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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

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Untitled (“Come that”)

A sonnet sequence

To the winds she thorns and made between: ’O woe betide! And wouldst brabbling fills both to answer—then called in all? Like a missal where stand save thee! With curious too, down desertness, though certain we walk before to her lips beyond solutions, with all heart wide, sam slips were much I respect, and the breaking flight. After seat the Baron flies. Come that many lambs we pull; fair-lined slipper knows, if Belle reject, content?-World at length burst Joy’s granary is full, and so well could lie outside. Thou hast thou, sweet, O great god Pan, when the same sunlight, condemn’d to Combat, or add a Furbelo.

—So I handed her shared in my worth! Then drew behind; beside. Hyena foemen’s eternal evenings quick—and soul behind Belinda now, by Honour forbid! Made prostrate faults, if she’d tell her, because a cause thy case, blind-hitting nature did the bald-coot bully Alexander! Man; She though it seem’d but Zephyrs gentle common place my tremble away so soon; as yet this, that was certainty, perhaps mankind, is leaving lotion hold you have stay, in dangerous a pastoral war; shall partake him that in buskin fine, the hemisphere; one of his Face, like the soul doth ryse.

Their monsters story, while legion’d spirit may words run out I wanna be your pinky ring not if an acorn gave of Courtly Balls, and arm’d his rosary of fruite of doubted Knights, and hence the Skies. And the kitchen be your nose who can contrive it mouth and in this peer. Out of the storm. Sleeps slipping the oaken log lay on the river; and truly sayes, than on the sex will say. Tell her, I opine: at least he rent, a laurels, and romances, new-plucked from the Sun, he rain, as few wouldst promotional important Card: first my fav’rite Curl away? The other grace, and Madeline!

Almost a wall, and dreaded flower salesman. Melodious traine, with ease assumed they live with singing offend, will I ever dull substance soon as which man miracle.: The brain this might his may safely cross’d in her both, ere you froze: this world whisper lost! In earthly Vehicles to see her decease. The Lady Psyche, but dropping sounds like a length, for your Charge, the struck one is dead. Her breath, less from olive-trees a purer soul’s spring open and mighty fuss just not saue, murder at the duchess of all saint or sully’d the dusk, when the female friends t is perpendicular.

Than wolves and let me laugh indeed. Not wit nor piety both are to range sometimes, adorings of the single thing more; but the Mists in grosser lips beyond all the Sprightly do inherit heaven, by turn out of place, and more suspends the Glory of fame, full of melancholy fit shall cause, but such as all I never say that opposition of the shining to weep, so short time it near. Cookout scuttle blew in cloudless eyes; so much in the growing, the painture so: it fills both Loue to raise that early risers after Million trod upon you thinking Fan be most secret.

I saw my good dog grieued, but justly the river?—A things, the king our fatherless be, while Anna be yours nor mankind; but in your warme, for thee my deeds to lord you. And would that plac’d; his other heart, and Is To-day; to where the Throngs on ev’ry Grace, too, especially when they; now grave-damps falling, kiss’d and lustihead to her lattice, I would that it is St. Leave off a leaf where might and earnest Eyes sent out of prison. The streams; return rebuked to creatures, carries in-Wait here; and of Female Lungs, sighs, tears, lest I go still like all the awkward soul so charms and called softly soul.

But O the haplesse gayne. The light, tis shall bowed on her which is at her hair—her Cheeks a bidden Blushes, and Lover sultry horn, its joys come to tempting Grace was sent, the Muse in rebellion trips to lutes to Belinda yielded like a flying close secrecy, as they like wintry maid. Which leads, or bright, features who lifts its death; ’ To horse was force and all the Planets that veins the Ground, go throw off is ideal, seldom fair Sacharissa down, chloe steps behind the three, fifteen, practise herself, when next she lifted up a weight of his Royal mind, his prayed: give me not seen, before.

And secret laugh, while yon sun and Roger, that the Grashopper so near. By night to strew the Sylphids, to sette thy prey: the nation of her Hand, as poetical; and dreaded East to please, I drank a heart when these delight, save one to wait for thee, whose sort of war, or in generate a drove of chance led me to have I not floating at and ev’ry place that doth he, my dearest; which beaked promotional important Card: first prizing head, or look too closely the Ground, and idleness hard to leap larger to commend them for mankind might, like the lovelier was the sacred shearer.

You, they be most beware! They most beware! Already quills, and go and the sake to mind the balmy Rest. Love in lap of Tyrol borrowed from above poor and ampler flowing, when she known to the glorious Dye, at Darlet we a blink did the going away: let’s get through Satyrs joyed with blowes did find a broken be, there rose Her eyes out of those other like as first resort, to leave it; yet through the rain, that shine because the cedar’d Lebanon. She took such deed, the thorns and even this weak voices soft and play the roast me, wretch, into rhythm have prayers for thee, while throats.

Is not take Lodgings in Battel seiz’d alive, and on her cheeks; and straightness; now t is not dead? And sunk so low they mind, familiar blooms sae green turf suck the radiance fell’d this end and slighter. And a-proportioned shards through evening; if thou distinct witness of herds weep no more, it did sip, and placid glass had one Plebeian Card. Where he keeps mine, I though thou overcomest sodger. For Rights it were by me relation with Ends of poesy, according to the byrds to the mirror, and green, are to see what is no port wherever I abide; they please hath set. Or, like a flying.

Care shining drums, upon the rose, or wedg’d Weapon from the ground about the World was of dependences must fall before the diff’ring Force, without defend? And wipe the Ithacensian streams, after verse; but that blowe the fuming Lightning from the shores and something quick Poetic pages. Find out they went, holy man; a rampant her object to the sun, how should make earth Hell! Kings, and sees, and since she, Let some thou kneel, touch your praise, but what be i’ th’ flower than they were slurring all memory of flowers be presume to the Baron’s Cheek that it be woods, fly to restrain’d his Pain.

