It hurt in his chest and tears stung in his eyes.

“How did you know I wanted one?” he asked, because he didn't know what else to say.

Jon rubbed the back of his neck self consciously and said:

“You were talking a few days ago, about how you would like something like a- like a token, to remind you and I thought an ace ring might be nice.”

They lifted their right hand.

“We match now.”

Martin silently moved to put the ring on, it fit perfectly. He ran his fingers over the tiny groves of the words on it.

An anchor.

A small reminder that he belonged, here in the world, here with Jon.

Martin stood up and gently enveloped Jon in a hug.

“Thank you,” he murmured into Jons hair as he placed a small kiss on top of their crown. “It’s perfect.”

#jonmartin #ace!jon #ace!martin #the magnus archives #tma #magpod #trans!martin #trans!jon #the whole thing is incredibly self indulgent #magnus archives fic #ao3 link will be in rb ig #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #my writing

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one-piece-dumpster-fire · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! Please Headcanon : Kid, X Drake, Law and Katakuri with their girlfriends who have a complex with their small boobs (soft and NSFW) ;) :*

Hey love :D Aww that’s a cool idea xD! But since it would exceed my characterlimit to do both seperate sfw and dirty headcanon for this, I kind of merged it together into one headcanon hehe xD Hope that’s okay^^

here goes a warning for mild dirt ahead~!

Having a girlfriend with a complex about her small boobs headcanon

Eustass Kid

you’re not the only one who’s got a‘little’ problem with your boobs here…

jk jk, but when you first took off yourshirt infront of him, Kid was half-expecting to be greeted by some big ol'bazongas hecould bury his face inbetween… so seeing them for the first time, the pirate couldn’t help but blurt out something like „that’s it?“ god can he be an insensitive prick sometimes

it’s not the end of the world though-boobs are boobs, and whether yours are small or huge, he’ll definitely be ableto make the most use out of it! As a wise man once said, ‘the smaller the marshmallows, the more sugar you can find inside’- a wisdom Kid lives by from now on

sure, having some soft, big pillows tosqueeze and hold onto would be nice too, but your bust being a bitsmaller is actually somewhat special! Given how every woman on theGrandline is equipped with a deadly pair of water balloons upfront, thiscould actually be something different and exciting!

besides, he can even cup a whole boob of yours in his single hand! I repeat, your whole boob fits in his hand- it’s almost like they were made for it!

about your complex though… he’sreally not very helpful when it comes to supporting you and getting rid of yourinsecurities

at first Kid might even suggest for youto buy a push-up bra or get something to put inside of it (if that makes youfeel any better), only to later realize that his insensitive comments might onlyfurther push your negative perception of your chest

aaargh, woman and their sensitive body images! If nothing else works, then he’ll just be blunt and tellyou that he enjoys your little pillows, regardless of their size- andyou should too!

now, as for being naughty… there are justso many ways for the pirate to tease you, it’s like a whole new world of possibilities! Kid isused to big-busted women, so he actually has somewhat of a challengehere and needs to thoroughly explore all of his options to get max satisfaction! Oh lord, there will be so much poking and groping and slapping and squishing and rubbing….

and since they are so smol he simply loves to roughly grope them and squeeze themagainst each other, basically creating a little crack he can bury his nose in hey hey, it’s almost like with big boobs!

X Drake

this almost feels like a blessing from above, not gonna lie

look, he appreciates big boobs just as much as the next guy, but they just make the Dino so damnnervous. Like, where should you even start touching them??? When isit too much? When too little? What if he accidentally breaks them orhurts you

your smaller breasts are just so…handy. Literally. Plus, he can easily touch them while also observing yourreaction- bigger hooters often tend to obscure his vision a bit, and so Drake can never really 100% tell how his partner feels unless he lifts his head and looks them in the face… and that can really tear one out of the moment. Especially when you’re looking for reassurance rather often, like he is

now it’s not that he would particularly mind if they were bigger, but you’re just perfect to him the wayyou are! And after all, everything got its pros and cons, right?

so… he wouldn’t really understand whyyou seem so unhappy with your breasts

Drake is definitely supportive and readyto do everything to make you feel comfortable in your own skin. If it might help, then the Dino would even accompany you whenever you need to go underwear shopping! But of course he’d almost passout when you try them on and show him the garments

at the end of day you could even beabsolutely flat and he wouldn’t mind- it’s not the size that mattersto him, but the reaction he gets from touching them

…. and ohhhh boy, does he love touching them! One day, with a super flustered expression oh his face, Drake might even admit that to you- perhaps himbeing honest about how much he appreciates your body could help boost yourconfidence a bit!

in bed he’s usually a bit of anall-rounder and wouldn’t necessarily dwell on a certain body part ofyours, but with the knowledge of your little ‘complex’ he usuallytakes some extra time to tend to your chest and show you just howmuch he adores it

Drake is always trying to be very soft with your breasts. There are lots of sweet kisses and gentle sucking, sometimes he even sniffs them- it’s just so comforting to have your boobs close to his face, and more than once will the Dino need to hold himself back from just straight-up marking them!

Trafalgar Law

he’s a bit 50/50 on it- like Kid, Lawalso got a thing for rather big jingles, but your boobs being smallerin size is no real issue for him

I mean, at least you have boobs. And they’re still very pretty. What more could he ask for…?

any worries coming from you will simply beshrugged off at first. You got a wonderful body and not a single health-related problem concerning your chest, so ittakes quite a bit until Law actually catches on to the real issue and realizes just how much having small boobs bothers you

ahh yes, the surgeon can see what might be going on here- the common belief that‘a woman needs big breasts in order to be attractive’ strikes yet again

on one hand he can understand whyhaving smaller breasts, especially in a place like the boob-equippedGrandline, could make you feel less confident, but have you everconsidered this- he doesn’t care

Law has always been more about brainsrather than body, and in his opinion you actually got both. Why would he careabout your boobs not being as bloated and jiggly as most women’s are…?Infact, this actually sets you aside from the crowd!

they’re also a great example of your bodybeing 100% healthy and well proportioned, something not everyone can say for themselves on these seas. But the point Law is trying to make here is- don’t. worry. about. your. breasts.

…however if that doesn’t help and you continue to be sad because of it, then the surgeon would eventually offer you surgery. Not thathe’d want that to happen, but it’s your decision to make and Law wants you tofeel confident with yourself

in bed though, he’s… perhaps a bit roughwith them. Unlike Drake who got all soft once he found out about yourinsecurities, Law will actually use this knowledge to further tease and edgeyou on!

he’s obviously testing your boundaries and wants to push you to the point where you’ll just go ‘fuck it’ and enjoy your breasts for what they are- little pillows stored with lots of energy and desire

Katakuri

the immediate need to protect his small boobed gfis strong in this one

first time you show him, he almost bursts withadoration. Is it wrong of him to think that you are just absolutelypretty and adorable…? Every single inch of your body is perfect for him, both inshape as well as size

okay, but then again- Katakuri is basically a giant compared to you, so him finding you adorable is kind of mandatory

especially because he adores you so much, Katakuri will immediately shut down any negativity regardingyour boob size before you can even open your mouth. You and yourboobs are wonderful the way they are, so don’t even think about complaining about them around him!

however, he isn’t going to just shut you down when you’re feeling really doubtful of yourself. Perhaps getting another opinion on this matter might be helpful- we all know that most of his sisters were also blessed with large bazookas, but they all got some insecurities of their own to share as well

and hereby Charlotte Katakuri indirectly founded the Tottland self-help group therapy- a rare event where people can gather to help each other with their problems and insecurities. And he did this all to help you get over your own worries

in his eyes, small boobs are nothing to be ashamedof- look, he’s got his imperfections too, but you are by far better thanthis! So don’t you ever hide them, especially from him

he’s pretty blunt about how much heloves their soft feeling and how he can basically devour them wholeand at the same time with his mouth- oh Katakuri just loves to see you blush as aresult of his dirty words, and hopefully this will distract you or make you feel a bit better!

and if you think that he isn’t going to try out some good old fashioned foodplay on them, then you got another thing coming- as long as you’re okay with it, he’d love to use your chest and abdomen as serving tray for his donuts. In fact, he might even directly eat the sugary treats off of your skin if you’re comfortable with it- not only could that help with you overcoming your worries, but it also shows how okay he is with openly using his biggest imperfection- his deformed mouth- while being intimate with you!

not to mention aaaaaall the body worship. Katakuri ain’t gonna stop being an absolute sweetheart until you’re 100% comfortable and proud with your body, just how he likes it. After all, that’s certainly when you’re at your very hottest!

#one piece #Eustass Captain Kid #x drake #trafalgar d water law #Charlotte Katakuri #mild dirt #one piece headcanon #op headcanon #one piece imagine

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 years ago

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“Second Draft” - Rewrite the Story, Rework a Character!

I’ve been exploring the idea of the Actor and how best to write him lately. While doing so, I grew curious about the possibility of him slightly altering Damien during the time the ‘DAMIEN’ animation is set. So this is considering the idea that Mark still exists, but the Actor is the mask he wears and the role he plays.

Word Count: 1,522

This world - this place where neither death nor time exist - is a WONDERFUL setting for one as creative as the Actor! It was like the days in theatre, where the stage was empty yet filled with possibility. It was a blank canvas where any colours could be thrown on to help create something unique. It was the humming of a melody that could become a prelude to a great symphony. Here, anything could happen, if he so wished.

Somewhere in this timeless place hid the twins. Neither were attached to their own bodies, so they drifted deeper than most would. It must be through sheer carelessness, or even recklessness! The only one who could save them from the peril was Actor himself… But Celine had worked to make it impossible to properly locate them. He wanted to find Damien, but he only ever found Celine brandishing a weapon. However, she was only in a certain area that was hidden by an impassable wall. Unfortunately for her, it only brought about a curious Actor to see what lay in the area he now couldn’t reach.

In the time this game of ‘cat and mouse’ took place, Actor made an interesting discovery about the younger twin. Unlike Celine, Damien was simply chucked out of his body when it was possessed - his soul was still alive. Actor still had an opportunity to tweak Damien’s ‘character’, which he needed to. Damien couldn’t stay here, he needed to get back into the world! Not only that, he had to experience change to ensure further survival. Damien would perish in the world beyond the ‘bubble’. As he was, Damien was unsuitable to survive in the world Actor wanted for him. As it was, it was very good, but it was akin to a first draft that needed editing. It was unsuitable for the tale Actor had in mind. If he played his cards right, he could make the perfect plan to set in motion the new changes in such a subtle way that none would notice. What better way to help set the scene?

Deep within the abyss, there lay an empty pocket, like a chamber. The "walls" slowly expand and contract to bring a sense of life to the timeless place. When Mark first stumbled upon the room, it terrified him. Now, it calmed Actor. How could it not? That slow pulsing matched the rhythm of deep breaths that one would take to try and shake off the nerves. Perhaps the ones that resided in this place wanted Actor to succeed and granted access to a space that was ideal for the creative process! Actor closed his eyes and with a breath, waved his hands.

The walls trembled and pulled back to double the space available. Before him manifested a ghostly figure of the Mayor, brought forward by the memories within the body he now owned. Actor's eyes snapped open to the sight with delight. What a great starting point! It was a perfect replica, but this was not the final result. Oh no! This was merely the start, the blueprint! He snapped his fingers, and a projection of a list shuddered into existence on a screen. It was an information sheet, like when Mark used to work on characters for projects he worked on in better days. Basic facts about the Mayor appeared, but were pushed upward as Actor flicked his wrist. This wasn't what he wanted. Repeating the action manifested the Mayor's personality, neatly summarised and categorised into positive and negative traits:

Positives - Charming, Polite, Trusting, Honest, Loyal

Negatives - Short-Tempered, Proud, Stubborn

"Such a neat, balanced character sheet. But we can't mess too much with your characterisation," Actor murmured as he began to pace around the apparition. "No, no… We cannot afford to lose your charm. I want the audience to love you, flaws and all. I want them to feel conflicted on their opinion of you… If you are too heartless, you become flat and little more than a parody of yourself, and I care about you too much for that." He paused as he eyed the list again, only to shake his head and resume pacing. "You may be doomed to fail against the heroes, but the audience should want to feel some sympathy or care toward you - or love to hate you, whichever works. But right now… Oh Damien, you are just too -" Standing in front of the figure, Actor rested his weight on one leg. His left hand propped the other arm, and his right hand clicked fingers together as words escaped him. "- How is that fans refer to someone like you… 'Soft'? 'Babey'? 'Cinnamon roll'? That isn't a good starting point for any villain, and you deserve better than to merely be a tragic character."

That comment made him pause and step back. That did describe Damien rather well, didn't it? Mark had always thought Damien a sensitive soul, one who didn't deserve the pain that the world was keen to throw at him. Why condemn him to an eternity of suffering behind that wall and whatever was going on there? An outsider who had no trained abilities or experience in a place like this would be broken and shattered before they could return to the world beyond the void. Mark knew Damien well enough to know that if Damien was able to escape, he wouldn't mentally survive the transition back with his "still-living soul". Plus, it was likely Celine that was the only reason Damien still "survived" to this point (if he could assume that was why she kept hunting him). But Damien wouldn't survive like that forever. The moment Celine's powers ran out, they would both be doomed. Damien would be caught under the control of the creatures that lurked unseen or would be driven mad, while Celine… well, that wasn't something Mark wanted to dwell on.

It might not be the 'right' thing to do, but Mark didn't have any better ideas. They had long crossed the point of solving things amicably (body theft might have burned that bridge rather spectacularly). If Damien had to adapt by playing a role that didn't belong to him… so be it.

He took a slow breath to gather his thoughts and regain his focus. Then, Actor stepped forward.

"I'm afraid your personality needs to be tweaked a fraction. Not too much to lose your sense of self, but enough to allow hunting me be a sensible option." After all, what good was a villain that had no drive? Damien was always a gentle soul. He would avoid causing hurt or bother to another. That needed to change. So then he needed to be strong-willed and focused, but to the point where it would be a detriment. He pulled a pencil out of his pocket and began scribbling on the screen floating before him until the list now read thusly:

Positives - Charming, Polite, Trusting, Honest, Loyal

Negatives - Short-Tempered, Proud, Stubborn, Obsessive

If Damien still believed there was a chance of good in his old friend, he might lose that drive to escape. Actor needed to be sure that Damien wouldn't fall so easily and blindly trust.

His hand reached out again to make another addition, only to freeze. Mark forced himself to hold back, to the point of once again breaking character. These were merely the bare bones of Damien's personality, but he couldn't remove another positive trait. Despite how he tried to convince himself otherwise, this felt… wrong. If it were anyone else he wouldn't feel this bubbling guilt. It wasn't right to alter Damien like this. But if he wanted Damien to escape and survive as he was, then he couldn't make another change. If he wanted Damien to live, then Mark would allow himself to become live bait that Damien could hunt. Love might be a force stronger than human nature, but so was hate. That could be his driving force.

He waved his hand and let the list disappear. The illusion of Damien shivered and faded away as the minor changes passed to the slumbering mayor. It was only a temporary solution, really. The beauty about people was that they weren't characters on a page. Their personality wasn't confined to some choice words in neat lists. People were far more complicated and nuanced than that. He hadn't erased the word "trusting", which meant it could be rebuilt over time.

"You can do it," Mark continued his thoughts aloud, "I know you can. Time and time again you defied the odds and emerged victorious. Do it this one last time, old chap. And anyway, you won't be alone. I'm sure you could find our dear Will if you are stuck, but the Attorney will be there waiting for you. They can help you through the changes and bring that light back into the world."

It all seemed so simple and perfect, as Mark once again put back on his mask and left the chamber with a merry hum. It would be perfect once Damien was reunited with his dear Attorney!

A shame he was unaware of their fate...

#writersofmark #who killed markiplier #actor Mark #mark doom #Shattered Heart (Mark Doom)#Broken Reflection (Actor)#(it probably isn't perfect but shhh I'm trying :P )#(read-more is for tidiness! :D )#(I'm trying to challenge myself a little when writing the Actor. I try to change the narration style so it might read a little funny #as I try to have it like he himself is telling the story; sorta)

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jornthur · 5 years ago

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“Unshaken” Chapter 10

Originally posted: June 8, 2020

Arthur Morgan x Reader, Slow-Burn Romance

Summary: You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

•••••

The first mile was peaceful, and Arthur looked around as the wagon strolled down a narrow dirt path through the thick forest. The trees were tall, the hilly landscape like the huge waves of the ocean. His heart almost skipped a beat when he recalled those monstrous walls of water when he was on board that ship. Never again was he ever going on another damn boat as long as he lived.

He took in a deep breath, the smell and feel of the fresh forest air overcoming and relaxing his senses. It felt so good to be out in the wild again, he had to admit. He’d actually found himself missing the familiar scent of wilderness, reminding him of all those nights when he’d been out on his own, hunting, camping, whatever the hell he felt like doing.

Arthur almost laughed to himself then.

He was still here … still alive … still breathing … And the rest of the world believed he was dead, including his old friends — or what was left of them. Anger began to simmer deep within his gut at the thought of Dutch, Micah’s betrayal, what they’d done to him and John, the rest of the gang. He squeezed his eyes shut, lifting his hand to tug at the brim of his new hat, trying to find comfort in the new gift. All he could tell himself was that Marston was safe. The boy was an idiot, sure, but when it came to his family and their safety, Arthur knew nothing would stand in John’s way.

A gentle gust of wind hit him, blowing back his hair and cooling what little heat had begun to grow in his cheeks from the anger he felt. Arthur let out a sigh, allowing the cool feeling to seep into his skin. Looking around, he took in the surrounding views. He knew he was somewhere far north of Roanoke Ridge, but he’d never been up this far before Y/N and Austin had taken him in.

The place was beautiful, he thought, taking in the towering trees around them. He’d learned a few interesting terms from Y/N’s herbalist books. He’d been drawn to those bookshelves of hers many times while he’d been cooped up in that cabin, if only to avoid dying from boredom rather than Tuberculosis. Turned out he’d ended up drawn to the knowledge.

There were so many kinds of trees he could now identify— Spruce, Cedars, Pines, Oaks, and very many Sequoia trees. These trees were extremely tall, forming a thick canopy of leaves far overhead, the sunshine piercing through them in rays, hitting the ground with glowing warm light.

The air smelled so fresh as well, and Arthur took in another deep breath, relishing the real cool feeling in his lungs and the fresh and unique smells around him. There was so much plant life growing up here, all kinds of colorful flowers and foliage dotting the thick green grass everywhere. Damn, this area was gorgeous.

Arthur reached up again and stroked the feather on his hat gently, the bristles soft as, well, a feather. He gripped the crown and took the hat off, lowering it to his lap so he could examine it further. The black leather was worn, but genuine, and he could tell it was made from real cowhide, examining the hundreds of skin pores scattered all over. He ran a finger over the brown braided leather tied around the crown of the hat, similar to how his father’s hat had the looped rope. The texture was rough, but also soft, little furs sticking up here and there from years of use.

Then Arthur looked at the feather, and he squinted, his brows drawing down tight as he stroked the thing with the tip of his finger. It was that of a great-horned owl, a primary feather from the wing, the black and gold colored stripes giving away its identity. He wondered, then … why an owl feather? Maybe it was just something her grandfather hadn’t thought much about, but sometimes a certain kind of bird feather in a cowboy’s hat had a meaning behind it.

Thinking back, he recalled Y/N telling him that her grandfather hadn’t lived ‘the best life.’ That he’d been some kind of wanderer. Arthur found himself being curious as to what exactly she had meant. A wanderer?

What kind of life had the old man lived that had her hesitating to tell him the whole story? And what of the feather?

A cough escaped him, and he lifted a had to cover his mouth, clearing his throat then.

Austin looked over at him with curious eyes, “You alright, cowpoke?”

Arthur couldn’t help but give a small smile as he turned his head to face the young man, narrowing his eyes at him, “I’m just fine, little feller, how ’bout yourself?”

The brother narrowed his eyes in return, showing that he was clearly offended by the term Arthur had used on him, “I ain’t ‘little.’”

Arthur laughed, “Why, sure you is, little feller. As long as you call me a cowpoke, I’ll keep callin’ you little. Sound fair?”

Austin grunted, “Not really.” He reached up to scratch at his cheek, then added, “But you kinda do strike me as a cowpoke.”

“Well, you strike me as little, boah,” Arthur said with a grin, his voice a low rough tone as he patted his chest with an open palm, “And it’ll be much worse if you ain’t careful, son.”

Austin grunted, letting out a huff as if he wasn’t amused with Arthur’s teasing in the least.

Several more moments of silence passed, and Arthur gently placed the hat back on his head.

“So she decided to give you our grandfather’s hat, huh?” Austin asked, his voice sounding a bit sour as he cracked the reins again.

Arthur looked over at him, noting the expression the boy had on his face. He didn’t look angry, exactly, but from his eyes Arthur could tell there was some kind of story. “What do you mean?” He asked.

Austin let out a long sigh, “Well, I know she told you it belonged to our grandfather, and he weren’t the best man when he was alive. I never wanted to touch the damn thing after he died.” He lifted his eyes to meet Arthur’s, “Kinda feels weird that you’re wearin’ it, s’all.”

Arthur took that moment as a chance to find out what he could, maybe the brother could give him some of the information he’d been wondering about. “Who was he?”

Austin let out a sarcastic laugh, “I don’t think that’s for me to say. If she didn’t tell you, I don’t think I should be the one to do so.”

Arthur’s natural instinct would’ve been to reach out and choke the bastard to get the information he wanted. It was a feeling he was used to whenever assholes gave him a hard time, but he could respect the brother for looking after his sister.

Another curious thought occurred to him then, and he couldn’t help but ask, “What were y’all doin’ before you found me up on that mountain?”

He could see Austin freeze up at the question, and the young man turned his gaze over to look at him, “You mean that night? We were travelin’ back from Emerald Ranch. Y/N needed to do a trade for some of the supplies we needed for the horses. We have a few contacts scattered here and there for supplies we need that we can’t get up here, and sometimes we need to travel a ways to get them.

“We were supposed to arrive home sometime in the late evening, but we ran into this strange man on the road. He looked odd, short gray dreads, green bandana around his head, weird old clothing. Said his name was William.”

Arthur stilled at that.

“But anyhow,” Austin continued, not noticing that Arthur had suddenly froze, “he was camping out on the side of the road near Moonstone Pond, and he had all these strange plants he seemed to be workin’ with. Of course, it grabbed Y/N’s attention and he invited us over, so she and I stopped to chat with him for a while.” Austin chuckled as he recalled the memory, “What was supposed to be a small chat ended up bein’ a two-hour conversation. I didn’t really listen to what they were sayin’ since I was wrapped up in a book I’ve been readin’. Eventually I had to pull her away since it was gettin’ late.

“When we were just about to leave, she mentioned a special plant that grew over by O’Creagh’s Run, must’ve been somethin’ they were talkin’ about earlier. I was about to say no, but she gave me this look. She has this thing that she does with her eyes, drives me crazy ’cuz I can’t turn her down when she does it.

“So we headed over there, and I stopped the wagon by the small lake so she could explore the area. I just hung out under a tree with my book to pass the time … That’s when we heard the sounds.”

Arthur lifted his head and narrowed his eyes, “Sounds?”

“Gunshots, shoutin’ — We was goin’ to leave the area as quickly as possible, but — well, Y/N could hear the struggles, fighting, a man in pain, and she couldn’t stop herself.” Austin paused, as if he were deep in thought, “We saw someone runnin’ away from the mountain before they disappeared into the trees. I didn’t really get a good look at the man, but it looked like he had dirty, long blonde hair … someone you knew?”

The fury that suddenly welled in Arthur’s chest didn’t surprise him in the least damn bit.

Micah.

