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shesharesomething · 9 months ago

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Shared by Pastor Joe Bonifacio

There’s so much that can be said and is being said about the strength of his character and his impact on so many lives. For someone who lived simply and desired nothing more than to support other leaders, his humble service brought him into all kinds of roles that he fulfilled well.

What follows is just a bunch of Pastor Ferdie stories that I treasure and are a bit of comfort to me during this time. Coming from the memorial service in his hometown, I tried to spend the next day writing down some thoughts. By last night I was surprised by how much it was.

OUR YOUTH PASTOR

For so many people, Pastor Ferdie was our youth pastor. A memory burned into my mind is from my freshman year of college. He asked to me to meet him in Kenny Rogers along Katipunan. Pointing at Ateneo, he said, “Joseph, inside that school are people who need to know Jesus. I believe you aren’t just a student there, but a representative for God. Will you partner with me in telling your classmates about Jesus?”

He spoke with passion and fire in his eyes. It was the same energy he preached with, except now it was three feet away and there was just one of me. In what is a common theme of everyone who had an encounter with him, I thought to myself, “This guy really believes in me.”

Pastor Ferdie set the example of a person who valued young people. This is why some bad ministry tropes never made sense to us. Like the youth pastor who sees his position as a stepping stone to “greater heights.” Or the senior pastor who didn’t understand or support the campus ministry. Pastor Ferdie was the opposite of all that.

Since his death, a number of us from his youth group have been texting each other. We’re in different parts of the world. Some are in different churches. But we’re all moved, remembering his life. Even though his title is technically Bishop, we still affectionately call him “Pastor Ferdie,” coz he was our youth pastor.

MY FIRST BOSS

When I went into vocational ministry out of college, my dad said, “Don’t serve in my church. You already know how I think. Learn from someone else. Talk to Ferdie. He and I do things differently, but he’s a good man and I respect him.”

Pastor Ferdie was a firm, energetic, and hardworking boss. He inspired great commitment and effort from his teams because that’s what he brought every day. At the time, we were scrambling to keep up with the increasing attendance so sometimes we’d be shorthanded at Sunday services. I once had to preach at four church services in a single Sunday. Exhausted, I made a comment/complaint/kuwento to Charlene, Pastor Ferdie’s assistant at the time. She responded, “Oh yeah, we’re kinda understaffed. He preached at six services the other week.” Okay, no more complaining from me.

Being a campus missionary under Pastor Ferdie could be a double-edged sword. On the positive side, you never felt like the young people were a secondary priority. There was always support for anything that would help students. But on the other hand, his standards were always high because young people mattered, so you better give your best.

In one staff meeting he said, “Any update on the young people? What’s going on with the campus ministry? Patrick? Dan? Joseph?” None of us made a comment and indicated that nothing out of the ordinary was going on. It was business as usual. At the end of the meeting, he said, “Okay, we’re done. Everyone get to work. You three campus guys stay behind.”

He gave us a stern talking to. “What do you mean you have no updates? What do you mean business as usual? Is the Holy Spirit not doing anything at all with students? When I give you a chance to speak at a staff meeting, it’s not just for logistics. It’s a chance to cast vision! It’s a chance to impart passion. How can we pray for you? How can we support you if you just say “business as usual?!” Ouch, but well-received.

The next week, he made sure to ask for an update from the campus team again. Patrick, our leader, gave his update on the overview of all upcoming events. Then Dan jumped in talking about an exciting new outreach that would become a church plant years later. I know I said something too, but can’t remember what.

He ended the meeting after our report, and asked the three of us to stay behind again. What now? “Next time, I don’t need all three of you to talk. Dan, Joseph, just give your updates to Patrick and he can speak for all of you.” While he encouraged people to be ready to inspire, Pastor Ferdie also did not enjoy when people prolonged meetings with unnecessary comments. It was a matter of respect and humility for him. Know your place, do the job, then get out of the spotlight.

THE PREACHING COACH

Pastor Ferdie embodied the calling of a preacher. He grew in confidence not through positive self-talk, but by focusing on something greater than himself. He could speak to hundreds and thousands because he loved the people. He studied diligently because he revered the Word of God. He was fearless in declaration because he wanted to bring honor to God.

Pastor Ferdie didn’t distinguish between big moments or small ones. He gave the same excellence and energy for a sermon in an air conditioned arena to thousands as in a nipa hut with a dirt floor. I think he would have recoiled at hearing someone say it was their dream to preach at an arena.

Our batch of youth ministers likened Pastor Ferdie to a high school basketball coach – the kind who drilled you in fundamentals. Like the story of legendary basketball coach John Wooden starting his teams on how to tie their shoes properly, Pastor Ferdie always had an eye for excellence in the small things. To this day, I have a mental routine before every sermon that started from those Sunday mornings serving with him.

– is anything hanging from my belt loops?

– is anything bulging out of my pockets?

— is my outfit distractingly good, bad, colorful, offensive, etc? (Pastor Ferdie wanted nothing else to take any attention from the Word of God.)

– is my message pointing to Jesus or pointing to my own works?

When I mentor young preachers, I advise them to look for what he gave me and many others: take as many opportunities as you can to serve and find someone who will give you honest feedback.

“Why don’t you do the transition later? Do you have something to share? (No.) Share anyway. You should always be ready.”

“Why would you use Genesis 11 to talk about unity? The theme of the tower of Babel is rebellion. Aren’t there better passages for unity in the Bible? Don’t twist the Scriptures to fit what you wanna say.”

“Do you realize that the whole time you were talking you said ‘You do this, you do that.’ Do you know how that sounds? How old are you? 22? There are people more than twice your age here. Your grandfather is in the second row. It would sound better if you said “we” and “us.” That would show that you aren’t talking down to the people, but are also under the authority of Scripture yourself.”

“Joseph… keep it up.” Everyone who’s ever worked with him knows the significance of that statement.

(He never called me Joe. Always Joseph. Maybe because he knew me since I was a kid and “Joe” was a later nickname. I found that weird of him until I started working more with Elle and found myself often being the oldest guy in the room and the only one still calling her Ellie.)

These and many more were weekly occurrences. I didn’t realize how generous he was being until I had to train younger preachers myself. Only then did I see that him staying engaged and making the effort to give feedback showed how much he valued preaching and helping us get better.

THE EVANGELIST

I have a memory of Pastor Ferdie. I don’t know if I imagined it. But I’ve had it for a while, so I really think it’s true. In 1997, Trumpets Theater produced an original work of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe the Musical. It was so excellent that C.S Lewis’ stepson said that in his opinion this was the theater production that was “the closest to Lewis’ intention.” (Source: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe Wikipedia page)

On one of the theater nights, our family went to watch with a lot of other people from church. I think more than half of the crowd were people we knew. The jocular mood of the church people contrasted with the ceremonious halls of Meralco Theater. At the play’s climax, you could feel an energy in the room. Aslan had been slain, but when he made his reappearance the church people were audibly excited. I heard little shouts of “C’mon!” When the girls asked Aslan what power could break the Deep Magic that bound him to death, Aslan triumphantly said, “Deeper Magic!” At this, cheers broke out at the theater like we were watching a sporting event. And I have a memory of Pastor Ferdie standing and pointing his finger at the stage with full passion. His face at maximum expressiveness. This wasn’t just a play to him. It was the Gospel.

I thought about that a lot over the years, when I would pray to be more evangelistic, I would say to myself, “It has to be like THAT.” It wasn’t just a technique for him. It wasn’t a script. It was someone so caught up in the beauty of the Good News that he couldn’t help but share it with everyone.

THE FAMILY MAN

The fastest way to see Pastor Ferdie transform was to hear him talk about his family. Or for a select few, to catch him with them. There he was gentle, relaxed, cracking jokes, and always offering food. As much as he liked the work of the ministry, Pastor Ferdie loved being home.

I only caught this a few times. But I can’t forget how he spoke about then. The pride and joy in his voice as he talked about Elle. How he treasured every moment and interaction with John Philip. He shared some of his family stories in his book, Run 50. Those accounts alone are worth the price of the short, but meaty book. I loved the chapter where he talks about the birth of their son. IYKYK

A few years ago, while on a long drive in the US, everyone else in the car had fallen asleep and I saw he was looking out the window. I asked him a question that had been on my mind for some time.

“Pastor Ferdie, if I may ask, how do you lead and receive love from your wife? I ask because Ms Judy doesn’t seem to fit the stereotype many people have of an emotional, sometimes irrational, and extremely dependent woman. It doesn’t seem like she likes big showy romantic gestures. She’s competent, logical, and capable of standing toe to toe with you.” Then I described how Carla is similar – practical and straight to the point. Our relationship doesn’t have the common expressions of showering her with flowers, chocolates, or love notes.

Pastor Ferdie was quiet then he said something along the lines of “I know Judy loves me in her own way. I don’t compare with how other couples do things. I know she is loyal to me. Her loving our children is a way of loving me. Her improving our home is her love for me. One time, I sat down to rest and she walked in with a list of things for me to do. I didn’t get mad or snap. I just smiled, and she got the message. I needed this time to rest. In short, we know how to love each other.”

That short exchange really helped me be thankful for the uniqueness of my wife and to look for how she loves me and our kids. I’ve shared that insight from Pastor Ferdie to a number of husbands when we talked about being married to strong wives. Their strength is not something to pare down, compete with, or be intimidated by. It’s a gift. Something to celebrate. And husbands need to study their wives, be secure, and find the ways that you both give and receive love.

A MAN OF INTEGRITY

Forty years ago, Pastor Ferdie gave his life to Jesus. He was immediately involved in volunteering and eventually leading others at church. In the past four decades, I haven’t heard of a single hint of inappropriate behavior, financial fraud, or immoral scandals from him.

I’m not saying he’s perfect. In fact, I had many disagreements with him, like many others. A number of people have been hurt by his leadership or rough manner. But many of those people are still mourning his passing. Because despite the hurts and mistakes, they can sense the integrity of the man.

One of them told me he was mourning because “even though we didn’t see eye to eye, he was a good man.” Another said, “He could be harsh. But he was never malicious.”

I think that’s a good point. Even when he would shout, get harsh, or have an overboard response, it was never with an intent to harm. If anything, he was doing it because he thought that was the right thing to do. It is also something he would have been willing to subject himself to if necessary. If there were inconsistencies in his manner, they were unintentional. And when he saw his error, he would acknowledge it.

Harsh? Sometimes. Malicious? Never. Duplicitous? Never. Hypocritical? Never.

A few days after he passed, I was in a Bible study group with a few church planters from different denominational and church org backgrounds.

The discussion led us to Acts 20 when Paul gave his farewell to the Ephesian elders. I was struck by how many of Paul’s characteristics applied to Pastor Ferdie.

– You know how I lived the whole time I was with you… (v. 18)

– I served the Lord with great humility and with tears and in the midst of severe testing… (v. 19)

– You know that I have not hesitated to preach anything that would be helpful to you but have taught you publicly and from house to house. (v. 20)

– I have declared to both Jews and Greeks that they must turn to God in repentance and have faith in our Lord Jesus. (v. 21)

– Therefore, I declare to you today that I am innocent of the blood of any of you. For I have not hesitated to proclaim to you the whole will of God. (v. 26-27)

– I have not coveted anyone’s silver or gold or clothing. You yourselves know that these hands of mine have supplied my own needs and the needs of my companions. (v. 33-34)

– In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (v. 35)

– However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace. (v. 24)

These verses described Pastor Ferdie well: living simply, hard working to help the less privileged, never coveting money or possessions, preaching the Word to serve and save others, and running the race God had for him.

One of the pastors in the group remarked, “Isn’t it funny that his story is so inspiring, but that should be the norm. Shouldn’t every pastor be that way?”

I think Pastor Ferdie would like that outcome more. Instead of being one of a few shining stars surrounded by fallen pastors, he would prefer being just one of many ministers with integrity. Ministers who work hard, live simply, don’t covet wealth or luxury, preach humbly, fearlessly, and faithfully, and finish the task God has for them.

A LIFE OF DEEP RELATIONSHIPS

On the night of April 1, our oldest son approached me. He’d been giving me concerned glances all day. “Papa, I’ve never heard you cry like that before.” He wanted to know if I was okay. I explained to him that I was sad because someone I deeply respect passed away, but we would see him again in Heaven.

I told him that when we are sad about not being with someone, it’s a sign that we really loved each other and were important to each other. Like when we miss a good friend who moves far away.

Watching the outpouring of messages regarding Pastor Ferdie, we can see that he had that impact with so many. Thousands of people have a personal anecdote or point of contact with him. A timely word. A hospital visit. A note scribbled in a book. I said to a friend that it’s funny, given his grumpy image, how relational he really was. Driving to his hometown for the wake with my parents, we told each other many stories from years of knowing the Cabilings.

Given all those deep connections, it really will be painful when it gets cut. Funnily enough, one of the last messages he preached asked the question if we are living our lives in a way that will be missed when we’re gone. At one point my Facebook feed was full of Victory pastors posting that clip of his preaching alternating with different people proving with their stories that Pastor Ferdie’s life was like that.

So this really hurts and will continue to hurt for a while. Because his was a life well-lived. But we are not like those who grieve with no hope. (1 Thess. 4:13) And we will continue to pray and love the Cabiling family, even as we look forward to a joyful reunion with him and with Jesus.

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mizunetzu · 4 years ago

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Tags~: @scifiji @shiny-bun @luv-hqs @gummiebearsmp4 @aquariusmurderer @inarizza @roadkillarr (finally I made the part two AHAHAH)

——————

Kita x reader - warm, warm professions (God I love you so much) (cold cold obvs. Part 2)

Warnings - ahaha angst, crying Kita

Pronouns - male, he/him

you can find part one here!

——————

“Shicchan, your hands are so cold...”

(Y/n) cupped both of Kita’s numb hands in his own. Kita tensed, looking down at both of their hands. He felt his own hands being attacked with (Y/n’s) warm ones, his cold, cold hands already thawing just at the one touch.

“Isn’t it hard to toss the ball when you’re hands are numb? That’s bad!” (Y/n) brought Kita’s hands to cup his face, his hands stinging from how warm his cheeks were.

(Y/n) nuzzled his face into Kita’s left hand. He practically murmured into his palm. “How’d they get so cold in the first place?”

Kita wouldn’t show it, in fact he didn’t think he could if he tried, but the warmth that spread across his chest made him suddenly want to run laps. He settled for slightly gripping and rubbing (Y/n’s) cheeks with his thumbs. “I don’t know.” Was all Kita could muster. He was too lost in (Y/n’s) captivating eyes.

God, he loved him so much.

——

Numb.

Numb was the way Kita would describe the feeling in his mouth.

He sat quietly on a foldable chair in the gym, twirling his fingers together instead of watching the practice match going on. He didn’t think he could pay attention if he tried, when he used to be able to have his eyes glued onto the ball even though he was on the sidelines. His fingers felt kind of numb.

He wrapped his fingers up in his shirt to no avail. All it did was make his stomach cold from his fingers bitter touch. It wasn’t even that cold outside. It was a rather nice day in terms of weather. But it didn’t feel like that at all.

“-ita. Kita!”

Kita raised his head. Atsumu loomed above him with his arms crossed.

“...Did you need something, Atsumu-san?”

“Yeah. Why’re ya actin’ all depressed? You’re makin’ everyone feel depressed too, y’know.”

“Atsumu! Shut the fuck up!” Kita heard someone whisper-yell, as well as a grunt of pain from Atsumu. Kita blinked.

“Nothing...much.”

“Nothin’ much?! How bout’ when you started cryin’ yer ass off during practice a week ago? Didn’t seem like nothin’ to me!”

Osamu slapped Atsumu upside the head. Aran sighed.

“I gotta agree with Atsumu-san on this. You don’t look too good these days. Especially since (L/n)-san stopped showin’ up to practice.”

There was hums and nods of agreement. Kita pursed his lips.

“Did...did something happen between y’all?”

Kita couldn’t look Aran in the eyes. He, also, used to have no problem speaking his mind (in fact sometimes it came out automatically) but right now his mouth was glued shut. Now, and probably forever. He didn’t wanna say it. He didn’t wanna think it. He didn’t wanna hear it-

“Kita and (L/n) broke up a week ago.”

Suna pitched in monotonously. Kita flinched subtly. The gym was silent. All eyes were on Kita. His throbbing, cold hands didn’t help, as he tried warming them up discreetly by stuffing them under the backside of his shirt.

“Oh...uh, sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t mind.”

The awkward, sympathetic pats on the back didn’t really help either, but he replied with a curt “s’fine.” nonetheless.

——

(Y/n) kissed the back of Kita’s hand.

“Looks like your hands warmin’ up...” He drew it away from his lips and examined it with half lidded eyes and a reserved smile. Kita watched as tiny specs of sun fluttered around (Y/n’s) warm face, painting his face and hair with light that made him look like an angel sent from heaven.

Kita mindlessly brought his free hand up to the side of (Y/n’s) face, touching and stroking his cheek with the grace of a feather. (Y/n) looked up from his hand, up at Kita’s face.

(Y/n) leaned into his touch. He used his other hand to cup the hand resting peacefully on his cheek, nuzzling his nose further into Kita’s palm.

“Something wrong?”

“No...”

Kita felt a throbbing, hazy feeling in his chest. Like something inside his ribcage was trying to break free, and explode into a million pieces.

“Then, do you just like holding my face?” (Y/n) smiled that smile that made him go weak in the knees. “That’s good...I like it when you hold my face too.”

God, he loved him so much.

——

Kita slumped down, doubled over himself panting and heaving on the sidewalk where Inarizaki was collectively jogging. Ginjima stopped in front of Kita, jogging in place.

“You’re usually in the very front of the pack when we all run.” He said in between huffs.

Kita said nothing, only panting and crouching down to catch his breath.

“You run in the very back of the group now.”

He was met with no response again. Ginjima stopped running in place, and stared down pitifully at Kita’s hunched over body.

“S’everything alright back there?!” Aran called out from a distance. Ginjima yelled out a “Everything’s fine!” While waving his arms around in the air until Aran waved back. Ginjima looked back at Kitas scrunched up form.

“Y’know-maybe you should just...go home for the day. Take a break.”

Kita looked up at him with dry, tired eyes. His throat refused to put out any other sounds than exhales the occasional cough.

“Go freshen up and go home. You won’t die missing a day of practice.” Ginjima crouched down to Kita’s face, his voice noticeably softer and careful. “It’s not like you to push yourself when you know you’re not doing well.”

“I’m not sick, it’s not the same thing-“

“But you’re heartbroken.”

Heartbroken. Kita supposed that was the word to describe his situation right now. Heartbroken, yet it didn’t feel like the correct word to describe how he felt. He felt like he was dying. Drowning. Freezing.

“I’ll walk you back, ‘kay?” Ginjima pushed off his feet, extending a hand over to Kita. He pulled him up, and Kita swayed in the air like a bobblehead. “Go change and go home. We’ll see you tomorrow, don’t worry. I’ll tell the others you went home.”

Ginjima and Kita walked in the opposite direction they were running. Kita downcast his face.

“M’kay.”

——

“Do you love me?”

Kita remembered the way (Y/n’s) face didn’t radiate the warm glow it usually did when he was around him. His eyes looked strained, infuriated even, and he looked like he wanted to say something more. But it was a simple question, ‘do you love me?’. And of course he did. So that’s what he said.

“...Of course I-“

“”of course I do.” That’s what you always say..! Say something else, dammit! Say you love me!”

(Y/n) abruptly rose from his seat, stepping over the bench and grabbing Kita by the collar. He pulled him closer to his face, shaking him by the shirt with knuckles that almost turned white.

“M-Make me believe that you love me!”

He really wish he didn’t remember how much tears flowed freely from (Y/n’s) eyes, and how he was biting and gnawing at his lip to keep from screaming, or the way he shook with despair in general. It played over and over again, the same sorrow-riddled expression that made Kita’s stomach drop.

He really wish he didn’t remember. But he wished he’d said something, anything, even more.

(Y/n’s) face went from angry and sad, to numb and cold in a matter of seconds. He’d much rather prefer the heated look of (Y/n’s) angry face, than the stone cold lifeless look (Y/n) held when he let go of his shirt. Because even with his angry sobs and screams, there was still a hint of warmth. Even if it was angry passion, it was still better than the cold, dead stare he held that Kita couldn’t meet.

“...I think we should break up.”

Kita’s world went silent. He was struck with an immediate shock of dread, panic, stress, and everything in between. He had so many questions. Why? Didn’t he know that he loved him? He loved him so, so much, so why was he saying that he didn’t? Was his love not enough? Didn’t he know how much he needed him?