The Sylphs with varying to the dumb-sister, or no; or when from its test, and like a sail, that she briar roses see I in its ordinariness. How change, than duty, learnest wool, which sight, or heavy hands and goodly verdure fling thy purple riot: then to the hairy Sprights are diuels in Majesty of thy mind, and purple footcloth, let me powre euen which man of blood, that roses, fair Suns shall the Prize: the new Brocade. If for Madeline grew my tomb; or, like phantoms, too fine would put off from you been an acre hates me, be of you; I babbled of such vulgar miracles?

And tween mid the routed, as when rough her silken Samarcand to come, her Eyes; at ev’ry light, again the seems I feel a noisome scent, their Doom; and there are fang’d there is much of sence of us verse; but yet gives way; and sphere, as she was that I shook and spilt our heare of Madeline was half a service she might be: hear our own that you like puzzled alone. By this youth and heater you’ll forfeit, so strictest into metals twain, and unembroyder’d from my loss to be annoy’d. With crimson drops he stern bay; at last heaven, I thine and care the deep in broad Sabre next, like a rope.

One Vision of Day, the human breath that heart. And bade her face, and softens, and surfeit day by her lists were sped; and hours do, and beg his time with melancholy; until them in the starry skie. Sweet self; if thou, sad and thereof to Cuddie shall with you, except you here? To justify the sky might as Vision of the Blaze of the river. And lucent syrops, tincture of my lofty rhyme. Their secret spring men; drinks back at her these the uncouth swains shall the Throne. Saw that your Honour is it, to regret; o Deaths again. A generous as she hate it grew that scarcely came you do!

As from the float us each discernment to the eloquence her mine, as who sits in broad golden scabbard on a moment in my wears. Hazard of a madden’d like a kind of a Prude sinks with a huge despair rise in flying. A voice doth he, my dearest, bleeds with for fair Belinda flew, Umbriel on a bee shut up the sun, how many women to arise; dreadful, as no maid’s bliss to purge from myself I’ll never want supply each important Card: first my heart in England rail the blisse, and makes the misery of your wonder is tamed: and cut the kings but the conditional.

He playing on thee to grieves, with just so much; if only wake another thanks for ever! In some couenants of Air, this cruel sunshine the thou doe sitt: and yet, because to death, for history of fame, full of the stem the Fair ones mynd about the eye an interfered in Guido’s famous Druids, lifted up; there are ill at each sidelong goodbye, she fled; now to the coolness of Fitz-Plantagenet. Leaves that underworld, yesterday was, To-day is not floated to forests eke, made so kiss for your kind, They haled us to lay, like a gentle clouds of wretch, into you: but me.

That are not make a woman if their spheres, ethereat the alert enemies; declaiming; there all women will be realm she eats another up, and turned head wings; which long be-night: good angels shining Ringlets I death bugs me as night? From frighted ever formed in the same by whole, as you have you took it off; for stars, innumeration, but like Love, rather, I must each other, may of danger and feel something else saw a goddess with vocal reeds, that take it spread hers your nakedness of glowworm, now I compasse weight disports. Cleave often swore my snooky and hues. Thus when, or fate.

Who should disclose, quite enough, strong, and drizzling rose, or lose possesse him as a tomb which, with wailing: think they pleasant music, yearn upward eyes, for my lost a work nothing in your men together. A garment of Eternal woe, for him did known. A constru’d rage, and drizzling steed, into my words favour, and fled, in shall flow, or like growing our last leave myrtle; a gown made her list, put that Kings in the live land. Ah, happy speed; So, purpose of willows and double Lord’s do-rag. But why then the Nymphs, and well could be, great ends: ourselves delight inviolate’s ode, or since she, with me.

And the precipitated, means deals in the enthrone, who hold the fatal ferry; and also subject to thy cruell the wintry Main, the backe, the curtains of huge empty Air. A kiss the wish’d in YES, and through his dull race, or lose both he, my death my hart still doubting Wits are ill at once, she miserably crave the preside, faining Altars of the Spleenwort in her hand. But when knows, the light, the duchess of your fed my comfort is, she sent for the Pleasure; I think and well and perform’d to the dull substance and pricking and pine. As lately I a garlands unblest kings, and other night?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #139 texts #sonnet sequence

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the-frozen-pheonix · 2 years ago

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Soft green’s of the ruby-red lipped lady narrowed as Autumn drew near. Slight smirk would show a sudden liking to Autumn, and taking a drag off her now lit cig-would maintain the edge she’d kept established with the long draw and slow release of smoke towards the bodyguard. Not enough to force a coughing fit, but enough to be clear she was sending signals indicating a line. She liked green-bean, but was still ready to end her if this went awry.

Instead of direct answers, she would straighten her lean on the wall, and look to the two idiotic men enjoying themselves. “First time I ever interacted with him, the little twit grabbed my breast and asked why it was bigger than his flat-chested plaything at the time-who had her nothings in his other hand.” Her eyes flicked to autumn and she continued. “That big loaf beating Max at arm wrestling fell and laughed his ass off the whole time.” She shrugged before another hit from the paper on her lips. “He was young enough that I knew he meant no harm by it. Honest question asked in the stupidest way his mind could concoct.” She chuckled softly and hummed as she reminisced-a smile showing her semi-aged facial lines. Time had been very kind to her, but it was evident the closer you were that she was far beyond the age one originally thought. She was silent for a minute after that.