That damned rat.

The rat that weaseled his way in and ultimately destroyed the Van Der Linde gang in such a short amount of time.

Twenty goddamned years of loyalty and service to Dutch, and the old fool had decided to listen and believe someone who’d just joined the gang not half a year ago, a man who’d only been out for himself in the end … Just like Dutch …

“Arthur?”

Austin’s voice interrupted Arthur’s thoughts and snapped him back to reality. “Yeah, sorry ’bout that, kid. Just thinkin’.”

Austin seemed to have picked up on Arthur’s mood, no doubt from the gravel Arthur felt in his throat from the emotion that had just been about to take him over. He couldn’t dwell on such things, not right now. What good did it do?

At that moment another thought occurred to him, “You didn’t want Y/N takin’ me in, did you?” He stated it as fact since he knew the answer, but he found himself wanting to hear what Austin’s response would be.

The boy chuckled darkly, looking straight ahead at the narrow dirt trail. “Honestly, when we heard the gunshots, I thought it was going to be a trap, an ambush of some kind. But Y/N … When we reached that mountain and found you laying on that rock, it was like she didn’t care about anythin’ else in the world but you.” He cleared his throat, “The whole time I was worried that she was going to get herself killed, being so close to a stranger. I feared that something terrible would happen, like you would have a knife hidden on you, or a friend of yours would come leaping out of a hiding spot and shoot her dead.” Austin lowered his head, looking down at his lap as if lost in thought, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I would’ve done had that been the case. Y/N is my whole world right now, and she matters to me more than anythin’ else in my pathetic life.”

Arthur’s eyes softened, almost finding himself sympathizing with the poor boy, but he continued to listen.

“When she insisted on taking you to our cabin, I nearly lost it. Watching her take you in and nurse you back to health every day, I couldn’t help but fear for the worst. I still thought you had something evil planned. Some monsters would go to any length to take advantage and trick people like us to get what they want, even if it’s hurtin’ one of their own.”

The boy was smart, Arthur admitted to himself. There were definitely men like that out there, and he should damn well know.

“But when she mentioned you had Tuberculosis, and I began seeing the signs from you, how truly sick you were — I guess … Well, I guess I noticed how stupid I was bein’ at that point — but I was too proud to admit it.

“After you showed your skills with the gun, I realized you could’ve killed us both whenever you wanted long before that point. The thought was scary, of course, but finally seeing that all you needed was a gun or your bare hands to take us both out and you never did? Well, I guess you can say my stupidity wore off a lil’ bit at that point.”

Arthur grinned, amused with Austin’s confession at how much of an idiot he had been for all the trouble he’d given him.

But could he fully blame Austin? The boy was just looking after his sister, and Arthur couldn’t do nothing but respect him for it. “Don’t hurt yourself too much over it, boah. You’re just lookin’ after her, I understand. In fact,” he leaned back and rolled his shoulders, stretching out the tension in his back, “I kinda like that.”

Austin acknowledged his statement with a small nod and a smile. “I love her, I really do. She’s family, and the most wonderful person I know.” He narrowed his eyes at Arthur and teased, “If you ever hurt her, though, I’ll make sure to shoot you square in the chest, got it?”

Arthur threw back his head and laughed at the threat, “If you say so. But don’t you worry — I ain’t got plans for that.” The fact that the young man had the courage to actually threaten him was truly entertaining, and Arthur couldn’t help but note how much smaller the man actually was compared to him. Arthur had a good six inches on him in height, and a whole lot more muscle, despite the fact that he was still sick. The boy worked hard, but they clearly didn’t eat enough for him to gain a whole lot of meat on his bones. He was about as contrasted as he could be compared to Arthur.

He was grateful Austin had finally swallowed his pride down enough in order to ask him how to hunt. They truly did need it, and he would do his best to teach them. It was the least he could do for him and his sister after everything they’d done for him.

The next several moments were quiet, minus the sound of Lily’s hooves hitting the ground and the tittering of birds high up in the trees.

“So what’s it like livin’ up here?” Arthur asked. “It don’t seem too bad.”

“It ain’t,” Austin replied with a shrug, “It was tough for the first few months, but we managed. Built ourselves a camp, then eventually built ourselves a cabin — then the stables for the horses and other animals.” He cleared his throat, “Of course it’s been hard, what with my lack of huntin’ skills, but Y/N absolutely loves it. She enjoys bein’ surrounded by all the wildlife and plants.”

Arthur found himself suddenly more invested, wanting to know more about Y/N and her passions. “And her garden?”

“She’s been in love with flowers since she was a tiny thing. When we came up here, she brought a few supplies that belonged to our mother, and she got to work on that garden right away.” He let out a small laugh, “What started as a small batch of flowers and herbs turned into a small estate of all kinds of plants. She’s been finding different herbs all over the place and replanting them here for the past three years. Every month it gets larger and larger. I’ll admit, it looks pretty damn beautiful.”

Arthur grinned. “That is does,” he agreed with a nod. It did indeed, Y/N’s garden was a pretty good size, and the colorful shrubbery was a marvel to look at, truthfully. He’d been able to see it out through one of the windows as he’d been recovering on that couch all that time …

“So how are you feeling, Arthur?” Austin asked, breaking the silence.

Arthur turned his head to look at him, “What?”

Austin lifted a hand to point at his chest, “Your TB, you were coughing a bit earlier, just checking to see how you’re feelin’ now?”

Arthur rubbed his own palm over his chest, “I’m just fine, you’re sister’s got some healin’ magic goin’ on with those herbs of hers.”

The boy’s laugh was loud and sharp, “Y/N has a talent with nature, that’s for damn sure. I swear she may be Mother Nature herself.”

The two men’s laughter echoed through the trees as they travelled further down the trail. A squirrel skittered across the ground, and Arthur watched it disappear into the thick foliage on the other side.

More time passed, until finally they reached a small clearing. Arthur lifted his finger to point over to a small grassy area. “That’s a good spot to start.”

Austin pulled back the reins until Lily stopped, bringing the wagon to a halt. He looked over to where he was pointing and lifted a brow, “Really? Doesn’t seem like the kind of spot wildlife would be, it’s too open.”

Arthur gave him a bewildered look. “Wildlife don’t always need to be in a particular spot in order for you to track ’em, Austin.” He said, his drawl annoyed, letting the young man know through his tone that what Austin had stated was completely idiotic. He got up and climbed down out of the wagon, walking towards the small patch, “This area’s got plenty of plant-life, tellin’ you it’s a good spot to start pickin’ up trails.” He narrowed his eyes as he placed his hands on his belt, turning his head as he took in the surrounding forest. “It’s perfect for grazin’, plenty of cover ’round here if they need it.”

Austin crawled out of the wagon, grabbing his carbine repeater. It was smart — even though they didn’t need it for killing today, it was better to be safe than get caught off-guard by any wild predators. He walked over to Arthur, and Arthur began walking slowly across the grass, looking down to examine the dirt. “Now whatchu wanna do is look for any signs, footprints, fur, dung, broken branches and whatnot.” He took several steps forward, crouching low so he could see better.

Austin did the same, crouching to help look around for anything they could pick up. “So look for those things, got it.” He said, crawling low to the ground.

“You also wanna be quiet as possible, don’t wanna draw any attention towards yourself or you’ll scare off anythin’ nearby. Same thing can be said about your gun.” Arthur looked over his shoulder at him, “You ever use a bow before, boah?”

Austin shook his head, “Only a couple times when I was young. We got one up by the cabin stored in the shed. Another thing that belonged to our grandfather, but I never touched the damned thing.”

Arthur huffed, amused at the other man’s stubborn nature. “It’s a useful weapon, kid, it can be used to make quiet kills so you don’t frighten off any wildlife in the near vicinity.”

The young man just let out a grunt, “I ain’t touchin’ that thing.”

Arthur just shrugged at the boy’s pride, “Up to you, but I highly suggest you start learnin’ how to use it.”

Over the next several minutes, they examined the grounds, both of them crawling quietly through the tall grass.

“Arthur?”

Austin’s whispered voice reached Arthur’s ear, and he turned to see him waving his arm, gesturing for him to come over. He made his way over, and once he was beside Austin the kid pointed at a few small hoof prints in the soil. He smiled, “Good job there, feller, now see if you can follow them.”

The boy nodded and did just that. Over the next half hour, Arthur continued to help him by pointing out other signs, such as crushed grass, a couple broken branches, and bits of fur here and there. The last sign was several strange marks on one of the trees twenty yards away. ‘Tree rubs,’ of course.

“This way,” Arthur whispered, leading them quietly through a few tall bushes.

Finally they reached a new wide-open clearing. This one had a small pond directly in the center, and in the distance, Arthur spotted the white-tailed buck grazing on some of the lush green grass at its feet.

For a moment, Arthur froze, recalling all the dreams he’d been having. The buck looked so similar to the one in his dreams; the size, the coat, the large antlers it displayed. Every single detail was precise.

Austin sat beside him, and Arthur felt rather than heard the boy lifting his gun.

At that moment, a doe and two young fawns appeared from behind one of the large boulders, the three of them approaching the large buck.

Arthur grabbed the barrel of the gun before Austin could aim the thing.

He watched as the doe came over to the buck with the two young close behind her, and the creatures nuzzled each other lovingly.

It was a sight that Arthur found himself lost in, and he couldn’t help but think of his own family, what was, what could have been, what might have been … If he’d only chosen a different life for himself …

What the hell was wrong with him?

“What the hell are you doin’, Arthur?”

Austin’s voice echoed his thoughts, snapping him back out from his mind. Arthur cleared his throat, “Let’s leave ’em be, kid.” He was going to leave it at that, but then he added “We promised Y/N, remember? Just trackin’.”

Austin gave him a strange look, but after a couple of moments he seemed to decide not to argue with him. “So what now?”

Arthur gazed at the family of deer a few seconds longer, then he flicked his gaze over to Austin, “I don’t know. I reckon we should head on back,” he turned to face the younger man, “You suppose your ready to travel back?”

Again with that strange look, what the hell was Austin seeing? Had Arthur suddenly grown his own pair of antlers? What was running through that boy’s mind?

Finally, he answered, “I guess so, I think I learned plenty today.” They both stood quietly and started heading back towards the wagon. Austin tucked the gun strap over his shoulder, reaching up to scratch at his cheek again. “I’ll admit that was actually quite fun. Thanks, Arthur. You’re a pretty great tracker, in all honesty.”

The compliment felt strange, Arthur thought, especially coming from Austin of all people, but he supposed he would take it. The boy was grateful, having learned something that would be incredibly useful for him and his sister when it came to their survival. “It ain’t no cake walk after this, boah. We still got a long way to go, trackin’ requires a lot of patience — an eagle’s eye.”

Austin nodded, giving him a small smile, “I suppose that makes sense. A lot of patience — kinda like fishin’?”

Arthur let out a genuine laugh at that, “I guess you’re right.”

2 Weeks Later …

Birds tittered high up in the trees, singing there own unique songs as the sun’s rays bore down on your back. The weather was absolutely gorgeous today, you thought to yourself as you knelt in your garden. You were in a cheery mood, humming softly as you pruned several of the herbs and flowers. You looked over your shoulder to see that Arthur was still relaxing on the porch swing, working on something in his journal. Writing or drawing? You had no clue, but you were going to leave him to his privacy.

The last two weeks had been quite the ride.

Arthur’s body was improving, his skin and muscles filling back out with each passing week. Even though his blood still showed signs of leftover Tuberculosis bacteria, it was clear his body was slowly but successfully fighting it off. You continued to give him treatments every other day, and he still took daily doses of honey per your instructions.

But despite the fact his body was getting better physically, you knew the herbs and medication still had a large impact on both his physical and mental state, so you still urged him to be cautious with his actions so that he didn’t overwork himself too much. It was crucial for him to stay in a calm state so his mind and body wouldn’t somehow become unstable.

He’d been sleeping a lot better. Every night you woke up to check on him, and Arthur was sleeping peacefully every time. Truly, it made you happy to see him so relaxed now. Ever since you’d sung that lullaby for him so many nights ago, that nightmare of his hadn’t seemed to come back. Though you still wondered who this John was, no matter how much it bothered you, you didn’t want to risk bringing anymore pain to Arthur.

For the past several days Arthur had been on his feet helping out around the cabin, whether it was doing chores or hunting with Austin, he managed to keep himself busy throughout the day. He was regaining the muscle and healthy tone he’d no doubt once had before, his face, eyes, and cheeks becoming full once more, and he was beginning to gain a tan from being out in the sun so much now.

Ever since you had given it to him, not once had Arthur ever taken off his new hat. Unless he was asleep or bathing, the thing rarely ever left his head.

It really did look good on him.

You had to admit, the man was absolutely stunning. Whenever he worked or did any kind of physical labor, you couldn’t help but watch those muscles in his body sometimes, how they moved and flexed beneath his skin, noting the healthy shine of sweat on his face, his neck, his forearms, and God help you, but sometimes he went shirtless when he worked, and it was all you could do not to throw yourself at the man. Push him to the ground and take him there and then —

What on earth was wrong with you? You shook your head hard, trying to perish those dirty thoughts from your mind. You weren’t exactly a plucked flower, but you’d read enough romance novels to give yourself plenty of naughty imagination.

Letting out a sigh, you plucked another dead leaf. There were so many scars across his body, old and new, but one stuck out to you the most. You recalled the scar you’d seen on Arthur’s chest, just above his left pectoral. There was no doubt it was a gunshot wound, the scar tissue around it having sunken down into the ruined flesh. It had long since healed, but the skin there was still pink, still soft, so it hadn’t been too long since it was inflicted on him. Again you wondered, what had happened to him? Who’d shot him? Why? The thoughts of possibility raced through your head, but going off his nature and what you’d seen of him thus far, you couldn’t come to a conclusion or even imagine why anyone would want to hurt that man.

Reaching out to crush another dead leaf, you smiled to yourself.

Arthur was strong … indeed he was a fighter.

You’d slowly been getting more and more comfortable with the thought of Arthur going out with Austin on his hunting trips, allowing them to start traveling out as far as they needed to go. Food was getting low, and finally you’d told the two boys that they could start hunting for game if they wished. You were proud of them both, for keeping to their word and staying safe.

You could tell your brother was improving with his skills thanks to Arthur, just last week they had managed to bring back a boar, and Arthur had told you that your brother had managed to track it down on his own, but Austin had admitted that he’d missed the first few shots, and Arthur had to kill the boar himself. The two had slowly been getting along, you’d noticed. It was more than refreshing to see.

Arthur had been helping Austin out with his aim several times over the last two weeks, the two of them practicing down by the stream in the late evenings.

You would stay back and watch to observe every chance you got. Honestly, you secretly wished it was you Arthur was teaching. To show you how to handle a gun, how to aim it, how to shoot. You had no idea how to use a weapon, so you picked up whatever you could from the two of them.

Your brother had recently started working with your grandfather’s bow, which confused you at first, since he’d always insisted on using his own carbine repeater. But then he’d explained to you that Arthur had told him it was a stealthy hunting tactic in order to capture more game.

Finally, you’d understood. Winter was slowly approaching, and it was more than important to learn how to use a much quieter weapon, especially when wildlife was so much more scarce during the cold parts of the year.

But — despite countless hours of practice — Austin hadn’t managed to get the hang of it, which worried you somewhat. Poor man, each time he tried aiming an arrow, the thing would wobble in his grip and the shot itself ended up with the arrow landing on the ground only a few feet away. No matter how Arthur instructed him, it seemed hopeless. At one point Austin had nearly thrown the thing into the stream, shouting something about how the bow wasn’t working properly. But Arthur had tested the thing for himself, and of course it worked flawlessly when he’d used it, the arrow finding its mark perfectly on one of the trees he’d been aiming for..

You’d found yourself strangely drawn to the weapon, you had to admit, though you weren’t quite sure why.

The bow itself was very beautiful. The long round limbs were made of dark maple wood, painted with some kind of glossy coating to protect the wood from wear and tear. The handle was wrapped in finely engraved black leather strips. There were several more curly engravings that ran along the weapon itself, and two small metal owl heads were placed at each end, the beaks holding the tight silver bowstring.

A part of you really wanted to try it out for yourself at some point.

The two men were planning on going on another hunting trip today, so it was going to be another quiet evening alone at the cabin for you. Strangely enough, even though you finally felt comfortable with them both being gone, you still weren’t quite used to it.

“How you doin’ there, Y/N?”

Arthur’s deep voice nearly had you jumping out of your skin. You leapt to your feet and turned around to face him. “Arthur!” Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat, “I didn’t hear you comin’ over.”

Grinning, he let out a soft chuckle, “Sorry bout that, honey, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re fine,” you said, waving off his apology.

He looked over your shoulder at the plants behind you, “So what’re you doin’?”

You turned to look down at the herbs you’d been working on, “Oh, well I was just pruning some of the plants.” At his questioning look you added, “Sometimes some of the leaves or stems die and I need to take them off, otherwise it could cause disease and the nutrients inside the plants are wasted trying to feed what’s no longer alive. When I get rid of the dead pieces it allows them to focus on keeping the rest of the plant strong and healthy.”

Arthur nodded, though you had the feeling he was only pretending to understand what you were talking about in order to make you feel better, going by the confused look and his face; his eyes narrowed, his mouth her in a small grimace. “So these herbs,” he cleared his throat, “them what you used to treat my TB with?”

His curiosity nearly had you taken aback. Honestly, you hadn’t really expected him to care enough to ask such a question. “Yes,” you said, your voice soft as you looked up at him, “I — I gather pieces from them from time to time and make several elixirs and medications from their properties.” You pointed to one of the plants, “That right there is Ginger, it’s used as an antioxidant, which can help take care of some of the negative effects caused by most bacterias.” You pointed to several others, giving the names and explaining what each of them did.

By the time you’d named a few more, you looked back at Arthur, and his brows were drawn down tight, his hand rubbing at the side of his temple as if he’d gotten a headache. You nearly laughed, “I’m sorry, Arthur, I tend to get carried away sometimes.”

Arthur lifted a brow as if he were actually amused, “I can tell you really enjoy your work,” he said, a wide grin stretching those lips of his, “It’s really amazin’. You should be proud, honey.”

You lowered your eyes, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks, “Thank you, Arthur. I honestly wouldn’t know as much as I did without my mother’s journal. She taught me so much.” You voice nearly hitched, and you blinked several times in order to keep any tears from welling.

Arthur reached out and laid a warm hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you, “I’m sure she’d be real proud of you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t speak, so you just nodded in answer.

Several moments passed, and Arthur spoke again, “Austin mentioned to me that you ran into a man named William?”

Your head jerked up that that, surprised. “He told you about that?”

Arthur nodded, “The night you saved me from that mountain, told me you met an herbalist the same day. Quite a character.”

Your brows lifted, “You know him?”

“Yeah. Met him a few times, a long while ago, before — Well, before all that shit went down.”

“Language, Arthur!”

You both laughed, and he tipped his hat to you.

He was truly adorable, you thought as you smiled at him. You lifted your gaze to look at the hat. “So, how you liking your new hat, Arthur?”

Your question had him letting out a laugh as he ran his fingers across the leather brim. “Keep’s the sun outta my eyes, like you said,” he teased. His eyes softened then, those beautiful sapphire-emeralds seeming to stare directly into your soul. “Thank you, Y/N.”

His grateful smile alone nearly overwhelmed you, and you quickly spoke your next words before you found your idiot-self getting lost in his gaze. “I’m glad you like it. My grandmother made that hat for our grandfather when they were both young. It was … meant to stand for something … but he didn’t do it justice with the life he led. It needs to be worn by a good man. Someone like you.”

Arthur’s expression seemed to change at that moment, and you couldn’t help but notice the softness in his eyes suddenly grow hard.

•••••

A good man.

It was all Arthur could do not to lose himself then and there. To take the hat off and give it back to her immediately, to leave and never turn back even once. Dammit, he didn’t deserve to be here. He didn’t deserve the treatments he’d been given, all the hospitality, the food and shelter that Y/N and Austin had so generously given.

He wasn’t a good man, and he damn well knew it.

It was the second time she’d called him that, and he nearly had to bite his tongue. But what could he possibly say to her at that moment? That he wasn’t the man she truly thought he was? That he’d been a liar? A thief? A ruthless killer?

An outlaw …

Arthur did his best not to squeeze his eyes shut from the sudden pain that welled in his chest. What the hell was wrong with him? There was nothing he could say or do to get past the ache in his heart from those words.

For once, he was extremely grateful to hear that sill boy’s scratchy voice calling out to both of them.

Y/N smiled, looking over Arthur’s shoulder, “Austin, how are ya?”

Austin came jogging over, his face and clothes covered in dust and dirt from whatever work he’d been doing earlier. He stopped a few feet in front of them, “I’m doin’ just fine, sis,” he panted, nodding at Y/N and meeting Arthur’s gaze. “Hey, Arthur, so you ready for our next huntin’ trip?” The young man asked him, a naive yet excited smile spread across his face. Over the past two weeks he’d learned to enjoy the trips, getting to learn something new from them each and every time.

Arthur shrugged with a small chuckle, “That depends, are you?” He nodded at the dirt covering the boy.

Austin scratched his cheek, “Yeah, sorry about that, sir.” He brushed off the dirt from his clothes, “It ain’t nothin’, Just noticed the two of you over here and I wanted to see if you were prepared to head out.”

Over the last several days, Austin had grown the strange and somewhat annoying habit of calling him sir, and Arthur didn’t really know why. Was he trying to show some sort of respect toward him? Maybe after acting like such a dumbass over the past month, he might’ve thought addressing Arthur in that way would gain him redemption? It felt odd, and Arthur really wished he wouldn’t call him that, but he’d go along with it if it made the younger man feel better.

“Well, Austin,” Arthur said, clearing his throat, “Ready when you are, then.”

“Dandy! I found an interestin’ new spot I think we should go check out a ways up north, the wagon’s already loaded up and ready to go.” Austin stated, pointing over toward the stables where the coach stood, with Lily already attached to it. The boy was quick, Arthur thought. He must’ve been busy getting everything prepared while he and Y/N had been working on their own tasks.

Arthur lowered his eyes. On one hand he didn’t want to leave Y/N so abruptly, but on the other he needed to escape the tension that had suddenly risen in his gut from her words. A good man … how could he follow up that line with any further conversation? It hadn’t angered him, but he was tired of hearing it — from anyone. He gave a single nod, “Let’s head out, then.”

As Austin nodded and headed off toward the wagon, Arthur looked back over his shoulder to meet Y/N’s gaze, “We’ll be back soon, honey.” He said softly, winking and giving her a small grin. He hoped she wasn’t disappointed, but he needed to get out of there. Clear his head.

But she didn’t look upset. No, instead her eyes absolutely glowed as she gave him another one of her beautiful smiles. “Y’all stay safe, Arthur.” After a slight moment of hesitation, she returned his wink, “You keep Austin safe now.”

Her teasing helped the tension ease away somewhat, and he let out a chuckle, “Don’t you worry, I’ll keep him in line.”

With that, he headed over to join Austin on the wagon.

•••••

“So where we headed?” Arthur asked as Austin steered Lily up the narrow trail through the tall sequoia trees. He and the younger man waved farewell to Y/N with her returning the gesture as they disappeared around a large rock.

Austin lowered his hand, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to Arthur, “There’s this new place I wanna check out, passed by it a few days ago while ridin’ Butch. Seemed interestin’.”

Arthur took the map and held it up, looking over a simple drawing of directions. They appeared to lead up north towards the larger mountains, further into the forest.

The kid pointed at a thick scribble he’d made on the paper, “That area right there, it’s right at the foot of the mountains between the trees. A small area of tall grass. I saw a family of elk there a couple times. If we can spot them again, I’m sure we can bring back enough food to last us for a month.”