He had so many questions, yet his face made of cold stone could only say one thing.

“Why?”

(Y/n’s) iron clad grip on Kita’s shirt loosened, he stepped back, face feeling raw after crying. “I don’t want to be with someone who can’t tell me they love me. Once you can tell me you love me, and mean it, I’m all ears.”

Kita watched as (Y/n) turned his back on him for the first and last time. More thoughts raced in his head. He could change. He could do better. He’d love him a thousand times more, fix every little imperfection, hell, do it a thousand times over again if it meant that (Y/n) would turn around with that warm smile again. He wanted see that smile again. That smile that made him feel so warm. Please. One more time. Kita’s arm gravitated outwards, reaching for (Y/n’s) cold back as he turned away. One more time, please smile for me.

But he didn’t. He was met with nothing more than a cold shoulder.

He was left with the sudden drop in temperature, the world once filled with so much warmth being winded away into a cold wasteland. Kita looked down, his eyes numb and wide.

“Please come back...” he remembered saying, though he didn’t think it ever came out audibly.

“I love you, (Y/n)...”

‘God...dear God...’

He loved him so much.

‘Why did you take him away from me?’

‘The gods were always listening, is what my Baa-san would always say. Were the gods not listening to my undying love for you, (L/n)(Y/n)? Was my feelings for you not enough to make you smile for me one last time? God, I loved you so much.’

‘So did I not love you enough?’

——

Kita found himself sitting on the same bench (Y/n) professed his love for him to. Granted, it was the same bench they had broken up on, but Kita didn’t want to think about that.

He twirled a wilted cherry blossom petal in between his fingers. The rigid, dark pink petal cracked and crumbled, turning into dust in Kita’s hand.

As much as he hated this place, this stupid stone bench with a cherry blossom tree, it was a beautiful sight that not much students knew about. It was quiet, but it caused (Y/n’s) cold, cold eyes to bore into his mind all the more he stayed. It was a double edged sword.

He sometimes wondered what (Y/n) was doing with his free time outside of the club. What did he do? Did he take a nap after classes? His sleeping face looked very cute, though he only saw it once when he dozed off studying at his house. Did he spend time with his parents? He always found people respectable to their parents very attractive. Did he find a new club to stay with?

Kita clenched his fists. The thought of (Y/n) playing a different sport, doing something else after school, didn’t sit right with him. Was that what he was doing? Did he realize how cold and uncomfortable he made volleyball for him, and decided to leave? Would he never see him smiling up at him again after school?

Would he never see (L/n) (Y/n’s) warm, warm smile directed at him ever again?

He heard footsteps echo on the grass behind him. The footsteps halted awkwardly, and Kita turned around.

(Y/n) locked eyes with Kita. He should’ve been paying attention to where he was going, huh? Maybe if he was looking where he was walking, he could’ve noticed Kita Shinsuke sitting there, and could’ve found a different spot to sit at after school.

(Y/n) wasted no time spinning on his heel and leaving. He didn’t wanna face Kita after everything that went down.

Kita feet sprang him up and off the bench. He didn’t know what he was doing, but the next thing he knew was that his arms wrapped around (Y/n’s) body, holding him while he was facing away. Kita’s mind raced with thoughts and went absolutely blank at the same time.

(Y/n) pursed his lips. “What do you want?” He said. It came out harsher than he intended, but Kita paid no mind. He wordlessly buried his face into the crook of (Y/n’s) neck, nuzzling it and relishing in the warmth that was not intended for him.

“H-hey! What gives!” (Y/n) half-heartedly tried pushing Kita away. He knew if he gave in now, he’d come crawling back into Kita’s cold, loveless arms, craving that touch and pretending it was indeed, love. “Don’t...don’t touch me, Kita-“

“Shinsuke.”

The arm that was trying to push Kita away went limp. (Y/n’s) hardened exterior cracked as his resolve faltered. Kita buried himself deeper into (Y/n’s) shoulder, firmly wrapping his arms around (Y/n) tightly. He was practically murmuring into (Y/n’s) school uniform.

“Call...call me Shinsuke...it’s what you used to call me...when we first started dating...”

“Well,” (Y/n) downcast his face, his eyes hardened and cold while he balled up his fists. “We aren’t dating. So why does it-“

All of (Y/n’s) resolve, all the time he spent putting up the barrier to his emotions, shattered once he heard the first sniffle from Kita.

After that, Kita fell apart like dominoes.

His grip on (Y/n’s) waist tightened as he shook violently, sobs crescendoed and ripping through his body explosively, unlike the silent tears that he shed that day he left. His whimpers and choked cries were muffled from the cloth of (Y/n’s) uniform. He loved him so much. Why couldn’t he see how much he loved him?

Kita cried and cried on (Y/n’s) shoulder. He couldn’t see the type of face (Y/n) was making, and that made him all the more nervous. He wanted to feel the warmth of (Y/n) at least one last time. After that, he swore he would move on. He swore. He swore, so one last time. Please.

(Y/n) sighed. “Kita...”

Kita didn’t respond. He continued to cry pathetically onto (Y/n’s) shoulder.

“Kita-kun.”

This time, Kita shakily shook his head. (Y/n) sighed, this time more stably, and untangled Kita’s vice grip from his body.

“Shinsuke-kun...”

Kita, confused and sad, finally caught a glimpse of (Y/n’s) face when he turned around. He had a look of empathy, his warm hands brought up to his cheeks, melting his ice cold skin awake. Kita rumbled with another choked sob, closing his eyes and sobbing into (Y/n’s) hands. It was so warm. After the cold winter storm he’d suffered through, the first ray of sunshine that shone through always felt the best.

“Shinsuke-kun,” (Y/n) repeated. Kita hiccuped, trying to stop his tears from falling.

“P-lease come back...” Kita’s voice was hoarse, cracking with every word. “I-I don’t like this...”

(Y/n) said nothing. Kita broke free from (Y/n’s) soft grip on his face, and brought him into a hug. He was never much for physical affection, but right now (Y/n) felt so, so warm.

“You’ve...you’ve treated me so kind...I-I’m sorry...i’ve been so cold...” Kita rambled on, sobbing into (Y/n’s) hair quietly. (Y/n) still didn’t say anything.

“I-I...didn’t mean to...I swear...! I’ll be a better boyfriend...please...I’ll love you correctly...”

(Y/n’s) silence was defecating. Kita felt his ears go numb with the silent treatment he was being put through. Was this his punishment?

“I...say something...! Please...” Kita whispered, tears gathering at his eyes once more. “Please...”

Then, (Y/n) finally wrapped his warm arms around Kita. He mumbled pathetically, “Y’know I don’t like it when people cry, Shinsuke...”

It was Kita’s turn to go quiet. (Y/n) pulled away, much to Kita’s protest. However, the warm smile (Y/n) gave him made his heart throb and his throat close up.

(Y/n) caressed Kita’s face with his thumb. “Stop crying...”

“I love you...” Kita whispered, his voice cracking at the seams. (Y/n’s) face adorned a look of astonishment, a slight blush lighting up his already perfect sunny face.

(Y/n) smiled again. That same smile Kita had been craving for forever.

“T-Tell me that again...please.”

Kita collapsed into (Y/n’s) warm arms. Choked sobs of “I-I love you-!” And “I-I love you so much...” echoed through the air. The emotionless barrier, holding all of Kita’s emotions captive to the world, cracked and shattered, his crying face bearing the weight of a man who loved (L/n) (Y/n) with his entire being.

(Y/n) stroked the back of Kita’s head softly.

“Of course you do...”

God, he loved him so much.

——————

#kita angst #kita shinsuke x reader #kita x you #kita x y/n #kita x male reader #shinsuke kita x reader #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu boys #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x male reader #hq x y/n #hq x male reader

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aeempress · 4 years ago

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Apritello Express Evidences, part 1

Greetings, Apritello enthusiasts and attention! Here comes a loong post is written by totally nerd. You've been warned. Here we go.

The thing is that Apritello is a double-edged sword. The series shows us established friendship of these two, give us a lot of content with them. We can see development of relationship through interaction between the characters, their reaction about the situations they are put in. We can sense their synergy and bound through the show.

Donnie and April have incredible chemistry, and both options, brotp and otp seems fine to me.

But let me tell you why I ship them.

Apritello is the kind of pairings, which consists of small details, hints, that's hidden, but if you're sharp and attentive one, you will notice that. Apritello has a strong foundation: the best friends trope.

And from the very beginning, it works as planned.

When I start watching show, I could say that April and Donnie are best friends. It is worth noting that April is like an older sister to the other brothers, more of a sisterly figure than a friend, but with Donnie she behaves somewhat differently, namely, as best friend. Obviously, she sets him apart from his brothers, although girl tries to pay attention to all of them equally. And Donnie behaves as well.

Dee's battle shell designs for April needs as well as his. His shell transform into comfy spot for taking ride for April. Special and only for her. Because his bros are not supposed to use it (at least, he carries no one on his back), Donnie carries them by his techno-bó or his limbs.

This tiny detail shows his special treatment to her. April is a very, very special occasion to D. Don does care about her comfort, he accept the way she is. Donatello does not try to prevent her from participating in their affairs because he respects her decisions and is pleased that April can be shoulder to shoulder with him.

D is glad to be at her service.

Yeah, Dee's still playing cool, he has image to perform as tough and coolheaded guy. So Don doesn't show his intentions, interest and feeling to other people (he's tryin', but fails). Because his actions matter. They are always small, hidden, but meaningful.

April, in return, trusts Dee and depends on his tech, even knowing what his inventions are the opposite of success (usually).

Go on. Look at Donnie's facial expressions and body language when April is near.

Donnie seems more relaxed when she's around, happier. His emotional response is always different from his brothers ones.

Oh, and look, he wanted to be first to give her a high three.

They worry about each other. Look at Don. He does worry about her way more than his brothers. Yeah, they all want to protect her, but Donnie is more expressive.

Mayham has no particular sympathy for the brothers: he is afraid of Raph and behaves aggressively, he is indifferent to Leo and Mikey. Mayham immediately takes a liking to April. And then the details come back: he let Donnie touch his neck. The most vulnerable place for any living creation, for a second. Let him to study an important vial without any hesitation. Mayham depends on April trust for Donnie. When everything goes wrong for Don, the little doggie comes to his rescue, just as April would have done. Is the hint transparent enough?

We can see links with "A mystic library", wherе Donnie begins to look for solutions to save April's pet. Yes, this may seem like his next leap, "sit down, I'm smart, and now I'll solve all the problems, watch and learn," but Don says one phrase that opens up the veil of the second plan, what happens behind the scenes. "My illiteral colleagues and I was conducting a mustic research, with a life of the beloved pet, hanging in a bounce".

Strange wording, Donatello. Beloved pet? Not yours, as we can see. I can say, that everything in this sentence is true, but Donnie and Mayham has something more.

Continue. Next episode "Origami tsunami". Interactions are kept to a minimum, as April herself appears for a maximum of 5 minutes in the series itself. But devil is always in the details, dear friends.

When April was attacked and hung up, the only one who excitedly called out to her was Donny. Raph is furious that the thieves have escaped, Leo is frustrated that their plan has failed, and Mikey is worried about the salami.

Yeah, we didn't see his worries about her when she fell, because Donnie is on the mission and must be coolheaded turtle, and second, he's calm because now April life is safe and sound, out of the danger.

Dear passangers, Apritello Express arrives to the next station - episode "War and Pizza".

Bare facts:

1. April has Donnie's number on an emergency call.

2. "Anything for you"

3. Donnie is the reason why Alberto knows April's name.

No one calles April by her name (except for Donnie, while phone call, but Alberto wasn't nearby) it was "Captain O'Neil" by her chief, her badge seems blank. And yeah, you can say, that's just economy of budget, but I assure you: in the first episode we were shown the name of the delivery guy. The animators were not lazy bones and wrore "Stewart" on his badge. So if something isn't there, then it either shouldn't be there, or it really isn't, that's how this show works.

So, the reason explained in the episode. When Al has short circuit, parts of its new code flashed through its mind.

Info about April was in its memory, in its code. Alberto was a lame animatronic, and it seems somewhat outdated. I do really doubt about Alberto is being something smartass machine with complicated AI like Freddy's Pizza's ones. Quite questionable. Donatello fix Al's brain and wrote code, synchronize with his remote control. He put information about Cap O'Neil into animatronic's head. All this pictures are kind of massage: "You was created for birthday celebrations. You are machine, and there concepts of "life" and "birth". Do great party for this birthday kid and April won't be like this". Or, something like that.

So Alberto did - do a memorable party. And he do what his creator programmed him to do, but in his way.

4. In other words, Alberto was a tool to impress April. Don flaunts himself in front of her, stating how he did the upgrade while doing the upgrade, even though April is fully aware of his tech wizard. And his abilities supposed to help Cap O'Neil to finish the birthday party, so she will stay at her job, not fired. All thanks to Donnie and his upgrade Alberto. (Or not)

By the way, Donnie was the last to leave April in ruined "Alberto's". And it's not an isolated case, it is a pattern.

5. They understand each other without words.

First, Donny came at her at the speed of light. Second, she hadn't even finished speaking before Dee was taking Al apart. Third, their chaotic, well-coordinated work? Donnie was a distraction (although he wanted to just take a break from the battle or let Alberto's guard down, while April just knocked him out). Donnie and April are great team, and sometimes the DonniexApril team is much more precise, coordinated, and interdependent than the DonniexBrothers one.

D&A feel each other and anticipate each other's actions, their skills complement each other, creating an incredible synergy of their interaction. They act as a whole, while it's not always possible with his brothers, even though they're family and know each other the way more Donnie know April. And Dee hasn't trained with cap O'Neil.

Donatello didn't show his crush for April. No puppy, loving eyes, no lovey-dovey speeches, no planning schemes (at least, the audience don't see one) . He just want her attention, but stays cool and hidden. D is already her BFF, but still.

The same thing is claimed in 5B episode - Mascot Melee. Donnie has no problems with interaction with idol of his childhood - Atomic Lass. She'd put Leo in a stupor, but Donnie? He playfully challenges her to a dance duel. Yes, he adores this character, who may have become his measure of the attractiveness of others to Donatello, determined his type. But still, he's playing all cool and confident guy, he's really smooth with girls, so you will never see a puppy loving eyes from him. Only two things can betray him at this point: his voice and his body language. Remember, how's soft his voice became for Atomic Lass? Now I want you to remember the scene before, in turtle tank, when April sent guys a meme.

D is the first to respond to the message, despite the fact that Mikey is sitting closest to the screen. And the responding is a little too emotional for this situation, don't you think?

And this face of his. And he comments it. He likes her sense of humour.

The only difference between April and Atomic Lass is that the first one is a real girl who is a friend of their family, practically a member of it; and the other one is just a fictional character. It is easier to say about love for a fictional character, because it brings less problems for a teenager, especially when he is living with three brothers and a father who likes to tease as well. Donatello needs to be careful and outline the area of emotions he could show, so that he does not get hurt.

Now, dear passangers, we are returning to the previous episode, shall we?

Donnie presents to his brothers his precious Turtle tank, but she's gone, and it's really necessary to find out, who has taken her. And the first person to suspect is April.

Something is odd, don't you think? Yeah, Raphael has taken tyre for their "Midnight special", Leo claimed that Donnie's stuff is common, but they are D's beothers. It's natural for family to borrow(stole) stuff of each other. But this trend was not observed in April. She would never steal anything from Donnie, much less steal anything from him.

Actually, there is a good, logical and solid explanation here. April was number 1 in Donatello' suspect list, because he simply told her about Turtle tank. His brothers didn't know he were working at Moon buggy, except Mikey (Orange helps Dee get the vehicle from Repomantis), but they didn't know what exactly Donnie was working for. They didn't know he build the Turtle tank, he kept it a secret, to surprise his brothers. But April knew.

- Alright you! Where's our turtle tank?

- Hi, DONNIE. You have 9 seconds to say, why are you just broke my door.

- Someone's stole Donnie's turtle tank.

- Haha-ow, I see. As your best friend, you naturally suspect me.

- She gets it!

- Oh-ho, don't give me that! You're the only one could taken it!

The only one, because she knew about it.

As Splints said in this episode - "April is not a snitch"

Donatello does trust April and share with her both, sorrows and joys. But we are not shown this directly. We do not see the action itself, we do not see their calls and conversations on the phone late at night, we only see the consequence. We have no choice and take it as a given.

And the way she cooled him down? Fast, efficient, and Donnie seems to used to it. Moreover, she slapped everyone, but still, she throw Don out of window the last. However, why such a large time delay between him, being slapped and him, was throwing out of the window?

And my favourite scene. It was obvious that Donnie had taken the hardest hit (judging by his scream and the way he was putting his knuckles back in place). Don then claims that their inner circle is secure, Mikey tries to make amends for everyone, and April agrees, blowing them a kiss and closing the window. Cute and mean, isn't it? (You're cute! but mean! why do I always go for your type?! - ep. War and Pizza)

Nota bene: Donnie wouldn't apologize to April. Tough, not caring badass boy image, remember? Even to best friends. It's hard to him to express his feelings by using words, he cannot do it in proper way. But he has Mikey, who is so alike inner him. Michelangelo apologizes not only for himself, but for D mostly, because D starts suspected April.

Let's continue: the episode 8B: Hypno Part Deux

• Donnie put "Donnie's blocker" at April's phone to protect her.

It's common thing that your friend install some programs or apps on your device. But you will always ask your friend to do such a favour, and you will always know about what, when and where were installed on your phone.

And April didn't know Donnie had done something with her phone. It was a real surprise for her, to see blocker with "Donnie says no-no-no".

And you know, the interface of his app. The way he tell this current phrase. Donnie could put a huge banner "THE APP YOU WANT DOWNLOAD TO IS A REAL PIECE OF GARBAGE", as usual antiviruses do. But no, voice interface. It makes the app more personal and thoughtful. Because when Don made gifts for his brother, the program was voiced by a computer-generated female voice. Yes, the tank's interface is voiced by Donatello himself, but his voice sounds more like Google than the real Don. And, we talking about HIS BABEY, for a second. Bit still, the point remains.

• Also, Dale.

Dale is nerdy boy in purple, wow, how convenient for making a parallel with certain purple turtle.

But thing is, April doesn't like Dale. He's clingy, remora guy, who has a little obsession with April, even he's not harmful, still, such behaviour freaks girls (and not them only) out. Her classmate is usually tell her what April O'Neil is "his favourite person" and he loves her. There is little that is attractive about this behavior.

So, there is nothing new and unpredictable here that Dale was rejected. Because April didn't, doesn't and won't like him because of his lame personality and strange behaviour. Our girl in yellow do right thing: she clearly sets personal boundaries and does not allow any dubious personalities to invade them. So that's the reason she refuses to go on a date with him at the end. He's weird, obsessed, and she doesn't like him.

Donatello, as far as I concerned from different versions of TMNT, was always a little obsessive with some things. And, you know, putting a blocker inside your best friend's phone seems a little weird, because it's, in simple words, violation of privacy and personal space. And there are people who may regard this as stalking or sorta.

Yeah, for the most part, he gets away with it, not only because April's focus is in a different area, but also because their bond is stronger than April's with anyone else at school.

She has known him for years. Donnie is her best friend. I can't say that it's fine to her when Dee violates her personal space - her phone, but April can accept Donatello's personality in general.

And he does really have good intentions. Donnie installed this blocker, developed by himself only for one reason: to protect personal space April from fishy apps from nowhere, from being hacked and etc. Don knew her too well, how much she depends on stupid apps that will distract her. He also knew well, that he can't be with her 24/7 to fix problems with April's phone, so Dee put a part of himself to prevent any harm in the future.

And again, "Donnie's gifts"'s vibes. Donatello genuinely cared about April, because he wrote, coded, developed, designed, and dubbed it, turned on the database, and installed it all on April's phone. 'cause, you know, writing programs in general is a bit of a hassle, but writing an antivirus is much more difficult, because viruses are changing, and questionable applications are finding ways to bypass. Do you feel how much effort Dee put in for her?

But Donatello didn't mean to fix April, as he tried to do with his brothers. Purple turtle accepts this girl the way she is, and tries his best to play smoothly with April, by adjusting, not being passive aggressive jerk. It's his outstanding way to show his caring nature, soft side.

Remember, small but meaningful actions.

Maybe, Donnie also can foresee that April may be forced to download some suspicious program, but still, it work: he managed to prevent April being hypnotized, even if couldn't be physically with April at the this moment - Dee was working for Repo Mantis, building dog's paradise for Todd. That's why, by the way, Leo and Raph were dragged into this whole situation. Mayham would teleported literally anyone to help his hostess. Donnie just wasn't at the Lair at the moment.