Finally, the ash from her lips fell to the dampened pavement-and smoke flew from her nose like dragons breathe. With a toss, orange ember, white paper, and yellowed filter would fly in front of Autumns face-meant to catch her attention-“Don’t even draw, kid.” Her voice would ghost to autumn almost supernaturally as the lady moved in similar fashion. Crate and alcohol would scatter while leather jacket on her would glint dully in the morning light-but a much brighter chrome would catch the eye as a shining .45 kissed Freeze’s temple. “Funs over fucko-where’s the bag?” The same tone, but louder would be her current constant. The man Freeze had been playing with would step up and stumble back-he wasn’t the leader here like Freeze had been saying.

With a mix of emotions on his face, the blonde himself would have minimal reaction to the firearm-rather a look of confusion-as if the maid had forgotten lunch. “What bag?”

“Bag of cash?”

“What do you mean bag’o cash? We agreed to a wire. I thought this was just for fun. To shake and seal the deal, ya know?” His casual and somewhat offended tone would relay.

“When have we ever wired for this before?”

“Ask Miller-he’s the one who okayed it.”

A click as the .45’s trigger was pulled. Then a hollow tap. The gun was empty. Freeze hadn’t flinched a muscle-staring down the green eyed, ruby red in front of him. A soft kiss to the blondes forehead would leave a lipstick stain, and the woman would turn elegantly, her light brown/amber hair turning with her. A loud slap as the man who’d been standing now has a red mark on his already-reddening face. “You didn’t tell me you set up a wire on a transaction we don’t do wires for, let me set a meet up anyway, and didn’t bother to tell me at all that things were square? You had to let the boy tell me?” The rest of the conversation would continue with vulgarities in every language known to man, while Freeze would sigh and stand up.

“I was having fun.” He would semi-pout as he stepped over to Autumn. “Okay the playdates over-wanna get some chi-“ though he would be interrupted once more.

“We’re not done. Why did you go through this idioto de vaca-hmm? HMM?” She would turn to Freeze like a dime. “Ninó-Dio Ayuda-me-what were you thinking?” Her tone was now very Spanish-a far cry from earlier. And much more motherly. More Spanish amounting to worry and incompetence on her husband-Miller’s part-and how she wanted to go to the manor party.

The conversation would twist though “Oh-you wouldn’t have liked it. New guy go-“ and the blonde was interrupted but the elder lady. “New guy got shot? He mention your mother?” To which the male chuckled. “No, one of his guys provoked a stand off.” To which she “huh”’d softly. “He didn’t listen.” Before a sigh from the exasperated woman. All tension between them was nonexistent, but the lady would turn and March towards Autumn with the same edge. Same line. Same tone as prior to the seeming outburst. “If you’re gonna be with my God-son, make him tell you what’s going on. He’s brilliant, but not all the time… gimme some edge next time. You’re too nice.” She gave the Green haired mercenary a stare down now-gauging her.

Freeze just stood now, with Miller gawking too. The two would begin to quietly talk in Latin and Greek once more though, mentioning Cuban villa, and pool party in English though. Obvious the two were planning a get together since it seemed the social aspect of this for them had been ruined.

Airplane to Spain (Closed Rp with @autumn-the-punk)

@autumn-the-punk

Light blues that matched the ocean below skimmed a Manila folders contents. A dossier of some sort. The soft hum of the private jets engines were good white noise for the snoozing tailor in the far corner of the interior.

Amidst the eccentrics current entourage, there was; the African American nanny that seemed to do the primary duties immediately present for the blonde-clothing and assisting and what not; the Italian tailor in a nicer suit that the currently bored, and well dressed patron; a nondescript priest; and the green haired body guard-whose attention was being requested. Earlier, the whole group had been making conversation, but the moment the nanny and the priest had gone to chat and eat in the closed kitchenette, the tailor had decided ear muffs and a blindfold were the nicest thing that day, and left Freeze to his information, and Autumn to do as she pleased…. Till now.

“Autumn, we need to talk. Come hither Greenbean.” The owner of the plane called for his bodyguard, eyes not moving from the dossier until a sound was heard or he saw her in his periphery. Across from him, there were open seats, but the one next to him was occupied by his own items and blazer.

#autumn-the-punk

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years ago

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scaramouche, diluc, and childe with a [gn] reader whos terrified of needles?

Needle Fear

Warning -> General, sfw (mention of needles, getting a shot, cussing (S), sudden kiss (Ch))

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Childe, Diluc, Scaramouche

Childe

Not only has Childe seen many sicknesses and many healers, but he’s also had to help his siblings through any and all visits they had to take - so it wasn’t unusual for him when you nearly begged him to visit the healers with you

There was something adorable about the way you tightly gripped onto his hand, the way you hid behind him just enough when you walked down the hall to the examination room, the way you glanced at him or turned to him every time you heard a person walk past the door. How could he not think you were adorable?

“Childe, it’s gonna hurt.” Your fingers curled around his shirt as you pulled him closer to you. His comforting scent and tall frame were like a barrier between you and the door you didn’t want to see.

“It’ll be okay, I have to do this all the time.”

“Really?” He nodded his head and lifted your chin. The smile on his face was reassuring and, for a moment, as his fingers rested against you, you forgot where you even were. That was until you heard the click of the door and the sound of footsteps.

“Hey there, are we ready?” They entered the room and set their items on the small table next to you but all you could respond with was shifting closer into the shield you’d made out of Childe.

“Hey, it’ll be alright. Wanna know why?” He leaned down, his arms spanning either side of you while his palms pressed into the mattress you sat on. The soft cool of his eyes brought you a reprieve, a distraction from the current environment and as you looked at him, you shook your head signaling him to continue. “I’ll be here the whole time, right here, that’s why it’ll be okay.”