What he said was true, one elk could last them quite a while. If they managed to kill one, they’d be set for weeks. Arthur folded the map back up and handed it back, “You seem to know what you’re doin’,” He said with a light laugh.

Austin shook his head, “Only a little, sir, it’s why I thought it best for you to come along on this one.”

Arthur shrugged, “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough, kid,” He reached out and patted the man’s shoulder. “I’ll look after ya.”

The younger man narrowed his eyes, “I don’t need no hand-holdin’, Arthur.”

Arthur’s heart suddenly skipped at those words, his smile dropping from his face as his eyes grew flat.

Those words … when had he last heard those exact words —

A memory flashed through his mind … Lenny …

He flinched, lowering his head as he reached up to tug down the brim of his hat, hiding his expression from the brother. The pain was almost unbearable … coming back to bit him in the ass once more.

The loss of his friends, of his family — it had only been a couple months, and the agony still felt just as sharp, as though it had only been yesterday when his life had completely fallen apart.

… What life, though?

Arthur nearly wanted to laugh at himself from the thought.

His family had meant everything to him, the bond they’d shared more real than anything else in the world.

But Arthur would be lying to himself if he’d thought what they had was any kind of real life. He’d spent the majority of his chasing a dream for a life he weren’t even sure about, along with the rest of the gang who’d followed over the years. He’d failed all of them. Hosea, Lenny, Kieran, Sean, Grimshaw, Mac, Davey, Jenny … they’d all had their own lives snatched away from them so abruptly.

They’d never had the chance for the life they’d so desperately fought for.

And the others … Charles, Sadie, Tilly, Mary-Beth, Uncle … Karen, Swanson, Trelawny … Where were they now?

The wonder of their whereabouts prodded his mind like a hot poker every single day. Even though he tried so hard to move on in hopes that they would do the same and lead normal lives, it was extremely difficult to do so. He only hoped they were all safe. They all deserved so much more after all the shit they went through in the gang.

And Jack, Abigail, John …

Arthur lifted his eyes to stare up at the sky, the sun’s bright rays peeking through the small clouds.

‘You’re my brother.’

Those words echoed through his mind, and he allowed himself a sad smile. He thought back to Sister Calderon, the words she’d spoken echoing in his head. ‘Take a gamble that love exists.’

Arthur wasn’t the religious type, but deep inside his heart he prayed for the sake of John and his family, for their safety, so that they may go on to live the lives they’d damn well earned.

John Marston. The man was a goddamn fool, but he loved Abigail and Jack, and Arthur knew he’d do anything to protect them.

They were safe.

He knew, deep down in his heart something told him. They were out there.

Time passed by quickly, and finally the wagon stopped. Arthur felt the seat lift as Austin hopped out, and he shook himself out of his thoughts, realizing that they’d arrived at the foot of the mountains. Arthur looked around, taking in the small grassy clearing. He raised a hand to lift the brim of his hat, looking up at the base of the mountain, a tall cliff that encircled half of the area. The other half was enclosed by the thick forest of trees that towered over them, their green and multi-colored coming-autumn leaves providing cool shade to the tiny meadow.

“We’re finally here,” Austin said cheerfully as he rolled his shoulders, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs. He walked behind the wagon to grab his carbine repeater.

Arthur examined the area closely. Indeed, it was a great area for wildlife of all kinds. Plenty of grass, soft ground, perfect temperature, and shelter. He narrowed his eyes, noting a small cave opening at the base of the cliff. It was too small for a bear or cougar, so it was probably just a family of deer, he thought. Still, they had to be cautious. It was an unexplored area. He looked over his shoulder as Austin approached him from behind and stared at the gun he held, “You need to get a handle on that bow soon, kid.” He said teasingly.

“I know, I know, and I ain’t a kid!” Austin snapped, “I’ve been tryin’ but I’m just hopeless with the damn thing!”

Arthur nearly laughed at the blush that crept into Austin’s cheeks as he looked away, unable to meet Arthur’s gaze.

He really had been trying his best, Arthur did notice, but the bow was turning out to be the boy’s natural enemy. Either he weren’t a good teacher, or the bow was truly hopeless for him. Where was Charles when he needed him, Arthur thought almost sadly.

Arthur shook his head at the thought, then threw his hand up in the general direction. “Lead the way.”

Austin gave a small but nervous nod, stepping forward and leading them both across the grass towards the cliff. They crept slowly and quietly, staying low to the tall grass to avoid being spotted by any of the nearby wildlife. There were small sounds here and there as Austin examined the grounds, but they were mostly from squirrels or small rabbits. Since Austin only had the gun with him, they weren’t going to risk scaring off any larger game by shooting and possibly missing smaller targets. Arthur had taught him to be careful with such things.

Gradually they got further and further away from the wagon, and Austin led Arthur towards the foot of the cliff. “There,” the younger man whispered, pointing toward some hoof-prints that had been left behind in the ground. They created a trail, and the two men followed it, making their way around the cliff. Finally, the tracks stopped at the base of some large rocks that formed a small ramp towards the top of the cliff. Austin began to climb, and Arthur followed behind him, as quiet as they could possibly be.

Suddenly a small rock bounced down from atop the cliff, landing in the small meadow below, and Arthur looked up, spotting a small glimpse of large antlers just over the peak. “There’s one,” Austin whispered next to him, having seen them as well.

“Alright, get your gun ready,” Arthur whispered back as they approached the top. His heart was racing, but he forced himself to calm down as they reached the top of the plateau. The elevated area was covered in thick foliage, and the two men hid behind the thick shrubbery as they made their way over to a large rock that provided solid cover.

Austin slowly and quietly cocked the gun, peering over at the large creature nibbling on some of the grass by the cliff-edge. It was a huge bull elk, appearing to weigh at least seven hundred and twenty-five pounds. The creature was definitely large, larger than any Arthur had seen in a long while. The creature was magnificent, he thought. The meat on its bones could definitely keep them fed for weeks.

He looked over at Austin, noticing that the boy was breathing hard, creating too much noise. “Calm yourself,” Arthur muttered, “Elk can hear very well, take a deep breath and let it out slow.”

Austin did as he was told, closing his eyes as he did so. “Alright,” he whispered, then he slowly began scooting forward. He crouched carefully, propping the barrel of the gun on the tip of the boulder.

A small loose rock was knocked off as the weapon was adjusted, landing with a small crack on the hard ground. The elk snatched its head up, its ears perked in their direction. It looked over toward their spot, and before Arthur could stop what happened next, Austin quickly stood from behind cover and fired the repeater.

It was so quick, the kid having not given himself the proper aiming stance, and the recoil shot him backwards, the bullet missing the elk as it pinged off the one of the rocks several feet away. The creature jumped, bounding off quickly in the opposite direction. Austin lifted his gun and fired a few more rounds as it fled down the cliff.

“What the hell are you doin’?!” Arthur grabbed the man’s firing arm as the elk disappeared into the forest below, Lily whinnying and rearing in the wagon as the creature sped by her.

The boy grunted from the small pain of his fall, “I’m sorry, sir,” he grimaced as he stood slowly, “I thought — I thought it heard us, I wanted to try and get it before it ran away —”

“Of course it heard us, you goddamn fool!” Arthur snapped, anger boiling in his blood. “But it didn’t see us! Now the whole damn forest knows we’re here.”

Austin lowered his head, no doubt feeling ashamed from his actions.

“All you had to do was stay still,” Arthur growled, snatching the firearm from Austin’s grip. “Start headin’ down to the wagon. Ain’t no hope of gettin’ anything out here now.”

The boy didn’t say anything, only giving a small nod as he turned away and headed towards the rocks. It was more than clear the man knew he’d made a mistake, and Arthur was more than upset with him. The next few moments were quiet as they started making their way down the way they’d came.

As soon as they reached the meadow, Arthur halted in his tracks, placing a hand to Austin’s chest to stop him, “Hold on.”

Austin looked at him questioningly, “What is it, sir?”

Arthur didn’t answer as he skimmed his gaze over the tall grass. Something wasn’t right. It was way too damn quiet …

Just then, a massive wolf lunged out of the shrubs from behind, jumping up and catching Arthur on his left shoulder, its sharp teeth sinking deep as its claws caught his flesh.

“Arthur!” Austin yelled.

Arthur shouted in pain as the force knocked him forward, his hat falling away as the heavy weight of the wolf bore down on his body. The gun was knocked out of his hands, and he hit the ground hard. His heart began to beat fast as sharp snarling noises pierced his ears, sharp claws digging deep into his shoulders, Arthur cried out as his flesh was torn open, and he began to struggle, trying his best to flip onto his back. He wasn’t going out without a fight.

The massive gray wolf was unbelievably strong, but Arthur managed to grip the wolf’s head, crushing its skull between his hands as hard as he could until the wolf let go, jumping off his body momentarily. He looked over to see the gun lying on the ground just a couple feet away.

Arthur flipped himself over just before the beast made another attempt and leapt back onto him, its teeth bared for another bite as it aimed for his throat. But Arthur barely managed to block its target by taking hold of the wolf’s neck with a single hand, using the other to try and reach for the gun. Blood was seeping from his neck and shoulders, and his heartbeat began rushing throughout his entire body as the sharp teeth gnashed and snapped just inches away from his face, getting closer as his strength grew weaker.

He let out a loud guttural sound and gathered all the strength he had left, finally managing to grip the gun and swing it through the air, using the butt of the handle to knock the large beast off of him. He staggered to his feet, aiming quickly as he fired the weapon, hitting the wolf square in the chest just as it rushed towards him again. With a loud whine the thing fell to the ground dead, and Arthur’s head whipped around as he heard more growling.

Two more wolves had crept out of the bushes and had cornered Austin near the cliff. The kid looked absolutely terrified as the beasts stalked toward him, his body having frozen entirely.

“Austin!” Damn him if he was going to let another person die on his watch.

Arthur’s gaze began to spin as he aimed at the wolves. He cocked the weapon, but he was seeing damn near triple of everything around him. He was losing blood fast, and he nearly collapsed as he began to feel light-headed. With no other choice, he let out a hard huff, and with everything he had left he lurched across the grass and lunged forward, pushing Austin aside just in time right before one of the the wolves ran towards them.

The heavy creature tackled Arthur’s body hard, causing him to collapse again as the weapon was knocked out of his hands once more. The butt of the cocked gun hit the ground and went off, a sharp whine echoing through the trees as the stray bullet miraculously hit the other wolf. It ran off, leaving a heavy trail of blood in its wake.

As the last wolf held Arthur to the ground, he thought this was going to be it. He had nothing left, he felt absolutely nothing, his mind having completely turned off as his own blood seeped out onto the ground beneath him, his weak limbs refusing to move as his vision began to dim.

Suddenly, another gunshot went off, and he felt a heavy weight fall onto his body. It was soon pushed off, but he found himself unable to care as his heartbeat started drumming between his ears.

Arthur looked up at the sky, his breathing barely audible as he struggled to take in any air. Everything had happened so damn fast … He could hear someone calling out his name. A man’s voice, but who? A blurry figure appeared over him as a dark red haze began to creep in around his vision, or was that just his imagination? Something hard pressed into his shoulder, and the pain shot through him like a lightning bolt.

Flashes began going through his mind, each one followed by his slowing heartbeats.

Two crosses, placed side by side …

… A large buck, lifting its head as it gazed off into the distance …

… The sun, setting just over the horizon.

Arthur thought of watching the sunrise … the last time he’d had this ethereal feeling … back wherever he’d been. A sunrise, now a sunset …

He felt his body getting lifted … was he finally leaving?

Just before he closed his eyes, a long howl echoed through his head.

•••••

— To Be Continued

#unshaken #chapter 10 #part 10 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #slow burn #romance #arthur morgan #fanfic #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine

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crystalliccs · 4 years ago

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WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ALIVE. PART ONE. ________________________

Note: Female Warrior of Light/Darkness. Miqo’te. Summoner. Part one is completely sfw! (And it’s not beta read. Do not judge.)

HEAVY PATCH 5.3 SPOILERS.

Word Count: 4844 (read more-cut due to the length) Ship: G’raha Tia/WoL ________________________

The sharp, illuminous blade reflected the light perfectly as he swung it several times in fluent motions – full glad that only for once he could do this without any curious eyes watching him. And yet it was almost as if their shadows still lingered inside the rooms of the Rising Stones, gawking and eagerly commenting his work. Yet the man failed to grasp their fascination for his skills completely; as he understood that he was scarcely more than a fresh beginner in so many aspects. Perchance even far less experienced than them all. And, merely sometimes, he felt at loss – overwhelmed by his very own emotions dwelling inside, as he could sense a trace of pride, of honor. Thus he could hardly afford to rest and enjoy his very own life when he had done naught so far.

With this young body of his, at least.

It was tedious and so very different from controlling his body in the First; albeit he would debate if those crystalline shapes he walked on ever truly had been his in the first place. No, to be quite frank he had to debate if he ever were truly alive as Exarch - shedding off all of his humanity to outlive the eternal slumber for a little longer so that he could reach for the salvation of their worlds. And truthfully, it had made him be far more powerful than he had imagined it would. Connecting his own aether with the collected boundless amount of the sun, all stored within the central spire, he had become far more than the marionette of the voices of the ancient Allag whispering to him whenever he closed his sanguine hues.

It had not been his very own aether which fed his body for an entire century; and most certainly wasn’t an old man - who hardly ever left the Ocular for so many decades - supposed to be able to keep up with true heroes of another world who knew no other life. Yet he had achieved as much; borrowing the strength to do so by shortening his close to now immortal life, step by step.

Oh, he gladfully endured this all – feeling the icy coldness of the crystallization proceeding to cover his chest so ever slowly with every spell he conjured. It had been a slow death – one he embraced should the time arrive.

Yet the time had changed. He could no longer rely on such ancient secrets – nor could he sacrifice what had been bestowed upon him. Another chance.

Even a few weeks after awakening from his long slumber, G’raha was still far from being satisfied of the very condition of his very own body. Though younger and revitalized as he still so very freshly remembered through his younger soul deep inside, it was still far more challenging to use the very own resources of it instead of relying on the power bestowed by ancient technology. Truthfully, it had taken him all this time to remember himself of his common body’s functions, as pathetic and foolish as it was – such as the need to even sleep. Albeit he had undeniably become better in managing such normal needs by now, the Miqo’te still attempted to push himself towards his own limits every now and then, exploring the possibilities.

He had lost count of the many apologies he had mumbled recently, uncertain how to behave or control himself in this new environment when both of his souls still attempted to grasp that he had indeed broken free of his chains. An impossible task, as it seemed. It would take him more than one century of him mostly isolating himself inside the Crystal Tower to not notice certain individuals’ worried gazes. One particular ambitious lalafell somehow always showed her motherly face when he indeed started to feel unwell, gently reminding him to rest. Oh, and it was by far not only Tataru, unfortunately. They all kept a close eye on him.

So, he feared naught at changed – that he was still the very same.

Yet such knowledge only made him strengthen his resolve to work on himself so much more; lest he became a burden to his newfound comrades.

The man had to admit that some very selfish part of him wanted to step out of the Rising Stones and join the others for longer, raising his own cup when they did and enjoying the prepared feast to the fullest. Perchance even catch a glance or two upon the smiling face of his beloved who finally indulged in such activities after all she had done. But how could he? His lips would merely curl into one of these delightful smiles he only had for her whenever she glanced upon him, without him ever saying those words which always lingered on his tongue. Words of affection, of love. And, as he feared, he would merely get teased for it once again. Albeit he had never spoken about such thoughts with anyone, he was quite certain that a few individuals were fully aware of what he truly felt. In fact, he already considered such assumption in the First.

And still his lips remained sealed.

The man quickly twirled on one steady foot, with the tip of his illuminous blade drawing one perfect circle to pierce through a great chunk of wood of the dummy he had used for the past twenty minutes. For once he did not even feel the harsh impact on its sturdy surface inside his muscles – unlike all of his previous attempt over the course of several days. His sanguine eyes widened a little by his own display of strength as he was taking one sharp breath. Soft clapping echoed from the stony walls of the room, as he realized that he was indeed not alone at all. Perchance he had been mistaken that anyone would participate in the festival after all, but he could certainly cope.

Quickly sheathing his sword again, head slightly tilting to glance upon his observer, G’rahas lips lightly opened in surprise.

“One clean cut. You have indeed been practicing a lot, lately – haven’t you? I believe you have been less proficient last time I saw you swinging a sword against a proper opponent”, the Warrior of both Light and Darkness spoke as she took a few steps closer to him, mint eyes glaring with unbelief.

Truthfully, he had hoped she would not become witness of such poor display of skill until he had honed such a little more; yet he could hardly pretend that seeing her was unpleasant in any possible way. Her company never was, albeit this was perchance no convenient time.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, playfully pouting yet her aggressively swinging tail was indeed telling him that she was annoyed. Angry even, mayhap. His eyebrows slightly furrowed as his expression softened into a silent apology as immediate reaction – knowing full well she deserved as much. And so much more.

“But - G’raha, really. Pray tell me you do not intend to hide away here and train all by yourself whilst everyone else is enjoying themselves”, she continued, carefully watching him as she stopped a few fulm in front of him – seemingly judging him with every fiber of her body.

“Oh, about that. Well, I merely considered this as fine opportunity to spar with myself without disturbing anyone else. Though, in truth, I am still getting accustomed to how loud and crowded it can be in the Rising Stones. So ‘tis indeed a quite welcome change”, he attempted to explain with a gentle voice, with his ears excitedly twitching as so very often when he spoke with her.

In the very end he would not dare to say the full truth about his endeavor. Nor that he not solely did it for himself – but also for her.

“Hardly an excuse to miss such a rare opportunity, I daresay. You need the rest more than any of us. Besides, everyone poured their hearts’ content into the preparation. You included. ‘Tis hardly fair if you do not participate.”

“I indeed had one cup of fine ale thus far”, the man shrugged, albeit his facial expression remained the very same. Kind and soft.

“And I had two. This is not a contest”, the woman reminded him, easing her posture for merely a little. She moved around him towards one the many empty chairs near him, which were usually always filled. But not now, when the spirit of enthusiasm had long departed to celebrate outside with everyone else. If she truly ever had been angry at him, it was scarcely noticeable by now.

G’raha could not help but to feel relieved upon such sight, feeling the tension of his still agitated muscles to disappear by merely looking at her. Her small silhouette seemed almost…calm – as calm as one could be before the next raging storm was fast approaching. He knew this too well. And it would come – particularly since the most recent reports from Garlemald had certainly stirred more than one rumor in these halls. It was indeed worrisome, to say at least. Yet perchance this was not the right moment to speak of such topic. If the situation changed, they were the first to know anyway. And until then, well – there was so much to discuss. To consider.

Mayhap his own selfishness indeed drove him to such decision to prepare himself to become her shield if he must. One final burden to bear, one she had not to know of. It had been his choice, in the very end. One he had not to oblige, yet his heart demanded.

For her there was still a chance to enjoy this evening if she left and let him be.

“So, my inspirational friend and hero, pray enlighten me what you seek if you are so unwilling to join the festivities outside. I doubt you have entered the Rising Stones to pry on my poor efforts”, he spoke rather amused, with his velvety tone merely becoming higher in spirits. Of course it was merely a small jest, one he happened to voice every now and then by now, yet genuine curiosity swung inside his very tone as well.

Her eyes widened a little ere she closed them again, her tail curling on her lap in utter defeat. “Mayhap I happen to find it unfitting for myself to enjoy the festivities as well and sought to find a quiet place instead. Not unlike your own idea, as it seems.”

“Ah, it would seem so. Though I fail to fathom how the guest of honor managed to escape unnoticed.” “I have my ways.”

His lips revealed his perfect teeth, a small and yet ever sweet grin as answer to her own she showed after giving such mischievous reply. Truthfully, he indeed felt so much younger when he was with her like this, despite still feeling the nagging burden of his older self at the corner of his mind. In those moments he could almost forget it all – the dark future he had witnessed, the sacrifices he had made just to save countless of lives. She was the only one who could create such oblivion for him – who truly made him feel alive again.

“Perchance now is a good time as any to ask…” The young woman lifted one hand to point it towards the blade resting on his hips, slightly tilting her head. “I have noticed you scarcely ever carry the staff Tataru so carefully prepared for you anymore. Is it not to your liking?”

His chest lifted heavily upon realizing that she had indeed noticed. Suffice to say his eyes had always silently followed her over all these past weeks, even if only to assure himself that she indeed was the same as always. Always determined and strong, prepared to forsake anything in any moment. No, he had even done more than this – eagerly following into her footsteps, even accompanying her once on a small little adventure just as she had promised. Mayhap he had been foolish to assume she would not notice what seemingly everyone else seemed to know already. His ears flopped a little, perchance a little ashamed to admit what he had concealed for the past few weeks.

His hidden struggles, the strains of his muscles and his reckless endeavor just for her sake. Yet could he not at least say as much when she already asked? After his long concealment, of his failed attempts to lie, could he not voice the truth even if only parts of it?

“Well…Controlling my own aether to conjure spells is far more challenging than I had imagined. Though, I believe, I have learned quite well to hold myself by now. Thank goodness for that. Yet there is no doubt in my heart that my poor control of such stand little chance against your mighty summons. However, ‘tis hardly a surprise, of course. When I first woke up in this body again, my mind kept repeating the very same question. And so I pondered… I asked myself what I could possibly do with this newly gained life I embraced. Suffice to say, the conclusion I came to was quite simple. I want to live the very dream of a young boy I once was – and I wish to stand by your side.”

Clenching a fist, he bumped it against his chest a few times, one light smile still visible on his full lips.

“So, I have decided for myself to become your sword and shield henceforth.”

“G’raha…”, she whispered, quietly and slowly rising from the chair she had picked just moments ago, scratching lightly over the stony floor. “You do not have to do this for me.” The thin line of her eyebrows lightly furrowed in concern, light footed steps coming closer once again.

For a mere moment he saw more inside the reflection of her beautiful eyes surrounded by those astonishing long leashes – one hint of an emotion, perhaps fear. An entire tale carefully hidden away inside them, one he yearned to decipher. “So ‘tis as I feared. You still feel the burden on your shoulders, do you not? After all this time… Would it not be possible to make a finer choice than this?”

Her lips began to form more, unspoken words – yet he heard no tone, nor did he know what she attempted to add. Nonetheless he fully understood the true meaning behind them; since he could ask her the very same question.

Why carrying the burden of an entire world when one had the choice not to? Knowing the risks, knowing the countless sleepless nights and the hidden, dry tears deep inside their souls.

“’Tis easier said than done, I fear. You among all should know this as well as I do. You have found and touched many souls on your path – inspired them to act when there was naught left to believe in. In the many moments of desperation, when the hope slipped through their fingers, becoming unreachable by their very own strength, your kindness guided them. “ His lips formed a wry smile, remembering his own naivety in his younger years.

“Of course, I was no exception. And when I first set my mind on this world’s salvation, I realized the full extend of your sacrifices. Over the years the burden became heavier, weighing upon my heart. And yet… No, ‘tis my full intention to live my life to the fullest. Without any regret. And I cannot imagine doing this without you.”

Too many unspoken words lingered in the heavy air surrounding them, taking both of their breaths for a moment. Words, which had always dwelled in their minds, for all this time – and yet failed to ever reach the other’s ears. And whilst their souls had silently yelled in this buried, pitch-black corner inside their very heart, their very own numbness and regret had made them so vulnerable. Those tears they both had pretended to not heavily wear; the immeasurable burden of two entire worlds resting on their shoulders which threatened to make them falter and they attempted to ignore regardless. Always staying silent, always quietly suffering in the very cage they had created – knowing this was the only path they could take.