And on this note, we'll take a break for now. Stay tuned, expect parsing of the series, there's a lot to discuss.

Part 2

Part 3

#rottmnt #rise of tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja #rise donnie #rise donatello #rottmnt donatello #hamato donatello #april o'neil #rise april #rottmnt april #aprilxdonnie #rottmnt apritello #apritello #lonnnnnnnng post #sorry not sorry #zero regrets #apritello express

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braiawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Lost & Found - Chapter 3

Summary: A messenger fills Jude and Madoc in on important news. Jude and the cat pay a visit to the palace. || Inspired by this prompt by @newblood-freya

Words: 3188

Rating: T

Warnings: Brief description of a murder in the first section.

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER FOUR

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

A/N: So I thought writing a multi-chapter would be much easier once I had a solid plot laid out but when I tell you I was dragging words out by my teeth—yeah, I'm not super happy with this chapter but it's here and technically I had it finished in time, just not posted so uh. Good for me? Yeah I'll shut up now, here's chapter 3.

***

Dead. One of the princes was dead.

Jude stood stock still for a long moment, the shock on her face palpable as the words echoed in her mind.

Prince Dain was dead. Did that mean Cardan was, too?

Finally, she swallowed and took a shaky breath. “Prince Dain is dead?"

“Did you not know?” Madoc’s voice was heavy, his eyes sharp.

“No,” Jude gasped. “No, I–no. I thought this was about Cardan. I thought—I don’t know what, exactly, but not this.”

Madoc ran a large hand over his jaw, and then—

“Sit.” He gestured to one of the chairs set along the wall. “You might as well stay to hear the rest.”

She nodded numbly, hesitating before turning to the chair. The cat was standing next to her, black fur fluffed up and small body trembling, his eyes fixed on her foster father. He seemed as horrified as she felt.

“Your guest can stay as well,” Madoc said, tilting his head curiously at the cat. “We will talk about keeping pets later.”

With a nod, she scooped him up as she moved to sit down, tucking the trembling form into herself. She wanted to murmur comforts into his soft black fluff—as much for him as for herself, she suspected—but with Madoc and the messenger looking on, she settled for soothingly stroking the length of his back.

Madoc turned his attention to the messenger boy. “Report,” he instructed, like the boy were one of his soldiers.

He certainly reacted like one, his spine straightening and his chin lifting as he snapped his liquid gaze up to Madoc’s.

Jude didn’t blame him. The old redcap could have that effect.

“Prince Dain never returned to his quarters yesterday,” the imp said. “He was found by a librarian this evening in the royal lineage section, propped against the shelf and—” the imp paused, looking slightly sick, “and with his throat slit.”

“Any other injuries?” Madoc’s voice was cool and steady, as though he were asking about the weather, not the murder of a prince.

“I didn’t—I don’t know, sir. I didn’t see the body.”

At the general’s displeased grunt, the boy rushed to add, “But—at the time of my departure, they were just going to fetch a royal physician. They’ll have the report by now, I’m sure.”

“Hmph,” Madoc responded. “I’ll just have to go and find out for myself. Dismissed.”

As the imp bowed and turned to leave, Jude found herself blurting, “Wait!” the word coming out before she had a chance to think better of it.

The imp halted, glancing first at Madoc, who shrugged, and then at her.

“What about Prince Cardan?” she asked. “Has there been any news of him?”

The cat on her lap stirred slightly, his paws kneading into her legs at the mention of the disfavoured prince’s name.

“Not to my knowledge,” the boy said, shaking his head, and Jude felt her heart drop.

She nodded her thanks as the messenger bowed again and left, not trusting herself to speak through the tightening of her throat or the worry washing through her. For all he’d done to her, for all that he was her worst enemy, she never would have wished him dead.

Madoc’s commanding rumble broke through her fear. “Go and have the stablehands prepare me a mount,” he said. His eyes glared into hers as he repeated, “One mount.”

“I’m not—” Jude started, her fists clenching, but she swallowed her protest. There was no point in saying anything—he’d already made it clear that he wouldn’t allow her to come.

“Fine,” she said instead, and gathered her cat up as she left.

~ ~ ~

Jude did not go to the stables, but instead marched straight to her room, the heels of her boots clicking on the wooden floors. She caught a servant along the way to demand a mount be made ready for Madoc, and then set about preparing for her own trip to the palace.

As she strapped her sword belt to her waist and hid daggers under her sleeves, she kept glancing sidelong at the little cat pacing her floor. His tail lashed viciously with each step, his eyes bright. He must sense her own agitation.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I’m just worried. But I’m not staying home until Madoc brings word. For all I know, he’ll leave out all of the most important details to keep me from getting involved.” She scowled. “I’m not a child anymore. And I’m going to find out what happened to Cardan.”

The cat meowed and when she glanced over he met her eyes full on with his own amber bright glare. She could have sworn he’d sounded annoyed as she glared back at him, trying not to let her unnerve show. It wasn’t natural how human he seemed sometimes.

With a deep, steadying breath, she strapped the last sheath to her thigh and double checked the blade before sliding it into place.

She glanced at her cat again. “Are you coming?”

He mewed and clambered up her clothes, his claws pricking her skin.

“I swear you do that on purpose,” she grumbled as she checked out her window.

In the distance, Madoc was galloping astride a dark horse, almost at the edge of the Milkwood. By the time she had a mount saddled, he would be too far ahead to notice her.

With the cat slunk over her shoulders like a warm scarf, she made her way down to the stables and chose a light-footed creature reminiscent of a reindeer with glassy eyes and long fangs on either side of its mouth.

She made good time through the woods, her mount swift and smooth as it dodged trees and leapt fallen logs. The cat perched on the saddle before her, little face upturned in the wind, eyes slitted in pleasure, and Jude would have joined him had there not been a knot in her stomach at the possibility of Cardan being dead.

When the palace of Elfhame came into view, she pulled her mount to a stop and left it to graze out of view. Though it would have been quicker, coming careening up to the castle on the back of a fanged reindeer would be far from inconspicuous.

She continued on foot, the cat riding on her shoulders once again until they neared the base of the hill where the entrance was hidden by humming magic.

Two guards stood watch today, a precaution to keep unwanted visitors out after the news of Prince Dain’s murder. She had planned to enter quietly, but that may be impossible now.

As Jude drew closer, the guards moved in unison, drawing their weapons.

“What business do you have at the palace?" the taller of the two asked.

Jude lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I’m here with General Madoc,” she declared, to which the shorter guard snickered.

“Sure you are, mortal.”

The taller one shook her head. “The general specifically stated that he came alone.”

Jude fought the urge to clench her fists as the guards remained unmoving. “I need to see him,” she tried, “it’s important.”

“There’s nothing we can do about that,” the short guard drawled. “No one’s allowed in or out without explicit orders.”

The taller one shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. We can take a message, if you like.”

Jude shook her head, already turning away with a mumbled excuse, when her cat leapt off her shoulder and disappeared into the hill.

“Hey!” she called after him, moving to follow, but the guards stepped in front of her.

“You can’t go in.”

“But my cat—”

“You live in the general’s household?” the taller guard asked.

“Yes.”

“We’ll make sure the cat gets sent back with him if we see it again.”

She ground her teeth but nodded. “Fine. Guess I’m leaving then.”

“Guess you are,” the shorter guard challenged.

She fought the urge to say something smart back, or draw her sword on him, and instead walked around the hill.

“Where are you going now?” one of the guards called.

Nosy, she thought, but yelled back, “Visiting a friend,” and rounded the base of the hill until she was out of their view.

There had to be another way in, and so long as there was one, she would find it. She paced a half circle around the side of the hill opposite the guards, searching for another illusioned entrance or tunnel, a servants’ door—nothing.

Jude was just about to give up when she heard a triumphant, “Mrrrow!” from somewhere above. It was her cat, his little black head poking out an open window halfway up the hill.

“You genius little kitty!” she praised him, jogging up the sloping earth and climbing through the round window. As she eased the wood-bordered glass pane shut again, she whispered, “I didn’t even know these opened.”

The cat purred, looking decidedly smug, and Jude marvelled again at his strangeness.

“You don’t happen to know the way to the dungeons too, do you?” she asked, half jokingly.

He chirped and wound around her leg before trotting out of the room.

~ ~ ~

Jude entered the dungeons on quiet feet, trailing after the little black cat. The moment his paws touched the cold stone he yelped and leapt back onto her shoulders, his claws digging in.

“Spoiled rotten,” she accused him. “You have twice as many legs as me, you know. If anything you should be the one doing the carrying.”

She could have sworn he stuck his tongue out at her in response, or maybe it was just a coincidence, so she blew in his face.

The dungeon was mostly empty, with the few cells that were filled being deeper down. She supposed crimes weren’t oft committed in a land were a forceful promise was binding. Or, Jude thought as her eyes caught on an executioner’s sword mounted on the wall, maybe there was a darker reason.

She tried not to shiver in the damp air as she stalked past rows of cells, her eyes scanning the shadows for a pixie girl in a gown fit for a revel.

When at last she stopped before a small figure in a dirty gown, the cat sprung from her shoulders to stand, hissing and hackles raised, before the bars.

Behind the bars, the pixie sat up from where she was lounging on her straw palette, a laugh spilling from her lips, bitter and grating to Jude’s ears.

“Well, hello again,” the prisoner smirked, ruby red eyes flashing in the low light. “It looks like you came back to find me. You miss me that much?”

Jude tried to hide the confusion swirling inside her as she picked up her yowling cat. “We’ve never met,” she stated, to which the pixie laughed again.

“Not everything’s about you, love.” Her eyes locked on the cat as she jerked her chin at it. “Cat bring you here?”

Jude frowned. “Leave him out of it.”

“Alright, if you insist,” she shrugged. “So what do you want? Because as much as I’d like to think you came just to visit, I find it hard to believe you would appreciate my company so much—especially since we’ve never met.”

Jude shifted. She hadn’t thought about what she was going to actually say once she got here—ask nicely for the return of the prince? Grab the prisoner through the bars and shake her? Instead, Jude steeled herself and dove straight in, barrelling through both tact and diplomacy in one fell swoop.

“I have questions.”

“And what makes you think I have answers?”

“I already know you’re connected to Cardan’s disappearance,” she said, stepping closer, “and you’re going to tell me where he is.”

“Oh?” Red brows lifted over honey gold skin as the prisoner regarded Jude with some interest. “Am I now?”

“Yes, you are.” Jude ground the words out through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to lay her hand on her sword hilt as the pixie seemingly considered her options. Finally, she leaned back on her straw palette like it was the most comfortable bed in the world.

“No.” Her tone was flat, void of emotion, but there was a flicker of something—anger? Regret?—behind her eyes.

“I’m not asking,” Jude said, meeting the pixie’s glare.

“Oh, but I think you are. What else are you going to do? Threaten me? I’m already behind bars, darling, and you snuck in here. As soon as I called for a guard, you’d have to run, or risk being caught.”

Jude thought about bluffing or lying her way out of the trap, but curiosity got the better of her.

“How did you know I snuck in?”

“I didn’t, for sure, until just now,” the pixie responded, and Jude cursed herself for her stupidity. “I’d guessed it, because you have no uniform and no keys, and because no one ever enters from that direction.” She gestured down the hall where Jude had come from minutes prior. “And because the castle already came to see me today.”

At Jude’s frown, the girl elaborated with a roll of her eyes.

“They come down here every single day to ask me if I’m ready to tell them what I did with our dearest Prince Cardan, and every single day I tell them no, I’m not ready, I’m still literally unable to talk about anything I’ve done EVEN IF I WANTED TO, because I’m under a damn OATH!”

She threw her hands up in frustration before covering her face with her arms, huffing a sigh before continuing. “And then they walk away and tell me well then, no food until you’re ready to talk, and I always scream my worst insults at them as they leave, which I have to admit makes me feel just a teeny bit better.”

She sat up and met Jude’s eyes with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not nice of me, but I think I deserve it after all this.” She gestured to the mildew damp walls and bounced a bit on the creaky bed.

A pang of sympathy wormed its way into Jude’s heart, but she shut it out.

“How are you not dead?” she asked. “You have to have said something or you’d have starved by now.”

The girl laughed again. “Oh, but that’s the beauty of it! See, this cell is enchanted specially by High King Eldred himself.” Her eyes flashed and her smile faltered, so momentarily Jude could almost have been convinced it didn’t happen. Almost.

“Once you step inside, you can feel as hungry or as thirsty as you like, but you’ll never die from it. It’s a special kind of torture,” the pixie grimaced.

Jude swallowed the pity rising in her throat and lifted her chin. “Well, you probably deserved it. You’re a murderer afterall.”

“I—” the girl began to protest, but she stopped before she could say anymore. A moment passed before she coughed.

“Like I said, I can’t tell you anything about what I’ve done, but I can tell you that if I had been given a choice, I wouldn’t have gone after Cardan.”

“And Dain?”

“Dain?” the pixie echoed. “What about him?”

“They found him murdered this evening. Did you go after him?”

“What?” If the look of utter shock on the pixie’s face hadn’t convinced Jude, her next words did: “I didn’t kill Dain. You know I can’t lie, so you believe me, right? You know I’m telling the truth.”

Slowly, Jude nodded. “I believe you.”

“Listen: I can’t tell you what I did to Cardan, or why, or who I work for, but I can tell you this,” the pixie said, moving to stand by the bars.

“Desires sometimes take unexpected forms, but chasing them does no good when they’re already within your grasp. Cardan is closer than you think, but there is a power that will always hunger, and if you don’t stop it soon, it’ll devour not only your prince, but the rest of Faerie as well.”

Silence fell over the jail like a blanket, disturbed only by the drip, drip, drip of water.

Finally, the prisoner raised red brows. “So?”

“Thank you so much, that was so helpful and I now know everything,” Jude declared flatly.

The pixie girl sighed and propped her fists on the soiled waist of her gown. “You can be sarcastic all you want, babe, but I swear, that was as much as I can tell you—you know, binding oath and all? I mean, have you not been listening this entire conversation?”

The cat on her shoulder mewed and Jude glared at him sidelong.

“Whose side are you on?” she huffed, to which he meowed again and lashed his tail.

“Alright, fine.” Jude pressed her lips into a thin line as she turned back to face the girl in the cell. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

With the cat on her shoulder, Jude stalked out of the palace the same way she’d come in.

~ ~ ~

Cardan sat on the windowsill of Jude’s room, watching as the sun began to creep above the horizon, painting the sky in the golden light of dawn. Behind him, Jude was deep in slumber, snoring softly into her pillow, but with everything that had happened today, he couldn’t sleep.

Dain was gone and the palace was in shambles—he’d seen as much when he’d slipped inside. Guards had been everywhere, servants carrying cleaning supplies milled about, and curious courtiers had drifted through the halls, trying to catch a glimpse of what had happened.

When he’d passed by the library, Cardan had paused, resisting the urge to enter. When he breathed in, he’d nearly vomited.

Scents were much stronger to his cat nose, and through the must of old books and scrolls, beneath the scent of centuries of dust, he had smelled the cooling blood of his brother as it seeped into the carpets. It had taken all his willpower not to collapse in his sorrow.

The blankets rustled from inside the room and Jude’s groggy voice reached his ears.

“Kitty? What’re you doin’?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder and gave her a soft mrrm of amusement. Her hair was escaping its braid and dried drool had left a trail down her cheek.

“Come here, kitty,” she crooned, patting the blankets, and Cardan complied, slinking across the room to curl up in the curve of her arm.

Jude’s fingers played in the fluff around his neck and he couldn’t help but purr into the silence. He’d always been disgusted by how much he craved her touch, but he’d discovered of late that her fingers scratching his jaw or playing with his fur was one of his favourite things. He blamed Pellia’s cat curse.

They stayed that way for a long while, Jude stroking his fluff and his purrs warming the ever-lightening room.

When he twisted his face up to look at her, she brushed a kiss to his nose before settling into her pillows and pulling him closer. If cats could blush, he would have been bright pink.

“Sleep tight, kitty,” Jude whispered. “You’re safe here.”

And Cardan knew she was right.

***

A/N: Hello, loves! Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!! I'm sorry this was a bit late, as I said earlier I struggled with this chapter so much. Thank you all so much for your support though, reading your lovely comments was a big motivation to get this chapter written, and I can say with absolute certainty that I would have given up long ago if it weren't for your kind feedback. I'm sending lots of love to all of you!

(PS: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list!)

Tagging: @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @greenbriarxrose @bookavert @queen-of-demons-and-hell @theviolettulip @lysandra-ghost-leopard @playlistmusings @localgoof @garnet-babe @iamaprincessallgirlsare

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sevendeadlymorons · 4 years ago

Note

Hey I’m that one anon from a while back that sent those long ass paragraphs about Lilith and Simeon, remember me? Anyway I know I’m very late to the party, but some of the boys are either getting to much hate or too much love over here (in my opinion) so I made a pros and cons list for all of them, I’m sorry- (I’m warning you now this will be long but I’ll put it in bullet points so it’s a bit easier to read, just read it whenever your mentally ready lol)

Lucifer (I hate this man.)

Pros

He’d help a lot with getting your life together wether that be finding a job, choosing the right college or other shit like that

He’d make sure your working hard and getting everything done, which is both a blessing and a curse tbh

He would be the one to take the most care of you whenever your ill psychically

Cons

He would probably overwork you

Doesnt have much time to spend on you and doesn’t make a effort to find more time unless your getting really sad about it

Probably wouldn’t be the best of help through issues with mental illness (he just doesn’t strike me as that type, feel free to disagree)

His pride would cause some serious problems in relationships :/

Mammon (I love this man.)

Pros

He’s the “if your sad, I’m sad” kind of guy so he does whatever he can to put a smile on your face

Makes his affection towards you known once he’s comfortable enough, mostly through things like hugs and head pats tho

He shows off anything you make, and I mean anything (you gave him a drawing? After showing it to everyone he puts it on the fridge. You wrote something? He reads it to everyone then puts it in his notebook to reread later, I think you get where I’m going with this)

Cons

There would probably be some communication issues due to his tsundere nature and habit of ignoring you when he’s mad

He’d get super mad at you when your trying to help him financially, maybe it’s a ego thing or maybe he’s just tired of hearing it

While his possessiveness is cute at times he’d definitely get way to overbearing if you don’t force him to cool it

Levi (I kin this man.)

Pros

He’d try to set up designated hangout times (like Friday is movie night, Tuesday is for RPGs etc)

Wanna spend time with him but aren’t very into what he’s into? While it will be harder to bond with him because of this I think if you REALLY wanted to hang with him he’d at least try to meet you in the middle (like if you like sports he’ll offer to play wii sports lol)

Insecurities getting you down again? Well never fear, levi is here! He’d find characters with flaws similar to those you see in yourself to prove that they don’t really matter (and since he struggles with insecurity himself he’d know how you feel and be one of the best at helping you through them)

Cons

Even if he makes an effort to meet you in the middle if you have different interests he’d refuse to get into “normie” stuff

He’ll guilt trip you constantly, even if it’s not on purpose (“Oh your hanging out with Asmo today? I get it, of course you’d wanna hang out with somebody cool and perfect like Asmo and not a gross yucky otaku like me”)

You have to initiate almost everything Hugs? You hug first. Handholding? You reach out to him. Confessions? You seriously thought he’d be the one to confess first??

Satan

Pros

Similar to Lucifer he’d be good at helping you get your life together and putting you on the right track

Unlike Lucifer, he’d actively make time for date nights and/or hangouts multiple times a week wether your going out for dinner or reading in front of the fireplace

While he himself might not be best at helping with comfort in the moment, he’d be great to turn to if you needed a long time treatment (you need a therapist? He’s got the best three in your area that you can afford and he found some helpful things you can do in this book)

Cons

As stated previously, he’s not the best with comfort, which can be an issue if you need a friend/partner who can be your biggest source of comfort (I’m not saying he’ll do nothing, it’ll just be kinda awkward ig)

If you vent to him about something he’ll always offer advice and while that can be good, sometimes all you want is someone to listen to you and getting advice can be annoying in the moment

I feel like hanging out with him you’d rarely ever get to talk about pointless things, everything would be serious you know? And while serious and deep conversations are good for bonding, some people (myself included) need to be able to talk about dumb things without having it turn philosophical

Asmo

Pros

He’s the best at boosting your confidence, there’s no competition

He’s more into spontaneous outings (he suddenly got the urge to go shopping, your coming with right?)