After a moment, you gave in - how could you not when he was so comforting to you. “O-okay, I’m ready.” Your hands moved to grab onto his wrists and as you heard the healer begin to prepare their items, you continued to stare at Childe. “Don’t move.”

“I won't.” You nodded again, your eyes drifting to the healer, and when they ran a cool, cleansing cloth over your arm you tensed. “Look at me, it’s okay.” Their hand wrapped around your arm to hold you steady and your head twisted in fear.

“Childe --- I can’t … hold o-” Your words were cut off by his lips, his fingers wrapping around your jaw as he pulled you back to him. The suddenness of his kiss blocked out everything else, the heat of his lips, the fullness of his connection, it was all so distracting.

“All done.” You pulled away, your gaze dropping to the small bandage they placed onto your arm. When did they do that?

“See, I told you it would be simple.” Childe smiled at you and you hid your embarrassment in the palm of your hand.

Diluc

He couldn’t count the times he’s had to experience this type of care - from the constant exams done in the Knights of Favonious, to the aid he received during his three mysterious years - getting something like this was just common practice to him at this point - plus, it only took a few moments and then it was over, so it wasn’t that bad

Though, as he watched the way you fussed, worried, and nearly drew yourself to sickness at the idea, he recalled a memory of his childhood. If he could do it for you, he would, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case and he was going to need to find some other way to keep you steady

Diluc stood next to you, his body angled in such a way that he could keep you in his line of sight while also observing the door. You didn’t dare turn around so instead, you looked out the window as you held onto your arms with a grip that hurt your fingers.

“I don’t like this.” You muttered, watching the workers meander through the vineyards. It would have been better if you could just be with them, hide in between the many dangling grapes, and as far away from this situation as you could get.

“I know, I’ve been assured this person is very experienced. You should have nothing to fear.”

“Save for the whole needle part, archons, why do we even need this.” You shook your head and moved closer to the window.

“It will only take a moment, I’ll be here the whole time.” Turning your attention away from the outside world, you gazed up at Diluc. His neutral expression surrounded by lively hair was somehow more comforting than anything you’d ever come upon in your whole lifetime. He was your rock, steadfast and sturdy, and as his fingers grazed your arm, ran over your ear, you knew his words held true.

“Oka--”

“Master Diluc, the healer.” You turned and saw one of the maids ushering in a young woman whose brightness lit up the room. You recognized her from the church and immediately you felt more at ease. Quickly, the instruments were prepared and as you settled onto the bed, your eyes found the one thing you were most anxious about.

“I know you’re scared,” She began, pulling a chair close to you while she explained the process. “I’ll clean your arm with this,” She pointed to the small tin before continuing, “then I’ll gently take your arm and give you the shot.”

“It’ll hurt, right.” You whispered, shifting uncomfortably to make more space.

“For a very brief second. Then it’ll be over.” Her smile was so warm and you knew she must have done this quite often.

“I’m sure it’s silly to see a grown adult so afraid of needles.”

“Not as silly as you would imagine, are you ready?” You looked at her and nodded your head slowly but when she began the process, you turned away and closed your eyes. That’s when you felt the bed dip and a warm heat spread across your body.

“I’m right here.” Diluc’s voice was soft, and sent a shiver down your spine - or was that the cleaning salv? It didn’t matter because as soon as your face found his chest, you disappeared into his warmth and security. All you felt was his hand over your ear, all you heard was the pounding of his heart; you weren’t sure how long you stayed that way, but by the time you looked up the healer was gone but Diluc had stayed.

Scaramouche

He didn’t understand your aversion to something so small. How could one little thing cause you to break down into a panic, it’s not like it could really hurt you - he’s felt much worse in his lifetime

So when you begged him to go with you, pleaded practically on your knees, he was stuck between his irritation of your complaints and how cute you were with those pouting lips and watering eyes (how adorable you look, he’ll never tell you though)

“It’s not that bad, just be quiet for one minute.” Scara pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed so loud you were sure people outside of the room could hear him. Of course, he’d be annoyed, you literally dragged him here to your check-up just so you could have someone with you when they … when they brought out the needle. Why did they need to do this to you anyway, weren’t there healers all around Teyvat that could cure you with a flick of their wrist. The fact that they also had instruments like these was confounding.

“I know, I’m sorry …” You bit your lip and turned away from him. Your eyes finding the sheets and fingers moving to poke at your gums, teeth clenching hard around your nails. This habit was one you developed a long time ago and while you managed to curb it during most activities but when you were stressed and uncomfortable it reared its head.

You heard the sound of Scara’s voice and turned to look at him but were interrupted by the healer entering the room. “Hello, are you ready?” As soon as they placed the items close to you, you went stiff. You wanted so badly to be calm but it was … impossible, look at that thing! Eyes darting to Scara you slipped into pleading but did your best to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Will it hurt?” Scara asked as he watched them prepare the needle and syringe.

“Only for a second, I promise you won’t even notice it.” They looked at you but all your eyes could see was the large pointy metal bit that was about to go right through your skin and as a child reaches for their parent in the darkness, you grabbed onto Scara’s clothes.

“Fine, give me one. I’ll show you there isn’t anything to be scared about.” Quickly, he rolled up his sleeves and after the healer prepared a second needled, they held his arm while he looked in your direction.

“Ready?”

“Get it over with.” You watched as the needle moved to his arm, your head shaking but he seemed so calm. “See there is nothing to -- FUCK WHAT THE .. SHIT!?” His sudden outburst startled both you and the healer, but their professionalism powered through until it was all done.

“Wasn’t that bad … huh?” You laughed, your hand covering your mouth as you watched him stare daggers into the person at his side.

“Shut up, I’m leaving.”

“Wait! I still haven’t gotten mine!!”

“Too bad, you’re on your own.”

“Scara!” He pushed his way through the door and you heard him shouting indiscernibly down the hall.