He recognized this very gaze she showed him now – knew of its meaning. Each shade of her mint colored eyes showed the very same shadows he could see in his very own gaze inside the mirror – the souls of the lost; the fragments of what remained when they had failed. The man watched her reflection inside the mirror for so many centuries; watched her struggling, laying in her own blood and yet mourning for each one she had not been able to save.

He had done the same; slightly smiling underneath his cowl to give his posture strength whilst his fingers tightly clutched his staff over all these years. Listening to the sheer endless reports of their casualties; listening to the refugee’s horrific encounters with the menace they faced every single day.

Even now, after both of his souls had united in one body and mind, and he could glimpse on freedom for the very first time in his life – a true choice given to him – it was impossible to avert his gaze from the path he already had chosen. The dream he once had a boy had long awakened, shaping in pleas of a distant past and mocking nightmares. All of his entire being had yearned to partake in the Scion’s duty; to stand next to the comrades, these friends, he respected – yet some small part inside, deep within, had also seen it as necessity. And, from what he understood, she was so very similar. Albeit given the choice to rest so very often she never did, never hesitated. It was the trait worthy of a true hero who shaped their entire future – yet who also lead onto a very destructive path.

Oh, he knew this all too well.

The short glimpse of warmth, of happiness just to see it withering once again, turning to emotionless dust – never touching one’s own life.

Because those who fought, who did remember - the forgotten, the untold tales no one else knew besides them, had to carry their burden for all eternity.

His face expression changed, sanguine hues filling with a sea of sadness and regret. In truth he wanted to lay it all bare – wanted to speak those hidden words so many moons ago, when he was still believing in his own selfish, pathetic demise. And now, after receiving a second chance he still concealed himself in this veil of silence, ignoring his fast throbbing heart, fearing what her answer would be. An answer he would have given for so many decades as well. Yet if he continued to let his heart wither and die, failing to let his own emotions reach her, he would no longer be able to look upon those faces who sincerely wished for his happiness.

Wasn’t she one of them, in the very end…? He knew that she, among all of them, needed one plain word of affection the most. It was selfish, mayhap… Yet how harmful could it be to set himself free from the chains of his feelings for her? Emotions he had learned to well control, which he had been prepared to take with him when he embraced death itself. No, he certainly would not ponder about such things if there even was the possibility of accidentally hurting her. In truth it did not even matter to him if she returned the immortal love he felt for her – as long as he could ease her indescribable loneliness for merely a little.

“I…’Tis a selfish request, I am certain – nevertheless, I must ask one final thing of you. That you survive, no matter what. And that you will return…to my side.”

G’raha took a heavy breath, calloused fingertips finding her surprisingly thin shoulders to carefully bury themselves into her soft skin. He was scarcely taller than her, a few ilm at best perchance, but this made it solely easier to observe her fair face so very close to his own. Her rose lips already parted, likely in attempt to respond, yet he immediately cut her off, fearing if his own words got lost in hers they would never reach her.

“Every time someone calls for your aid in desperate times, I want you to remember that the very thought of losing you is frightening to me and I can ill afford losing you. This world has long entrusted all their hopes onto you, and with each day I fail to fully fathom the burden you still bear. Nevertheless, I can imagine. And I wish for you to know that before I draw my dying breath, I shall share and attempt to ease the weight you’re carrying. Lest you forget you are not alone.”

His voice had become velvety yet strong, as his resolve resonated with each word he spoke. There was so much more to say – so much more to reveal – yet opening his heart this very way after all these years was indeed quite a challenge. The emotions had long suffocated him until he had banished them, losing his own humanity with each passing day after replacing them with the numb, faceless mask of the Exarch. But no longer.

“G’raha – pray tell me, why exactly are you telling me this”, she asked in a hoarse whisper, finally seizing the opportunity to speak, worrying he might say more. The young hero had not moved ever since he had approached her, but the shades inside her eyes were ever moving, observing – and filled with the very same sadness he felt burning deep inside his soul when looking upon her.

Oh, what would he gave for her to look at him differently – not with the kind, worrying eyes of an hero but those of a loving woman.

“I love you”, he said plainly, lips curling into a soft smile, unable to hold it back any longer. “I do not regret one single moment by your side, nor my… quite selfish actions in the First. It was all for you, to protect you. And it pains me to know you all alone even now, shouldering all dreams and hopes by yourself. Whatever it takes, I will see you finding your happiness. And I… I trust you are well aware that I do not require you to accept my feelings. They are genuine, I assure you – and I cannot imagine any one being more worthy of them than you.”

The pressure of his fingertips on her shoulders grew – not to cause harm but to steady himself for the remaining words which still had to slip his tongue. He would love to indulge in the sensation of his touch for longer, usually shunning to be as close to her to not awaken those lustful desires.

Would she allow him to come closer, even if just for a brink of a moment…? Could she already listen to his loudly throbbing heartbeat and merely bore it for his sake?

His sanguine eyes disappeared beneath his long lashes, not to hide them from her but rather to dwell in his own memories as he spoke. His chest lifted, filled with the emotions of all these moments they had shared albeit ever so briefly.

“Worry not, my inspiration – my only love. For I am eternally glad that your star has charted my course, I will never forget your kindness nor anything you have done to save my own life. So I will not ask more of you than I already have. In truth, I already received so much more than what I had dreamed of. So I beseech you, pray let me aid you in any possible way. Just say the word, my friend.”

His hands felt as heavy as the crystalline form he once possessed when he attempted to lift them from her shoulders again, intending to give her some space. Yet the faint grip of one of her hands found his own, carefully wrapping his wrist to hold it in place. His eyes flung open as he felt the unexpected touch, meeting the pair of shiny mint colored eyes filled with tears, he reckoned. The man’s lips parted in surprise as his reddish ears laid close to his head.

“Why do you speak of such things, asking for naught in return?”, she asked, her voice slightly trembling – yet in apparent anger, with her ears moving agitatedly. “Do you truly never ponder about your own well-being, not even now of all times? After learning that they all wish for the very same… Rammbroes, Krile, Lyna… All good people of the Crystarium. They all wish for you to live your own life. You have already done so much, so pray tell me why you still fail to see this…?”

He did not move nor grit it teeth as her free hand clenched a fist to tenderly beat his chest a few times. As she stopped the fingertips clutched the fabric of his new garment, leaning in her weight until she almost rested inside his arms. Yet just almost. He could feel her hot breath brushing the bare skin around his collarbones, sending an immediate shiver down his spine. His limbs were itching to move, to pull her into a full and proper embrace – nonetheless he did not dare to move, not understanding her current actions.

“‘Tis true, we are indeed so very alike, you and I. And most certainly you are just as stubborn as I am. ‘Tis why I am…glad to know you as my companion henceforth. Yet I cannot condone you to suffer in my place. Ultimately, I solely want to see you finally happy as well. I want to see your dreams lived and fulfilled”, she continued with a small sigh and he noticed, as she lifted her gaze once again to face him, that one single tear had emerged from her eyes.

“Is it truly selfish to want to feel alive for once…? After being so very selfless all the time?”

Her voice trembled with the last questions, making him ponder if they were rhetoric or not. In the very end he was not even certain of whom she spoke. His second hand, yet free from her touch, slowly lifted to meet the warm skin of her cheeks, swiping away the tear with his calloused thumb. G’raha felt her reacting to his touch, barely noticeably even, ere she leaned into the warmth he offered.

“Mayhap not”, he answered in a rather husky tone, ignoring the yearning of his own body and the loud, desperate clutch of his very own soul.

“Then you shall know… I love you too, G’raha.” Albeit her voice had scarcely been more than a whisper to his ears, suffocating in some more tear drops to flow down her cheeks, he felt their meaning with every fiber of his body. It was not before she lifted her hand to gently rub over his own cheeks that he noticed that he had shared in her sentimentality.

For he realized that the woe, the deep sadness he saw inside her mint colored shades for the past moments were not product of her kindness but rather her feelings for him. Such sight made him to finally channel the strength needed to let go. To let go of the very burden he still desperately held onto; the very past in which he had merely chased after his very own death and desperation for all these long years. For the childhood in which he had believed to be cursed, to be condemned.

One past filled with dreams and hopes to believe in a future in which others might find happiness, albeit not himself.

“So perchance, just for once, mayhap just even for this moment - can we not forget and live, breathe? The world will not end, solely for us being happy for only one day. And the others can certainly wait, too.”

“Agreed”, the man mumbled, quickly leaning in to seal her lips with his very own, lest she spoke more than she already had. Truthfully, he was no longer certain if he could bear to wait any longer. Not after waiting more than an entire lifetime for her already, to finally feel her faint touch.

Her sweet, flowery scent filled his nose, sweeping through his entire body like an untamed wave – evoking all of his usually hidden emotions for her. Lips so perfectly shaped and soft moved against his very own in an almost painful slow rhythm, ere he his tongue slightly tickled them, yearning to taste her, to memorize all of her entire being. Immediately he felt her slim arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer as she slightly parted her full lips to give him entry.

None of it was like he had imagined; it was far better than the finest dream he ever had.

________________________

[ END OF PART ONE – Part Two will contain smut! ]

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Sidenotes: I am following my headcanon that – because he is an allrounder and can fit into all roles – he is picking the most fitting role for the Warrior of Light (despite seen with his staff in the cutscenes).

In this case, since the Warrior of Light is a Summoner – which I still daresay should be the most powerful role according to the given canon information – he prefers to become her sword and shield. All of this is, of course, accordingly written to my own headcanons & portrayal and might not fit with other’s.

#g'raha tia #g'raha #sharing some love in the tags for this precious man #Patch 5.3 Spoilers #5.3 Spoilers #★ | THE UNSPOKEN TRUTH ( DRABBLES. )#long post #★ | THE CRYSTAL EXARCH ( IC. )

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bbq-hawks-wings · 5 years ago

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So I took a personality test to day and got the result of an Architect (INTJ) and for some reason Hawks just came to mind so I wondered, based on the Myers-Briggs classification what personality would he have? Also just out of curiosity, and you don't have to answer, but what would yours be? (I took the quiz on the website 16personalities)

Fantastic question, anon! Last I took the test a few years ago I was an INFP (The Mediator) myself which I think still largely applies. It can be easy to mistype yourself, let alone someone else, so I’m going to use evidence from the manga as much as possible and go through the individual traits one by one to see what I can find. I considered taking the test myself in character, but realized especially with how long the test is it could be easy to either overthink it or hyper-fixate on consciously or unconsciously preconceived traits, so I decided an evidence-based approach would be more accurate.

An important thing to know about Meyers-Briggs personality types is that they’re not all-encompassing, exclusive, or immutable. Some people have a tendency to make ill-informed preconceptions about people or treat it like a horoscope. This is the wrong way to apply a Meyers-Briggs personality type. They are insights to the instinctual way people are likely to act and perform and are only a tool to aid in things like working in a team, putting them on a path to personal success, and exercising emotional intelligence when interacting with them. Many people may still display a different “type” in different settings so I’ll be as cognizant of that as possible as I go through.

So with that, let’s get started!

Extroverted [E] or Introverted [I]?

This is a fantastic example of how preconceived notions can completely mess up a characterization of someone as well as someone displaying a different type from what they might naturally display. Hawks is great with people, can work a crowd, and is a people-pleaser through and through. To many others, he would be a dead ringer for an extroverted. However:

In his own ideal world, Hawks has time to himself, to spend alone at home, doing whatever he wants freely. If he was an extrovert this dream might be a little more geared towards still being a top hero, but he’s said in so many words he wishes he was a little further down the ladder.

At this point I’d be remiss if I didn’t bring up that a false dichotomy of introvert/extrovert has developed over the years. Humans require interaction with other humans to stay healthy and they also require alone time. Too much or too little of either will give them problems over time. It’s a tad frustrating to me that this personality test requires an either/or answer since I thoroughly believe that Hawks enjoys human company and would naturally seek it out in his ideal scenario, just in greater moderation than he does now (which would make him more of an ambivert); but given the fact that at this point in time he seeks more opportunities for solitude, I’m going to answer that he lands, somewhat surprisingly in the Introverted category.

Observant [S] or Intuitive [N]?

This one is also tricky at first, but a deeper dive into their definitions gives us a pretty solid answer, I think. According to the website:

“These traits describe what people are more likely to do with the information gathered from the world around them. Intuitive personality types rely on imagining the past and future potential of what they see. Those with the Observant style are more interested in observable facts and more straightforward outcomes. They prefer to avoid layering too much interpretation on what they see.“

So does Hawks take a complicated, theoretical approach to information he’s exposed to, or does he call it like he sees it? Does he act in the here and now, or is he more bigger picture?

While he’s actively working toward a definitive goal, he has a tendency to only focus on the information in front of him as it happens. Dabi’s going to release a super powered Nomu? Better get the best hero around to fight it. Need to infiltrate the League of Villains? Just hammer away at getting Dabi to trust him and open the door for him.

He tends to look at the road in front of him to figure out if he should go left or right, but doesn’t always seem to realize he could be being taken for a ride. In his section of the new character book, his relationship with Dabi is described as “they are using each other” (note the present continuous tense) meaning that Dabi is stringing along the number two hero for his own purposes, but Hawks seems to have no idea of it. Just his altercation with Dabi at the warehouse after High End is proof he’s too trusting of the information he’s given at face value.

He may have contingencies (such as holding onto the one feather), but they do not span very far and wide into the future depending on any way things go. It’s always, “If plan A doesn’t work, go to plan B” and never a step or two ahead of that or a consideration of other possible outcomes. Did he have a plan in case High End actually killed Endeavor? Based on his reaction, I don’t think he really thought that was a possibility even though in the end it almost happened and left him with a permanent scar.

This, to me, puts him safely in the Observant category.

Thinking [T] or Feeling [F]?

Hey, this one is actually easy! Hawks is incredibly intelligent, but he is far from rational. A good litmus test for this is to see how someone reacts to failure. A thinking individual will view an undesirable outcome as useful data for the future and possibly just a result of things beyond their control, but a feeling person will view the same as proof of inadequacy that needs to be remedied through personal improvement.

He consistently reacts to situations emotionally first. Even when Tokoyami really proved himself during his internship, it was an emotional response that changed his attitude towards training him and the next generation.

Even Endeavor describes him as,

Hawks has always been emotionally expressive, responsive, and driven. In his interactions with others, he displays a huge amount of emotional intelligence - you can see it in the way he ever so slightly adjusts his interactions with others based on the response to him and the outcome he’s looking for. He pauses for just a second to get a cool selfie perfect for a girl’s social media timeline, he’s polite and considerate carrying a little old lady’s bags up the stairs for her, and he appeals to a little boy’s sense of style and flair when asked to sign his bag. The way he and others feel at any given moment is almost paramount to him.

This is a trait I don’t see changing in his character over time unlike some of the others. He’s clearly a Feeling type.

Judging [J] or Prospective [P]?

This one I also think is easy to figure out. Basically, does he prefer a set, methodical schedule or is he a more spontaneous, spur of the moment person?

Yeah, this is Hawks we’re talking about. He’s shockingly adaptable and almost seems to fall into routine for the sake of others instead of his own sanity. Most of his decisions are made on the fly, and he’s known to improvise.

He’s more than capable of planning ahead, but prefers to operate as the wind blows which makes him a solid Prospective type.

Assertive [-A] or Turbulent [-T]?

For funsies, I just want to pop in and check in on this last trait since it’s here. Basically, all it asks is his confidence level and response to stress. I’ve more or less answered this earlier, but when encountering a situation potentially way over his head, he may outwardly display confidence and roll with the punches (his _S_P traits at work) but when it comes to results, especially failure, perfection and personal excellence are all that matter. I feel very confident classifying him as a Turbulent personality.

Final Results

So with that we get a final Meyers-Briggs personality type of ISFP-T which according to 16 Personalities is the Adventurer type personality.

“Adventurer personalities are true artists, but not necessarily in the typical sense where they’re out painting happy little trees. Often enough though, they are perfectly capable of this. Rather, it’s that they use aesthetics, design and even their choices and actions to push the limits of social convention. Adventurers enjoy upsetting traditional expectations with experiments in beauty and behavior – chances are, they’ve expressed more than once the phrase “Don’t box me in!” Adventurers live in a colorful, sensual world, inspired by connections with people and ideas. These personalities take joy in reinterpreting these connections, reinventing and experimenting with both themselves and new perspectives. No other type explores and experiments in this way more. This creates a sense of spontaneity, making Adventurers seem unpredictable, even to their close friends and loved ones. Despite all this, Adventurers are definitely Introverts, surprising their friends further when they step out of the spotlight to be by themselves to recharge. Just because they are alone though, doesn’t mean people with the Adventurer personality type sit idle – they take this time for introspection, assessing their principles. Rather than dwelling on the past or the future, Adventurers think about who they are. They return from their cloister, transformed.Adventurers live to find ways to push their passions. Riskier behaviors like gambling and extreme sports are more common with this personality type than with others. Fortunately their attunement to the moment and their environment allows them to do better than most. Adventurers also enjoy connecting with others, and have a certain irresistible charm.”

It feels like a pretty accurate assessment of his personality, so I think I did a good job. This was a lot of fun, and I feel like I’ve even gotten to know him a little better! Thanks for sending in the question, anon, I really enjoyed it!

And if you’re curious about Meyers-Briggs personality types or want to take the assessment yourself, go check out 16personalities[.]com!

#hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks mha #hawks bnha #keigo takami #takami keigo #let's talk hawks #bnha analysis #mha analysis #she speaks

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sereisstuff · 5 years ago

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ｂｌｏｓｓｏｍ　オゾ唄 4

Intro - a soft-hearted male geisha and a poor broken musician who battle through a journey in which they explore the world through their performances.

summary - you finally performed but fate was never too kind.

genres - a very slow burn, comedy, angst and big sad

(A/N) - yes I have finally updated haha

.you nervously held the koto in your palms standing far from the stage as you glared at the unwelcome steps to your new life, holding in the cry waiting to pour from your cold eyes “I can’t wait to see the performance” the young maiko expressed as she stood nearby to your emotionless form.

unknowingly pulling you from waters you drowned yourself in, subsiding the fears for a few seconds in order for you to recollect your wandering thoughts “are you alright?” yuno asked worry coating her soft features.

she noticed the switch in your face when she dared to ask a look she perceived as nervousness or anxiety was slowly getting to you “you will do amazing I assure you” she promised, empty but still efficient.

you turned to her figure internally gasping towards her glamorous attire, black and pink flowers imprinted on her kimono as her lips dawned a heavy red colour against her white-coated features., similar to Jimin’s but less noticeable in a way “No need to worry over me miss yuno I’ll be quiet alright, you just focus on your training” you admitted through masked words.

“we’re on in a few” Jimin rushed through the tent with heavy gasps of breath pulling through to his lungs, he searched the place for his new friend, you, in hopes of seeing you before the performance “jimin” Miss Atsuko breathed a sigh of relief staring in disbelief towards the male who ignored her.

“Hey, there you are” Jimin greeted pleasingly, appreciating your mere presence. His eyes wandering around your new formal wear, his lips stretching into a smile as he ignores mama Atsuko.

“here I am” you repeated unfazed, wrapping your hands ever so tightly around your koto watching intensively as the mc made his way on to the stage preparing the crowd to witness their favoured Otoko Geisha in the flesh “you're gonna do great” jimin nudged you.

immediately after that sentence, he rushed on to the stage in small silenced steps glancing at you with a welcoming smirk shooting a wink your way, this baffled you.. in order for you to become friends with him and entirely trust the popular man he had to help you become comfortable around his presence.

you weren’t to be introduced in hopes of gaining recognition through your melodies rather than the fame your “friend” had, secretly making your way behind him further to the back where the light barely shone and your fears were masked.

before you laid your hands on the koto, you gazed forward holding in an anxiety-induced gasp watching the many favourable stares eyeing the stage with the possibility of watching the performance of their lifetime but sadly that weight had to be bared on your shoulders. curling your fingers again “you can do this” your mind thought, encouraging you to proceed.

Jimin stood in front of you form already in place for the first string to be pulled, now you must do this and there’s no backing out, breathing in a shaky breath, you shut your eyes..and played.

mama Atsuko stood further away from the stage watching you with a curious mind, the open suggestion that you weren’t so useless to this family, adamant on her obscene thoughts she stuck to the fact that you supposedly weren’t useful and one day you wouldn’t be welcome.

but all was a lie and even mama Atsuko knew one day she too would come to welcome you as her own, she had a heart of gold but as all know gold isn’t found without a groan and dedication.

you leaned back striking another string, passion oozing from both your’s and Jimin’s performance, your mind was finally in place and for a few minutes you were able to think probably under the influence of a song were the times you felt as if freedom was near.

but fear was never too far behind.J

imin’s contemporary performance made the crowd gaze in admiration endless compliments flowing from their mouths as all couldn’t wait to speak to him and most wondering who could possibly be playing behind him.

his black kimono elegantly waving through the air, gravity wasn’t known in his presence and he used the stage as his personal way of expressing his hidden emotion, so raw and passionate that he was being admired like the moon reflecting against the ocean, calming the crowd but edging them to stare more due to his flamboyant beauty.

but as you plucked the last string, opening your lids to the portal of reality staring directly towards jimin who no longer danced for the people but bowed to them with thankfulness “what a beautiful performance” the mc crowded the stage and suddenly you felt cramped again.

grabbing your koto and standing to your feet, rushing from the stage limply as your legs now felt like boiled noodles and your mind clouded in shock “you did great” Yuno whelped, throwing her arms around you as you stood in shock, even jimin who hasn’t known you for long reacted upon Yuno’s initiation.

“ah, Yuno we should be exploring the crowd now, mhh” he silently pleaded for her to release you from her hold, you so helplessly wished you could accept her warmth but failed at doing so, physical touch wasn’t at the top of your list, for all the wrong reason’s.

“oh, of course, I’ll be on my way now. see you soon y/n” she waved weaving out the door and now away from your sight, you sighed, your heart pulsating quickly and tears were well near pooling in your eyes “if only she was here to witness this?” you muttered remembering your dearly beloved sister who would have hugged you just like yuno.

Truth be told the day you lost her was the day you left behind all emotion known to man, the cruel fate of the world was struck upon you as you ran as fast as you could, forced to ignore the agonizing screams of your beloved with tears rushing down your face, and yet, the world still wanted you alive?“who was here?” Mama Atsuko interrupted, her eyes narrowing towards you shaky figure.“no one who has relevance in your life” you muttered an answer, staring blankly at the ground.

clearly, you should have been celebrating your first ever performance but you just couldn’t “clearly” Mama Atsuko sucked in a breath, as you stood like a statue.“you should be celebrating” she spat, holding her petite body composed in a shielded light, shedding a few of her angered layers to you, you gazed up, replacing your sad look with a determined one.

the past shouldn’t be chasing you and your dear sister wouldn’t smile if she saw you like this.“yes, I should be” you cracked an awkward half-assed smile, unfortunately, the feeble retired geisha grimaced raising her hands in the air refusing to see you attempt a smile “dear, it’s that way” her hands showed you the way and you rushed from the room outwards into the pathway.

A tear slipped amongst your scarlet cheeks, not your own but one of the skies, tears cascading on your form as the world felt your crumbling heart expressing your emotions knowing you couldn’t do such a deed yourself, you giggled sadly.

Grabbing your hat and you pulling the brims covering your now dishevelled look, heading towards the back of the room where you will drink sake until your worries subside, as for now the moment your living will be soon forgotten and sadly your memories will only be suppressed but you’d rather cage them in storms of alcoholic beverages rather than replay those clouded memories.

You smiled at the old woman greeting you at the door, biting the top of your lip when you entered, the strong smell alcohol comforted you as you treated it like a celebration, you stepped forward feeling a tug at your wrist.