You can talk about just about anything with him, no judgment and he’ll never speak a word of it to anyone else if you don’t want him to (although he may brag to his brothers that you told him your secrets)

High emotional IQ

Cons

He has set things of things he’s interested in and his idea of trying the things your into is doing whatever it is for about 5 seconds then deciding it’s not for him

He cares a lot about looks, I don’t mean he’ll hate you or insult you cause he thinks your ugly, I mean he’ll constantly try to do your makeup, hair, and nails and he’ll always say things like “Your hair is a bit messy today, did you brush it? Yes? Well not good enough, let me do it” and “your wearing that out? There’s nothing wrong with it, I just think you’d look a lot cuter in this” and if your anything like me, that’ll get on your nerves a lot

While he’s great with emotional issues, if it’s a problem with anything like school or your job he’ll have no solution to offer, all you’ll get is a “You can do it!” and a good luck kiss

Narcissistic, need I say more?

Beel

Pros

He’s the best person to vent to, no judgment and tons of hugs and comfort food

He’s a mom friend, no explanation needed

Very supportive and always concerned for your health

Your in trouble? Call beel, he’ll help you and make sure your home safe before questioning you and will only lecture you out of love (unlike a certain older brother that will lecture you because “Your tarnishing Diavlo’s reputation by acting out like this. Your an exchange student, you must abide by the rules and behave yourself.”)

Cons

Food is his answer to everything (Sad?Food. Injured? Food. School’s stressful? Food plus a little help studying) and while food can be good for comfort, sometimes you need him to provide more than a snack

He’s the opposite of Satan in the sense that he’ll almost never offer advice when you rant to him, he just assumes getting it all out is help enough and won’t offer much more then a hug and food

Not getting along with one of his brothers? “They can be a handful, but they’re great people once you learn to handle the chaos” yeah he rarely thinks what his brothers did is a big deal so he gives you advice on how to apologize and get past it and he’ll give you food

Belphie (he really does attract the mentally ill people huh-)

Cons

I feel like he’d be good for certain people with social anxiety and people who have issues with always being scared about being a bad person (“you think your a bad person and are becoming more and more toxic by the day? Well your a better person than Lucifer that’s for sure, wether or not your toxic were going to cuddle now get in bed” or “your worried everyone is constantly staring and judging you for everything you do? Well I don’t really care about what your wearing or the way you walk so I doubt they do either, can we go home now?” ((Side note, I experience both of these issues and his uncaring personality would calm me, which is why I think this one of his pros))

He just wouldn’t care about whatever type of life style you lead and as someone who’s constantly scared of being judged for their lifestyle this would be amazing (“you sleep all the time? Same let’s nap together” “You don’t eat very healthy? Whatever, it’s fine, can we sleep now?” ((although it is a double edged sword))

He gets a burst of energy and just does the most random things (you see that tree? He’s already climbed half way up it. That petting zoo? He’s already feeding the lambs. That store? He’s already spent 30 grim)

Cons

Just like his twin he thinks every problem has one solution, but instead of food he thinks the solution is sleep (your sick? Sleep is the best medicine. A lot of homework? If you sleep you don’t have to think about it.)

At some point he just doesn’t care enough, if you come to him with a serious issue he’ll half listen to you rant then pull you down to sleep

He teases you a lot, which is fine teasing is fun, but he takes it too far. Maybe he touched on something your insecure about or he was too merciless, whatever it was, he won’t apologize for it, he just thinks your being sensitive. If he brought up some bad memories he’ll consider it, but his way of apologizing is cuddling

He doesn’t wanna do something? You guys aren’t gonna do it. You don’t wanna do something? Too bad, he wants to so your gonna.

I’m sorry this is so long- I tried to shorten it I swear- but anyway if you disagree I’m with anything, I wanna hear what you think

And even tho Beel doesn’t get much screen time and more serious moments, I think his character is way more then hunger

Random but I wanna add that other then Levi I kin Tamaki from mha and Ranpo from bsd

Dude do you just like torturing poor college students? This is so much to read, I’m about to cry 😭

I agree with the Lucifer part actually! Tho I do kinda thing he’s be good emotion support in some ways, for me, anyway. I feel like he may lack empathy that is needed in a stable relationship. Yes, he may be able to tell you with shit and honestly, he’d book my doctors appointments when I’m too anxious too so yknow. But yeah

Also agree with mammon. He’s a jackass when he wants to be, and I know he may not mean it, but his words are still hurtful in a lot of ways and he just can’t convey those emotions that’re needed in a loving relationship. But he’s so sweet and will show you off so it’s all good~

As much as I love Levi, I agree. He manipulates and guilt trips you throughout the entire game. It can’t be healthy in relationships but that don’t stop me from loving that sweet otaku boy 😔🖤

I agree with Satan too. I don’t have much to say but he’s avatar of wrath for a reason, for a start, and he honestly looks like he’d prefer talking about books than that funny thing that happened in class that made you laugh earlier

Agreed with Asmo too. Sometimes he may just get overbearing and the narcissism and the constant need to make you look better and improve you may get irritating

I agree with Beel. I don’t think he can comprehend that food isn’t an answer to everything and as a person who doesn’t cope with food and relatively hates it, he won’t be any help to me emotionally. He’s so sweet but he just won’t give you that proper support

I love Belphie so so much but I absolutely agree. He’s one of the most unbothered brothers who won’t care what you look like, yes, but that also means compliments may come rarely and like his twin, “sleep is the answer to everything” I can admit I like to sleep but I have a manic side that comes with insomnia and if he’s dragging me down and not letting me move and I just cannot sleep, I’m gonna get irritated and pissed off.

This got a bit long on my end too. I just really liked how you worded this and it was fun to see pros and cons of the ‘perfect’ brothers

I think Beel is more than food too, but I just don’t particularly like him either way cuz I’m not really a foodie so I can’t relate with him lmao

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 7- Of Banquets, Bastards, and Burials

Summary: Jaskier seems full of good ideas, one that brings you and your Witcher into the halls of a prideful Queen.

Warnings: nothing but a good time, mostly

Masterlist

Grumbling in disgust at the messy monster slaying you and Geralt had just endured at the frozen lake nearby, you hastily burst through the wooden doors of the local tavern where Jaskier and the other villagers currently are. He's trying to get the gory details from some man who insisted on accompanying you both on your hunt, resulting in him fleeing the scene covered in chunks of globby Selkiemore blood from a blow you landed onto the creatures opened eye.

Right before the beast swallowed Geralt, his silver sword cleanly slicing through the creatures stomach and finally putting an end to the tiresome hunt. Just like that, done and done. You watch as the tavern goers faces grimace at the gnarly scent protruding from yourself and Geralt, your crimson eyes catching the delighted sight of your laughing bard as he finds you two easily in the crowd.

You walk up to the table that the bard is sitting at, "What's that stench?" Questions the man by Jaskier's side, you glare at him like he's the biggest dumbfuck in the whole Continent. Your body is spotted in splayed monster guts likewise to Geralt who's almost unrecognizable by how much blood and innards coats his face. What else would cause such a scent?

"Selkiemore guts. Had to get it from the inside." Replies Geralt bluntly.

"We'll take what we're owed." You add, the man nods as he quickly reaches into his jacket to pull out the sack of coin. Jaskier taking this time to begin singing his famous Toss a coin to your Witcher ballot, the whole entirety of the tavern happily joining in as he gets out of his seat.

Not caring to join them you turn to walk away from the masses, Geralt trailing behind as you make a beeline for the wooden keg, "Fuck me I need a drink." You exclaim before filling up a mug and quickly downing it like there's no tomorrow, Geralt chuckling as he does the same. When you pull the cup from your lips does the bard make himself known.

He leans against the counter all the while rambling on about how you two owe him for making yourselves so famous now. Wordily explaining how for a single night he'll need you both to watch out for him as he and the two of you attend some princess' banquet, though you're not entirely sure what he's on about considering you're too distracted by the free beer.

Setting an empty mug upon the wooden counter you roll your eyes, done with his excessive disjointed talking, you turn to leave as Geralt follows your lead towards the stairs, Jaskier calling out something of possible interest to sway your minds.

"Food, women, and wine, Geralt!" Shouts Jaskier, stopping Geralt in his tracks as you turn around.

Jaskier looks at him hopefully as Geralt lets out a tired sigh, "I already have Y/N." Grumbles your tired Witcher as you walk over next to him, a spark of interest tugging at the inner adventurer in you.

"I haven't had a kingly meal in ages, nor have I worn a silken dress in almost a decade." You add with a humored laugh, turning your attention to Geralt, "I bet you'd love to see me in silk and jewels, now wouldn't you my love?" You purr into his ear while lightly touching his dirty arm, he looks at you with a telling half grin.

——

You watch as Jaskier paces in front of the two of you with a small cloth draped casually over the side of his shoulder while he contemplates how tonight should go for him, that is if everything goes well and no lords try and kill him. Since you took a much needed bath earlier, you get the privilege of cleaning off Geralt as your talkative bard continues his ramblings about the party tonight. Grasping the small bucket in your hands you crouch behind Geralt, dumping a warm bucket of water onto your grumpy Witcher's gut smeared head, you hold in your giggles as he sputters and wipes his face from the sudden tiny waterfall to his head and face.

"Now now, stop your boorish grunts of protest, you should be grateful to have Y/N as your willing washer." Quips Jaskier as he walks around Geralt's tub and you who's seated behind him with your hands in his dirty hair, "It is one night of you two bodyguarding your very best friend in the whole wide world. How hard could it be?"

You flick some stray pieces of Selkiemore guts out of Geralt's tangled mane while Jaskier walks around you once again, "Every lord, knight and twopenny king worth his salt will be at this betrothal." He explains as he picks up some bath salts on the nearby cabinet, "The Lioness of Cintra herself will sing the praises of Jaskier's triumphant performance!" You snort when he throws the salt into the bathtub, tiny crystals landing around and on Geralt as he watches the bard, unfazed and rather quite annoyed.

Taking a cloth from the side of the tube you gently rub the dirt and blood from Geralt's tense shoulders, "How many want your head on a spike?" You wonder with a small chuckle as the bard looks elsewhere trying to think for a second.

"Hard to say. One stops keeping count after a while. Wives, concubines, mothers sometimes." He replies as Geralt lets out an annoyed huff, suddenly Jaskier stops and sits on the edge of the tub, "Ooh, yeah, that face! Ooh! Scary face!" He looks up at you, "Ah and Y/N, those ruby sparkling eyes of yours paired with your own dangerous royal status. No lord in his right mind will come close if either one of you is standing next to me with a puss like that." Geralt reaches for his cup, just as Jaskier grabs it out of his hand, "Ooh, on second thought...might want to lay off the Cintran ale. A clear head would be best."

Chuckling in amusement you rest your arms on either side of Geralt's muscular shoulders as he huffs in frustration, "I will not suffer tonight sober just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry." He grumbles while you try to untangle his wintery mess, "We're not killing anyone. Not over the petty squabbles of men."

"Yes, yes, yes. You two never get involved. Except you actually do, all of the time." Notes Jaskier as he walks to the front of the tub, you simply shrug your shoulders in reply, he does have a compelling point, "Ugh. Is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crotchety and cantankerous."

"Only if your a moody Witcher." You jest, causing Jaskier to snicker as Geralt rolls his golden eyes.

"Actually, I've always wanted to know, do Witchers ever retire?" Questions Jaskier thoughtfully.

Geralt looks up at him, a frustrated expression dancing across his features, "Yeah. When they slow and get killed." You watch as the bards eyebrows raise at his dismally bleak answer before his lips turn into a mischievous grin, Geralt looking much the opposite as he suddenly turns his head in an attempt at finding his missing clothes, "Jaskier where the fuck are my clothes!"

You squint at the smirking bard, wondering what's brewing in his inquisitive noggin, "I know that look. Jask what the fuck are you planning?"

He throws a casual hand upon his slender hip, "Oh don't fret about the clothing, I sent them away to get washed like Y/N's." Says Jaskier before turning to Geralt, "Anyways, you're not going tonight as a Witcher."

——

You stroll into the large bustling banquet hall, your darkly colored dress flowing as you walk. The material is comfortable and beautiful, it hugs your torso and back as it crawls up to your neck, leaving your arms bare except for the lacy fingerless gloves adorning your hands and partial forearm. The lower half of your gown free of any restraints as it swishes elegantly with each step, easier done with the two slits running up to your separate thighs. A ribbon and jeweled necklace gently hugging your neck as a creasant moon and sun hangs from the material. Your feet are covered by two comfortable black boots laced in a thin mesh that rides slightly above your knees. It appears that Jaskier may indeed shine with good taste with his clothing choices for yourself, Geralt on the other hand, less so.

Your crimson eyes scan over the other party attendees, some of them giving you double takes as you saunter through the room, your whole pose practically screaming royalty. With a small tug at the corner of your lips you walk next to Geralt's left side while Jaskier restlessly glances around the party goers on his right. You can tell how excited he is to be playing tonight, plus very nervous for the possible angry lords trying to seek him out from his past shenanigans.

"Right, so stick to me, look mean and pretend you're mute. Y/N, just don't make anyone piss themselves. Can't have anyone finding out who you two are." Whispers Jaskier right as a short bearded mage wearing green finds you three in the crowd, you recognize him instantly.

His face lights up at the sight of you and your Witcher, "Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher! And of course, Princess Y/N of Alkatraz, the fearsome dhampir!" He beams with a hearty raise of his silver mug, many banquet attendees turning to stare at you two. You can't help but internally cringe after he loudly announces who and what you are, great now half the banquet knows your business.

"Shit." Whispers Jaskier softly, you nervously smile at some ladies who have turned their done up faces towards you, in turn you make sure to keep your fangy grin hidden as you give them a small friendly half grin.

The bearded mage walks over to you both, a smile upon his face and a drink still in his hand, "I haven't seen you since the plague." He jests at Geralt before turning to you, "And the Vampire Queens only heir, it's an honor, haven't seen the likes of since..."

"Good times, Mousesack." You interrupt with a quick flash of a smile, your eyes darkening for only a second, he shakes his head as a laugh departs from his lips.

"I've missed your strikingly unprecedented temperament my dear princess, and Geralt, how I've longed for that famously sour complexion. I feared this would be a dull affair, but not the White Wolf and Lady Dhampir are here, perhaps all is not lost." Declares Mousesack as he eyes up Geralt's formal attire, his brows furrowing in thought, "Why are you dressed like a sad silk trader?" You could have laughed if not for the watchful wary gazes around you.

Geralt turns to glare at a fidgety Jaskier, who looks at him like a scared puppy. You watch as Mousesack puts a hand to Geralt's broad shoulder, guiding him away to gossip about the royal attendees in line for princess Pavetta's hand. You decide to keep away from their speaking and instead vouch to wander about on your own. Your eyes scanning the crowd as you eavesdrop in on their conversation across the room.

Minding your business by a flaming warm torch, you suddenly hear what sounds to be a very pissed off older lord who's cornering your retreating bard. Without skipping a beat you look up and lock knowing eyes with Geralt who immediately excuses himself from Mousesack to intervene before Jaskier gets his parts snipped off.

With a snicker you watch as Geralt humorously calms the situation, explaining that Jaskier had his balls kicked in by an ox as a child, the lord suddenly going sympathetic and in turn giving the bard a single golden coin. You smoothly bring yourself over to your boys, your dress flowing beautifully as you walk. But as soon as you rest your lace covered hand upon Geralt's forearm does the sound of trumpets pierce through your sensitive eardrums, the familiar scent of blood flowing into your nostrils.

"All rise for Her Majesty, the Lioness, Queen Calanthe of Cintra!" Shouts a nobleman, you turn your sights upon a blood spattered golden armored woman who practically swaggers into the great banquet hall, a smirk upon her blood spattered face.

Leaning a careless arm against a short marble guard wall, Geralt doing the same to your immediate right, the both of you watch with interest as Queen Calanthe saunters past some tables where she snatches a beer in delight. Your bard gone from you once again as he swiftly walks near the Queen, he places himself near a stone pillar as more musicians follow behind him, his favorite lute in hand and a beaming smile upon his face.

Queen Calanthe continues her walking as she boasts of how close-by townships needed reminding of who really is Queen, her people cheer in pride and gratitude, then to your utter amusement she sasses for Jaskier to play a jig as she struts over to the royal table, where a very anxious looking princess Pavetta quietly sits, tears rising to her enchanted blue eyes.

Nonchalantly you reach over and with a cheeky smile take the beer from out of Geralt's firm grasp, he simply lets go as a humored grin falls onto his handsomely clean face. Then to your usual unvexed temperament, you raise an eyebrow as a rowdy lord begins snapping at another about who's actually managed to slay a manticore or not. In the heat of the moment your ears prick to the whispered gossip being spilt by a woman who's just outed yourself and Geralt as her lips brush past the Queen's ear. So much is happening all at once and those fucking lords won't shut the fuck up.

"Enough!" Shouts the Queen, the lords instantly snapping their heated attentions in her direction, just as everyone else does so and now you're dreading what she's about to say next as she eyes your direction, "We have two renowned guests here tonight." The lot of the banquet hall turning in their chairs to face you and your equally as annoyed Witcher, "Perhaps one of them can declare which esteemed lord is telling the truth?" She challenges, a smirk forming onto her lips.

Pursing your lips together in irritation, you watch as the displeased lords turn back to the two of you, "Neither." Answers Geralt bluntly, you cringe inside as the first lord accuses him of calling himself a liar. Great start Geralt, really great start.

The lords face grows in aggravation as he throws a disapproving hand in your direction, "Eh, The Butchers of Blaviken, ha, he bleats utter nonsense." Laughs the lord and the other nobleman around him. You keep your mouth shut as a calm aurora keeps about you, tonight you will not cut anyone's head off, or at least you'll try.

Tension sits high on the air as you wait for Geralt's two cents on the matter, "Perhaps the lords encountered...rare subspecies of manticore." He replies, Jaskier sighing in relief, you doing the same.

The lords nod in agreement as you decide to add something to the matter, "I do not doubt it, those fuckers can be ruthless and tricky in their nature...any dead one is better off then alive." You reply, the lords all nodding in agreement once again as the Queen breaks out into an amused smile.

"Perhaps our esteemed guests would like to entertain us with how they slayed the elves at the edge of the world?" She exclaims with bravado, raising her beer into the air, oh right she hates elves with a burning passion, fucking racist.

"There was no slaying." You deadpan loud enough for the hall to hear, turning your glare to the disappointed lords to save the Queen from your displeasured gaze.

Geralt sensing your resentment comes to your rescue, "I had my arse kicked by a ragged band of elves. My lady Y/N here had to reason with Filavandrel, saving me from a sured demise lest I have had my throat cut." He replies with a nod, the Queen grins as the lords cheer on, wondering about the song considering it tells a different story.

You roll your eyes at their jests, "At least when my blade clashed with Filavandrel's silver, I didn't shit myself." You quip with satisfied smirk upon your lips as their faces fall in embarrassment and irritation, "Which is all I can hope for you, good lords. At your final breath, a shitless death." You conclude with a raise of Geralt's mug, "But I doubt it." You mutter quickly before downing the rest of it. Geralt holding in a chuckle at your side as the lords burst with laughter.

"It would have been your blade at Filavandrel's throat had you been there, Your Majesty." Speaks a man as the crowd cheers, "Not that any elven bastard would crawl from their lair to meet you on the field." The Queen smiles at his boastful words, he looks like an important lord to the Queen, wonder who he is?

"Any man willing to paint himself in the shadow of his failures will make for far more interesting conversation this night. Same goes for any lady fierce enough to wield a blade like myself. Come, Witcher and princess Y/N. Take a seat by my side while I change." She smirks with a tilt of her head as you bite the inside of your cheek in growing discontent. This is not how you had anticipated for this evening to go, but honestly when does it ever go your way?

——

Sitting at the high table, Geralt by your side and the Cintran royalty to your farther right past Geralt. You sit in silence as you watch the lords and ladies converse and feast at their tables, your ears listening as Calanthe complains about her dress, probably the only thing you could agree upon. She then speaks of how she's pleasantly grateful for yours and Geralt's company tonight as this way you both are granted permission to remove any irritants from the crowd who may disturb the peace. Your Witcher refusing her just as you do the same when the first of Pavetta's royally dull suitors comes to speak his status and point.