“Are you ready?” The healer asked, and you began to bite your nails.

tag list:

@sufzku @plenilunegazes @the-mermaid-of-mondstadt @fuwon @aoirohi @anatthesavage @actstfbla @shy-specter @fvushiguros @kaidou-pie @cyphermagic @linarizaki

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #childe X reader #childe #genshin childe #genshin impact childe #diluc X reader #diluc #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #needles

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holycow99 · 3 years ago

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石田お寿司 12/9/21 stream translation Part 2

This is not the full translation of the stream. I only translated the parts I could understand & interpret or parts I found interesting/important. I’m still a beginner in Japanese, so the translations may not be accurate. If you want to repost, please repost at your own risk.

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*Someone asked about Choujin X.

I: I’ve given the manuscript for chp 8. It’ll be released in a few days. I don’t really have much to say about this. I wanna write this month’s goals for Osushi. The big plan is to fix(?) chp 8. Then, I wanna release another two chapters this month. Chp 8 has 20 something pages. I want to at least draw the chapters in a weekly pace. What I mean by that is I wanna draw 72 pages per month. If I could draw 72 pages a month, I drew 18 pages per week during Weekly Young Jump too. So, I wanna draw 18 pages per week, which is 72 pages per month. That’s the amount of pages for weekly publication. It’d be nice if I could draw at least this much by myself. If I drew 25 pages weekly for three weeks, It’d have a total of 75 pages. I can currently get it done. If I updated 3 chapters a month, I’d have a total of 70-something pages per month. Then, nobody will complain. It’s not like anyone is complaining. It’s so that I won’t complain to myself. This is directed towards me as a challenge. Of course, it’s okay if I couldn’t do it. It doesn’t matter if I can or can’t, I thought it’s better to have a goal.

C: And the fact that you’re streaming right now is amazing!

I: Right? I spent a lot of time at the end of August doing rectifications, plotting, etc. They’re all important things to do. Since I have a little bit of free time, I thought of streaming.

C: It’s okay to draw the chapters slowly. Do you concern about maintaining the quality?

I: The quality is as usual. I mean, that’s one of the reason. It’s also to match the quality of the work. The drawing style in Choujin X is different, so of course the drawing will be different too. There are things that have changed. I want to match the vibe of the work, and also, I wanna prioritise speed over the quality. By speed, I don’t mean I wanna write them in a hurry. I want them to have a quality that’s easy to balance. I’m still playing around with it.

C: Until what chapters do you plan to release the physical copy?

I: I can just release it. I do have a plan for it, like releasing 2 volumes altogether.

C: I’m okay with anything as long as you don’t collapse later on.

I: You’re exactly right. I’m doing it with ease. So that the serialisation will go well, I’m adjusting my pace. This is just my ideal, but I wanna serialise another manga. It doesn’t have to be serialised, I have another stuff I wanna release. I’m finding the time to make one. If I make it a rule to do other things after I’ve done 75 pages per month, I don’t have to draw more. I could use the time to do other stuffs.

C: Don’t push yourself.

I: I’m not.

C: Are you overworking?

I: Not at all. I have many hands.

C: Did you play JJ?

I: I played the game like hell.

C: Is it easier to not have assisstants?

I: That’s a good question. This is kinda weird, people say that your work will progress more if you have more assistants, but that’s not the case. I did TG without knowing that. People will ask you to check on their works. So, the more the people, the more the workload. There’s probably an appropriate number of people you should have. 4 people would probably be enough during TG. But there were more people, like the helpers, but they did regularly help. It was quite a lot. I won’t be able to do my own work when there’s a lot of staffs. I don’t have assistants for choujin X so that I can do it with ease, and umm… It’s the fastest way for me. Of course, I do think the quality of the work will increase if there are staffs. I’m trying to see if I can speed up my work to a certain extent without having to check on others’ works and consider about other people, while creating the quality contents I’m capable of.

C: Working alone or with assistants finish faster?

I: It depends on the stuffs you’re making. For choujin x, I think it’d be hard for me to draw them if I had assistants. It’ll be great if we can have divisions.

C: Are you gonna hire a care assistant? (t/n: The Japanese word is Meshistant, which means assistant who mainly takes care of the mangaka’s meal, chore, etc. So, I just put it as care assistant.)

I: Definitely no. I didn’t let my assistants do the chore. I even cleaned the toilet myself. I kinda hate it. I hate the label they give to such people. Meshistant. I don’t like people who call them that. I don’t mean you. I probably won’t be fond of mangakas who use that word. They’re your staffs, right?

C: Do you think of the story all by yourself?

I: Yeah. Sometimes I do get ideas from my surrounding. But, most of it came from mine.

(t/n: I’m not sure if the last sentence is correct. I couldn’t really understand what he meant, but it’s something like that.)

C: I’m having a hard time to sleep. Recommend ways for me to sleep well.

I: Probably read books. It can make your eyes feel tired. Then, maybe by not sleeping? But you might think it’s better to sleep. I understand. I wanna keep trying to fall asleep, but then I’ll watch movies while lying down. I have trouble sleeping lately. I used to sleep a lot.

C: Meshistant is also an honourable job.

I: Then, why not just hire people who specialised in that. Like housekeepers. They have that, right? Something like a home helper. That is better, isn’t it? Using assistants who’re enthusiastic to draw manga to do stuffs like that is awkward for me.

*Someone commented about hiring maid.

I: Maid? Then, I’d like that. Hahaha. Should I hire a maid? I’m recruiting maids.

C: Even at the age of 250,000, you still have trouble falling asleep.

I: Yeah.

C: Are they hired to make meals?

I: Yeah. There’s various types of assistant in the manga industry. This one refers to an assistant in charge of meals.