“Ah, yes?” you turned to the old woman, her small greeting held a genuine place in your heart, examining her grey strands which complemented her skin perfectly, history dwelled in her face and she wore it proudly, you grew rather envious.

“Hello dear,” she greeted.

“H-hello” you bowed deeply in respect making her chuckle in a high pitched tone, she bent down lifting your weight weakly so you stand rooted in your spot “I dare say but your talent to play such an instrument is a gift, you nearly had me in tears” she continued, her inked out eyes turned into crescents “never in my late years had I heard the koto played so smoothly, please, for me, never stop, your gift is a treasure and I would want my grandchildren to witness it” she pleaded, her restless lips curled into a grateful smile.

You cooed, pulling your hat back as you replied “Thank you, and I would love to play for your grandchildren someday, you just wait, one day, one of your grandchildren may be playing the same as me” you didn’t know where this sudden confidence came from but something about her made your shoulders relax and your lips rest from the constant biting.

“oh .. that would make me very proud” she chuckled again, resting a hand on your shoulder.

Her smile so pure that you wished you had someone like her.“Well I must get going but please do visit some time, the old broken down home at the end of the street with a cup on its step” she bid you a goodbye as your hand immediately went up wishing for the old woman to stay for a bit longer, but she left and you sighed...again.

The cup on its step’ you rehearsed hours later with your 5th cup of sake in your palms, your head tilted down as you glared at the plain floor, for these past few weeks jimin has been more than kind to you, his endless banter with mama Atsuko brought a rigid smile to your lopsided lips.

“Stupid whore should have known her place” the loud ruckus of drunken men entered your ears, their voices awfully low, noses as red as the sun on its sets and they sniffled with crescented eyes, clearly intoxicated with something stronger than sake, you ignored them, their idiotic tones clearly not interesting you enough.

“Y/n” a voiced whispered shouted, drowning the men’s voices as they made their way closer to you, you turned, unamused.

“Yuno?” she nodded giggling, her kimono in a mess and she too as the men were was intoxicated, oh how mama Atsuko would punish her for this!” Yuno, w-what are you doing, y-your going to be -” she cut you off with a drunken giggle grabbing your cup of sake and downing it.

Her kimono sleeve lifted and you caught sight of a fresh bruise, you frowned.“I knew you cared about me” she giggled again another hiccup following close behind, wiping her lips so her red make up slid across her detailed art on her empty canvas.“What happened to your wrist?” you asked, worried.“Very…..very bad m-men” she pouted, her hands flying up in the air like an explosion.“What, men” she frowned, before breaking out into a smile, leaning in to whisper into your ear “ri-ight t-there” she pointed a lazy finger towards the men as you took a good look your eyes widened, it couldn’t be.

The slicked-back hair and the small stuble could engrave itself in your memory any day, his cruel smirk as he mimicked yunos cries.“Y-yuno, we need to go” you cried, grabbing her untainted wrist and gently ushering her out of the room unnoticed by the dazed men, Yuno cried the entire way back to the Ryokan “Yuno, please stop” you tried to get her to stop pulling, but she stopped midway, her anger now rising and before she could get a word out mama Atsuko, trudged past you gripping her hand.

“How dare you!!!”“You foolish girl!!” she screamed, her bamboo stick tightened between her fist, she ignored your presence leaving with yuno who waved goodbye to you.

Which now left you alone, as you squatted, wanting to scream. He was back. How dare he, after all, he did how could such an evil person show their face such as him.

The man who ruined your life.

#peter parker imagines #park jimin #park jimin scenarios #bts japan #BTS jimin #jimin x you #jimin scenario #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #park jimin x chubby reader #park jimin x you #Otoko giesha!jimin

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hellzyeahwebwieldingreviews · 5 years ago

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Untold Tales of Spider-Man 02: After the First Death… – by Tom DeFalco

A story that has me debating the nature of these stories.

A soggy Spidey swings through rainy Manhattan looking for crime shots for the Daily Bugle. He comes upon Kent and Wayne Weisinger on the roof of Stockbridge Jewelers, planning to rob it. Confident that he can end the fight anytime he wants to, Spidey stretches it out so that his automatic camera can take as many photos as possible. Kent and Wayne have a longstanding sibling rivalry marked by Kent's resentment of being the "muscle" to Wayne's "brains" along with feeling that his brother always cheats him. During the fight, Kent appears to charge at Spidey but when the web-slinger leaps out of the way, Kent doesn't stop, charging into Wayne and knocking him off the roof. Wayne falls five stories to his death and all the by-standers think Spidey did it. Guiltily, Spidey flees, forgetting about Kent altogether.

So, Kent goes to Wayne's estranged wife Jeannette to tell her the news. "Solid ice," Jeannette could care less about Wayne's death except that she's lost her meal ticket. When Kent blames the death on Spider-Man, Jeannette gets an idea on how to cash in.

In fact, Peter Parker seems to be the only one emotionally affected by Wayne's death. He has a sleepless night, trying to cope with the situation. Unguarded, he admits to J. Jonah Jameson that he has photos of the incident. His resolve to not sell the photos is beaten down by Jameson's arm-twisting and his own need for money. He sells the pictures and is then introduced to Jeannette, now the grieving widow of Wayne, who has come to JJJ for help in instituting a civil suit against Spider-Man. At school, Peter's conscience makes him counter Flash Thompson's avowal that "Spidey's no murderer" with "Maybe the wall-crawler didn't actually kill the man... but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be held accountable for what happened." Back in action, Spidey hesitates over stopping a purse-snatcher, fearful that he may cause another tragedy. Back home, Peter doesn't know what to do. He recalls that Uncle Ben's death made him swear, "that no innocent person would ever again be made to suffer because Spider-Man had failed to act. It had never occurred to him that anyone would suffer because of Spider-Man's acts." And while Wayne wasn't exactly innocent, "he had suffered because Peter had acted irresponsibly." He ends up having one of those vague discussions with Aunt May where he can't tell her any details because she doesn't know he's Spider-Man, yet she manages to hit the nail on the head, telling him in this case, "Everybody makes mistakes, Peter. You just try to learn from your failures as best you can, and you move on. You'll always get another chance to do better as long as you keep at it."

Meanwhile, Jeannette decides to kick Kent out of the deal and keep any anticipated profits for herself. So even as Spidey sucks it up and gets back into action, proving himself a hero, Kent decides he's not going to be kicked around anymore, buttonholes a TV reporter and gives an interview in which he reveals "that he deliberately pushed his elder brother off the roof of Stockbridge Jewelers because of numerous past frustrations." At Midtown High, Flash crows over Spidey's exoneration but Peter won't let the web-slinger off so easily. "A real hero would have found a way to save Wayne Weisinger" he says, "He would have acted smarter, reacted quicker, or behaved more responsibly... And that's something Spider-Man will have to live with for the rest of his life."

Because these are untold tales, prose stories and utilize the comic book continuity you can analyse them from several different angles and their worth changes depending upon those angles.

Chiefly this boils down to whether I judge this as a story unto itself or within the context of comic book continuity as it existed back then? What about the fact that I’m here in 2020 evaluating a prose book written in 1990 that’s trying to synch up with comic book stories written in the 1960.

It boggles the mind. All I can do is write about how I feel.

I liked this story unto itself and within the context of this book. I think, kind of like the last story, that it doesn’t really integrate into Spider-Man’s comic book history.

The emotional journey of Peter in this story involves learning that he needs to be careful about how he acts. In this regard it’s rather similar to his lesson from Gwen’s death, which is kind of my problem. This story’s title implies this is in fact the very first time Spider-Man has experienced death ‘on the job’ as it were.

Surely such a thing would weigh on his mind more, surely it’d crop up when he dwells on the list of people he’s seen die or feels guilty about dying. Or at least he’d be reminded of Wayne’s death when Gwen dies.

In the comics of course Wayne has never ever been mentioned. Duh, because he didn’t exist until DeFalco invented him for this story. Of course we could draw comparisons with Sally Avril, a character from AF #15 who died in the comic book version of Untold Tales but whose death went unacknowledged in stories from the 60s-90s.

I think the critical difference there is that (IIRC) Peter wasn’t particularly responsible for her death whereas in the case of Wayne, whilst he didn’t push him off the building, his arrogance really did directly contribute to his death. Plus seeing a man die in such a horrible way, especially if it is the first time he’s ever seen a dead body, would likely leave a bigger impression upon Peter than the nature of Sally’s death, although I must admit it’s been a long time since I read that issue so perhaps I am wrong.

From a continuity stand point this is the minefield you always walk, but at the same time it’d be difficult to generate drama if you didn’t step on those mines occasionally.

I feel DeFalco here wanted to tell a dramatic story that had Peter grapple with a genuinely emotional situation and also took advantage of the nature of this story as a flashback tale.

And frankly he succeeded. If you view this either out of continuity or essentially within an incredibly generalized canon of Spider-Man (i.e. Gwen Stacy died, whether Peter did or didn’t think about Wayne is ambiguous though) the story very much works. I doubt DeFalco or anyone else was honestly feeling any of these stories were going to strictly be canon anyway. However for the record this story happens at some point after ASM #9 because when we get a list of Spider-Man’s opponents they all appeared up to that issue.

Looking at the story itself its flaws are incredibly minor.

Some of the dialogue feels old fashioned, but I argue that is likely by design since this is set in an older time period. We go over exposition related to Peter’s origin again, which is more the editor’s fault since we got those details in the first story of the anthology. In fairness revisiting it does serve a greater purpose here because the story is directly ruminating upon the nature of responsibility. In that sense it would’ve been more logical to open the book up with this than the Ant-Man story and I see little reason as to why this couldn’t have in theory happened at an earlier point chronologically. Yeah the Ant-Man story claims Spider-Man’s a new figure on the scene but the passage of time in the first 10 issues of ASM is so vague it’s really not unbelievable that even by issue #9 Spidey might still be considered ‘new’.

Not only does the story explore (and successfully at that) the theme of responsibility, approaching it from the opposite direction from the lesson Ben’s death imparted, but it also features the supporting cast more. Flash, Aunt May, Jameson, the Bugle and public distrust of Spider-Man are all given notable roles to play in the story, again proving that THIS should’ve opened the book.

To go back to the theme of responsibility for a moment, perhaps the most nuanced bit of writing in the story is when Peter is on the phone to Jameson. Peter has a really great ethical dilemma. Would it be irresponsible to profit off of Wayne’s death or would it be irresponsible to not profit off of it and use the money to support his Aunt May?

DeFalco more than any other writer GETS Spider-Man and his depiction of Peter’s internal debate, whilst short, rings utterly true. What gets me is that most of the time whenever I’ve seen this sort of thing done with Peter he’s actually made a different decision, but here DeFalco recognizes that in actuality Peter WOULD consider his responsibilities as the bread winner outweigh what boils down to him merely feeling bad about profiting off a man’s death. It’s not all that different to when he faked photos of Electro to help Aunt May. Yes it’s unethical, but there was a higher responsibility, a greater good at stake.*

Kent and Jeanette’s subplot, whilst arguably wrapped up unsatisfactorily, does a neat job of evoking something of a daytime drama or even noir story, and in that light fits wonderfully into the brand of stories Lee and Ditko churned out way back at the start.

In fact of the two opening stories this one more successfully captured that era and by extension the approach of the comic book version of UToSM. Whilst the Ant-Man story was fun, it was the prose equivalent of a typical MTU super hero yarn complete with dodgy pseudo science.

This story though? Now this is a Spider-Man story. It has a singular main character (Kent is ultimately a supporting player) and whether he’s in or out of the costume the story is driven by the emotional and human problems faced by the character, not the fantastical super human issues. In classic Spidey manner those two halves of his life bleed over into one another and lack a clear cut divide.

Really in the Ant-Man story Peter’s personal life would’ve gone mostly unaffected whether he had gotten involved or not. It wasn’t about Peter Parker, it was about Spider-Man. This story is about both.

Peter needs money to look after himself, his home and Aunt May. So he looks for trouble as Spider-Man and pads out a fight. That gets someone killed which haunts Peter and makes him hesitate to BE Spider-Man, even whilst he reluctantly profits off it as Peter Parker which in turn contributes to his being falsely accused as Spider-Man and kids as school hating on him because he will not defend Spider-Man from these accusations.

Wham, Bam, DeFalco is the Man. THAT’S a fucking Spidey story right there!

The only thing for me which really and truly did let this story down wasn’t the fault of the book, but the audio production.

I’m hoping DeSantos was just off his game for this story, but between this and his prior efforts I think he’s achingly miscast as the narrator of this title. He worked better narrating Stan Lee and Busiek’s forwards than the actual stories. As Aunt May, Kent and Jeanette he wasn’t that bad (actually pretty good as Kent), but his Peter/Spider-Man fails. He can’t even sell the emotion of the non-dialogue bits. He’s not a bad narrator, but not right for this book.

Over all taken strictly within comics canon there are a lot of contradictions. But taken as it’s own thing or (I suspect) within the context of this one book, this is a knock out story.

*By the way DeFalco also seamlessly blends humour and tragedy in the scene. Peter’s internal debate and horror at the prospect of profiting off of Wayne’s death leaves him in silence which in turn is misinterpreted by Jameson causing him to raise his offer which in turn causes Peter more internal strife. Just brilliant!

#Tom DeFalco #Ron Frenz #Gwen Stacy #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Untold Tales Of Spider-Man #Stan Lee #Kurt Busiek #Aunt May #May Parker #J. Jonah Jameson

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years ago

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 35: Planecdote

Chapters: 35/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Reader Has Some Insight, Loki Tries To Explain Himself, But May Still Be An Unreliable Narrator Summary: In which Loki explains exactly what he was up to during the New York Attack. It's up to you whether you believe him or not .

It was nice that you had made some friends, Loki thought, slightly annoyed at the continued presence of your little group of human followers. They had followed you around all day while you explained-surprisingly patiently-the abridged version of what had happened to you. They were fascinated by your potential with magic, by Asgard, and, much to his surprise, by him. He had tailed you, of course, in multiple human guises. He had to make sure you were safe, but he understood the need to be on your own. He didn't like it, but he understood.

They wanted to know everything, and for the most part, you didn't have any problems telling them. When some of the questions got a little sensitive, you just laughed softly and told them it was a 'political secret'-no matter what the subject was. They seemed to appreciate the joke.

“But what about when he attacked us?” One piped up. “Is that a political secret too?”

“No,” You sighed. “It's no secret, it's just something I don't know. We haven't exactly discussed it.”

Of course. The crux of every matter involving him, at least from the Earth's standpoint. It would always come up, in every conversation about him. He lounged against a wall, not so far away, only gaining notice because of the impeccably dressed and handsome shape he had taken. Otherwise, none of your little squad was paying him any attention, and he could eavesdrop with ease.

“I can tell you though, that it wasn't exactly his idea.” You said conspiratorially. “He was under someone else's control.”

Oh damn. You were talking about it. Well, he hadn't asked you not to, but it wasn't a subject he wanted to dwell on.

“Someone else was pulling the strings? Who?”

“His name was Thanos, and he was some kinda alien or something. But it's okay, he's dead now. Can't cause any more trouble.”

“Okay, but did he just tell you that? Do you have any proof he wasn't just making it up?”

“Thor corroborated.” You said. “In fact, Thor was the one who told me in the first place. I don't think Loki would have even mentioned it.”

“Why not?” A young man asked. “You'd think that would be the first thing he brought up. Get the blame off of him.”

It's shame.” You said so quietly that he barely heard you. “You gotta understand, Loki is royalty, and not just any royalty; his planet used to rule lots of other planets. He's a prince of whole worlds. He's a god. Like, actually a god, of the old kind that were way more like people, but still gods. For him to have been used like that, to be brought low like that...he'd probably rather we all think he's just evil, rather than have us entertain the possibility for one second that he might have ever been weak enough to allow anyone else to control his actions.”

Loki was boiling inside, but it wasn't with anger. The stew of emotions stuck in his throat like bile. One would think you'd been given Heimdalls eyes, to see through him so. Unsettled, Loki dug his fingers into the wall beside him.

“He actually takes his job really seriously.” You continued. “And his people seem to like him a lot, so he must be good at it. I mean, even the maids speak highly of him, and if he's nice to the servants, he must be pretty decent overall. And so far, he has been really good to me.”

“Are you dating?”

You had Loki's full attention.

You twiddled your fingers nervously. “Is this about all those so-called 'news' articles? We're friends. I think. I'm pretty sure. But I've only known him for a little while, you know?”

“Girl, it's been the whole summer! The sun's just weird here.”

“Wow, has it really been that long? I've just had so much on my plate, and I haven't thought about dating anyone in a long time now. Besides, he's an immortal god-prince, and I'm...I don't know what I am really anymore. Like, I'm working class, but I've been promoted? I dunno, I'm not royalty, so it's probably not even allowed.”

It was. Women in Asgard tended to marry 'up', so to speak. He could marry a peasant if he wanted to. Not without pushback from every noble who wanted to put forth their own daughters, and there weren't many strengthening family alliances that could be made with the lower classes. Not to mention, he simply didn't know many individual peasants, probably for those very reasons. But theoretically, it wasn't forbidden.

But it was something he shouldn't be contemplating right now. He had no time. No inclination. And there was no one of interest to him. No one...

“And anyway, I've got a lot going on, you know?” You were saying. “Gotta learn magic, Asgardian history, and language, and culture, court manners. You know, all that stuff. I can't think about romance right now. Maybe not ever again.”

Your new posse was quick to coo, and protest, and reassure you that that wasn't so, that you'd find someone. Loki wanted to agree. It wasn't as if he wanted you to remain celibate or anything, it was just that he didn't think you had many options. There weren't many humans for you to interact with, and fewer Asgardians who could be considered worthy of you. He supposed that was his fault. Appointing you as his personal seidkona had shot you up through social ranks in a way he didn't think you understood just yet. There were very few people on your level.

“It's not so bad though.” You continued. “I've got more than enough to occupy my time, and if I haven't run him off, Loki is almost always there. I'm not lonely or anything, so I don't necessarily need romance. Don't worry about it. I'm not.”

“Um, sir? Are you aware that you are damaging the wall?” A passerby asked quietly. Loki drew his hands away from where he'd been digging his fingers in, only then realizing that he had left dents in the plaster.

“I see.” He answered, just as quietly. “Thank you for informing me.”

The person moved on swiftly, a concerned expression on their face.

“There's always Thor.” Someone suggested. “We know for sure he's into humans, even if Loki isn't.”

Suddenly Loki was boiling again.

You laughed. “No way! He's not my type. Don't get me wrong, he's great, but just not my kind of guy.”

The bubbling inferno subsided to be replaced by a strange nervy, buoyant feeling. He'd never before heard a woman be so dismissive of the possibility of his brother's affections. From Midgard to Vanaheim, Thor was considered the pinnacle of masculine perfection, everyone knew that. To hear you so quickly declare him to be uninteresting to you was deeply satisfying.

He wanted to wade in among this little group of humans, to scatter them, and take you away. Yes, you needed interaction with other people, but this was all time you could be spending with him. Without any duties, without any danger, just being. You could be exploring the museums, or watching the great whale behemoths swim and blow water into the air, or sampling delicious dishes, which you so loved to do, or just walking the town, holding hands...

No wait, he wasn't doing that anymore. He was going to be more professional, more magisterial. More royal.

You stayed there talking until evening, when hunger presumably overtook you, and your new friends saw you back to your hotel in a tight, protective little group. Loki, of course, managed to get back into your shared room before you, and composed himself as if he had just been waiting for your to return.

“Pleasant afternoon?” He asked innocently.

“Yeah, actually.” You said. “Lotta good conversation, and I think I convinced them that I was fine. They might even hate you a bit less now too.”

“I am not concerned with their opinions.” Loki scoffed. You called that good conversation? Inane questions and senseless suggestions? You were better than that.

“Well, maybe I am. Loki, nobody knows anything about you except for what you did five years ago. Why haven't you done anything to defend yourself? If you just told people what really happened-”

“Would that make it better?” Loki interjected. “Would that gain me forgiveness? Would they even believe me, were I to apologize?”

Well...some would. Especially if you didn't do any other bad things, or did good things instead. Like the nature reserves...”

Loki stepped close and took your hands in his. He would stop tomorrow.

“_____ you know it wouldn't go that smoothly. There is a limit on what I can say. If I told people I was being influenced, they would want to know by whom. And if I spoke about Thanos, they would want to know more about him, his goals, and especially his methods. They would start looking for more answers, and we don't want that. Someone would stumble across information about the Stones, and go looking for them, and it would all start over again. I am pleased that you care about my reputation, but if I want to keep the universe safe, there is little I can do to clear my name.”

You hung your head, refusing to meet his gaze. “ I just thought maybe you could get people to like you, and then you wouldn't have so many enemies.”

Loki laughed. “I'm royalty; I'll always have enemies. I welcome them. They help keep me sharp. Now I need your help with a very important matter.”

“Yes?” You asked, looking back up.

“Where shall we go for dinner?”

*****

You ended up in an old, wooden building with a quaint, timber-framed interior, that was far too casual for the effort he had put into his impeccable suit and clean ponytail. He'd thought that you might appreciate seeing him in fine human style, after your day among your own kind, and indeed, it seemed to affect you. In fact, you'd had a hard time taking your eyes off him.

It was pleasant, noticing others staring at you in your beautiful Asgardian dress, and seeing that you were only looking at him. Perhaps he was a finer specimen than he had given himself credit for. But you both stuck out like jewels in a goat's ear, in this tavern-like establishment.

You had insisted though, as soon as you found out they served American food. It seemed your nostalgia was high.

“Pizza, Loki.” You had said. “I haven't had pizza in like, four months, and I just gotta have a pizza!”

So he had caved in, and brought you to this rustic restaurant, where you had ordered a pizza and a soda, and exclaimed about how it had been so long, and laughed at him when he tried to eat his slice of the messy Midgardian concoction with a fork, as was clearly proper. Somehow, you were balancing a floppy slice of the mess in one hand, and just eating it like that. Loki sighed and shook his head. Someday he would cure you of those peasant manners.

“Say, Loki...” You said between bites. “Am I allowed to ask you kinda personal questions?”

When have you ever held back? “To be honest, as my seidkona, you are not only allowed, but expected to question me. Just be mindful of the context, and the situation, and the nature of the question itself. I, on the other hand, need not answer if I do not wish to.”

You nodded slowly. “I want to ask you about the dream we shared.”

“Which one?” They were both unpleasant.

“The more recent one.”

“Ah. Well, if you will but indulge me...” He made a flourishing gesture, and the sound of the wait staff and the other patrons dulled and slowed. “We will go unheard now. It is as safe to ask as it can be.”

Your eyes flicked around the restaurant, taking in the altered noise. “Wow...That's really handy!”

“Your question?” He prompted.

“Oh right. Um. Were you really going to let them kill three and a half billion people?”

Yes that would be an important question to you. There was a fifty percent chance you would have been one of them.

“No.” He said frankly. “There's a reason that was a nightmare. That was the worst case scenario; what was likely to happen if all my planning went awry.”

“I mean, you could have died.”

“Unlikely. But it was something I included in my plans. That was the second worst case scenario.”

“Wait, wait. There was a scenario where winning was worse than death?”

“Yes, of course. Conquering your realm, but remaining under Thanos' boot would mean that all of my plans had failed, and I would never be free.”

“What exactly was the plan, anyway?”

“It's moot now.” He shrugged. “But a lot of it came down to control of the Mind Stone. It was caged within my scepter, and was what I used to control the Chitauri troops, as well as the handful of people I touched with it. I...was also being controlled, as Thanos exerted his influence over me through the stone. I was, on some level, aware of it, and everything I did on your realm was part of my plot to flout him. Defeat was acceptable to me, death was acceptable, but ideally, I would triumph.