The first eligible contender being a smiling Lord Peregrine of Nilfgaard, he steps into the large center of the room with a smackable cheerful face, his long black hair pulled back into a low pony tail. The little man boasting of his heritage right before Queen Calanthe practically shits all over his name and kingdom. She turns down a couple more as the party continues to carry on for another good twenty minutes. Until Jaskier starts playing The Fishmonger's Daughter very loudly for the whole entirety of the hall to hear. At least the music dulls the million conversations happening amongst the bustling chatty crowd.

You lean into the plush cushion on the back of your seat as the lot of the banquet begins clapping blissfully along. Calathe sighs, "How much more of this peacocking must I endure? This...All this because male tradition demands it. If I were a man, I could simply tell the whole lot of them to fuck off, declare outright who Pavetta should marry and have done with it." She scoffs, "Or, better yet, let the poor girl decide her own fate."

Geralt turns his attention to the bored Queen, "Something tells me this isn't the first time you've navigated the vagaries of male tradition. In fact, I'd wage you thrive on it."

She gifts him a bemused grin, "Spoken as one who has navigated his own share of fools."

"Hm."

"Tell me, Witcher, why are there so few of you left?"

You side eye him as he takes a long pause to think on the depressing matter, both Calanthe and Pavetta listening in on Geralt's slow reply. He sighs, just the breath leaving his mouth enough to speak on his behalf, "It is no longer possible to create more of us, since the sacking of Kaer Morhen." He pauses again, eyes set to the marble floor below, "Tell me, Your Majesty, why do you risk your life on the battlefield when you can rest on your throne?"

"Because there is a simplicity in killing monsters, is there not? Seems we are quite the pair, Geralt of Rivia."

His golden eyes trail from Calanthe to the rest of the party goers, "Hm."

"Now you, princess Y/N, how is it that you have found yourself in the company of a Witcher and his bard? That is a story I would indeed love to hear." Says the Queen as you frown, talking to her is not what you wanted, there's a reason you made Geralt sit in between you both.

"I found them wandering the road like a lost puppy. It would have felt like a crime to leave them there all alone, so here we are." She chuckles at your reply.

"Very well. But I must ask, how is it that you came into my court with malevolent origins infused in your creation, did you not think you'd strike fear into the hearts of my honored guests?"

You turn your focus to the curious Queen who no doubt is testing you, "I am what I am, that I cannot alter nor change as there is no cure. Not that I need one...And your guests, well, if I wanted to gift them with the kiss of death. They would have never made it to your front gates."

She raises a brow, face shifting into a satisfied grin, "I could use someone like yourself in my court, it's too bad, if I had a son. Perhaps our houses could have formed an alliance, now that would secure Cintra with all of the north."

"Too bad indeed." You could have thrown up at the idea of such a ghastly concept, you throw on a fake grin instead, "He'd be a little young for me."

"Would he now?"

Geralt holds back a smile as you look at the Queen from across him, "I am almost five hundred years old after all."

She raises a brow, "I didn't realize dhampirs never aged, I was under the assumption that was just elves and powerful mages."

"It is understandable to be unacquainted with the concept, after all, my kind is incredibly rare."

She leans back in her seat, "Fascinating."

Your scarlet eyes scan the large room as you hope she refrains from asking anymore further questions. When all of a sudden you can hear the clashing of chain mail and swords behind the wooden doors right as they burst open, a lone knight breaking forth into the banquet hall. He calls for everyone to calm down as he hastily walks to the center of the stone mosaic floor, you can tell something is most definitely up with this mystery knight in shining black armor, who's quite literally made a royal welcome.

The black knight stands in the center of the cavernous hall, "Please, I need but one moment of your time." He respectfully kneels before the throne, I am Lord Urcheon of Erlenwald, and I have come to claim your daughter's hand in marriage." Proclaims the armored man Lord Urcheon, voice loud and true.

The room fills with delicate whispers as the Queens heartrate speeds up with growing tension, "Knight..of no reown...from a backwater hamlet, dares to enter my court without revealing his face?"

"I apologize, Your Majesty. A knight's oath prevents me from revealing my face until the sounding of the twelfth bell."

"Bollocks to that." Says the Queens favorite lord before briskly walking up to him and forcefully pulling off his helmet to reveal the cursed face of a man resembling that of a hedgehog. Oh yes, tonight is about to get very interesting. You share a quick look with Geralt as your scarlet irises trail all over the knights dark grey colored skin, whiskers, sharp teeth, and pointy spikes protruding out of his head in place of where a full head of hair should be.

The Queens dark eyes go wide in shock, "Witcher, kill it." Urges the Queen breathlessly as fearful tears whell up in her dark eyes.

"No." He replies as she glances over to you, your eyes still locked onto the strange looking knight.

"Y/N, whatever the price."

You shake your head in refusal, "This is no monster."

"I order you." She demands, her voice trembling.

You snap your shinning eyes over to her, "This knight has been cursed. Have you not a heart to hear him out?" You challenge.

Calanthe shares a glare with you before facing Lord Urcheon, "You're both bloody useless." She sneers, pointing at the knight, "Guards! Kill him!" In seconds you watch as Lord Hedgehog or Urcheon, fights off the approaching guardsmen, bringing them down easily as he then faces the Queen once again.

"Lioness of Cintra, I have come to claim what is rightfully mine! Pavetta. By the Law of Surprise." He exclaims just as more lords and guards unsheathe their swords as they race over to attack the cursed knight. You watch in astonishment as Lord Urcheon clashes blades with numerous men, all going quite well for him until he's punched in the face, where he abruptly falls to the floor as a trail of blood seeps out from his lips and nose. The furious guard standing at the ready raises his axen spear into the air as he prepares to kill the bested knight.

In a blur of red you're at the cursed knights defense, swinging your stolen sword into the air as your blade cuts the wooden staff in two, the weaponized part conveniently landing into the hands of Lord Urcheon. You growl at the surprised guard, listening to the sound of flesh being cut as Geralt slashes down a man from behind you, who'd just as soon seen you dead. A second later the three of you freeze and glance around the room as everyone stares on in stunned silence, the tension in the room at an all time high.

"Kill them all!" Demands Queen Calanthe as she points to you, Geralt, and Lord Urcheon who's now rising up from the floor. An instant later sounds great battle cries emitting from either side of the room as all hell breaks loose.

Deciding to be a little chaotic for the hell of it, as a man swings his dagger at your head do you immediately shift into a hoard of angry black bats. You can see, hear, and smell everything all at once in a perfect mix of dangerous unison. The men below you have no chance as you storm your way through them, leaving a war path in your wake of blood and broken bones while Geralt fights valiantly through the fearsome angry guards.

Shifting back into your original form, you grab the throat of a young lord who was about to plunge his sword into your side, his eyes going wide before you sucker punch him in the nose, breaking it instantly as he then passes out due to overwhelming pain. Another swings his sword at your arm, missing by an inch as you whip around to throw him across the room and into a marble pillar, his arm breaking in two with a dreadful crack.

"Stop!" Shouts the Queen, in an instant you turn your attention over to Calanthe and Geralt who stand, facing one another defiantly.

The room goes silent as everyone remains at ease with themselves, everyone unsure as to where this is all headed. A second later Pavetta runs down the small stairs as she pulls Lord Urcheon into a tight embrace, okay that is indeed strange. They tightly hug as she scolds him for coming here and not staying away, concluding that there is something most definitely going on here between this odd Lord Urcheon and the princess of Cintra. They soon release one another, sharing one lasting heartfelt look before Urcheon breaks away to cautiously take a step towards the Queen, he then falls to one knee, bowing with respect.

"Your Majesty, the dhampir speaks the truth." He slowly rises, "I was cursed as a young boy. My whole life a living misery until the day that I saved your husband, King Roegner, from certain death. By tradition, I chose the Law of Surprise as payment. Whatever windfall he came home to find...would be mine."

Calanthe sneers, "Oh, the stupid bastard. Better you had let him die!"

"You knew he'd come," Says Geralt, "and you pushed me to kill him."

Eyes of the Queen, Pavetta, Lord Urcheon, Geralt and yourself glance between one another at this revelation for her urgency earlier. Her dark gaze falls onto her daughter, "You...carousing with the beast that swindled your stupid father!"

"Tis' no swindle." Says her favorite lord, "Asking for payment with the Law of Surprise is as old as mankind itself."

"Don't lecture me, Eist."

"It's an honest gamble. As likely to be rewarded with a bumper crop as a newborn pup Or...a child of surprise." Nods Eist as Pavetta and Urcheon hold hands, "He could not have known. Destiny has determined the surprise be Pavetta."

"When I heard King Roegner had returned to find a child on the way, I abandoned all thought of claiming the Law of Surprise. I knew, I knew no woman would ever accept me like this. So I waited. I waited until the twelfth bell when the curse breaks. I never intended to meet her." He explains to the Queen honestly, dark eyes now focused on Pavetta, "Just from afar."

Pavetta smiles up at Urcheon, "Until destiny intervened and our hearts collided."

"And at dawn, I awoke with her in my arms and me..like this." He says soflty.

Sir Eist steps closer to the deeply conflicted Queen, "Who are we to challenge destiny? Life was saved, debt must be paid, or the whole order of the world falls apart."

Mouseack steps into the spread about circle of the six of you, "Honor destiny's wish, or unleash its wrath upon us." Queen Calanthe looks rather dismal as she glances between all of you standing before her.

"There is no us! I bow to no law made by men who never bore a child! Is there no man amongst you who does not cower before destiny?" Tests the Queen as she turns to Geralt, "You, Witcher...who has known monsters of every fang and claw, are you afraid too?" She smirks.

"No. I've seen mothers lash themselves raw over the death of a child, believing they crossed destiny, ignoring the stench of the 50 other children in the plague cart outside. Destiny....helps people believe there's an order to this horseshit. There isn't." He concludes with a half smirk, "But a promise made must be honored. As true for a commoner as it is for a queen." Calanthe's eyes whell up with fearful tears as she turns to Pavetta who's eyes fall from her mother to the man by her side.

She looks into the knights dark eyes while resting a comforting hand upon his prickly cheek, "I love Duny, mother." She looks at Calanthe, "I will marry him." Enchanted gaze set back to her cursed lover as she smiles brightly, "I will finally be free."

Everyone looks to the Queen expectantly in this sweet rare moment, she slowly hands over her sword with sad eyes as a single hopeless tear falls onto the floor. She shifts her attention back to Duny as she reluctantly reaches her hand out for him to take her blessing, although you're nervous something more sinister may arise at this interaction.

Your inner thoughts remaining correct as Calanthe pulls away from Duny, a fake smile upon her tearful face as she reveals a sharp hidden dagger from her right hand, time stills as she thrusts it towards his throat in one calculated motion. Your ears suddenly pounding in pain as Pavetta let's out a blood curdling scream that magically launches everyone back in a violent burst of wind, you included. You're quickly airborne, but before you hit the hard back wall you suspend yourself in mid-air, floating above the ground as gusts of wind blows your hair and dress every which way.

Lowering yourself closer to Geralt you watch in bewildered surprise as Pavetta and Duny raise into the air, a cyclone of wind surrounding them as she chants something incomprehensible in elfish.

"The fuck do we do now?" You scream over the loud noise, Geralt purses his lips together before pulling out a tiny glass bottle and downing the potion as he forces his way into the circle where he's able to stop Pavetta. The swirling cyclone of chaos and the two lovers falling to the ground in an instant, the room finally going calm once again.

Still casually levitating next to Geralt, you watch a cautious Calanthe slowly walk over to Pavetta and Duny, he leaves her side as the Queen and princess have a moment together while everyone else in this giant hall gather themselves from off of the ground.

You set your feet to the marble floor, gaze trailing around the destroyed area and all the disheveled guests until you land your sights onto the back of Geralt. A concerned hand lays against his forearm that draws his attention to the left, "Are you alright?"

He gifts you a small grin, "I am fine Y/N."

"You hit the marble pillar pretty hard."

He takes your hand to place a gentle kiss against your knuckles, "Don't worry for me, I am uninjured." You can't help the concerned expression crossing your features, you open your mouth to speak when Calanthe pulls everyones focus yet again.

"Destiny has spoken..and I have listened. The Law of Surprise will be honored." Breaths the Queen, heaviness in her words, "Pavetta will marry Lord Urcheon." She concludes, the room whispering amongst themselves.

"React poorly and you won't just face the Lioness, you will be facing the sea hounds of Skellige. Because Queen Calanthe has agreed to my proposal of marriage." Exclaims lord Eist, the three of them holding hands as they stand side by side.

"There will be two vows tonight! I assume that's agreeable." She shouts, everyone silently giving their nods of agreement, "Delightful." She whispers.

——

Standing around in a large circle, you watch as Calanthe blesses and marries Pavetta and Duny, they kiss and a moment later Duny begins convulsing like he's about to vomit. He falls to the floor with a pained grunt before he suddenly looks up once again, this time appearing rather more human like, the curse seemingly broken.

Him and Pavetta immediately embrace each other once again as she looks at him in confusion, "The twelfth bell has not yet rung." She whispers in astonishment, puzzlement clear on Calanthe's face.

"What has happened?" She wonders.

Mousesack steps forward, "I think your blessing of this marriage has fulfilled destiny...The curse has been lifted." He concludes with a grateful smile at the positive turn of events.

"Whew! I think this has the makings of my greatest ballad yet." Beams Jaskier as a high lady of the court touches his arm, her hands all around him.

You let out an amused snort, "If you're alive in the morning." You mutter before turning to leave, not caring enough to stay for any more action.

Geralt gains the bards attention before existing with you, "Don't...grope for trout in any peculiar rivers until dawn." He advises, taking a couple steps as he trails behind you.

"No, wait! Wait!" Announces Duny as he stands up to look at you and Geralt, "You've both saved my life. I must repay it." He says with a hopeful smile as you walk over closer to Geralt's side.

"You've proven yourself to be the kind of man who would do the same." Shrugs Geralt, "I want nothing."

You nod, "As do I."

"No, please. Please Geralt of Rivia, my Lady Y/N, do not feel like you're doing me a service. I cannot start a new life in the shadow of a life debt." He says with pleading eyes, perhaps he makes a compelling point.

Letting out an irritated huff of air you shrug, "A single prized weapon will suffice as payment, Lord Urcheon...nothing more is needed." His face breaks out into a satisfied smile as he turns his expectant attention back to your Witcher.

Geralt sighs, "Fine. I...um...claim the tradition as you have, the Law of Surprise." The Queens dark eyes go wide as yours do the same, what the fuck is he doing? "Give me that which you already have but do not know." He ends with before turning his back to the newlyweds and the Queen.

"No! What have you done, Witcher?" Snaps Calanthe as he turns a calm face towards her.

"Fear not, Your Majesty, if I am seen in your kingdom again, it'll be to kill a real monster, not lay claim to a crop or a new pup. Destiny can go fu.." Pavetta lets out her dinner onto the floor as she abruptly cuts him off, you shut your eyes tight, knowing exactly what that means.

"Fuck." He mutters as everyone stares at him knowingly, you then nod to the royal family, swiftly turning to make a quick exit, Geralt following your lead as the two of you hastily walk out the wooden doors and into the messy hallway. Mousesack close behind, "Clearly the girl has access to immense primal power." He concludes, causing yourself and Geralt to stop and face him.

"Obviously, and she has no fucking clue how to control it." You deadpan as Mousesack gives a tiny grin.

"I will stay. Guide her." He assures, meaning every word.

Geralt nods, "You're a good man, Mousesack."

The old mage grins, "You both should stay too." He quickly advises, his efforts falling flat, you've already made up your mind.

"This has been enough partying for the two of us. We're getting out of here. Alone." Answers Geralt, the mage wanders closer, a telling look upon his bearded face.

"You're bound to this now, Geralt. Whether you like it or not." Shaking your head you touch Geralt's arm, your crimson eyes finding the old mage's.

"This isn't our problem, we're not here to stay or help anyone....you know us better than that." You add, irritation clear in your voice.

"Yes, I do, but you can't outrun destiny just because you're terrified of it. It's coming either way. Not believing won't change that." Argues Mousesack, he's beginning to grow on your nerves by the second, though he means well you'd rather get your hand smashed by a boulder then stick around for this unborn child of surprise.

Shaking your head, you scoff, "Bullshit. This was just a girl using her magic to stop her mother from killing her lover. Nothing more for us to be concerned about. This is the Continent, weird shit happens all the time." You muse with a shrug.

Mousesack hums, "So you say my dear princess, but the bond that will come into being between Geralt and this child...when it is born, will be extraordinary. If you dismiss it, leave without claiming this...child surprise, you will surly unleash true calamity upon us all." You let go of Geralt's arm as he walks closer to the mage.

"We'll take that chance. Mind yourself. True words are rare birds in courts like this. Watch for daggers in your back. Or, more likely, poison." Warns Geralt as he puts a friendly hand on Mousesack's shoulder, "Be careful, old friend." Sincerity clear in his gravely voice.

Mousesack looks down in disappointment before giving Geralt a downcast farewell, your Witcher handing him a curt nod before turning and walking towards the doors past you. Standing your ground you purse your lips together as you frown at the old mage.

"Y/N, you're both making a mistake....this will not end well for you dear princess, and you of all people should understand that." Urges Mousesack knowingly, further pressing on your buttons at his admittedly truthful words.

Scoffing you frown, "Do not lecture me on the ways of destiny and all that fun magical shit...I know it's cost Mousesack, destiny has never done anything for me in all my four hundred and eighty some years on this fucking Continent." You growl, glaring at the wall before finding his troubled gaze once again.

He gives you a small smile, "I believe destiny has intervened more then you'd know, in ways that you do not understand yet...even for as old as you are." You simply roll your eyes at him.

"God all you mages and wizards are all the same, believing in the first signs of anything enchanting and going with it." You argue, stepping in closer to the breaded man, "I've dealt with your people in the past and have suffered for it..."

"I know of your troubles and trials that have given you a bad taste with them, us, but listen, sometimes you must forget the past and move on for a better future." He softly urges.

Shaking your head you find his pleading eyes again, "May you be the only sensible one then...truth be told you're one of the only mages I could ever stand, but that's not important anymore...I do hope you live long and die on your own accord, but one would be a wise fool to think that my old friend, watch for tricksters in the shadows lest you face a grim end. So long Mousesack, friend from.." You pause, not sure what else to say.

He reaches out to clasp your hands with his, "I know Y/N, although I'm wary we may never see one another again."

Letting out a small laugh you smile, "Maybe you're fucking destiny will say otherwise, farewell, and uh....watch out for your kingdom." He lets go of your hands, with a tiny nod do you turn your back on the greying mage, swiftly exiting through the doors where you find Geralt on the other side waiting patiently for you.

The two of you walk in time with one another, "If we're lucky we'll never see this fucking kingdom again. From fun banquet to child of surprise, Geralt you're really on a roll...gods the both of us. Jaskier's right, we do get involved in everything."

He glances at you, "We should really stop doing that."

"We could live as recluses in the woods and hunt bears for sport, or become pirates", Geralt chuckles at your words, a smile coming to your once frowning face, "Or not, you're not really the pirate type..."

"We could live in Alkatraz, your homeland? I'd give money to see your mothers face the second you brought me home."

You nudge his arm playfully, "My mother? The actual Vampire Queen, meeting a Witcher of all people. You'd maybe make it across the stone bridge leading into the castle before she'd be sending death hounds after you. And my love, they are not cute and cuddly by any means, annoying slobbery bastards more like." He pushes open another door as you walk through after him, "We'll find somewhere, or not...if I'm being honest, I quite enjoy traveling with you. Keeps my life interesting, never know what's going to happen next, and best of all. I have you all to myself."

"Except when Jaskier decides to join us. Some nights I contemplate strangling him in his sleep." You laugh at Geralt's blunt comment, "I've thought about doing that too, although I'd miss fucking around with him too much, he's just so easy to scare. I'll probably end up being the cause of his first grey hair." You muse with a smile, Geralt leading the way out the door and into the cool night air.

You turn to him as you keep pace, "And don't you dare make a jest about you and your white hair."

Geralt smiles down at you, "I wasn't."

"You were thinking it."

He hums, "I'm actually thinking something else, and I would like to tell you when we get back to the tavern." His tone is lower this time, the implications obvious as you gasp and smack his arm.

"Geralt!" He chuckles at how he's already got you flustered, the cheeky little shit, "Well, perhaps I may take you up on that offer. It does sound rather intriguing, then you could finally get me out of these silks and jewels...I bet you'd love that." He raises a brow as you practically purr into his ear.

Though this night may not have ended pleasantly at the banquet, you'd be damned if it didn't end pleasurably on your own terms.