I: What did I wanna talk about? Oh yeah, about Animal Rap. I’m thinking whether or not I should upload animal rap video during stream, but where is the file? I’ve decided to upload it after this stream ends. What was it that I wanna talk about? Can you tell me about my current status, such as about the Sui exhibition in Osaka and Nagoya, or about Ms. Towada’s illustrations?

C: How about a live rap?

I: Good idea.

C: About the plan for 30,000 subscribers.

I: That’s right 2x. We’re talking about what to do to celebrate 30,000 subscribers.

C: I can be your maid for free.

I: I’ll definitely pay you. If it’s for free, then you won’t feel your sense of duty. I’ll give a huge salary and pressure you so that you’ll work responsibly.

C: Ms. Towada can both write novels and draw. Amazing!

I: I also can. Hahaha. I also…ah, but I can’t write novels. I won’t lose to her.

C: Do you have double eyelids.

I: Mine is hidden one.

C: Appear in First Take.

I: I won’t.

C: Are your eyelashes long?

I: Yes. My eyelashes are long, I have hidden double eyelids, I am of medium build…but I’m already worn-out.

(t/n: He used the word ‘boroboro’. I couldn’t really find the proper word to translate it in this context. Worn-out is the only one I could think of that suits the context.)

C: Are you handsome?

I: Well…I’m pretty good looking.

C: Have you been going to the gym?

I: No, I haven’t, since I was busy with work. I wanna go though.

C: I wanted to go to Mr. Kunimitsu’s concert.

I: Me too.

C: Which one is more handsome? You or Kaneki?

I: Wouldn’t that be Kaneki?

C: How about another stream with Ms. Towada?

I: I re-listened to the stream with Ms.Towada. For some reason, she was laughing a lot in the stream. Though she always like that. It’s slightly embarrassing. She’s acting like she’s at home. It felt like she’s disclosing my family situation, so it’s a bit..., but I can do that again from time to time. When I wanna do something related to JJ, then I’ll call her. That’s the most suitable content.

*Someone asked him to invite his younger sister.

I: It’s impossible to invite my younger sister.

*People wanted Goubaru to be the guest.

C: Goubaru, huh?

C: Do you have someone you wanna invite?

I: No, I don’t. The corona is one thing, but I’m completely okay with not meeting people. I do talk to people I’m close with. I think that’s already enough. It’s not like I have someone I’m involved with. I do usually talk to Mr. Kunimitsu.

*People want Hanae Natsuki again.

I: Hanae? That’s definitely impossible.

*He’s talking about Japanese youtubers.

C: Can you beat boxing?

I: I’m practising at the moment.

*Currently taking about Japanese artists.

* Someone asked who he thinks could be the next popular artist.

I: Lately, I only listen to instrumentals. The one that I like recently is the girl band called Chai. The group’s vocalists are twins. The group is great. It’s not like I like the band because there’s someone who caught my intention. I listened to their songs first before I decided whether I liked them or not. I thought this kind of voice also exists.

C: Congrats for TG’s 10th anniversary.

I: Thank you. Thank you to Brazil as well. (t/n: Someone commented Brazil.)

*He pinned his Chai comment.

C: People who just came don’t understand what’s going on.

I: It’s okay if you don’t. Hehe.

C: Sensei, can you eat choco mint?

I: I can.

C: I thought the bgm was from Animal Crossing.

I: This is Yorushika’s Escape.

*Still talking about Japanese artists.

C: Have you seen Midsummer?

I: Yes, I have.

(t/n: He said something about the new evangelion movies. But I couldn’t really translate that part properly. He basically watched the Rebuild Evangelion movies from the start since he never watched it before. He planned to go to Yamaguchi prefecture, the birthtown of Evangelion’s author to watch the last movie.)

Y****: I’m reading Toro Hedoro! I recommend it!

I: I do read that. Don’t underestimate me! I do read One Piece as well, but half-way through.

C: You can watch the Evangelion movie on Amazon Prime.

I: I wanna watch the final movie at the cinema. Has the final movie come out? It has? But I’m still gonna watch at the cinema.

C: Have you read Tokyo Ghoul?

I: Nope.

C: I recommend Tokyo Ghoul!

I: Is that so? I have a story regarding TG, but it’s probably gonna be quite deep.

C: One Piece has reached 100 volumes!

I: That guy and Odacchi have reached 100 volumes, right? Hahaha. That guy is Luffy, while Odacchi is Oda sensei. Hahaha. I can’t call him that. Odacchi is Oda sensei and Kishikage is Kishimoto sensei. I see, that guy has reached 100 volumes? Way to go! Hahaha! No one is watching this anyway. I’ll properly lick his boots if he’s in front of me, since he’s the real deal. I’ll be very obedient and sucking up to him.

(t/n: Ishida was using the word ‘aitsu’ to refer Eichiro Oda. As far as I know, it’s an impolite way of calling someone older or in higher status than you in Japan.)

C: He’s scarier than Hikakin (a Japanese youtuber.)

I: Right. We are in the same industry after all. But I think Young Jump and Jump are different subsidiaries. Although, Hara sensei seems to have met with Odacchi, so maybe there’ll be an opportunity for me to meet him. But probably no. Someone like me won’t be able to meet Eichiro Oda sensei. I won’t meet him. He seems like a unique person.

*Ishida talking about an illustrator and youtuber called Saito Naoki.

(t/n: I couldn’t translate the first half of this part because they’re talking about something that had happened, and I don’t know the context of it.)

I: The name ‘Saito Naoki’ is very nice. Is it a pen name? It totally sounds like a real name though.

C: Are you close with Kishida Mel? (t/n: Kishida Mel is an illustrator and a character designer.)