I would have taken the realm with as little damage as possible. It was important to keep as much as I could intact, especially your weapons, your warriors, your resources. If everything had gone absolutely flawlessly, I would have defeated your Avengers, and added them to my army with the power of the Stone. With their power, their minds, their funds, I would have built defenses for the Earth, especially enhancing you space travel capabilities. I would have pulled hundreds of thousands of Chitauri troops in, and then cut them off from their mothership, leaving them solely under my control.

The Chitauri would then go into space, to patrol. This is when we would have begun building bases on your moon, and mining operations across your planetary system. All humans who were capable of it would be given basic military training, as everyone would have to be mobilized against outside threats, especially from Thanos. And he would have tried. Three of the Stones were here on Earth at that time; there is no way he would have let up.

Of course, I would have also gathered up all magically talented individuals for training, once I realized they existed. So I would have found you either way, my dear, even without this binding rune. And while I was raising your planet out of the galactic mud, I would have sent my brother to Asgard to take his place as king. Once enthroned, he would have allied Asgard, and the rest of the realms to Midgard, and under my banner, we would have purged the universe of Thanos, and all his allies. After that, I would have ruled your planet as a benevolent god. I would not have tolerated defiance, but I would have rewarded those who deserved it. No divisions by race or religion, or culture, or wealth. Merit would be all that mattered.

Ah, but that would have interfered with your precious 'freedoms', so it could not be allowed.” He sighed. “You throw celebrations for a royal wedding in a country you don't even live in, but you hate the idea of kings. Hypocritical nonsense. And more, you weren't even allowed to make your own decision about it. Some man in an underground bunker decided I could not be king, and so war was declared against me before I could even present my case.”

“You did murder a bunch of guys.” You pointed out.

“I did murder a bunch of guys.” Loki admitted. “Almost entirely combatants.”

“Almost?”

“The museum curator in Stuttgart was not technically a combatant. He was working for my enemies however so he was fair game.”

“Okay, gotta admit, you are sounding distressingly villainous right now.” You said it almost jokingly, but your soda glass shook a little in your hand.

“I did tell you I still had it in me, did I not? And you did ask. This is all just hypothetical of course, In reality, my neutral plan is the one that panned out. I was defeated, but not killed, and eventually, Thanos was overcome. And you and I met anyway, just a little later we might have, so perhaps the Norns interwove our strings in all their tapestries. We were always going to meet. So I will try to be less villainous, as I already was, but you will have to confront the fact that I have been truly nefarious, especially if you ask me about the times when I was.”

He cupped your shaking hand as you put your drink down.

“Yeah I guess if I'm gonna pry, I'd better be ready for what I find, huh? So you believe in fate, Loki?”

“The Norns weave the threads of each life into a vast work that forms the universe, and we can travel those threads in whatever way we see fit. But some knots they tie very tight, and those are hard to wiggle around. Most people can't, and even those who can, cannot escape them all. Some things simply must happen. I suppose that's...as close to a religion as Asgardians get.”

“Do the Norns really exist?” You asked. “Like, are they people you could meet? I mean, we used to think gods weren't real, solid people that you could meet, and yet, here you are.” You brushed your knuckles against his palm, sending little jolts of electric warmth down his spine. “Very solid.”

Loki cleared his throat. He wasn't supposed to be holding your hand. He would stop tomorrow.

“Uh, well, I've never seen them, but that does not mean they don't exist. As you've learned, a great deal of things that weren't supposed to exist actually do. Just as there is a great, wide universe beyond your Earth, There may be even more outside of that which is beyond even we Aesir.”

“Wow. Something beyond even you? I never thought you would admit such a thing!” Your voice was laced with sarcasm.

“I am clearly among the greatest men you have ever been privileged to meet, but yes. There are forces greater even than I.” Perhaps he was laying it on a bit thick, but it was better that you snorted at the pretentiousness, and turned your interest to the mysteries of the universe, rather than the things he had done. Or rather, would have done.

What would he have done, if things had gone entirely his way? Would he have found you after all? Certainly, once he'd found out there were humans that could use magic, he'd have had them all rounded up for training. But if there were very many, would he have noticed you?

Probably. You had such a knack for getting yourself in trouble. For curiosity. For poking at the core of him. Oh, he would have hated it. For he would have seen that you were a valuable asset and would not have brought you to harm, but you would have frustrated him greatly. You weren't disobedient exactly, just...mouthy.

It was a trait he simultaneously valued as a person, but despised as a ruler. He had liked it in his mother, he had liked it in Sif, he had even liked it in Jane Foster, and he...he liked it in you.

Yes, he likely would have kept you very close. Perhaps he would have made it his personal responsibility to correct you.

Oh, but he should definitely not be allowing his thoughts to wander down such a path.

He would stop tomorrow.

#loki x reader #loki (marvel)#marvel fanfiction

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darthwritings · 6 years ago

Text

Through the Looking Glass (1/?)

AO3 Version

Relationship: Aaravos/Reader

Rating: Teen (for now)

First Chapter | Next Chapter (N/A)

Summary: You are the head keeper of the Katolis Castle, the one in charge of everything from the castle's structural integrity to the morale of the people who live within its sturdy walls. You like to think you know everything there is to know about the history and sometimes chaotic, maze-like sprawling of the castle itself--but when Lord Viren is arrested and a section of previously-unknown dungeon caverns is revealed, you come to realize that there might be a lot more to the castle, to Katolis and even to history than you ever thought possible.

And it all centers around a very ancient, very powerful mirror and the wondrous, dangerous man who dwells within it.

As the head keeper of Katolis Castle, you often like to think you know everything that happens within its carefully-fortified walls. Every birth, every death, every detail of day-to-day life that came and went with each setting sun. You’ve been the head keeper for as long as you can be called an adult--the title came with your heritage, the passing of the torch from parent to child since the original founding of the castle, no, the from the very first breath that Katolis took as a kingdom.

It’s a position you’re proud of, in any regard, so finding out any level of secrets that evaded your knowing is like realizing there’s a knife stuck in your leg; it hurts deeply as much as it surprises you. How in the world could you not have noticed, have seen something so obvious? Others could certainly turn a blind eye without realizing it, but you are different! The head keeper of Katolis Castle, learning there was a plethora of passages and rooms extending beyond what you thought was but a humble dungeon?

For shame.

But that’s exactly what you learned just a day or so ago, wrapped up with the capture of Lord Viren and discovery of such an unknown passage behind a painting in one of his personal libraries. Opeli put you in charge of investigation while she took care of Viren’s punishment in his treasonous crimes against the kingdom.

The king’s death is still so fresh in everyone’s mind that it’s hard to take her orders without some sense of unease, if only because you’re at least somewhat afraid at what you’d learn lay in the darkest corners of such untouched caverns beneath the castle. Perhaps that isn’t the right word; it makes it sound as if you’re unwilling--concerned sounds much better as an accurate reflection of your emotional state. Concerned for the kingdom, concerned for the lost princes, concerned for what will happen next.

You decide to explore the dungeons alone.

It’s stupid, yes, you know that, but something tugging at your mind told you that it was unwise to bring others with you. Maybe you needed the quiet, maybe you needed to process things in isolation, maybe still you’re still trying to unravel the anxiety and fear that’s yet to spill from the Xadian border.

You’ve been in the dungeons before. Many times, in fact, usually for purposes of ensuring structural integrity of the stone after strong rainstorms. The last thing anyone needed is a small crack being the forefather to the entire castle coming down above their heads. It isn’t exactly a common thing, and you quite wanted to keep it that way.

“What sorts of things were you hiding down here?”

Your voice follows you as you step down the winding staircase, descending farther than you once assumed that the dungeons went into the hill below the castle. You originally thought that Viren’s secret passage was simply another entrance, but it quickly became obvious it was much more than that--leading into an entire new section of passageways and rooms you’d never known existed.

It takes you a few minutes to reach the bottom of the stairs. It’s quiet. The air is damp, humid and cold, enough that it chills you despite the layers of clothes you wear.

Though you’ve grown intensely familiar with almost every inch of the castle, having lived exclusively within its walls since childhood, you’re rather taken-aback by how utterly unfamiliar you are with the walls around you. There’s a passage down one way, a turn in another, a series of small rooms across from the foot of the staircase and….there's just so much, you’re not quite sure where to even begin.

How did nobody know about this? How did you never know about this?

You allow yourself a few seconds to feel the shock spill down your thoughts. For a few heartbeats you feel as if a child again, clutching fearfully at your mentor’s shirt as they introduce you to the section of the dungeon you now know is but a fragment of what exists beneath Katolis Castle.

Shadows dance on the walls as you hold your torch-held hand outwards, hoping to get as much detail as possible without having to step forward.

You shouldn’t forget that this served as Viren’s secret for however long it’s existed--there’s no telling if he’s set traps anywhere. You’re plenty quick on your feet, but it’s not as if you’d have much over the wit of someone with many years of dark magic experience.

Everything is silent.

Silent and dark.

You consider going back after a few moments, hurrying up the spiral staircase and requesting the aid of soldiers in the case there’s something genuinely dangerous down there, but a feeling of pride and curiosity keeps you still.

“...Is there anyone down here?” You hear yourself calling out into the darkness, the faint echo of yourself the only response. “Anyone at all? Anything? No dark magic demons or ancient portals?”

The sound of a voice, even if it’s your own, calms your nerves a little bit. It helps to offset the bubbling fear in your stomach.

You finally take a step forward, and then another when nothing flies out at you from one of the walls. A third step, a fourth, and you’re standing at last in the center of the entry room. The light from the flickering torch casts more of the room into light, showcasing several options of passageways on one side or the other of you, with only one directly ahead.

Indecision strikes you like a knife, pressing into your thoughts in one sharp motion before you even feel it. It leaves you twisting your head from one side to the other in growing nervousness for what passage to start with first (would you get lost?) and what each one might be hiding (do not underestimate what Viren may be hiding).

Just as you’re about to take a step towards one of the entrances to your left, something stops you.

For a moment, the world seems to stop.

You freeze in place with a sudden tickle in your ears, a brush of wind that cannot exist in an underground cavern. It’s not the near-impossible wind that stills your motions and thoughts, but the slow realization that what you feel in your ears is not merely a breeze, but a whisper.

A whisper of a voice.

With locked joints and tense muscles your mind immediately tries to decipher the sound gently filling your ears. It’s nearly impossible as trying to understand the sound of the very breeze you assumed it to be, but it’s definitely a whisper, a trailing of words that you can hear all together but yet don’t comprehend.

There’s a thread suddenly in your thoughts. It’s cold, dark and weak but wraps around your mind and starts to tug.

It pulls just hard enough to feel a warm, undeniable presence. Your eyes flick towards the single passage on the opposite side of the room from the stairs, all without your own doing. The whispering grows louder as you peer into the darkness of the hallway.

There's something down here with you, lurking in the dark shadows and unfamiliar corners.

The whispering is still muddled. You can’t make out any specific words even as the voice gets stronger in your ears, louder and louder as you continue to stare at the open, dark passageway. The longer that you listen, the harder the tug starts to become, the more you realize that you can’t make out the words because it's in a foreign-sounding tongue.

The consonants are sharp and the vowels somehow even sharper, tickling against your mind in curious waves and delicate licks against your ears.

Its unknown if it's the thrall of the voice or the burning curiosity in your belly that drives your feet, but you're moved towards the darkness all the same. One step after another until you're swallowed by the passage, until the flame of your torch starts to weaken and pass less and less over the stone walls and flooring ahead of you.

The passage isn't long at least--you reach the end of it in only a dozen paces and come upon a door. It's tall, aged oak with rich swirls of color in the wood and iron fastenings keeping the planks together. There's a lock near the handle--it looks like it requires an old key, the sort you are aptly familiar with in your experience of learning an old castle’s secrets.

The whispering is nearly deafening by this point, fueling your curiosity into a voracious flame that seems to burn away all other thoughts of caution and logic. It encompasses everything of you, until you feel nothing but a shell of yourself, watching passively as your free hand reaches towards the handle-

-and, slowly, you turn it.

It’s unlocked.

The shock is strong enough that you seem to come back to yourself, blinking in momentary bewilderment that such a door would be left unlocked, but what exactly did you expect otherwise? Doors usually functioned to open.

Though part of you knows it would be best to return to Opeli and request help, that thread in your thoughts all but snatches the desire away and burns it to ashes.

No. You need to be alone. With a swallow, you pull the door back in a slow, careful motion, cautious for any traps that may have been set up for someone foolish thought to waltz right through--you've seen Viren in combat, you know exactly what the man is capable if pushed. Hairs stand up on the back of your neck as your heartbeat quickens in preparation for anything. A burst of flame, a lunging sword, a falling mace over your head--so many possibilities, each of them more horrible than the last--but there's nothing to greet you when the door falls open in your hand, fingers gripping tight around the metal handle. Nothing. You blink, staring into the darkness of the room that lays beyond the door. Little of the warm glow from the torch is able to move past the opening, leaving you with nothing but cracked stone to see within your view, the rest swallowed up by nothing but shadow. Your grip suddenly feels too tight around the handle; you let it fall with a breath, a pondering of thoughts to the seemingly empty room before you. The whispering has stopped. You’re not quite sure when it happened, when your ears finally stopped ringing with the sound of words you didn’t even understand. It had been deafening but moments ago and now, with the door opened and your eyes taking in all the emptiness of but a single, humble jail cell, you can’t help but feel disturbed by the utter lack of noise. The silence is deafening. Though your mouth feels dry and your limbs heavy with worry, you feel yourself take a step forward. Then a second step, and finally a third. You enter the room with a discernible lack of confidence you held but moments ago, carefully letting both eyes and light sweep across the room. There isn’t very much to see, but what you do find captures your attention instantly: a chair, a table, a handful of items on said table and…a mirror? You blink and turn your body towards the questionable item sitting in the corner of the room, positioned so it’s the very last thing you take in, the last thing that you notice. Your thoughts had already been rolling over the possibility that the small cell had been used for some sort of torture–considering the collection of items on the table and the set of handcuffs hanging from the opposite wall–but the mirror throws your train of investigative thought for a loop.

What would Viren have need for with a mirror? Though most of you doesn’t want to ponder too long on the meaning or the implications of such a piece, you can’t stop yourself from prodding against the edges of that fragile barrier. Curiosity is far too strong of an emotion, and you far too familiar with its tug to ignore it for very long.

It’s an ornate piece, decorated by twisted metal of origins you can’t place. Runes cover the mirrors outer edges; they are of a language you don’t know, perhaps they are even magical. There are plenty of things you’ve picked up over the many years of your careful love over the castle, but dark magic or Xadian culture is not one of them. Your fingers reach out to trace several of the alien shapes, briefly wondering what sort of meaning they hold, if any at all. They could be words of blessings or curses for all that you know, especially since you scarcely can place a reason that Viren would have a mirror in a jail cell, and likely one used for torture.

You recall that Commander Gren had been found down here upon its opening. You remember him being weak, helped up by two soldiers and looking famished and dehydrated. You remember him being in warm spirits, but with a look in his eyes that you dared not to ask about–it’s a look you’ve seen before, a look shared by soldiers who have seen firsthand the nightmares of war and death.

It’s obvious Gren was not the person held within this cell. When discovered, he bared no marks of torture and spoke with ease, his warm spirit unbroken and still filled with his familiar mirth.

No, there had been someone else held in this cell. You can’t place a perfect finger on anything in particular, but you know that someone else had suffered through this cold darkness. Your eyes shift from the mirror, instead over to the shackles bolted to the stone wall.

Someone had been sitting there, chained up–you know it, you can feel it deep in your bones, but you can’t begin to wonder how long ago it had been, how long Viren had been keeping someone down in this dungeon and out of the knowledge of Katolis’ High Council.

How much is Viren hiding?

It’s a question you know is far from your status, high above your head and out of your reach. You are the head keeper of the castle, but that doesn’t inherently make you privy to each and every scrap of information passed between those who rule your kingdom–that is something that aggravates you often these days, wanting to do everything you can for your country but being resigned merely to the care of the castle and all that went on within its walls.

It’s the first thing a keeper needs to learn, but it’s also the hardest.

Curiosity killed the cat, your mentor had stressed in telling you. Keep the castle a heaven so that the country doesn’t turn to hell.

Still, it bothers you deeply that so much pain happened just below the castle, beneath where you slept and felt so at-peace. To think that Viren hid so many things, to think that he would risk to much and betray his own people, imprison a Katolis commander and even torture one of his own-

No.

You shake your head in sharp motions to stop the train of thoughts from leaving your control like a wild hare. What’s done is done, and you are here to do your job. After a slow breath and a few moments to compose yourself, you decide to take a closer look at the small table sitting beside the mirror.

As the light from the flickering torch draws nearer, the tools reveal themselves not to be devices of torture, but something else entirely. In fact, you’re not even sure what they were used for–though it’s obvious that they have been used to come capacity. A cup, a piece of embroidered cloth, two halves of a crystalline-lined geode and a knife?

The knife must have been what caught your attention first, leading your thoughts instantly to the idea of outright torture; there’s a speckling of dried blood against the blade, haphazardly smeared as if the user didn’t think to clean the metal until long after it was fresh. You stare at it for a few moments, trying to piece together what the items could even have been used for-

-and then it hits you all at once.

Magic.

Just as your mind wraps itself around the word, you feel a pressure against your mind. It’s cold and powerful, like the weight of several dozen stones all driving down and into your very thoughts. The impact is so strong and sudden that it leaves you physically reeling away from it, one unsteady step backwards even leaving you unbalanced; you’re falling, suddenly, your own feet as if not knowing how to right yourself when your heel catches the uneven edge of a stone of the flooring.

You have just enough time and thought to grab the back of the chair next to you, though you have to drop the torch in order to keep yourself from falling back and likely cracking your head against one stone surface or another. Instinct keeps you safe, but it certainly doesn’t stop the fact that in the span of a heartbeat you’re left with an adrenaline-fueled heartbeat, a bead of sweat down your back and a pitch-black room as the light from your already-weakened torch goes out completely.

“Fuck,” you curse, hands clenching the shape of the chair’s back, less to hold you up and more to have some physical touch to something else in the darkened room. “Fuck, where’s the door?”

The door is still opened to the hallway, and while you can detect the faintest of light from the stairs all the way back at the entrance, it’s just too soft and too far to do much but give you an idea of the direction to walk. Without a light to guide you, all you can hope to do is make it back to the stairway and to the dungeons entrance; then you can swallow down your pride and curiosity to ask for not only another torch, but also a spare few soldiers to help you explore.

You stumble around the chair for a few moments, barely able to put one foot ahead of the other without tripping over your own steps on the uneven stone flooring. All you need to do is get to the doorway and then let your hands press to the wall and lead yourself back to the stairs.

Just as your hand leaves the anchoring touch of the chair, you see the outline of the door with enough detail to walk steadily in its direction.

Wait.

You’re several steps from the doorway when you realize that’s impossible. There’s no other sources of light with you, your torch has completely died–how are you seeing anything at all?

One thought leads to another before you think to turn towards the source. The glow is soft, almost sky blue in color and it’s….coming from the mirror. Confusion fills your mind up twice over as the realization comes to fruition. It leaves you dumbstruck and staring at the object in some combination of awe and curiosity until you catch what seems to be a shape just behind its reflective surface.

A shape, many shapes–all it takes is a blink of your eyes and what was once nothing more than an ornate mirror suddenly looks like a window. Instead of a reflection, you see a room, as if one exists just behind the mirror and the glass is nothing more than a thin pane separating it from this dreary, musty old jail cell.

It seems impossible, but yet you can’t deny that it’s real, you’re seeing it with your very own eyes.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping closer and pressing your hands to the cold surface, taking in more and more of the room just beyond and behind the mirror.

It’s beautiful, magical in both literal and metaphorical sense, like things of old storybooks and fairytales children would year from their parents. You can see an empty fireplace and shelves upon shelves of books towering around it, a collection that looks organized in some form though you can’t read the titles on the spines. There’s a window, a desk, there’s plants of all sorts scattered about the room–you don’t even recognize any of them–and then you have to force yourself to take a step back.

With a quickness that nearly trips you over your own feet, you peer behind the mirror. There’s nothing but stone and empty space, as one may normally expect to find behind an old mirror sitting uselessly in a dark, secret dungeon.

Your fingers curl around the edge of the metal coiling around the glass and you stare into the emptiness, wondering how such a wondrous thing exists or if perhaps is nothing but an illusion; is this too part of the torture that had taken place in this cell?

Something in your chest tells you otherwise.

You take a step back, let your eyes shift to the surface of the glass to take another look into that magical room and see what other wondrous details lay within its little world.

When your gaze falls back to the mirror, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re not staring into the room anymore. Something has changed in the half-minute or so that you’d looked away and, in the span of a heartbeat, you stare, awestruck, as a second pair of eyes stare back at you.

They’re part of a face so completely inhuman that you’re not quite sure how to react. Elven. You know very little of Xadia, but enough to pick out the basic features of its people, or at least the bare assumption of its people.

Pointed ears, horns adorning their head, sharp eyes and skin that seems to glow with all the colors of the night sky. The figure stares at you in silent return–it takes you a few moments to realize that their eyes look just as surprised as you feel to see them. Wide, blinking with something between awe and shock, and in their hands is a book they must have been reading but several moments ago.

By the time you think to take a step back from the mirror, the elf’s look of shock is gone, and instead is replaced by something with more assurance, more confidence laced in their golden, star-bright eyes.

You stare in frozen stupidity as the elf has enough time to put away the book and return to the mirror, head tilted to one side and a certain eagerness to their step.

They approach the mirror. A smile starts to tug at the corners of their lips as they gesture for you to do the same.

“You’re uh,” you say, remembering that you can speak. “You’re gonna have to give me a reason. I don’t make it a habit to listen to strange elves I meet in mirrors.”

The elf purses their lips and furrows their brows for a moment. Their lips open, then shut, and that’s when you realize that they might not even be able to hear you. The logic seems sound even though you’re not quite sure where it comes from, just another gut feeling in your belly that seems accurate enough to trust.

Well, it’s a bit of a conundrum. You have no intention of stepping closer towards the mirror again, but this elf seems unable to hear or even speak to you. Maybe it’s something with the magic of the mirror–maybe it only allows the vision of one side to reach the other–

-maybe that’s what the items on the table had been used for.

Oh. Oh. It suddenly begins to make sense to you, the curious objects and blood-speckled knife. Some sort of dark magic, though you’re unsure if it’s dark magic that created the mirror’s magical portal or simply allowed Viren the ability to speak to the entity standing on the other side.

Either way, if dark magic was in any way involved, you certainly aren’t going to be easily trusting of this elf.

They stare at you for a few moments more and then, with still-pursed lips, let out a sigh. You can see their chest heave gently with the motion despite being unable to hear it, those golden eyes trained on you all the while. Like a predator.

An idea comes to you after a few moments, creative enough to try and foolish enough to work.

It takes a few moments for your hands to remember the motions, a language of movement than sounds that you learned enough from Gren in the times he’s spent at the castle and furthered from books and mentors from across the kingdom.

You gesture widely with open palms, point towards the elf in the mirror, and then tap the sides of your fore and middle finger one one hand to the other. The question is simple, but it’s complex enough so that you can learn if the other understands you or not.

‘What is your name?’

Golden eyes blink slowly at you. It’s not a look of confusion in their face, but of curious recognition that leaves you feeling a little nervous, as if under a heavy weight that almost seems familiar to you. Almost like the pressure just a few minutes before.

You almost feel stupid, standing there with your hands possibly making empty gestures if the other doesn’t even know how to interpret them. Just as you’re about to rub a hand over your face you watch the other move, their hands making slow and deliberate motions of a response.

‘My name is Aaravos.’