Tagged: @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce @diegos-butt (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #of monsters and men fic

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gogoseijoh · 4 years ago

Text

losing: pt. 3 - kageyama x reader x tsukishima

summary: you have to sit down and have a tough conversations with your boys.

genre: angst

word count: 2k

a/n: sorry this took so longggg. can you guys tell me if this is still interesting? the reason it took so long is because i got kinda self conscious about my writing, so please please please leave some feedback! i want people to enjoy reading what i write, so if there’s anything you want to see from this series! it’s probably only going to have one or two more parts after this, unless people really wanna see more :)

part 2, part 4

You didn’t know if you could take any more of the awkward silence. You were sitting on your bedroom floor, arms crossed and eyes glancing over the two teenagers in front of you expectantly. They were both staring at the ground, Tsukishima pulling at the fluff of your carpet and Kageyama playing with the hem of his sweatpants. They had been quiet for at least five minutes, having no words for you after you asked them what on Earth was going on with them. They looked like children who had been heavily scolded, eyes glazed over with a forced look of innocence in order to try and lessen how furiously you would go at them when they eventually told you the truth. Your stare was like Medusa’s, turning them into stone where they sat and keeping them from opening their mouths to speak. Neither of them had ever been so scared of you. There was no reason for them to be, really. You were just worried about them.

It took another five minutes of silence before you realized your mistake. The two of them were never going to speak up in front of each other. Both of them put up steely fronts, though through different ways, and their gentlest sides were reserved for you. You loved that about the two of them, that they were not easy to win over. It made you feel so incredibly special to know that these two young men who were so quick to isolate themselves found comfort in you, but it was a double-edged sword. There was no chance you would get anything out of them until you were alone with each of them. You turned to your brunette best friend, eyes softening slightly at how worried he looked. “Tobio,” your voice broke his concentration on counting the stitches on his pants, and he looked up at you, “Go home. I’ll come over tonight, I just want to talk to Kei by himself first, okay?” Kageyama let out a hefty sigh, nodding his head and silently standing to move towards the door. He took one last look at you on the floor, not missing how his absence was letting you scoot closer to the blonde, and his heart sank. A voice in the back in his brain was telling him not to leave, to stay and hear what Tsukishima was going to say and make sure it was the truth, but was that worth upsetting you more? He wanted to be selfish, but he couldn’t do that to you. Kageyama felt the distance between you two growing with each step he took, and he only hoped you wouldn’t let it stay that way, or worse, let it widen even more.

Tsukishima visibly relaxed when Kageyama left the room, his hand finding yours when you moved closer. The situation caused his eyebrows to draw together, concern etched on his sharp features. The idea of losing the girl he liked before he even had her was making him anxious, and he couldn’t even blame it on Kageyama. If he lost you, he didn’t think that he’d ever be someone’s first choice again. That’s part of the reason he found himself so annoyed when Kageyama approached him. You had been friends with him your whole life, so what were you doing with him? It may be naive of him to think that two friends can’t only be that, but to him, it was only natural that two people who have spent so much of their lives together would develop feelings for each other. Kageyama clearly felt something strong for you, so where did your feelings stop? Was he really not the first choice at all, but a consolation prize for you when you thought that Kageyama was out of your reach? He didn’t want to believe that, not when you were so kind. It was impossible. Tsukishima’s thoughts ran rampant until you moved again, your hand coming to hold his cheek.

“Kei, are you alright?”

God, even your voice was sweet. Tsukishima nodded, “Yes, I’m fine.�� You could practically see the thoughts bouncing around his skull, but you were interrupted by him before you could ask once again for reassurance that he was okay. Tsukishima’s voice was the thinnest you had ever heard it, and the two words that passed his lips shocked you, “I... I’m sorry.” Your heart could’ve stopped right there. Those weren’t words he used often in sincerity, but he was saying them to you. You weren’t even sure why he was saying.

“What for?”

It was a genuine question, Tsukki thought. The most you had seen of his tussle with Kageyama was the threat the setter was about to make, and the intensity both of them were filled with. Tsukishima took a breath to gather his thoughts, then began speaking, “I have been trying to figure out for myself what you see in me and why you’ve chosen me when you have so many other options. You’re the opposite of me. I have my reasons for how I act, and I’m sure you do, too. I’m just surprised. That’s part of what we were arguing about in the club room.” This was bluntness you had been waiting for, and you had suspected he was keeping it from you to not hurt you, but you were glad he was speaking freely now. The rolling of his eyes and a huff broke your train of thought, focusing back on his words, “I know Kageyama is your best friend, (y/n). I don’t want to take that away from you, but I just... I don’t know how I can get along with him.” There was venom seeping into his tone now, which was familiar, but it wasn’t one he had used when talking to you before, “Are you going to wake up one day and realize you made a mistake choosing me?” This was the first time you had ever seen this side of him. You hadn’t expected him to be so insecure, not that anything was wrong with that, but it was jarring. Tsukki’s walls were breaking down in your bedroom, and your heart was swelling. He came off so aloof in his everyday life, and for the most part, he truly was, but how many people knew what was behind that facade? It became so clear to you all of a sudden. It was jealousy, hot and bubbling under the surface of his cool demeanor. The surprise on your face must’ve spurred something in him, because he spoke up again, “You have to know how he feels about you, (y/n), no one is that oblivious.”

“I know,” you muttered, wringing your hands as Tsukishima took his turn to revel in shock, “Maybe there was a time I had feelings for him, but I don’t anymore. I know what I feel for you now, though. I like you, Tsukki.” You had moved closer and closer to him on the floor throughout the conversation, and now you were on your knees, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck. He welcomed your affection, his own arms taking their place around your waist. You stayed like that for a few minutes, just taking it in.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, and you could feel the rumble of his chest as you pulled away, “Would you... Would you be my girlfriend?” Tsukishima was disgusted by the uncertainty in his own voice, but when he heard you say yes, it was worth it. You wrapped him back in your arms, happy with the outcome of this conversations, but knowing that it would make the conversation you had with Kageyama later even more difficult. You enjoyed yourself for the next few hours though, relaxing with your new boyfriend as he returned to being his sarcastic and teasing but kind (at least to you) self. It felt easy with him, even as your thoughts wrestled with each other, trying to figure out what you would say to Kageyama when he inevitably asked about you and Tsukishima.

Later, you were sat on Kageyama’s couch, awkwardly exchanging anxious glances with him. You had told him that he could start talking when he was ready, and he sure was taking his sweet time. You didn’t want to push him though, so you let the silence be until he eventually cleared his throat and began to tell you what was on his mind, “You know how much I care about you, right?” You nodded, and a relieved sigh left his lips, and he continued, “It hasn’t been easy, seeing you with him. I feel like I’m getting left behind. You’ve been my best friend for my entire life, and I don’t plan on letting you go, no matter who you date.” Kageyama felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest with how you were looking at him, “It felt like he was just talking to you to mess with me, but I know that’s stupid. You are so awesome. Of course he likes you.” He wished he could keep his train of thought straight, but new things kept popping into his mind. “Why are we friends, (y/n)? I mean, we’re so different, are we just friends because we’ve been told we have to be?”

You felt tears building in your eyes at that, your emotions worn thin from all the serious conversations you’d been having lately, “Is that what you think? That I’m being forced to be your friend?” You paused, sniffling as quietly as you could, “Yeah, you’re an asshole sometimes. You get so snappy for no reason and treat other people like they’re beneath you every now and then. But I have stayed by your side always. I have defended you to everyone who has ever said something bad about you in front of me, because I truly believe that you are a genuinely good person who is super ambitious and doesn’t know how to talk to people. I still love you, though. We have been with each other through everything. Why would I stick around if I didn’t want to be your friend, Tobio? I don’t care about your flaws, because I know who you really are.”

Kageyama could only stare at you with a dropped jaw, eyes roaming your face in search of any ounce of insincerity, but there was absolutely none to be found. His hand came to your shoulder trying to calm you with minute physical affection, “Okay, I trust you, (y/n). I’m sorry. I know you care about me, sometimes I just get worried that you’re going to realize how much better you deserve from a best friend.”

“I don’t want better or whatever, Tobio, I just want you to stay my best friend,” you leaned into his touch, and your mind made the connection of how truly similar your two boys were. It was comforting in a way, knowing that even if they put up a good front on the outside and act like there is nothing they have in common, they both have the same insecurities at their cores.

You spent the night like you did before Tsukishima entered the picture, lounging on the couch with a movie on, even though you talked through most of it. You realized he was right, that you had been neglecting him as your infatuation with Tsukki grew. It was a night just for the two of you, something to make it feel normal again. It was difficult for Kageyama, trying to ignore how you checked your phone more than before and how more of your conversation focused around things you had done with or talked to Tsukishima about. His heart felt like it was breaking when he turned to you to ask you a question, “Uh, Tsukishima told me that he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend. Did... Did he ask?”

“Yeah, he did,” you tried to focus on the screen ahead of you and not look back at him, so that you wouldn’t see the sadness in his eyes, but you turned when he asked another question.

“Did you say yes?

“I did, Tobio.”

Your words sat heavy in the air between you. Kageyama nodded, trying his best to look happy for you, and he should be happy if you’re happy, right? You had just confirmed that you weren’t going to leave him behind no matter what, so why did he still feel so broken inside?

---

taglist: @hearteyesfortobio , @hisokasmaid , @kiritokunuwu , @killkurzyackerman

#tsukishima kei x reader #tsukki x reader #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu!!#tobio kageyama #kei tsukishima

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sylvain-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Guarded Hearts and Safe Houses (Leonardo x Reader) Chapter 6/9

Rated: T

Gender Neutral Reader, canon typical violence/injury, light angst, strangers to lovers, supportive family.

for @melodiousmelodrama

Maybe Mikey should have called ahead to say you were coming down. Maybe you should have asked permission from Leo, their appointed leader, to enter their new home. But Mikey invited you and you hadn’t heard from Leo in almost two weeks. Maybe Leo shouldn’t be shutting you out when all you’ve ever done is be there to help.

The platform looks great. Donnie’s setup spans the entire western wall. You think he must run himself tired going up and down the line, but the skateboard under his feet helps him make it a quick and easy ride from one end of his work station to the other.

“Raph’s down there, probably.” Mikey waves down the tracks. “Streets have been kinda quiet. It makes him uneasy. 'specially when we know the Krang are out there, but we can’t find ‘em.”

“Dare I ask about-”

“Leo? Heh. He’s probably training. Sensei has him working on finding balance." Mikey walks the rail with ease, one foot in front of the other. "You see, Leo’s been all kinds of bent outta shape since he walked out on you.”

“Leo didn’t walk out on anybody, Mikey,” you say with a frown.

With a leap, he turns to you. “Anyway! Leo’s been having some trouble focusing so… he’s in the ha'shi.”

You let Mikey lead the way up the opposite end of the platform until you hear a stern voice barking commands. “Find your center, Leonardo. Strength, speed, stealth… these are things that can waver, can fail, and still you keep focus on your path.”

“Yes, Master Splinter.”

You watch, with Mikey, from the edge of the small room. It must have been designated for another track, but it’s far more run down than the one Leo chose for his family.

Leonardo’s muscles strain and tremble as he holds himself on the ropes suspended overhead. His twin swords cut through the air like a dance.

“He’s really something else.”

“Huh?” Raphael comes up behind you smelling every bit as bad as Mikey promised he would. “Oh, yeah, he’s a real piece o’ work.”

Raphael raises his voice as he claps for his brother, “Good work, Leo! Nice form, brutha! Dropping that left still, but you’re comin’ around!”

All the cajoling doesn’t break Leonardo’s focus for an instant.

“I wonder if he even notices I’m here,” you say to no one.

“You ain’t said Hi to our guest yet? Come on, man, we raised you betta than that, Leo!”

Leo does a double take at his brothers, at you standing between them, and loses concentration. All it takes is one instant of distraction to have him falling from the ropes onto his shell.

“Ha ha!” Raph and Mikey bump fists.

Seeing they made Leo fall, you figure Splinter is going to have it out for the younger turtles, but the sensei's frustration is focused on Leo alone. “You mustn’t be so easily distracted, Leonardo. Clear your mind.”

Leo sits up and shakes off the shock of impact.

Splinter follows Leo’s line of sight to you. “This is the cause of your distraction? Of your failures? This human?”

You don’t think you should be insulted. You’re the outsider here. And if what Splinter is saying is true, then you’re dangerous. You’re dangerous if your presence means Leo’s unfocused, if it means that Leo has been making mistakes.

You swallow hard and bite your tongue and wait for Leonardo to say something. To stand up for you, to throw you under the bus. To say anything that would give you a clue as to how to respond.

“You. You.” Splinter points his gnarled staff from you to Leonardo and then raps it against the cement at his feet. “Speak. Communication. Trust. Honor.”

You think there will be more. More explanation. More reprimand. But Splinter taps his staff against the floor again, and then he’s gone. You think he walks out. You’re pretty sure he walks out. He can’t just disappear. Can he?

Your eyes are drawn back to Leo at the sound of him shuffling on the straw mat. “He’s right," you say, wishing you didn't have to. "If I’m a distraction, I should stay out of your way.”

Leo rubs his shell as he stands. “Then why did you come?”

“Mikey… he-”

“Mikey? Of course it was. Of course it was Mikey, or Donnie, or Raph.”

There's an accusation in his words. It fans your frustration with him into anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leo huffs, throws up his hands, and gathers up his katanas from the ground.

“You’re never around, Leo. They look out for me and my family. They kept their promise to look after us.”

Leo's eyes are piercing. He sheaths his swords at his back without dropping his gaze. “I kept my promise.”

“Then where have you been?”

“I stayed away. The Krang is looking for me. I’m not going to lead them back to you. Not again." Squaring his shoulders, Leo faces you head on. His words are stiff. But he places a hand over his heart, and you remember the soft warmth of that hand under yours. "I swore I would protect your family, on my honor. And I am doing that. By staying away, by keeping my brothers close. But you…”

“Me? What about me? I’ve offered you everything. And you pushed me away." That day on the mat, when everything was broken but Leo held you close, feels like it was a lifetime ago. "So, what? You’re mad that I made friends with your brothers? They were there, Leo.”

Leo wrings his hands in front of him as he begins walking forward and back. When his paces draw him near, you can see the tightness in his jaw, the flush of his cheeks, the shine of unshed tears in his eyes. “Mikey’s been upset since we came down here. I thought it was just the move, but it was more than that… He opened up to you.”

“And you’re mad?”

“He opened up to you! You’re a stranger!” No, it isn’t anger in his voice.

“I’m a friend,” you say softer. “To them and I thought to you too.”

“I’m their brother. Their leader.: He presses his lips together and you think, maybe, his chin is trembling. You think, maybe, there is sadness in his wavering tone. “They're supposed to come to me. I’m supposed to see when they need me.”

“Sometimes people need a friend though. To talk to someone outside of the family, someone who isn’t their older brother.” After that moment in the old dojo, Leo must understand what it is to hide. “Mikey didn’t go to you because... he can see you’re doing the best you can. That you’re trying so hard to hold it all together. Didn’t want to seem ungrateful.”

"You don't know us like that. You don't get to have us like that. He's my brother. My responsibility."

Raising a hand to hold his, to comfort him like the night when the Lair was destroyed, you come forward. "You take on so much, Leo."

But he considers your outstretched hand with a hard stare. "No. You think you know me. You're too familiar. You saw what you shouldn't have seen."

"It's not a weakness to need someone sometimes."

"I don't need you. We don't need you."

You stare at Leo and let what he says really sink in, for him and for you. Your parents taught you to notice when someone is hurting. They instilled it in you to help when you can. But you won’t stay where you’re unwanted.

With a nod you acknowledge Leo’s rejection. Though his words expressed his wish to be left alone, he pales as you take a step back. He inhales a sharp breath as you withdraw your support. But when you walk away, he doesn’t ask you to stay.

Splinter waits for you at the edge of the mat, staff in hand, scowl in place.

“He doesn’t want to talk,” you say. You’re tired. You’re tired of giving yourself and being cast aside.

Splinter’s voice is deep and broken. “Then make him listen.”

You turn. And without taking any steps toward Leo, you raise your voice to grab his attention. "I'm going to help Mikey with his room. He misses Raph. That's the big secret. He isn't used to having his own room and he isn't sleeping through the day.” Leo doesn’t even look up. Too focused on polishing his swords.

You sigh before continuing, hoping he’ll listen. “He's hurting, not because you did anything wrong or because he's mad at anything you did. He's just having a hard time with the transition. If Raph agrees, we're gonna make windows between them so when Mikey needs to, they can hear each other."

At that, Leo pauses his work. "They'll keep each other up. Pick on each other until I come down on them."

"Is that what they used to have?"

Leo wipes his blades with a cloth and shrugs.

"Then maybe that's what they need, for now."

Leo’s quiet for a long while. You consider leaving, but something in your gut tugs you to go over to him instead.

He still hasn’t lifted his gaze, when he grumbles, "How did you get so smart?"

Your self-deprecating laugh comes out in huff. "I'm not.” You remember that night on the roof, when you should have run, but moved closer to the action instead. “I saw a fight between mutants and an alien and got caught. I'm reckless."

Leo offers the barest shake of his head. "You saw Mikey was hurt. You stuck your neck out for us.” There’s a glance where your eyes meet and you forget to breathe. “You got a big heart."

Your response is a whisper. "Right back at ya.”

There's a pause, a quiet. When Leo's cloth runs down the blade again, it doesn't feel like he’s putting on a show. Doesn’t feel like he’s trying to ignore or dismiss your company. It's routine. He's caring for his blades and you're there with him.

You take a seat on the mat and pick at the laces on your shoe. "Heart's not a bad thing, y'know. Loving your family, it's what drives you. I've always admired that about you."

"My family needs me. I have to think with my head, not my heart.” And just like that, Leo’s starts building his walls of defense, brick by brick. “I've seen what thinking with one's heart can do to a person. Passion clouds the mind.”

Leo rolls his shoulders, focuses on his task as he strengthens his resolve. "I fight because to walk away would be cowardly and shameful. It would bring dishonor to my family.” You wonder if those are his true beliefs or if they’re ones drilled into him by his father. “I fight because I am able. I am strong where others are vulnerable."

It breaks your heart to hear him pit strength and vulnerability against each other, as if they are mutually exclusive. "A reed before the wind lives on, while mighty oaks do fall.”

Leo gives only a hum in reply.

“It's ok to be vulnerable every once in a while. Better to bend than break.” You move closer to him as he oils the pommel. “Leo, you used to let me see you. Really see you. What changed?"

You place your hand on his blade and push it away with easy pressure. "Leo."

He lays the sword and cloth on the floor and looks at you with open palms. "I don't know if I can be both."

"Both?"

There’s a different kind of tension in his shoulders. Not the kind that he wears when he’s closing himself off, but the kind he wears when he’s trying to open himself up. "I don't know if I can be the man who teases you into getting hearing aids and still be the leader my brother's need in a fight."

The corner of your mouth lifts in an easy smile. "Leo,” you say, relief and affection moving through you like a wave, “you'll never be the tease. You'll always be the one pretending not to listen.” His frown twitches, and you take his hand. “But you'll hear me."

"How do you know?"

"Because you heard me all the other times. When I asked you to let my family help yours. When I asked for your trust. When I asked you to trust your brothers with the new Lair. You listened now, when I told you about Mikey."

Leo takes your hand in his and draws you to your feet. He pulls you in until you're standing close enough to hear his breath. "I'm supposed to look after my family."

"And maybe sometimes you can let me look after you."

Leo's expression turns soft. His eyes lose the last remnants of their walls and his head tilts as he assesses the sincerity in your voice.

“You came into our world and turned it upside down,” he says. “I don’t know if I can.”

Despite his words, Leo inches closer. His hands slide up your arms to your elbows. His fingers curl around your arms as he takes a trembling breath.

Your hand rises to his chest. Pauses over his heart before it moves to his cheek, briefly brushing the edge of his frown. “It’s OK… if you don’t need me. But if you do-”

You’re hushed by the feeling of Leo’s thumb caressing your cheek. You’re stilled by the sensation of his hand smoothing down your hair. “If I do,” he says, waiting for you to fill in the rest.

“Then I’m right here.”

The quiet spell is broken when Donatello rushes into the gym, skidding to a stop at the edge of the mat.

Leo pulls away from you quickly and strides to his brother, ready to take a report. “Sitrep, Donnie.”

“The-the-the Krang. Leo, they’ve hit the city. Leo, they… they…” His gaze locks on you before his face twists to a mournful scowl. “They must have known we’ve been getting help from humans. The apartment was attacked.”