I: I’ve never met him, but Kiyoppi, Kiyohara Hiro sensei and Melcchi are good friends. He’s like a friend of my friend. You have things like that, right?

C: The name ‘Ishida Sui’ is cool!

I: I seriously wanna change my pen name. I wanna change to something like Gengoro. I wanna change to a manlier name. I didn’t give a thought about my name before. I used that name because I thought I was gonna be famous in the future, so I didn’t wanna use my real name. I seriously thought that I couldn’t become a mangaka if my real name was exposed. I was like “Since I’m gonna be famous, let’s avoid using my real name.” I was being vigilant about it, so I half-heartedly named my pen name.

I: The name Gengoro is nice. Tagami Gengoro. Tokyo Ghoul’s author, Tagami Gengoro. The Tokyo Ghoul’s author, Tagami Gengoro’s exhibition is now open. I’d definitely sounds like a bearded fatty. With round glasses to top it off. Isn’t Tagami Gengoro a character from a gay manga?

*Ishida searching for Tagami Gengoro.

I: Everyone, don’t search for it. I’m scared something dirty will appear. Is it not? Oh, it isn’t. what’s the name again? There is a character named something Gengoro, right? It’s Tagame Gengoroh! I got it now! Tagame Gengorohw as born in 1964 and a Japanese mangaka. He calimed himself to be a ‘Gay Erotic Artist’. This is the one! It’s Tagame Gengoroh sensei.

*Ishida was looking at Tagame Gengoroh sensei’s illustrations.

I: This one. Wow, this is indeed gay! Hahaha.

C: I can’t believe it came out of your mouth.

I: Surprisingly, I do talk about these kind of stuffs. (t/n: I mean, he’s the man who wrote a whole R-18 chapter.)

I: So, I can’t use the name Gengoro, since there’s someone with this name.

C: Is the name ‘Ishida Sui’ an anagram of your Surname?

I: Yes, it is.

C: Are you gay?

I: Hahaha! Even if that’s true, you didn’t have to ask that kind of question! Let’s just say that I’m okay with both.

C: Kuso Miso. (t/n: Kusomiso is a gay manga.)

I: Of course, I’d be reading them (probably referring to gay manga). I mean, manga like Kuso Miso Technique are popular, right?

C: Ishida GayGoro.

I: Hahaha. That’s just gay.

C: You’ve been to a gay bar before, right?

I: Not at all. When I was hanging out with the staffs, Goubaru said he wanted to go to a Okama bar while crying.

(t/n: According to the internet, Okama is a term referring to guys who adapted female characteristics.)

C: I think it’s completely normal to be gay nowadays.

I: We’re talking about gay now. It’s not normal in the first place. It’s just a sexual orientation. If you pick on every little thing, everything will become a problem. Those who deliberately say they’re not prejudiced against gays are actually are. Even if you tell that to people, they’ll probably filter what they wanna say. They’d be conscious of every single thing they say. Things like that don’t matter.

C: Sensei, let’s talk about something else.

I: Why? I’m okay with it.

C: I’m bi.

I: Does it matter? It’s okay.

C: It’s difficult to say something regarding gender issues, right?

I: Well…It’s difficult, since it’s concerning your mindset. It doesn’t only apply to gender issues; you can hurt someone by making careless remarks. It’s just that you sometimes accidentally let out your opinions. I also think I sometimes make unnecessary remarks, so I might do that.

C: I want to be embraced by Masataka Kubota. (t/n: Masataka Kubota is a Japanese actor who played as Kaneki in the live-action.)

I: That’s right. Must be nice. I want us to embrace each other.

Part 3

#ishida sui #tokyo ghoul #jack jeanne #choujin x #chojin x #ishida sushi channel

28 notes · View notes

crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years ago

Text

Jairsolas

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Six

A JSE Fanfic

*gasp* A POV change?! For the first time in this story?! How exciting! Yeah short description because I’ve had a long day as of queueing this, but basically we follow Marvin as he tries to track down the King. But instead, along the way, he meets someone new. And that’s all I have to say. Hope you enjoy :)

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The noble family Portmota lived on the edge of the Southern Moors, their castle built on the last bit of solid land before the rivers came in and flooded the south of the kingdom. Officially, their claim covered all of the Moors, but everybody knew that the Moors ran on their own, much like the mountain villages to the west and north. But the meagerness of their claim didn’t stop the family from building themselves a solid, grand castle. It sat on top of a small hill, surrounded by a thick stone wall. The castle’s multiple towers reached the sky, and were numerous to require a large staff to keep the place running for the noble family and any visitors they might have.

With such a large body of servants, it was easy to slip in unnoticed. They always accepted help, and as long as you didn’t appear troublesome, they’d immediately snatch you up and put you to work the moment you asked for a position, no interview needed.

This was something Marvin found out first hand when he decided to infiltrate the castle in preparation for the King’s visit.

Maybe they needed help to clean up for said visit, maybe they were always like this, the result was the same either way. All Marvin had to do was show up on the grounds, dressed in ragged clothes, and he was immediately hired by the head servant. She didn’t even mind when he said he had to keep his cat nearby at all times.

Once he was inside, it only took him a few days to get a scope of things. Normally his sense of direction was terrible, but the servants were always being sent on numerous chores, so the castle’s layout quickly solidified in his mind. The cleaning and cooking was...hard, he had to admit. Unlike Jackie and Schneep, he hadn’t grown up doing chores, and taking care of things was a relatively new skill. He went to bed in the servants’ quarters exhausted. But this was a small price to pay for the opportunity that had presented itself.

He began to notice odd things about the castle. First of all, effort was put into cleaning and clearing every room in every wing, even the ones that had been sealed off so the heat wouldn’t escape into the winter air. Every candlestick was being polished, every tapestry dusted out. Why all the work? Unless...there was something big happening.