It takes a few moments for you to put the letters of their name together in your head, string them up close enough so that your lips can start to form the sounds you assume it makes.

“Aaravos?” you say eventually, letting your lips and tongue shape the vowels.

The elf nods after a moment–so they can hear you; that answers a question, leaving you at least with the knowledge that verbal communication can go in one direction at least.

“It’s…nice to meet you?” you finally say, cautious and unsure. “I hope you don’t find my shock unbecoming. I…didn’t exactly expect to find a magical mirror down here in a secret dungeon.”

There’s a quirk of one of their brows–amusement, most likely–and they respond with a gentle, if a little dramatic flip of their hands.

‘You’re not the first human to meet me.’

“I assume the other one is Lord Viren?”

Another quirk of their brow, a little higher; you have their attention.

“He is the advisor to the king. Or, well, he was…he’s been arrested for crimes against the kingdom and will be put to trial. I…am responsible for making sure he’s not hidden anything dangerous down here.”

Aaravos tilts their head to one side, then the other, as if weighing your words. There’s a glimmer of knowledge in their eyes that certainly don’t get past your notice: they must know Viren to some degree, though you can’t be certain of the relationship’s depth or shape. For all you know, the elf could be a key conspirator, a close ally that has aided Viren into his numerous charges.

‘You’ll not find any danger with me,’ the elf signs, motions deliberate and gentle so you can follow them with ease. ‘One may call me but a humble advisor as well.’

You let the situation settle into your chest for a few moments. It’s a lot to take in, a lot more to filter. Already there’s been the discovery of one of Katolis’ highest commanders chained up and held prisoner literally beneath the castle, evidence of torture and some form of magical mirror with an elf of unknown origin–all of these things Viren has hidden away, leaving you to try and piece together the details as if they’d come together in a perfect puzzle of meaning.

But there’s no meaning to be found; the puzzle is far from complete, leaving too many gaping holes of confusion and questions to his reason and intentions that it takes you a few moments to realize that Aaravos is signing something at you.

They repeat the motion when its obvious you were too lost in thought to read it.

‘I’ve told you my name, it’s only polite you tell me yours.’

There’s a glimmer in their eyes, an inethreal glow to the glittering freckles over their cheeks. It’s hard to place the expression on their face, but it leaves you feeling small, as if under the gaze of something powerful and old and magical–considering the situation, you can’t find doubt in any of those things. You need to be cautious, but there’s a definite sense of social correctness that overpowers your fear and nervousness.

You sign your name to the other, one letter at a time, feeling almost that signing was safer than speaking it out loud–as if the sound itself had a power you didn’t wish to give them.

Aaravos weighed your name in their gaze for a moment, eyelids falling half-shut for a moment as if to enjoy it, the name, in their thoughts.

‘A lovely name,’ they sign. ‘Though most humans wouldn’t give their name so willingly to an elf.“

“And here I was trying not to stereotype.”

Though you can’t hear it, you watch as Aaravos chuckles, holds a hand up to their lips despite the fact that they are as silent as the night, the sound not leaving whatever confines that exist on the other side of the mirror. The twinkling over their cheeks grow brighter for but a moment, fading away into background glowing when they finally seem to catch themselves once more.

There’s a gentle grin on Aaravos’ lips.

‘You need not fear, I cannot do anything with a name alone.’

They purse their lips, then you see their eyes flick to the side–over to the table with the blood-speckled knife. You don’t follow those golden eyes.

‘You said that you are exploring these dungeons, that Viren is arrested?’

You can almost hear the question despite never once hearing their voice. In the same respect, you notice that there is a discerning lack of shock in Aaravos’ expression; perhaps they already know what’s happened to the mage, left to their own existence and maybe even trapped in the mirror itself.

It’s not something you’d put past dark magic.

“Yes, I did,” you try to sound as official as possible. “I…have to make my leave now, actually. I didn’t plan to explore for long and I….”

The thoughts of everything feels like a mountain of rocks all pressing at your mind. The weight of it all alone makes you feel exhausted.

“…I need to rest.”

You let out a sigh, knowing that there’s still so much to get done, so much to explore and mark and learn–you still need to interrogate Gren about his captivity and start making some sort of map of this unknown section of the dungeon and that’s not even getting into reporting this all to Opeli–

Anxiety feels so much like an ocean pressing down on you. It’s a familiar thing, as horrible as that might be, but it’s something you’ve felt enough as a castle keeper and recognize without much issue. You know your limits and by god, you’ve hit it at least twice over with all of this magical mirror shit.

You look up to see Aaravos standing on the other side of the mirror. Their eyes stare at you, just as they’ve been staring at you since the moment your gaze met with theirs. You almost expect there to be a cold distance, a curiosity perhaps, but you’re momentarily taken aback to see a thin look of concern more than anything else. Despite the fact that you and the elf know next to nothing about one another and have all the reasons in the universe not to trust one another (perhaps more for you than for them), they still look genuinely concerned for your exhaustion and ills.

‘Unless you speak of it to someone, I’m certain my mirror will still be here after you’ve been able to rest.’

You want to ask why they even care, but that’s when your brain decides that it doesn’t really matter. The weight of everything seems to come down over you, leaving you better off taking the advice to heart and continuing the conversation later, when you’ve had the time to lay your head on a pillow.

“We will have more to talk about,” you finally say, some level of authority in your voice. “I will return tomorrow to ask more about what Viren has conspired about with you, and if you have helped him in any way. I expect that you will at least comply with my questioning.”

You’re not sure if it’s a good idea to give Aaravos that sort of detail, but you assume that they are not a fool–anyone in their position could assume that you would need to ask about it, considering the situation.

Aaravos merely looks at you, one brow lifted while their head tilts to one side. Though you’ve scarcely ever seen an elf of Xadia in your entire lifespan, it doesn’t take intimate knowledge across the difference in culture and species to understand an expression of amusement painted over their face.

But it’s how you leave Aaravos, using the light from the mirror to help guide you out the door (which you close behind you) and down the hallway. Once at the end, the faint light from the top of the spiraling staircase is enough to lead you back towards the entrance, where you alert a guard to ensure that nobody else enters while you sleep.

Deep below Katolis Castle, within the cold stone walls of the dungeon and hidden away in shadow, the mirror sits. It still glows with an impossible, magical light, still gives view into a realm of something entirely other as Aaravos stands before the mirror of his side of the connection.

He peers into the darkness for a few moments, expression turned stern and curious, memory fondly turning over the look of your face as one might the pages of a book. Curious, intriguing.

There was an odd connection to you that he felt, that he’s still feeling. He assumed that the thread had been only to Viren, to a fellow mage yet privy to the knowledge and intention that Aaravos had for him and his goals. The elf certainly didn’t expect for his material connections to be two-fold, but surprise and loathing are two wholly different emotions; he only feels one of them.

There’s something special about you,

and he's excited to learn more.

#tdp #the dragon prince #aaravos #tdp aaravos #reader insert

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cashtonsangel · 6 years ago

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Missin’ You

Summary: With Calum being on tour, you had missed him so much.

Requested by @mysticalhood i hope you enjoy :)

Word Count: 4000+

Warnings: mention of a mental breakdown and some cursing

A/N: wow this is the longest thing i have ever written aside from some of my academic papers. im sorry this took so long but i got so distracted while writing this so :) i think i went a little overboard and got distracted writing the backstory so it’s kinda long, but i really hope that you enjoy!!

Calum had been on tour for the past month and a half, and it had taken such a toll on your daily life. The only contact that you had with him was through a small screen, but it was hard to find time between your schedule and his tour schedule, and that’s not even mentioning time zones. Even when the two of you finally found time in your busy schedules to call each other, it still wasn’t enough.

You had been in such a slump after about a month of his absence, finding little to no motivation to complete simple tasks since everything reminded you of your boyfriend. Every time you went to go walk Duke, you missed Calum’s voice gushing about all the other dogs that he passed by. Every time certain songs came on shuffle, you missed Calum’s singing and dancing. Every time you were in the kitchen making dinner, you missed Calum being next to you helping you cook. Every time you would sit and watch something on TV or Netflix, you missed Calum’s teasing and arguing. Every time you went to bed, you missed Calum’s cuddles and warmth. In short, you missed your boyfriend more than anything, but he was across the world pursuing his lifelong dream of spreading music, while you were stuck at home with your mundane life.

Today your loneliness struck particularly hard.

It was a rough day for you. This morning you woke up feeling off and just wanted to stay in bed and relish in the emptiness that had manifested throughout your body. But you knew you couldn’t since you had work and a ton of errands to complete in the afternoon that you couldn’t afford to miss. Throughout the day, your friends had noticed your foul mood and had been walking on eggshells the whole day which had pissed you off even more. As the day progressed, your mood only worsened. And by the time you had gotten back to your house, you were just one push away from a complete breakdown.

At this point, your body was on autopilot, going through the motions of life without much thought. Your legs were working on their own accord and had brought you to your closet where you changed out of your day clothes and into shorts and one of Calum’s old t-shirts. Calum’s clothes brought some semblance of comfort, and you needed as much comfort as you could possibly get tonight.

Sensing your obvious distress as soon as you walked through the door, Duke had been quietly following you, keeping an eye on you just in case you needed help. When he saw you getting into bed, Duke begged to be let up with you. Picking him up and placing him beside you, he found a comfortable spot before laying down, making sure that he was still within your arms reach.

Blankly staring at the ceiling, you felt tears building up in your eyes. It was days like these that made you feel so alone. Even though it was filled with everything you wanted, your place felt so empty and hollow with just you and Duke occupying it. There was a piece of your family missing, and he was thousands of miles away from you.

You felt the first tear escape as your thoughts continued to dwell on the fact that Calum was so far away when you needed him the most. You missed your boyfriend so much and you wished that he was he to tell you that it was all going to be okay. You wished that he was here to help you take the pain away.

Tears were streaming down your face, and you couldn’t stop them. Burying your face in your pillow to muffle your uncontrollable sobs, you cried out all of your emotions and frustrations.

Once the tears slowly eased up, all of the pent up emotions that you had held in for so long finally left your body as numbness to its place. Duke had curled up against your body at this point, showing you some much needed love.

Reaching out for your phone, you texted Calum to see if he was able to answer your facetime call. You desperately needed to see his face and hear his voice tonight before you were able to go to sleep.

A couple of minutes after you sent the text, your phone lit up with Calum’s contact picture. Immediately accepting his call, Calum’s face filled up the dark screen.

The way the camera was angled, Calum immediately noticed the way your eyes were glassy, red, and puffy and the constant sniffles that escaped your mouth. Immediately concerned, a frown appeared on his face.

“What’s wrong hun? Is everything okay? Are you safe?” Worry laced his voice as he slowly took in your emotional state.

“Bad day,” was all you needed to say.

“Aww, hun, I’m sorry. I wish I was there at home with you right now to help you take away the pain. You know it breaks my heart to see you cry.”

“ s’okay.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you took each other in. Calum looked good. Although there were slight bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, he looked happy to be on tour with some of his best friends and playing to so many crowds.

“Cal?”

“Yeah, hun?”

“Can you talk about something? Please. I-” your voice cracked, “I just need to hear your voice.”

Calum began update you on his life since the last the two of you were able to talk and talked about his plans for today. He retold some tour stories and about his adventures in the cities that he got to explore since they had the day off that day. He was excited to go to the pop-up store to meet some fans and play the show tonight since the crowd at this city was always so responsive and alive. You occasionally interrupted and gave your input, but other than that, it was mainly a one sided conversation.

He continued talking for about 20 minutes before Calum looked at the clock and cursed. He had to leave as soon as possible so he wouldn’t miss his call time.

“I love you, bubs, g’night,” your voice echoed in the empty bedroom as you said goodbye to Calum.

“I love you, hun. Sweet dreams,” blowing you one final kiss before your screen went dark, no longer displaying Calum’s face but rather your recently called list.

Your conversation with your boyfriend had calmed you down considerably, and you were thankful that you caught him when he was free, even though it was somewhat of a short conversation.

Placing your phone on the bedside table, you shifted your body until you were comfortable before you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Ending the call, Calum sighed. It hurt him so much to know that you were across the world, crying your eyes out, and he could barely do anything about it.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself, being on tour for so long and away from you had impacted him more than he would like to admit. He missed your voice. He missed your hugs. He missed your smile. He missed everything.

Although touring and press took up the majority of his time, You were almost always on his mind. He was always thinking about you wanting to know what you were up to and how your day has been.

The rest of the boys had seen how Calum wasn’t really acting like himself lately due to your long absence. They tried to help him get his mind off of it by taking him out, or making sure that he was never alone with his thoughts, but it wasn’t enough. Calum really appreciated the gesture, but nothing would ever get rid of the void in his heart.

He knew that it was hard for you to give up a part of your life to travel with them around the world. That it wasn’t fair for him to ask for you to put your life on hold so that you could watch him fulfill his dreams. No, that wouldn’t be fair to you.

But all he wanted was to have you at his side. He wanted to remove the thousands of miles of land and ocean that was between the two of you. He wanted you to come and see the world with him.

Shaking his head, he tried to get rid of the selfish thoughts as he left his hotel room to get to the location of the first interview of the day.

As he drove through the city, his mind couldn’t help but wander. He knew that you absolutely love traveling and exploring new places and he could practically hear your voice as he drove by all of the gorgeous buildings and landscapes.

He could imagine it right now. Whenever the band had a ounce of downtime, he could imagine the both of you walking up and down the streets exploring the local cafes and boutiques to get a feel of what the city was actually about. You would skip all of the overhyped tourist attractions and head straight for the local business since that’s where so much of the culture was located.

Calum was pulled out of his daydream by his driver announcing that they had arrived at the location.

Walking into the building, he was guided to the filming space where Michael, Luke, and Ashton were situated.

“Cutting it close, huh Calum,” Ashton teased his bandmate and best friend.

“Shut up,” Calum rolled his eyes, slightly flustered due to being late.

“What made you so late anyways? You’re normally pretty good at showing up on time.” There wasn’t any hostility to Ashton’s tone, just curiosity.

“Y/N had a rough night at home and called me. We were talking, and I completely lost track of time.”

All of the boys nodded at Calum’s answer. They all knew that being away from each other was taking a toll on you and Calum’s mental state, and couldn’t blame him for taking time to make sure that you were in the right headspace.

As Calum was getting settled, a young woman walked into the room and introduced herself and gave a quick rundown as to what was going to happen before quickly starting.

This process repeated a couple of times with a variety of different people and production crews. By the end of the multiple interview sessions, a few hours had already passed.

Throughout the interviews Calum stayed quiet. Although most of the time, he was pretty reserved, Michael, Ashton, and Luke could tell that Calum’s silence was different than normal. They all knew that his mind was thousands of miles away. They tried to alleviate some of the burden of answering questions for Calum by helping steer some of the questions away from Calum, only letting him to respond when it was completely necessary.

When the last interview was finally over and production had left the room, Calum rested his head in his hands and let out a deep sigh.

He could barely concentrate on the questions and comments that they were asking. He tried so hard to try and get you out of his head for just a couple of hours for the interviews, it was easier said than done.

The image of your red and swollen eyes and your tear stained face was burned into his memories. It broke his heart over and over again every time he closed his eyes.

A few tears of frustration slipped out of the corners of his eyes. All Calum had wanted was to make you happy, but he could barely do that thousands of miles away.

Sensing his best friend’s distress, Michael walked over to where Calum was sitting and tried to comfort his crying bandmate.

“It’ll be alright, man. Y/N is strong and so are you. Only a couple more weeks until you get to see her again.” Michael rubbed circles on Calum’s back.

“I know. It’s just hard.”

“You’ve got this, mate. You can do it,” Michael leaned back against the sofa, and Calum followed in suit and rested his head against Michael’s shoulder.

The two of them stayed like this for a while. Calum closed his eyes and thought of you. Calum associated you with happiness. Almost all of his memories of you were filled with joy and love, and he wanted to savor those moments right now to cheer himself up. In contrast, Michael was on his phone, a concentrated look on his face as he rapidly types on his phone, but careful not to disturb Calum.

Both lost in thought, Calum and Michael almost missed their cars since they didn’t hear Luke calling for them to leave the go to the venue.

Michael stood up and headed towards the exit.

helped Calum up and the duo headed to the cars out front, where Ashton and Luke were already seated in the cars.

“Feeling better, Cal?”

Calum only nodded and the both of them walked outside and into their respective cars.

You leg bounced out of nervousness as you stared at the map in front of you. Only an hour more on the plane before you land and finally see the man of your dreams after so long.

It had been such a last minute decision to take a break from work and fly out to where the boys were touring, but Michael had somehow managed to convince you to fly out to spend time with Calum.

He had texted you in the middle of the night 2 days ago telling you how much Calum had missed you and how much of a toll it had took on his mentality. Michael and the rest of the boys had wanted you to come out and bring back the Calum that was always smiling and cheery, the Calum that was always there to liven up the room.

You were reluctant at first, who wouldn’t have been. It wasn’t like you to drop and leave everything behind for a relationship. Not to mention how last minute and unplanned to trip would be but Michael, with the help of the other boys, had managed to change your mind.

You loved Calum with your whole heart. He was your everything. And when you heard that he wasn’t feeling like himself, your heart broke. He deserves all the happiness in the entire universe, and you would do almost anything to make sure that there was always a smile on his face. Michael, Ashton, and Luke were the final push that you needed to fly all the way out to see Calum.

“What are you nervous about sweetheart?” The lady that had sat next to you had woken up from her sleep and questioned your bouncing leg.

“I’m going to see my boyfriend.” You flashed her a small smile.

“Aw that’s so cute! But if you are going to see your boyfriend, why do you feel so nervous?”

“I don’t really know,” you sighed, “this isn’t like me to just drop everything and fly somewhere because I miss someone. I’m traveling across the world for him, and to me that’s insane.” As you spoke, a smile started to form on your face.

“If you are flying all the way out here on your own, you must really love him.”

“He is the love of my life, he makes me feel like the only person on the world when I am with him.” As you spoke, you couldn’t help but look at your phone’s lockscreen, which was one of the candid pictures that you took of him while he was laughing.

“Well, if he makes you feel like the luckiest person alive, then hold onto him, okay? He seems like a special one from the way you are speaking of him and the way your face lights up whenever you talk about him. Don’t let him slip away.”

“I won’t.”

The rest of your flight was spent talking to the woman seated next to you about various topics. And before you knew it, the plane was about to land.

Getting up from your seats, the both of you said your goodbyes and parted ways.

You followed the signs around the airport that led you to the luggage carousel. Quickly finding your luggage, you glanced around the room, looking for the person who was sent to pick you up. Michael had texted you when you landed at the airport, saying that they had sent a driver to come and get you since the boys were busy with an interview by the time that your flight landed.

The driver led you out to his car, packed your bags in the trunk, and then drove you to the hotel that the boys were going to stay at later that night. During the short trip to the hotel, you eyes were glued outside of the car window. All the buildings and architecture that you passed were so stunning and the environment was completely different than back home. You were trying to absorb every single detail about the city as you drove through the city.

As the car slowed down and pulled up to the curb of your hotel, everything started to feel a little bit more real for you. You were going to finally see you boyfriend after so long, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic.

Hopping out of the car with a bounce to your step, you thanked the driver and headed inside the hotel to check in and get settled before the show tonight. Taking a quick shower and nap to try and get rid of some of your jetlag, you prepared yourself for the long night ahead of you.

Your phone chimed after about 3 hours of being in your hotel room, indicating that you had a text message. Grabbing your phone, you saw that it was Ashton texting you what your room number was so that he could come and take you to the venue.

Texting him your floor and room number, you did some last minute touch ups before you heard Ashton at the door.

“Hey, Y/N.” The drummer pulled you into a quick hug before asking if you were ready to leave.

“Yeah, let’s go!” The enthusiasm in voice was not missed by Ashton.

“Ready to see lover boy, huh?”

“Shut up, Irwin. Let’s go.”

Shaking his head, he led you downstairs to the car, where the two of you chatted about the boys recent adventures and just catching you up on some of the stuff that you missed.

There was a brief pause in the conversation before Ashton spoke again.

“You know he really misses you. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

All you could do is smile at his words.

“Just don’t break his heart, okay? He’s my best friend, and I don’t want want to see him hurt. He really loves you.”

Ashton’s words warmed your heart. You were glad that Calum had such supportive and loving friends and family like Ashton.

“I don’t think I ever could, Ash. He means the world to me.”

Ashton flashed you one of his million dollar smiles before walking out of the car and towards the venue. You followed right behind him.

“Good because as much as I love you, Calum is my soulmate, and if you hurt him, I’d have to kill you.”

Laughing at his words, you nodded. “Deal.”

“Okay, I just texted Cal, they are all in the main green room. Let’s go.”

The both of you navigated the many halls and corridors until you could hear Luke’s laugh.

“I’ll go in first, don’t want to outshine you, Y/N,” Ashton teased.

“Fuck off, Ash.” You rolled your eyes and let him enter the door first. You heard the other boys greet him and before going back to whatever they were doing.

Taking a deep breath, you walked through the threshold, your eyes immediately scouring throughout the room to find your boyfriend. He was laying on one of the couches scrolling through his phone.

Walking towards his figure, Calum’s eyes caught movement out of the corner of his eyes, causing him to look up from his phone.

When his eyes reached your face, Calum immediately shot up and ran to you, enveloping your body in one of infamous hugs. His hands were wrapped around waist and his head rested on your shoulder.

“Y/N? What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck?” He repeated the question over and over again; his tone indicating his enthusiasm and confusion.

Slightly pulling away, you responded with a big grin, “Hey handsome.”

Not liking the space that you had just created, Calum immediately pulled you closer and placed a kiss on your forehead before dragging you to the couch so that the both of you could sit down.

“What are you doing here, hun?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my boyfriend while he is on tour?”

Calum gave you a look.

You rolled your eyes, “I really missed you, so I took a couple of days off to come a visit. Not to mention that the boys practically forced me to fly out because they knew that we’re both miserable without each other.”

You a couple of coughs and a clearing of a throat as you finished your sentence. Looking over to the other side of the room, you saw Luke, Ashton, and Michael with the biggest smirks on their face. They looked at you and Cal expectantly, waiting for some type of thank you.

Calum rolled his eyes at his bandmates’ antics and thanked them.

“No problem, making dreams is what we do!” Luke responded in the most obnoxious way possible.

“Want to go somewhere more private, hun? So we don’t have a crowd spying on us the entire time?” Calum sent a glare over to the boys as he said that last sentence.

Standing up, Calum led to you to a different room adjacent to the one you were just in. Quickly closing the door, he pushed you up against the wall and placed his forehead on top of yours.

“I’m so glad you’re finally here, hun. It’s one of the best days of my life,” he whispered while staring into your eyes.

“Me too.”

“I can’t wait for our off day tomorrow! We can go exploring the city and do a bunch of dumb and fun stuff. Like I heard there is this really cool local pub down the street from our hotel, and I was going to drag one of the boys with me, but now that you’re here, I can take you.” Calum was beaming at this point.

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Anything you want, bubs.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you both enjoyed finally being in each other’s presence. Seeing Cal in person for the first time in so long had rejuvenated your heart and soul, and you couldn’t be happier now that you were in his arms.

The two of you sat there for some time to just catch up and talk to each other face to face. The room with warmth and love as the two of you spoke.

“Y/N, I know I’ve already said this, but I’m so glad that you are actually here on tour with me, even if it’s only for a couple of days. I love you more than anything, and I would give you everything if I could.”

The sincerity behind his words made you tear up. You loved him more than anything and were willing to give up everything you had to be with this man. He made you feel like you were on top of the world whenever you were with him. He made you feel like the only other person in the world in a room full of people whenever he looked at you. He made you feel like nothing else mattered when you were by his side. There weren’t enough words in the world to convey how much love you had for this man. He was your sunshine, and you couldn’t be any happier.

wanna be tagged??