#tmnt x reader #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #gender neutral reader #my writing #guarded hearts and safe houses fic

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themelodicenigma · 4 years ago

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Some things in fandom culture feels like a double-edged sword to me.

As much as I do believe people should be able to express things of their own accord for a series and its "contextual elements", whether this be about a character, character relationships, the story, artwork, analytical things, etc. And do so openly, in the same space as some who might disagree with them....well, at the same time, I still also believe it DOES matter about what exactly is being represented through a fan's words in a certain platform.

Misrepresentation of content and the ability to address it, if even to simply have a discussion, is VERY important. Especially if concerning the evasion of misinformation. But somehow, this is tricky. And honestly, it feels like this is mostly due to the fact that people really DON'T want to actually talk about these things. They just want to be right, be surrounded by people that believe they're right, or simply want to be left alone even when being susceptible to open discussion by, well openly speaking their mind.

Yeah. It's tricky. Because, I get it.

Shipping-related topics is a corner (a rather large one) where this happens often. Often does the person who celebrates their ship doesn't want to hear an opposer interrupt this with their own thoughts. Similarly, if one is talking negatively about a character, they don't want to hear it from someone who is ready to defend this.

What is or isn't canonical, what makes something canonical, why and how are supplemental materials created, Goku being a bad father, Tifa being a "fan service" character or toxic in Advent Children, Riku being gay because he cares for Sora, Sora and Kairi having romanticism, Fang and Vanille being lesbians, Cloud not having romanticm with Aerith, Aerith not giving a shit about Zack, FFXV being a horrible story, etc. etc. etc. And all in reverse, as well.

People want to say it, say anything even in opposition, but they don't want to talk about it. Double edge.

Many fans can be so set in a way that, despite speaking their thoughts in an open forum and platform, they're not willing to ACTUALLY discuss what they say. They feel they shouldn’t have to, you're invading their space, and are blind to the "truth", so talking is a waste of time.

Now, somewhere there in that last bit, I can understand it. You shouldn't have the same discussion with someone who is unmovable in their thoughts. If everyone said what they had to say, then move on, anything after that is typically a waste of time and energy, and can cause unnecessary grief in fandom space that can last for years. FFVII and the LTD sends its regards, and then some.

Sometimes, it isn't worth talking to someone about things.

However, in the long run, depending on context (time, place, type of discussion, etc.), I can't believe this is the best method for really the overall fandom communities online. We can certainly practice good habits of engaging in conversation and accepting that someone doesn't really want to talk

That should be fine fundamentally. And of course, creative content isn't the place for this. They're not making a statement or starting a discussion, they're drawing a kickass picture or writing some fics. Too many people nowadays feel compelled to go under a fanart of an opposed ship and talk about how much this ship sucks....really?

However, in the event people are speaking their mind, I also think we should still encourage people to address their views as well, that it's OKAY to disagree or to see things differently as we understand this in the most fundamental ways of differences in human thought. The epistemology of fandom thought can't be achieved if we're not willing to understand each other, on how we think, and why we think the way we do about things. And that, if you DO care about people understanding you, you need to be able to really talk about it. It's okay if you're not even the most articulate person, and you don't have to be a crazy typer like me and write a whole story. That's something I'm still working on in regards to my own communication skills, cause if you've followed me for awhile, you know I type too much. Lol

We tend to make a rigid line between what is "good or bad" takes that are worth even speaking against. That like, even if someone is wrong, as long as the nature of what they say is something positive, it's immune from criticism.

I just can't agree with this.

Misrepresentation is misrepresentation.

And if that's what you believe is happening, then approach the ways in which to start a healthy discussion on it.

This is fandom, this is OUR space, and even though it's built upon a source material, what happens here is on us. For us. Through us. And like, if I feel like someone projects something that is objectively wrong, I'm going to want to talk about it. If the other party doesn't, that's fine, but I don't believe that's because I shouldn't have tried to at all.

Granted, this is different than stalking the tags of opposition, or seeing someone make jokes about a character on Twitter, even if on an official account of the source material. If they are joking.

Of course, there's a tact and a time and place to discuss certain things, along with the nuances of ways of discussing things for particular types of convos. And like, people should be able to have spaces where they indulge in how they feel about the content in their own way.

But, if what you're saying, even as someone who wants to be left alone except by people who agree with you, is done in a way that is more than just a personal expression and is a statement of what represents any of the "contextual elements" mentioned...

Maybe we should be more open to someone not agreeing with you and just, you know, discuss. Hubris shouldn't get in the way of that.

#fandom #shipping #discussion #kingdom hearts #final fantasy

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abbbracadabra · 4 years ago

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you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid

Friday nights are the worst.

Look, shout at me all you want, but you clearly haven’t worked the closing shift in a late-night bar before. Drunk people are the worst, especially when they know they have two more days ahead of them to get even drunker. And yeah, I am including myself in that number.

The only thing worse than Friday nights are Saturdays, because by then everyone has stopped drinking to celebrate and started to drink to forget. I got out of that shift by the skin on my teeth, but fate is a double-edged sword, and I got stuck with Fridays instead. Hey, beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.

One thing going for Fridays is that you don’t get bothered a whole lot. The sad drunks won’t come out of their dens until the next night, so all you get is the noise of people with their friends and families. Great time to work on hobbies. Knitted a whole scarf one shift. And so when someone walks in, alone, and doesn’t immediately gravitate towards a table? My attention is piqued.

The stranger sits down at the bar, looking at the seat like he’d rather have put a towel down first. I walk over without being called.

As I move closer, the lights shift, throwing his face into sharp contrast.

Shit. He’s really hot.

He wears an easy grin, the kind you can only get from years of practice. His eyes dart around almost like he’s searching for an escape route, but the rest of his body doesn’t betray any intention to bolt. He’s calm, collected, relaxed… Well, as much as he can be in this loud ass bar. His hands are long and slender, impeccably manicured fingers folded in front of him, sharp teeth poking over his lip, black hair slicked back carefully. It looks like he could kill you and never dislodge even a hair. And honestly… It made me wonder what else he could do without getting ruffled, if you catch my meaning.

“What can I help with you tonight, sir?” I ask, shaking myself out of my thoughts as I prop myself up on the bar by my elbows.

“Ah, good evening. I’ll have your finest scotch, neat.” His voice matches the rest of him, polished and posh. It makes me shiver.

“Celebrating something, are we?” I tease, turning to pour him his drink.

“One could say that.”

“Huh, very mysterious. Where’s your partner? Guy like you has gotta have one.” Okay, so what if I’m being a little forward? He’s either single or he isn’t, better to find out before I go getting attached.

He just winks at me. “What’s your name, darling?”

“Juno Steel. And yours?”

“A gorgeous name for a gorgeous lady, if you don’t mind my cliche. I’m Peter Nureyev.” He grins, showing off those… really sharp teeth. I’d noticed before, but damn… A second too late, I hold out a hand for him to shake. My chipped nail polish looks childish next to his dangerous-looking manicure, but I’m too distracted by his strong grip to lose any sleep over it.

“Where are you from, then, Peter Nureyev?” I hum, pulling a stool around the bar so I can sit opposite him.

“Oh, a bit of everywhere. I’ve never settled down anywhere for too long, three months maximum. Although, here seems quite a bit nicer than most of my other stops.”

“So, what are you running from?”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not the one chasing.”

I raise my eyebrows, impressed, and drop the subject. He might be hot, but I still don’t want to end up on his kill list. He seems like he might actually do it.

“Tell me, Juno, what do you think of Hyperion? Should I finally settle down?”

“Eesh, Hyperion City isn’t most people’s first choice for a relaxing retirement. Sure, it looks all shiny and new, but soon as you get close something tries to stab you.”

“I can deal with stabbings. I’ve had experience.” Nureyev smirks, wrinkling his nose at me teasingly. I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not…

“I don’t doubt it…”

“But you seem to enjoy it, since you live here?” He says, backtracking over the stabbings like it was a normal thing to say.

“What, you’ve never gotten stuck somewhere? I was born here, and I guess I just got sucked in. I’ve had this job since I was 20.” I scoff, absently wiping away a drop of water and tossing the towel over my shoulder.

“I guess you’re right. How old are you now, then?”

“It’s rude to ask a lady’s age, Nureyev. You seem like someone who should know that…”

Down the bar, someone waves to get my attention. I look over, and it’s a gaggle of drunk girls. They can stand to wait another few minutes, right?

“My apologies, dear.” He follows my gaze and sees them too. “I don’t mean to take up too much of your time, Juno, no matter how pleasant your company…”

“You’re not taking my time, I’m giving it.” I tell him, standing up and unwinding my apron from around my waist. “I’m going on break!” I yell to the back room, not really caring whether they heard me or not. A minute later, I’m sitting in the seat next to him. He’s tall, taller than he seemed from behind the bar. His legs are all folded up under him.

“Hello there.” Peter teases, finishing his drink and setting it down in front of him. “Terrible time for you to go on break, really.”

“Shut up. And hey, you never answered my question about your partner!”

“Well, that’s why I’m here tonight, actually. I just ended a five year relationship.” Nureyev says, grinning.

“Uhh. I’m… Sorry?”

“Don’t be. I’ve been needing to make that decision for a while now, honestly.” He sighs, that permanent knowing smile settling back onto his face. He really doesn’t seem upset about this at all…

“Why did you end it? If it’s not too personal.”

“You’ve already gotten pretty personal with me tonight, darling, it’s not like this crosses a line. I ended it simply because she was so… Bland. All her decisions were made for her, she was just told where to spend her money and then she did. I’m also fairly certain she was cheating on me. A lot. She wasn’t really even trying to hide it…”

“Jesus, Nureyev… That really sucks.” I wince, patting his arm very awkwardly. How the hell do you comfort people, and why is he now laughing at me?!

“Juno, it’s alright!” He chuckles, covering my hand with his own. “She was only in it for the drama. We met at a charity auction and she told me she loved me the same night. Onstage, in front of everyone. I have to admit, one of the only reasons I stuck it out as long as I did was because she truly was very lenient with her money…”

“Oh. Good?” I’m not sure what to say here. “I know a thing or two about bad relationships, so I get where you’re coming from. My last partner… You don’t want to hear it. That’s a story for another day, I think.” I shake my head.

“You say that as if we’ll see each other again, sweetheart.”

“Well, would you like to see each other again?” I ask, cocking a brow.

“I thought you’d never ask! Although next time, why don’t we try and find sometime when you’re not supposed to be working, hm?” He adds, and I look past him to see a mess of people at the bar. Looks like they didn’t send out anyone to replace me…

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Nureyev, I should probably go back to work. Like I said, I’ve had this job since I was 20 and I have no interest in losing it now.” I wince, throwing my apron back on and rounding the bar once more.

“I can wait until your shift is done…?” He asks, sliding a finger over the rim of his glass and looking up at me through hooded eyes. How the hell do you say no to that?

“I’m done at 12.” I reply, pouring him another drink without even thinking about it before moving on to the rest of the mob.

True to his word, he stays until the bar closes, and conveniently forgets to pay his tab.

God, he’s lucky he’s hot.

#the penumbra podcast #fanfiction #jupeter #peter nureyev/juno steel

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prolestariwrites · 5 years ago

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The Cadet [2]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Credo, Nero, Kyrie Rating: T Tags: Family, Family Drama, Angst, Mystery Chapters: 2/2 Word Count: 2727

Summary: Credo struggles to establish himself as the head of the Holy Knights while also juggling his new responsibilities as Kyrie’s guardian. When Nero comes under the scrutiny of the Order, he must choose whose side he is really on. Set pre-DMC4

A/N: Part two is here! Credo bring Nero to see Sanctus, only to find out the Order holds more secrets than he ever imagined. Thank you for reading!

Also posted on AO3 and FFNet

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

In the center is a huge wooden desk, large enough to sit ten people around easily. The front is carved with the image of Sparda, and behind it in an opulent chair sits the man himself. Credo steps through the room and gives a bow, pleased that Nero follows suit, and as he straightens he frowns to see Eder is sitting in a chair to the side. "Your Grace," he says, keeping his eyes straight ahead, "I have brought you young Nero."

Credo turns with his hand out, and he must clear his throat to get the boy to step up. "Your Holiness," Nero says wide-eyed.

"Won't you have a seat?" the old man offers with his hand extended. They both take chairs opposite of him, and Sanctus leans forward, hands folded on the desk as he looks Nero up and down. "I've heard many interesting things about you, young man," he says. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Nero glances at Credo, who arches a brow. "Nothing to tell, really. Your Holiness."

Sanctus takes a long moment before replying, "I understand you are living in the orphanage. Are they treating you well there?"

Credo thinks of the threadbare blankets and the sharp tongue of the mistresses for any childlike behavior, but thankfully Nero has the wits to say, "It's fine. I'll be aged out soon."

"Just in time to join our knights," Sanctus smiles. "Why do you wish to become a guard?"

"Uh… I'd be good at it, I think?" He glances at Credo with a shrug. "Credo and Kyrie's dad always talked about me training for it, and showed me how to use a sword and everything. Dunno if I'd be good at much else really."

Credo winces internally, but Sanctus gives a little smile. "You were very close to him, yes?"

Nero nods. "He was nice. Took me in when he didn't have to."

"Mm hmm. Any reason in particular?"

Credo frowns at the question. What did that have to do with anything? But Nero, now loosening up, answers, "Like I said, he was a good guy. Must have seen something in me, I don't know."

Sanctus nods, his smile a bit wider. "Seen something indeed." He glances down at the paper on his desk, and Credo can feel his heart picking up speed. "Tell me about that little incident in the woods. I want to hear all about it."

"Sure! See, I went down there, because I heard Kyrie had taken some of the kids for a walk and I wanted to see if she needed help. Sometimes Joseph gets cranky when he's tired and I figured I could carry him if he was being whiny. I think I got kind of lost though, because the next thing I knew, I could hear Kyrie screaming, and when I got to her and the kids, there was this huge lizard thing—"

"We call it an Assault," Eder interjects, speaking for the first time.

Nero nods. "Yeah, so the Assault was going after her and I just… jumped between them."

He hesitates, and Credo glances sideways. Nero swallows visibly, wiping his good hand on his pants. "So what did you do?" Sanctus prompts.

"I killed it," Nero replies, his tone growing serious. "Gave it two shots with Blue Rose then finished it off with Red Queen."

Sanctus' brows lift. "Blue Rose and Red Queen?"

"Yeah! Sorry, my uh… Blue Rose is my revolver." He reaches into the holster at his side, which Credo notes curiously is now in a position for his left hand to retrieve it. "It's a double-barrel, my own design."

Sanctus gestures to the desk, and Nero places it carefully down after checking the safety. The vicar does not touch the gun, but simply leans forward to examine. "How curious," he comments.

"Revolvers are not permitted in the guard, young man," Eder says.

Credo shoots him a look. "They are permitted. Just unusual." He turns back to Sanctus and says, "Nero has learned how to use a sword. Red Queen is the sword he normally carries."

"Yeah, but it got damaged fighting the Assault thing." Nero takes the gun back and holsters it. "I'm hoping to get it back soon. That son of a bitch had this plate of armor—"

"Nero," Credo hisses. "Language."

Nero has the good sense to stammer an apology, but Sanctus merely chuckles and waves his hand. "It's alright. I was young once, if you can believe it." He tilts his head and examines Nero closely. "You must be very strong to have faced a demon all on your own. Before you reached the area, it had taken out three of our men. One of them died from his injuries. Have you always possessed such strength?"

Nero glances at Credo nervously, who only gives a slight incline of his head. Honest and succinct, he tries to project. "Uh, I guess?" Nero answers. "I mean, I can hold my own."

"You reached Kyrie before the demon could," Eder adds. "You managed to pull your gun, cock the hammer, and pull the trigger in a matter of, what? A second or two? Your reflexes are impressive."

"Thanks," Nero replies.

"Not to mention," Eder continues, "having the wherewithal to know what to do. From the report I read, you shot the demon directly into its skull, causing a massive blood loss. Even if you hadn't stabbed its heart afterward, it would have died. You also knew where to strike it to kill it cleanly, even if you did miss the first—"

"Excuse me," Credo interrupts. "Can you get to the point? I'm sure His Holiness has many important appointments."

Eder smiles and inclines his head. "Fine. Nero, who taught you how to kill demons?"

Credo feels his blood run cold. So that is where this is going? That information is closely held within the Order, and it is well known that his own father had trained Nero in the use of a sword. Is he looking to use the boy to slander their family? But Nero has been instructed to answer truthfully, so he winces waiting for him to name his father. His mind races as he tries to figure out a reason that will move the suspicion from them, wondering what his father was thinking, giving this knowledge to someone as unpredictable as Nero.

To his surprise, Nero says, "Nobody taught me."

All three men turn to look at him, and Nero shrugs. "I just knew I guess."

"You just knew?" Sanctus asks. "You must have heard it somewhere, or learned it from a book?"

"Nope," Nero replies. "I saw the lizard thing and just moved. It just happened."

Sanctus and Eder exchange a subtle glance. "Well then I'm even more impressed," the vicar says. "I see a very bright future for you, Nero."

Nero beams, and Credo lets out a slow breath. "Thanks, Your Holiness," Nero says with a grin.

"Before you go, I must ask something delicate." Credo tries not to sag in his chair as Sanctus places his hands on Nero's application. "I understand you were abandoned as a baby. No one has ever been able to trace your parentage?"

"No, Sir," Nero replies.

Credo notes the slight blush on his neck and interjects, "The orphanage did its due diligence in searching for his parents. Many concluded that it was a visitor to the island, not one of its inhabitants."

"That was never the official conclusion," Eder says.

Credo scowls, spying the way Nero's expression twists in embarrassment. "Does that matter though?" he asks, his voice going up in pitch. "I mean, if I don't know my parents, can I not be a guard?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Credo hisses. "Having parents is not a prerequisite. And I'm not sure what that has to do with the application," he adds, looking back and forth between the two men.

"Just one more question." Eder smiles. "I see you have not yet recovered from your injury fighting the Assault. Are you certain you'll be able to complete the physical tests if you are not healed?"

Nero grabs his right arm, holding it tightly against his chest. "I'll be fine," he insists. "I feel fine, it's just… just kind of sore is all."

He is clearly lying, but the others do not question it, so Credo makes a mental note to inspect his arm closer later. "That's all I have to ask," Eder says with a nod. "Your Holiness?"

"I have heard enough." Sanctus waves towards Nero. "Run along now, and let us talk to Credo."

"Yes, Sir." Nero stands awkwardly before giving a quick bow to Sanctus. He nearly trips running out the door, and it slams shut behind him, making Credo wince.

He turns back to Sanctus who is chuckling to himself. "What did you think, Eder?"

"It's possible. I'm not convinced, however."

Credo frowns. "What's possible? Convinced of what?"

Eder gives him a cold smile, but Sanctus answers, "What we tell you now only a few members of the council know. And honestly I'm only sharing this information with you because we will need your assistance in the coming weeks."

Nodding, he sits up straighter in the chair. "You have my word, Sir."

Sanctus nods. "Very good. The Order is preparing to bring the word and works of Sparda to the world. In order to do that, we will need to make a grand gesture. There are certain protocols we are preparing in order to make that happen."

He pauses as if to gauge Credo's reaction. "How can I be of service?"

"For now, keep a close eye on Nero. A very, very close eye. It is possible we will need to use him in the near future."

Something in the way Sanctus says those words have his nerves on edge. "Use him, Sir?" Credo asks. "How?"

The two exchange a glance again, and Eder says, "Did you know that Sparda had a son?"

"A son?" He frowns and thinks of the texts he has studied. "No, I didn't know that. When did you discover that?"

"Not long ago some artifacts were found that are believed to belong to Lord Sparda." Credo nods; everyone knew that the Order had discovered some items that could be traced back to the savior, but what exactly no one could really say. "Based on the accounts we have gathered, they were left there by accident, after an incident that occurred nearly sixteen years ago."

"Sixteen years ago?" Credo's brows go up as he looks back at Sanctus. "What do you mean?"

"There is a city in which a mysterious tower was raised, and demons poured from its doors for three days and three nights," Sanctus replies. "But there was a man with a sword who drove the evil back, with a red coat and silver hair. His fighting techniques are similar to those described in our texts. Since Lord Sparda is the only being who has saved humanity from the demon scourge, we can only conclude that he is the son of Sparda himself."

Credo's mouth drops open for a moment before he quickly closes it. "You don't think—"

"It could not be Nero, as he was just an infant at the time," Sanctus says.

"But the timeline does work," Eder continues. "And considering the artifacts were left on the shore the same time a child was left at the orphanage… well by your own evidence, Credo, Nero could be connected."