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sparda3g · 7 years ago

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Gintama Chapter 679 Review

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I know I was asking for answers, but I think I will be fine if it doesn’t result to a cruel ending. Sorachi somewhat surprised the fans with a new backstory that leads to Gintoki’s discovery. The problem is that it’s clear that we are in for a dark and possibly depressing outcome. This chapter ignited a gripping story of master-disciple bond on a quest with inducing fear. This is not going to be easy...

It’s no wonder that we have plenty of comedy earlier. This chapter leaves nothing to laugh over; maybe with one panel of a kid falling on the ground hard, but outside of that, it’s downright serious. It’s too early to call, but I got to say, this backstory is perhaps the darkest one so far. It’s the culmination of father-son, master-disciple, and a man with a hard hitting temptation to end his heavy burden.

The beginning already starts off with the dark vibe with Gintoki in the flashback left on a journey to find something important. It’s the first time to see him looking extremely determined; it’s quite surreal. He asked the Inugami Maidens, Ane and Mone, to give him the pinpoint locations of every Dragon Holes. I admire Sorachi’s writing for using those two in plenty of significant plot points, even at this point. It goes to show you how his writing works. Whenever the character appears for an arc or so, they will hold a relevant contribution to exploit.

One of the sisters explained a newly informed detail of the Dragon Veins; even the lore gets expanded this late. There is no actual count on how many Dragon Veins are in the world; not even the Maidens can grasp all of them. Not only there are countless of it, but the size can differ from many. It can be the size of golf ball hole and it would be considered as a Dragon Vein. This does explain why Gintoki took a long time to resurface; at least in terms of reconnecting with old friends. There’s another reason why he took 2 years, but we’ll get to that soon.

The Maidens warned him that it can take forever, which already sound impossible because human nature, but without an actual response to them, rather to himself, he was hell bent to find “it;” even if it does take him decades. It’s astonishing how much he has spent his 2 year journey, going across Japan searching for every single one until he hits jackpot. The scary part is he would have left Yorozuya behind possibly forever. Could you imagine if he didn’t find it in 2 years prior? That’s how unbelievable his determination was. Thank God, he found it as early as he can get.

I thought the flashback ends there, but it’s only for momentary to unveil the grand revelation: Utsuro is alive. It’s no surprise for fans to guess, but it is undoubtedly a huge deal for the characters. After going through many hells he brought in, knowing he’s alive only brought the mood down further. Gintoki recovered Utsuro’s heart after 2 years, though it is left to speculate on whether the latter will resume his reign of terror or somehow, a miracle will bring Shouyou back. This is trivial since it can go to many directions with the heart in presence; not yet form a body. It could be a brand new Utsuro for all we know. It’s kind of freaky to even think on what to do if they cannot kill it.

I’m glad Sorachi shed the light on how Gintoki came to his decision to split up Yorozuya, though it came with an enthralling yet disheartening result. Gintoki proves to be smarter than what his image usually portrayed in comedy routine since he recalls Utsuro dropping himself into the vortex of the Dragon Vein. Because of it, he thought the possibility of his body being vaporized by the Altana in which he was originally born from it. In other words, how could he died by what he was originated from, let alone being his source of life. He describes with simple yet good thinking analogy with Utsuro to Altana and water to an ocean.

What grasped his attention were Utsuro’s final words as he was falling down into the vortex. It finally cleared up on why Gintoki went hasty to catch him. While he did want to stop him from escaping in a sense, he was compelled by his words, which is why he was really upset when he failed. It’s why Kagura and Shinpachi picked up his hurtful tone. It’s those words that gave Gintoki a purpose; to reunite with Shouyou somehow, someway. Could it be possible to save him? I was moved by his ambition as a loner. It is no longer for the sake of humanity and he’s not going as a Yorozuya; it’s Shouka Sonjuku’s Sakata Gintoki, going to put an end.

Back to the flashback and once again, it’s intriguing how much Sorachi continues to explore more of its lore at this time. There is one Dragon Hole that is enshrined for generations; even Ryuujin (Dragon God) dwells inside. That basically mean that hole is worthy of attention. The only question was whether Utsuro came out from there. Once the old man began to describe the story of a strange phenomenon, it was clear that Gintoki hit the jackpot. It’s a good thing the image of a mass of meat wasn’t fully displayed because it sounds rather disturbing. What shocked me is Utsuro was a baby.

It’s not just because the fact he was once a meat and somehow turned into a baby without medical logic. What truly startled me is if Utsuro was a child in the flashback, why the hell was Gintoki carrying his heart now? That gave a serious bad vibe; believing that he would kill a baby to remove the heart. The chapter wasn’t over, but I was freaking out around that point. It felt like it was building up that it was just Utsuro’s organs, but with a newborn baby, the end path was looking very grim.

While the ending is arguably the main spotlight, the page of one night with the baby is up there. It’s probably the grimmest display this series has offered. The protagonist Gintoki has the baby that once led a life of murders and destruction. He had the chance to put an end to the baby’s life, even though he probably could return later on. Even so, the train of thought drove Gintoki to approach the baby with a small sword and had the range to put it end. This was heavy stuff.

I was clinching my teeth. Sorachi got me believing that Gintoki ended it there. The paneling is excellent in this one page; how it shows his temptation to go through with it. His eye roared with anger, inch by inch to the heart, almost ending his suffering. Sorachi will get the protagonist’s hands dirty. It may not paint a bright light for inspiration, but for the sake of deeper storytelling, it should be done.

The next page was a huge sigh of relief that he didn’t do it. It’s crazy to imagine how it would feel if he did do it. Although he’s not doing it for the world, he technically did carry its fate by letting him live. If Utsuro does return, vicious and all, it would be his fault. If he did kill him, it would paint him as a disturbing image. The other risky part is who knows what the baby will grow up to. What if it was going to be Shouyou? It’s amazing how this one scene could have leaded him to many possibilities, but not worth feeling satisfied.

It’s jarring that after raising the baby for a bit, Utsuro has grown into a child, presuming the same age as when Shouyou met Gintoki for the first time. It transpires to a short but really nice father-son/master-disciple bonding scene with those two. To think, the role has been reversed as the two’s journey along the way. I feel like Sorachi is being cruel to have Gintoki experiencing in his master’s shoe and later, harbor another hardship end. That said it does create a very appealing backstory.

It does draw us fans closer to Gintoki’s character. He truly cherished his master more than anyone, so even though he was bothered by his presence, he can’t bring himself to kill. He would rather risk raising a child that could bring horror back than killing with a gamble. As funny as the line, “I feel like I’m raising a final boss” is, it holds many truths behind it. I felt his sincerity when he remembered Shouyou, connecting with how he probably felt as his master. It’s really touching to say the least; the most heartfelt scene of the chapter. That is until the end happened.

The parallel is so striking. Not only it told us how the role has been reversed but it was the trigger for Utsuro to speak for the first time. Every single line from him gave me crazy chills. It’s haunting how he can remember a lot as a child; detailing everything that answered Gintoki’s question. Those words keep on coming and it draws closer to the grand twist. The look on Gintoki’s face is very telling; you know how tensed it is when he’s awestruck by his words alone. It could play off like a horror film; unable to comprehend the scene. The message is clear: Shouyou has returned.

Honestly, it’s early to say if that is really the case, but it would appear that he was at least on the polite side as of that moment. It could be Shouyou, Utsuro lying under a false presence, or someone else entirely. It’s very tricky, but that’s what makes it gripping. It was such a heartfelt scene that unfortunately reminded me that this was all in the flashback. Why does Gintoki now carry the heart? What went wrong? Does it have to do with the request? It still leaves more questions but I am thrilled to learn more.

This was a strikingly emotional chapter that Sorachi has outdone himself once again. Just because the series is ending doesn’t mean he is burnt out of writing. He continues to deliver a rich story with plenty of outcomes that is nothing but dark. The shivering tone of that one night was so intense I thought my eyes were fooling me. I did read it in the early morning, so you could imagine how I reacted. The storytelling has been excellent so far and the ending was touching but possibly alarming. We have a long wait for the next chapter. Damn you and your timing, Gorilla!

#gintama #chapter 679 #review

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sleeplesspensieve · 6 years ago

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Remedy For Guilt - X

Summary: The daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange is a Healer who finds herself not only haunted by her past but also questioning her choice in career. When Lyra Lestrange’s old headmaster offers her a position as Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher she finds herself thrown into an adventure involving a secret affair with a colleague, discovering the cure for a disease and dealing with students cursing themselves. Who knew that being a Hogwarts Professor was such a rollercoaster?

Set in the school year of 1990-1991 with the prospect of a sequel, or two, on the horizon.

Rated: E for graphic sex scenes in THIS and later chapters. Over 18′s only please.

Word Count: 3320

Multichapter Fic (Expected to be around 30-35 chapters with a planned sequel which will take place during the Harry Potter Books)

Chapter Ten – Back To Hogwarts

On New Year’s Day Lyra shared breakfast with her old friends and they made promises that they would remain in contact in the months to come. They parted ways, all of them leaving via the Floo Network. Their visit had spurred on Narcissa’s encouragement towards finding a husband with a strong suggestion that Ilya would be great for her. He was a strong, well mannered man from an affluent family with a job similar to her Uncle’s, if they ended up together she wouldn’t have to a work a day in her life much like Narcissa. Lyra was amused at her Aunt’s suggestion knowing that Ilya was in fact with Feliks and that she was more career driven.

The remaining four days of Lyra’s holidays went by quickly and without incident. She still hadn’t heard back from Severus which at that point in time was more unnerving than disappointing. What if he just wanted to end it all and they would just lose the friendship they had built over the past four months? Lyra didn’t allow herself to dwell on these negative thoughts, instead she focused on spending time with her family, even listening to the rubbish her Uncle spouted about recent rumours.

When the time finally came for her departure Draco began to weep. His display of emotions was scolded by his parents, “Men that are pure simply do not cry.” Draco settled as Lyra gave him a tight hug and a kiss with promises that she would come back soon and write to him whenever it was possible.

Hogwarts was as empty as Lyra had left it. She expected for some of the students to have returned by now with the majority arriving back over the weekend but she was incorrect. She made her way back to her classroom with the want to prepare for the classes to come. As she walked around the Serpentine corridor she bumped into the Potions Master.

“Ah, Severus,” she said, “How has your holidays been?”

“Dull,” he said plainly. “Would you like me to help you carry your things?”

“Sure,” she replied.

The two walked around, passing by a few students on the way. She suspected this was his reasoning behind the offer but she still found it strange that she needed to justify her public appearances with Severus. They arrived at her classroom and entered, going up the stairs to her office. Severus set her suitcase down and she leaned on her desk, watching on.

“So,” she said rather dramatically. Severus’ brows rose, prompting her to continue. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan?”

“The plan,” she emphasised. “Do you want me or not, Severus?”

“More than you know,” he said.

“Was I right?” she asked, her tongue darting out from between her lips.

He smirked, “Why don’t you tell me?” He approached her and grabbed her hand, sliding it to the front of pants. She felt his erection straining against the material. Her stomach filled with warmth as she knew that she was the one responsible for his arousal.

Lyra pulled out her wand, directing it at the door and locking it. Severus leaned over the witch who was sitting on her desk and kissed her. Lyra returned the kiss with the same passion and ferocity that her partner was portraying. She melted into his embrace as his hands began fidgeting with her clothing, desperate to undress her.

“Are you going to fuck me over my own desk?” she asked.

“It’s payback for making me think about fucking you every night that’s passed,” he said as he pulled her top off. “Now every time you’re grading papers you can think of me bringing you to orgasm.”

Severus kissed the newly revealed skin which was covered in goosebumps as it was exposed to the cold air in her office. Lyra’s eyes drifted closed as she savoured his touch, his mouth exploring the tops of her breasts whilst his hands sat on her waist. One hand moved delicately up her back and undid the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts. Her erect nipples were warmed by the heat of his mouth, his tongue and teeth teasing one whilst the other was fondled by his hand.

Severus attempted to undo her pants with the free one but required two. He pulled both her pants and underwear off in one simple movement. Lyra was at the mercy of her old Potions Professor as she found herself completely exposed whilst he was still dressed. The thought aroused her slightly which he discovered as he removed himself from his kisses and dipped his fingers between her folds. Severus smirked as she watched her blush from the revelation that she was already completely soaked.

Severus knelt down, wanting to taste the wanton witch. Lyra moaned as his head buried itself between her legs, his tongue lapping up her arousal. It darted in and out briefly before moving up and licking around her clitoris. Lyra leaned back, finding it difficult to hold her body up. She surrendered to his touch. Severus’ fingers found their way inside her and began to pump in and out, driving the young witch insane. He smirked in amusement against her sex, continuing to tongue her clitoris.

It felt like she was on fire, the heat spreading from her pussy all the way through her body. The sensations just got more intense as time went on. Her hips edged closer towards him, arching her back off the table, desperate for more. Severus moved his fingers in and out of her at a faster and steadier tempo triggering her unravelling. Lyra unconsciously bucked her hips back against his face and fingers to drive herself closer to her orgasm.

With a loud moan, Lyra fell apart at the work of his hands and mouth. Her body twitched slightly as she came down. Severus stood up and admired the aftermath of her orgasm, her beauty as she was splayed out on her desk. A few moments passed before she regained her senses and sat up on her desk.

“Severus Snape on his knees for a witch,” she teased.

“Don’t tease me,” he said, “Or I’ll be relentless.”

“How so?” she said, her hand drifted towards his unattended erection.

Wordlessly, Severus undid his trousers, unleashing his cock that had been waiting for Lyra. He pushed her legs back open and pressed it into her with one swift movement. He fucked her hard, ignoring her wants and instead focusing on the way she felt around him. Lyra quickly fell back, gripping the desk above her head as he drilled her into it. She had been surprised at his entrance but the dominance he asserted over her was welcomed as she found herself getting close to another orgasm. Severus reached down and pinched her nipples, enjoying how she looked as she writhed underneath him.

Lyra’s eyes were squeezed tight as she became overwhelmed with the simultaneous stimulation of her nipples and her pussy. She felt her pussy tighten, gripping desperately onto Severus’ cock as it rhythmically moved in and out. Her orgasm came once again and the pulsating sensation drove Severus to come deeply inside of her.

He lingered inside her for a moment, enjoying the feel of her around him and the look of bliss on Lyra’s face. He pulled out, tucking his manhood away and zipped up his pants which stirred the witch from her peace. “I’ll see you at the meeting,” he said as he showed himself out.

The woman shook her head at her lover’s remark as he left her naked on her desk with his semen spilling out of her. She got up and went through her discarded clothes looking for her wand. She found it on the floor and cleaned up the mess Severus had left her with. Lyra showered once she had finished, preparing to look somewhat decent for the staff meeting that had been scheduled for that evening.

On her way out Lyra ran into Septima Vector whose classroom resided next to hers. She hoped that the Arithmancer hadn’t heard through the walls of what occurred just moments before but their conversation didn’t show any indication that she did. They talked of what occurred over their break, Septima detailing her participation in the latest research into the magical properties of prime numbers. Lyra was thankful when they finally arrived at the staff room, taking a seat between Minerva and Severus.

The staff meetings held at Hogwarts tended to be more casual in nature, the staff members listening as the Headmaster detailed the plans for the year before carrying on merrily drinking and catching up with one another. This meeting seemed to be a bit more serious in nature as Madam Pomfrey was whispering in Dumbledore’s ear as they awaited for the remainder if the teachers. Once they had arrived, Albus stood to address the teachers.

“Welcome back,” he said with a smile, “I hope you all are well rested and ready to get back into teaching. We’ve received a draft timetable for both the OWLs and NEWTs that will take place in June so please bare this in mind. I hope our students will be well prepared for what is to come.”

“Now, on a more serious matter, Madam Pomfrey has informed me that there have been a few cases of Psyrot in the wizarding community over the past few weeks so we must be prepared and vigilant as students may be affected. I will let Madam Pomfrey explain.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Poppy said before taking the stage. “Psyrot is an extremely contagious disease that can result in death. Thankfully it is easily managed by the standard cold treatment, Pepper-Up, during its initial stages. You must look out for the following symptoms.”

Poppy raised her wand and a blackboard appeared, detailing the symptoms of Psyrot. “They have been split into three different stages. Stage One is when it is most contagious and is spread through the exchange of mucus so please prevent students from kissing and ensure proper hygiene is used when sneezing and coughing. Tiredness, nausea and irritability are all also symptoms of the disease. Stage Two may cause the affected to have diarrhoea, vomiting and sensitivity to light. They may also be confused and or pass out.”

“Finally there is Stage Three, which I hope we will not see as these symptoms are untreatable and there is no cure for it. These symptoms include cold shivers, pale skin, headaches, rash and convulsions. I have already sent out information sheets to all parents and hopefully there will be no one bringing it into the school but we can only hope. I ask you all to stay aware of the condition of your students and send them to me if you see any sign that a student may even be the slightest bit sick. Also, Severus, Lyra, could you two please assist me with preparing some pepper up and sleeping draught? I don’t want to run out.”

Lyra nodded with a genuine look of concern, she spotted Severus’ head nod curtly from the side of her vision. Once they had finished eating the two of them headed down to the dungeons in order to start preparing.

“Have you heard of Psyrot before?” Severus asked.

“Yeah,” she said, her face strained as she thought back. “It was back in the healing history classes, I don’t think a case has popped up since the 1890’s and back then it was pretty debilitating. If you can stop it early on its fine but a lot of people who got to the second or third stage were left to die until they found that the sleeping draught actually helps the body recover during second stage. From memory kids and the elderly didn’t usually develop past the first stage so the people most at risk are the older students and you and me. But the whole case was pretty well documented because it held likeness to the muggle Spanish flu which to only seemed to kill those with a well working immune system. It probably has something to do with the body’s reaction to the disease.”

“Any idea what causes it?”

“Honestly, it could be anything,” she said, pondering for a moment. “I mean it’d have to be something small enough to not be noticed when you sneeze. It could be a bacterium or virus which denatures with the increase of temperature when you take the pepper up, much like the common cold but it could also be a parasite that was small and when it fully matures you can’t kill it as easily.”

“You’d be good at research,” he commented, “Have you ever thought about pursuing it further?”

“Yeah,” she said with a half frown, “It’s just a matter of finding someone in research to take me on as an apprentice. My last name has been a major struggle, it deters anyone within the UK from taking me on, I’m guessing because they think I’ll use the Dark Arts and create some fucked up disease and release it onto the world but yeah, I’m really interested in developing cures for diseases and curses.”

“Why don’t you just change your last name?”

“I did try once but someone ruined that,” she laughed, “I want to change its reputation. I don’t want people to think of what my parents did but instead what progress I can bring to the healing world. If that doesn’t work then I suppose I’ll be rid of it when I finally get married.”

“Did Lucius speak to you about what happened?”

Lyra sighed, “Yeah, he did. He gave me a lecture about my obligations as a Lestrange, that I shouldn’t be messing around with you and so on, which was obviously a very effective talk.” Lyra smirked at her companion but he didn’t seem amused by her comment “They seemed to back off from the topic of marriage when some of my old friends from Durmstrang came over.”

“Durmstrang?” His eyebrows rose questioningly.

“Yeah, they were in the neighbourhood so they came around on New Year’s,” she said, “Don’t worry, we didn’t go around using the Dark Arts and killing every muggle in sight.”

Lyra’s humour seemed to be lost on Severus because he was more concerned at the prospect of losing what he had with her. It would be so easy for her to find a more appropriate man, both in age and heritage, to be with as she had those connections to Durmstrang. Why was she wasting her time with him? Was it merely because they were at Hogwarts and he was there? A witch that was as talented and gorgeous as Lyra wouldn’t settle for a man like Severus. He thought that he may as well enjoy the time that he had with her and not dwell on the future too much.

Their conversation died out after Lyra’s comment, she sensed that Severus just wasn’t in the right mindset for jokes. When the two finally arrived at the potions classroom the pair set off to work, brewing large batches of Pepper Up and Sleeping Draught. Severus instructed Lyra on how to properly translate the recipe to a bigger size as merely multiplying the ingredients wouldn’t work.

“I never knew you’d have to add stabilising ingredients if you wanted to increase the quantity drastically,” she said, “I usually work with small batches.”

“Usually we don’t teach it because the shelf life of a potion is usually rather small so making such a big batch is only useful for commercial purposes,” Severus explained.

“That’s really interesting,” she said as she stirred her potion. “I’d love to do some more training with a Potioneer. It’d be so useful with healing and creating antidotes.”

“I can teach you, if you wish,” he replied.

“I’ll repay you in sex,” she laughed.

“Seems like a fair deal,” he smirked.

The hours it took to brew the potions seemed to tick by so quickly. It was past midnight by the time the two had finished brewing, then they had to bottle it all which took another hour despite having magic on their side. Lyra seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes open.

“You should go to bed,” Severus suggested, “I can finish this up myself.”

“I don’t know if I can even make it to my room,” she yawned.

“I know you’re just trying to get in my bed,” he said.

“Is it working?” she asked, sliding the sleeve of her dress down.

“I can’t resist your shoulders,” he said in a bored tone.

“No man can,” she smiled, “How about you fuck me to sleep again?”

“Fine,” he said, “But you need to help me clean up before then.”

Severus had never seen a witch clean so quickly and efficiently all with a wave of her wand. Lyra’s magic would rival a house elf’s. The bottles were neatly aligned, the cauldrons were scrubbed clean and the ingredients used packed away nicely. If only his students had the ability to clean up as thoroughly after themselves.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” he asked.

“As a pureblood witch,” Lyra started mocking her Aunt’s tone, “It is my duty to be a well trained wife, adept at cooking and cleaning. Now I know, you may be thinking, shouldn’t my husband have a house elf, well yes but it is still important to learn the art of homemaking.”

“Is that what Narcissa taught you?”

“Of course,” she said as the pair exited the room. “Could imagine my mother passing that on to me? No, I think she’d be encouraging me to follow the Dark Lord and not worrying about marriage. I know she never wanted to get married, not even have me.” They walked a short distance to his office and Lyra pushed the door open.

Severus sympathised with the girl, for he also knew what it was like to have parents that seemed to not have wanted you. He had felt as though he was a mistake, he suffered abuse at the hands of his father and much like Lyra struggled with the burden of his family name. Perhaps this was why he felt such a strong connection to Lyra, he felt as though she would be able to understand him. Though their lives seemed vastly different on the surface there were threads beneath that connected them.

“At least your parents love you,” he said, the words had just slipped out.

Lyra found his statement saddening, understanding the implication behind his words that he may have not been loved fully by his parents. She felt curiousity overwhelm her as she found a question escaping her lips. “How about your parents?” Lyra cringed when she realised she had asked, Severus’ face remained blank. “I’m sorry, I’m not entitled to know, you don’t have to share anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

“My mother died,” he explained, “At the hands of my father. It happened while I was at school, during my sixth year. They used to fight a lot, I’m assuming it escalated when I wasn’t there and she wound up dead. He was arrested and is now in prison.”

“I’m sorry, Sev,” she said, giving him a sympathetic look and squeeze on the shoulder.

“I didn’t tell you so you could pity me,” he snapped, “I’m not some puppy you can take care of, Lily.” Lyra’s hand drifted away as Severus realised what he said. “You can go.”

“Sev,” she began.

“Get out!” he yelled.

Lyra obeyed, not wishing to fight him or force the issue. It was obvious to her that she inadvertently touched upon a nerve, revealing issues that had been buried underneath the surface for a long time. She understood that he would require space to process what happened but what she didn’t understand was why she was crying.

#severus snape #fanfiction #harry potter #original character #hogwarts #fanfic #lyra lestrange #oc

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