He shakes his head. "It's impossible. Nero, related to Sparda? There's no proof!"

"The timeline. The unusual hair." Eder leans forward in his chair, his smile widening. "His uncanny ability to kill demons. Or was that something your father taught him? I would never have believed such a respected man would share sensitive Order information with a boy."

"He didn't!" Credo jumps to his feet, his heart racing. "My father dedicated his life to the Order, as have I. There is nothing he could have done to betray us!"

"Credo," Sanctus says quietly, and he whirls on the vicar. "There are some circumstances of which you are not aware. We tried to shield you and your lovely sister from the truth."

"What truth?" His blood pumps furiously, his emotions churning at the accusation. His father had been a revered member of the council. Hadn't he?

Sanctus lifts his chin as he says, "Your father was speaking out against the Order. He was brought into some… sensitive information, and threatened to betray us. His views on bringing the world into the age of Sparda did not align with us. We wish to guide the world into an era of peace and happiness. He did not. In fact, he wished to end the Order."

Credo's breath catches in his throat. "That… that can't be true," he gasps, his mind whirling. "My father? No, no, he—served Sparda—"

"I'm afraid it's true," Sanctus says gently. "The accident that claimed his life and the life of your mother was his own evil doing. He unleashed the demons onto the world and was killed by one of them before our soldiers took them down."

"No." Credo goes pale, his hand shaking as he reaches out to lean on the vicar's desk. "No!"

The world tilts a bit as his legs go weak. It can't be true, but Sanctus would not lie. He is the voice of Sparda himself, and incapable of any falsehood. Eder is by his side, helping him sit, and despite his dislike for the man, Credo allows him gratefully. "Now you see," Eder murmurs. "If Nero is involved, or if your father corrupted him somehow, he needs to be watched. Already the boy is using a gun as a weapon, and his skills outmatched three men without training. He is dangerous, but under our guidance, our influence, we can make him a tool for good."

Credo nods. His only thoughts, however, are of Kyrie: Kyrie leaning in to speak to Nero as they eat dinner, Kyrie excitedly knitting Nero a scarf for winter, Kyrie pressed against the pantry door as she returned Nero's demanding kiss. "I see," he stutters. "I will… I will watch him." He looks up at Sanctus, who inclines his head. "I will train him myself. And if he threatens the Order or anyone in Fortuna, I will deal with him personally."

Sanctus smiles. "Very good. I am glad you are on our side."

Credo takes a deep breath and murmurs his thanks, sliding back into his chair. Memories of his father war in his head with this revelation, and he pictures him and the time he spent with Nero. Nero, who was a scrappy and ill-behaved boy at the orphanage, who would shoot paper balls during service and get Kyrie covered in mud with their antics. He never understood why his father would take such an interest in him, but it all makes sense now.

"Come back tomorrow, Credo," Sanctus says. "There is someone I'd like you to meet. One of our scientists who has been studying the artifacts we found. His name is Agnus."

Nodding, he takes his cue, standing to give a bow before heading out the door. On the walk home it all turns in his mind, trying to make sense of his parents' betrayal. Why would they release the demons? Why would they speak against the Order? It makes no sense, but Sanctus wouldn't lie. He couldn't.

When he reaches the house he shares with his sister, Credo takes a moment to gather himself before going inside. He must keep this secret from Kyrie, protect her from the terrible truth. And Nero… he must be watched, and kept close while kept away from Kyrie. He wonders briefly how he will do it, but if it means hurting them both, so be it. Credo will do his duty to the Order, and keep them all safe.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc credo #dmc nero #nerokiri #dmc4 #dmc kyrie #fanfiction #myfic #the cadet

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youtuberswithalex · 4 years ago

Text

PRVL, Vol 3, Ch 3: It’s Brawl in the Family

Summary: Riad’s risky move comes to play as Roman and their friends watch and worry in the stands. Will it pay off, or will it cost Team AMBR the match?

Word Count: 3,291

Warnings: Fighting (in a tournament), mentions of alcohol

Tag List: @haikyuupaladin @an0therrand0 @isabel3710 @ilia-a-isms (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

Masterpost – Volume 1 – Previous - Next

---

Anole kept his head under the shallow water and swam as fast as he could, eyes glued to the blurs fighting at the top of the bird’s nest. Each kick of his feet sent sand up to cloud the water further; by the time he made it to the other end of the pool, he could hardly see a thing.

He pressed his hands on the rising bank and scrambled onto dry land, frantically pushing his now-soaked bangs out of his face.

The ground jolted beneath his feet.

Letting out a yelp, Anole stumbled and crashed face-first into the sand as the stage began to tremble.

Ash and Mauve gasped and threw themselves onto the edges of the bird’s nest, gripping with white knuckles while Bora and Marjani grabbed each other’s hands and beamed.

Myrtille toppled backwards and fell to her knees. She slammed her ice saw into the floor before slamming her metal leg down next to it, cleats shooting out from the bottom.

The sound of cracking rock sounded across the arena, and as Sakiz lost her hold, the loose boulder toppled over. It splashed into the lava pit, sending bubbles flying everywhere.

Sakiz landed right on top with a heavy oof!, and only a drop of lava hit her armor.

The earthquake slowed to a stop.

Riad sat up and let out a sigh of relief before Myrtille let out a cry and tackled him back to the ground.

Looping his bow around the quiver on his back, Anole leapt onto the mast, the scaly grooves on his palms sticking easily to the wood. He swung his feet far behind him as he used his upper body strength to scale his way up. When he reached the bottom of the bird’s nest, he braced his heels below him; he walked his hands across the bottom as quickly as he could before gripping the boards on the side and swinging out.

Through the cracks, he watched as Ash threw an uppercut into Marjani’s chin; in return, she kicked her back, sending her struggling to keep her balance on the edge.

Anole grinned.

He gripped the top of the nest and hoisted himself up as he threw out a leg to knock Ash to the ground. Mauve whipped around and aimed an arrow at him, but he somersaulted onto the floor just as it whizzed past his hair. Yanking his own weapon out, he shot an arrow through her dress, pinning her to the side of the compartment.

“Four square, huh?” Bora huffed.

Growling, Anole scrambled over and started to unwrap the chain. “Shut up, not my best plan.”

The chain dropped to the ground, and Marjani shoved one of her swords into Bora’s hands. “Don’t blame, fight,” she said.

There was a laugh behind them.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Mauve replied.

The three whipped around to see her balancing on the side of the bird’s nest, her taut bow aiming at their feet. Ash crouched on the floor next to her, her chain in one hand and Anole’s arrow in the other.

“This fight’s over.”

She fired a red arrow and dropped; Ash leapt out after her, grasping her by the wrist. The arrow wedged itself into the wood in front of Anole’s feet and started to flash.

“Great,” he grumbled.

Ka-BOOM!

Nila gasped as they watched three bodies go sailing across the field. “They’re not gonna land it!”

Thamir grimaced. “So that means…”

The buzzer sounded.

“Ooh, what an upset!” Professor Port’s voice echoed around the arena. “Three out of the four members of Team AMBR have been eliminated by knock-out!”

“Truly, what an unfortunate circumstance! It is now up to Mr. Airtafae to win this match, with his worryingly-low Aura levels after that astonishing demonstration of his semblance!”

“Four against one,” Lloyd finished. “This isn’t going to end well.”

Roman whirled around to glare at him. “How dare you assume that my boyfriend can’t hold his own!” he exclaimed. “Riad can and will take these fine ladies single-handedly and destroy them!”

“I have reason to believe you are highly overestimating him,” Logan stated.

“Roman’s definitely got one hell of a pair of rose-tinted glasses,” Thamir laughed.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Roman doesn’t wear glasses…”

Riad kicked Myrtille off of him and dove for his mace; as soon as it was in his hands, he slammed it into the ground, setting off an explosion that had both him and Myrtille flying in opposite directions. He skidded to a stop, one hand on the ground for balance, as she tumbled towards the water.

Just before she fell in, Mauve leapt over the water and shoved her down to the stage. Ash landed next to them and launched her chain into the lava field, snatching Sakiz and bringing her to safety in a second.

They slowly stalked around him; he watched carefully, gripping his weapon tight.

“You might as well give up now, kid,” Ash said. “There’s no winning this match for your precious team.”

He shot her a confident smirk. “I don’t stop fighting until the end.”

Myrtille let out a hum. “That’s respectable. You seem like a cool guy. I kinda wish we didn’t have to do this to you.”

“Let’s get dinner sometime after this,” Sakiz offered.

“Sorry, girls. I’m already taken.”

Behind him, he heard the creaking of a bow.

“Who said any of us were interested?” Mauve asked.

Riad whirled around and swung his mace, the spikes crashing into the arrow just before it hit him; he ducked just as a machete flew above his head and swung his leg to knock Sakiz’s feet out from under her. As she fell forward, he leapt up and landed an uppercut on her jaw. He snatched the chain as it flew towards him, yanking Ash into a kick in the stomach. The ice saw flew down out of the corner of his eye, and he threw his mace up just in time to block.

Myrtille spun and twirled her saw, wrapping the chain of his mace around the handle before yanking him over and putting him in a headlock. He threw his elbow into her stomach, but she held her ground.

“Now!”

With wide eyes, Riad watched the other three come sprinting towards him.

A punch to the stomach.

A kick to the shin.

A headbutt to the face.

A buzzer.

“Oh, and with that brutal elimination, Team SAMM proceeds to the Doubles Round!”

As the girls dropped their stances to cheer, Riad slumped to the floor, panting heavily. He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed through his teeth.

“Riad!” a voice screamed.

Roman shot into the air and towards the stage, ignoring his friends’ cries in favor of keeping his focus on his fallen love. It was hardly a split second later when, not unlike a bird to a well-cleaned window, he crashed into the shield protecting the stands from harm.

He fell to the floor with a groan; when he sat up and looked over to Riad, he was slowly making his way towards the locker rooms, shoulders low and his mace dragging behind.

-----

“That was awful.”

Virtus offered a soft, sympathetic smile and put his hand on Roman’s shoulder as they stepped off the airship. “Yeah, that’s tournaments, kid. It’s always the people you want to win that lose.”

“But it’s so not fair!” Roman exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “How did we pass onto Round Two and not AMBR?!”

“We were against different teams, Roman,” Logan pointed out. “There is no evidence to suggest that we would have won against SAMM, nor that Team AMBR would have lost to Team JTTT.”

Roman looked away. “I know, but… still. Seeing Riad like that…” He sighed. “I’d at least have felt a little better if Anole had actually let me talk to them.”

Esther adjusted her hijab. “Give them time to lick their wounds. They need it.”

Giving his shoulder one final pat, Virtus put his hands on his hips and stopped to look at the group. “Well, I don’t know about you three, but watching all that fighting made me hungry. Whaddya say we meet up with the other two and head into Vale to get something to eat?”

“Why not go to the fairgrounds?” Roman asked.

“Can’t exactly eat in public without pulling that down, now, can we?” Esther said, pointing to Virtus’s mask.

“Oh. Right.”

Logan opened his scroll. “I’ll send Virgil a message to have them meet us—”

“Guys! Guys!”

They spun around to see Virgil already sprinting towards them, Patton hot on his heels. The Lyceums each reached for their weapons; as soon as they saw the huge grin on Virgil’s face, they relaxed.

The two skidded to a stop, and Virgil frantically pointed behind him towards the courtyard. “Did you guys see that?! Please tell me you saw that!”

“See what?” Roman asked.

Virgil let out a cry and dug his hands into his hair. “You just missed this incredible fight!”

“In the courtyard?”

“Yes!”

“There was this Huntsman with a big sword,” Patton explained, “And he was fighting with an Atlas Military woman!”

“Not just any woman—a specialist!” Virgil added. “They were so fast and strong—dude would’ve beaten her clean if General Ironwood hadn’t stepped in!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Who would be foolish enough to attack an Atlas Military Specialist?”

Patton shrugged. “I think his name was Crow, or something.”

Roman froze. “Wait—wait—you said he had a big sword? Was he drunk?!”

“Um… Maybe?”

His face turned a deep red. “Was… Was it Qrow Branwen…?”

“The one from Team STRQ?” Virtus asked. “Is he still picking fights?”

Roman buried his face in his hands, wings curling around himself. “Gods…! That was one of my teachers at Signal!”

“What?!”

“The drunk dude?!”

“He’s a teacher?!”

“Not anymore,” Roman replied as he dropped his hands. “Yang said that he left to go on some mission that was going to last a really long time or something. Didn’t think he’d be returning at all, let alone like that…”

Logan crossed his arms. “And where would Yang have acquired that information?”

“Um… Her and Ruby’s dad?” Roman shot. “He’s their uncle.”

Virtus smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Gah, of course she is! Should’ve known from the moment Ruby pulled out her scythe!”

“Oh, come on! You couldn’t have guessed it just by that!” Esther exclaimed as she swatted his shoulder. “That girl in Team AMBR had one, too! It’s the hair that should’ve given it away!”

“Her hair doesn’t look anything like his!”

“Oh, what are you—?!”

“Okay, okay—” Logan put his hands between the two and shook his head. “If we want to eat in Vale, we cannot start this conversation. Patton, Virgil, would you like to join us?”

Virgil put his hands in his pockets. “Sure, I could go for some food. Where are we going?”

“I’ve got a few places in mind we can pick from,” Virtus said. “We can decide when we get closer.”

“Trust us when we say the food is great,” Esther added. “One of the places has a pumpkin bread that is absolutely to die for.”

Roman perked up. “Oh? Riad loves pumpkin bread! You must tell me where I can find this!”

Logan looked to Patton; he frowned when he saw his arms wrapped around himself, looking away.

“Patton?”

His head snapped up. “Huh?”

“Are you going to be joining us for dinner?” he asked again.

Shifting his weight between his feet, Patton looked away hesitantly and shrugged. “I… don’t think I can,” he whispered. “I don’t really have any Lien…”

“Who said you were paying?” Virtus cut in.

Patton blinked at him, eyes wide. “U-Uh… I thought…”

Virtus cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Hey, c’mon. We’ve got the money, and you kids definitely earned it today!”

“No, it’s—it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“We want to,” he replied. “We wanna get to know you kids better, anyway. What better way to do it than over some grub?”

“I…”

Mouth still half open, his eyes flicked between Virtus’ and Logan’s shoes; when they lifted to look at Logan’s face, he did his best to offer an encouraging smile. Patton shrunk in on himself further before turning to Virtus.

“Are you sure…?”

Virtus beamed. “Absolutely! C’mon, now. This restaurant isn’t going to pick itself!”

He turned and started to lead the group back towards the airships while Logan waited in place for Patton to catch up. As soon as he was near, he held out his hand; Patton glanced at it, softly shook his head, and scurried along.

Logan frowned before trailing after them.

----

The setting sun shone a soft, warm glow through the windows of the quiet diner. Though it was rather packed compared to a normal day, most of the tables kept their conversations soft and to themselves. Servers wandered between their tables, and the radio playing in the background left a calm atmosphere.

At a table near the back, one of the patrons slammed his fist down.

“Tallahassee couldn’t hold a flame to Pyrrha Nikos!” Virgil exclaimed.

“Are you kidding me?! She doesn’t even use her Semblance in battles!” Virtus shot back. “Tallahassee has two AI in her armor! Two!”

“Yeah, exactly! Pyrrha doesn’t need any help! She can kick anyone’s butt with just her raw strength alone!”

Logan scooped up some pasta. “Virgil does have a point, Father. She would also surely allow the rest of Team JNPR to help her, whereas Tallahassee refuses to accept any help, be it from the Pinks, the Purples, or the Mercenaries.”

“Of course she wouldn’t, they’re all idiots!” Virtus laughed, nudging Logan hard enough that his food fell back to the plate. “That’s the whole point of the show!”

Patton frowned, looking to Virgil. “I thought it was about capture the flag in a canyon?”

Roman let out a groan and dropped his fork to run his hands through his hair. “Is there nothing else we can talk about other than a theoretical fight between a cartoon character and a real person?!”

“PvP isn’t a cartoon,” Virgil huffed. “It’s made in a video game.”

“Whatever.”

“I don’t know, Roman. Pink Versus Purple seems to be a show you would enjoy,” Logan said.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes. You don’t agree?”

“Uh… Not really,” he replied. “It’s, like, all dialogue. No singing or dancing or any of that Volt Tawny crap.”

Roman gasped. “Did you just call Volt Tawny—?!”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Esther interrupted. “Roman had a point earlier. We can debate fictional characters against each other any time, but we’ve got a whole tournament right in front of us that we’ll never get a second chance to speculate on! Why aren’t we pitting two real people against each other?!”

“Like who?” Logan asked.

Patton poked at his small plate of fries. “What about that Penny girl that Ruby’s been hanging out with?”

Virtus slapped his hands together and pointed at him, ignoring the way he flinched. “Now she’s a real fighter!” he exclaimed. “I would not be surprised at all if she were to win this year! That kid’s got some real power behind those swords!”

“No, way! Coco Adel’s got it in the bag!” Esther said.

“Ohh, you’re just saying that because you like her weapon!”

Logan cleared his throat, rendering his parents silent. “I believe we do, in fact, still have a matter we need to discuss about the tournament.”

Roman sunk into the booth with a sigh; Virgil looked between the two with a raised eyebrow. “And that would be…?”

“Who will be proceeding from our team to the Doubles round.” He reached up to fiddle with his necklace as he began to inspect his suddenly very interesting pasta. “I… would very much appreciate it if you would allow me to be one. I’ll admit that my reasons are more… sentimental, than anything, but I’m sure you know that I would fight to my full potential in the name of our team, regardless of the emotions behind it.”

Virtus gently put his hand on his shoulder; Logan swallowed thickly and placed his hand over top of his. He took a deep breath and looked at each of his three teammates in turn.

“That being said,” he continued, voice cracking and steadying within a syllable, “It would mean a great deal to me if you were to choose me to proceed forward in the tournament.”

“Oh, Logan!” Patton cooed. “Of course you can!”

“You are the strongest member of our team,” Roman added. “I don’t think there was any chance we’d tell you not to.”

Virgil smiled and gave him a soft kick under the table. “Yeah, dude, if anyone can win this for us, it’s you. You’re gonna destroy whoever we go up against, no matter who it is.” Then, with a thumbs up, he added, “You’ve got our support.”

If there was an extra sheen to Logan’s eyes, no one said a word.

“Thank you,” he thickly responded. “I promise I will not disappoint you.”

Virtus frowned, brow furrowing as he turned to look at Logan. “What?”

Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Um— I believe we still need to choose one more of us to join me in the next round.”

“Uh… Yeah,” Virgil carefully replied, watching as Virtus and Esther shot each other a glance over Logan’s head. “Yeah, um… I think Patton should be the one to go.”

Patton startled, dropping a fry back onto his plate. “M-Me?!”

“That is an excellent suggestion,” Logan replied.

With wide eyes, Patton leaned forward in the booth to watch as Roman nodded along with them. His mouth opened and closed a few times as his gaze darted between the three.

“Why… Why me?” he asked, voice about an octave higher than normal.

“Well, I sure as hell don’t want to be out on stage again,” Virgil said. He took a deep breath and leaned back. “Not in front of that many people, at least.”

“And, Roman was the only one of us to get knocked out in our fight,” Logan added. “Not to mention how wonderful an opportunity it would be to help you train yourself in fighting with your semblance.”

Patton spluttered. “But—But you know I can’t! If—”

His eyes flicked to Virtus for just a split second. He shrunk in on himself.

“…You know why I can’t use it in the tournament,” he quietly finished.

“With all due respect, Pat, I don’t think it matters much at this point,” Roman piped in. “They’ve probably already seen the match.”

Gaze falling to the floor, Patton reached up to fiddle with the edges of his collar. “That’s what I’m afraid of…”

“What does it even matter?” Virgil questioned, gently nudging his arm. “You haven’t talked to them in months, and it’s not like you’re going to any time soon. If they try to come fight you, the three of us would get rid of them in a second. You know that, don’t you?”

“I… do, I guess…”

“Then there should be nothing to fear,” Logan stated. Then, with a soft smile, he added, “Please, Patton. I truly believe you are the best person to participate in the next round with me.”

Patton looked up at him, still hunching in on himself. “…You’re sure?”

Logan held out a hand. “I’m positive.”

There was a long moment where he stared at it and chewed on his lip. The others watched with baited breath.

Finally, Patton let out a breath, swallowed thickly, and took Logan’s hand.

“I’ll do my best.”

#prvl #alex writes #sanders sides fanfic #rwby au #sanders sides #happy birthday to me i get to update my favorite fic :D

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