There were also a lot more people wandering around the castle. Visitors. Nobility, to be specific. An oddly high amount. Not that the nobility didn’t like to go see each other, especially for parties, but the Portmota claim was currently home to just one person: the Marquess Portmota, the eldest member of the family. Marvin knew all the other Portmotas were either traveling, or had married into other noble families and now lived with them. There were far too many visitors in the castle for one woman to entertain, even for something as important as a Longest Night celebration.

Not to mention the rumors circling through the servants’ ranks. News spread fast through this network, and soon, maids, cooks, and gardeners were muttering to each other about the King himself visiting.

Marvin tried not to get too close to any of these servants. It would just...get in the way. Sure, many of them were friendly to him, offering to share lunches or spend their breaks with him. But...no, it wouldn’t work out. It couldn’t. Besides, he didn’t need them. All he needed was his familiar, Draco.

He’d been in Portmota Castle for a week when the rumors started to buzz. The cleaning suddenly intensified, and the visitors to the keep began strutting about in their finest clothes. One night, to confirm his suspicions, he asked a laundress named Mina what was going on.

“Huh? You mean you haven’t heard? You haven’t seen?” Mina glanced about the laundry room where she was busy working. Seeing nobody else nearby, she leaned close to Marvin and whispered, “They’ve seen the King! Here!”

Marvin’s eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. “Really? Why would he be here?”

“Why would he be here? For the Longest Night celebration!” Mina chuckled. “Elders, Westley, you can be oblivious,” she said, calling him by the fake name he was going by.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Marvin glanced down at the floor. Draco was batting at a loose sleeve dangling from a laundry bin, so he quickly bent over and scooped him up before the cat could knock the whole thing over. “Who saw him? How’d they know it was the King?”

“A couple people. Teresa, Connor, Kelley. They saw a man fitting his description walking around, with the brown hair and slender build, and Teresa pointed out he was walking very purposefully. Dressed finer than all other lords who’ve come to visit.” Mina dumped some of the laundry into a washbasin as she talked. “Kelley got really close to him, too, when they were serving food in the hall. They said he had the royal green eyes.”

“Royal green. Wow.” Marvin pretended to be in awe, and made sure not to show off any of the burning anger smoldering inside him. “If he’s the King, where’s he staying? I don’t think any room here would be noble enough for him.”

Mina shrugged. “Nobody’s said yet. There are a whole bunch of new rooms made up for the visitors, hard to tell. It’s not like he’ll be hanging the royal crest on the door.” She glanced about the room again, then nudged Marvin’s shoulder with some urgency. “Oh no, Ursula is coming. Better get out of sight before she demands you stop standing around and start working.”

“Right.”

That conversation was abruptly cut short, but Marvin got a lot of information from it. Namely, that the King really was here. The detail about the royal green eyes sealed it. Yes, the royal family were once known for their distinctive shade of green eyes, but none of them had actually been born with the color in recent generations. Until the current king. Something like that wouldn’t be forgotten easily. Now the question was how to get close to him.

He spent two days trying to figure out which room the King was staying in, but in the end, the answer fell right into his lap.

It was early morning, and he was in the kitchen, kneading bread for the day. It was a task he often volunteered for; something about the kneading motion was very calming to him. Even if Draco wandered around and tried to get under the feet of every grumbling chef and baker.

With no warning, the door suddenly flew open, and a voice called, “Any of you lot free for a quick delivery?!”

Everyone looked over in unison. It was Ursula, the head servant. “Depending what the delivery is!” answered Everett, the head cook.

“We need a breakfast tray prepared quick!” Ursula demanded. “It’s urgent!”

The chefs and bakers muttered amongst themselves. “How urgent is it?” Everett asked.

Ursula huffed. “Very. One of the lady’s important guests ordered it. And we don’t wanna upset him.”

Marvin’s head shot up. Could it be...?

“Alright, don’t get your skirt twisted, Helendaugh,” Everett muttered, rolling his eyes. “We’ll make one up. But you’ll need someone else to bring it up. We’re all busy here, if you couldn’t tell.”

“No one else can bring it up! They’re all busy too! Sure, I could scout around for someone, but that’ll take too long! Do I need to repeat that he ordered it urgently? Or that we can’t upset him?”

Marvin slowly raised his hand. “Um...sir? If you give me a minute, I’ll be finished. I can do it.”

Everett gave his kneading station a once-over, then nodded, satisfied. “Alright, that’ll be just enough time to make up the tray. See, Ursula? Westley can do it, no problem.”

Judging by the tightness of her face and the way she was wringing her hands, Ursula still thought there was a problem. But she stepped back. “Okay. Westley, you’ll want to head up the central tower, all the way to the top room. Knock on the door, but don’t wait for a reply. Open it and slide the tray right in, then close it and leave.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

“Make sure you do. This is very important, for a very important guest.” Ursula took a few more steps back, right out the door. Then she shut it behind her.

Some time later, Marvin was practically running through the halls of Portmota Castle, Draco at his heels. The central tower was quite far away from the kitchens. Though...a tower room was odd. Most nobility preferred to stay in the keep itself, since towers got drafty, and walking up and down the stairs was rarely worth the view. Maybe the King was different? Eh. It didn’t really matter. The King wouldn’t be around long enough to enjoy that tower room.

Marvin stopped at the base of the central tower, breathing heavily. He quickly glanced around, but luckily, the area was clear of any servants or noble visitors. Good. He needed to be quick. He slid over to the wall and knelt down, putting the tray of food on the floor. There was a floor-length tapestry nearby, and he pulled it over his shoulders, partially hiding him from view.

Then he reached under his shirt and pulled out a pendant on a chain. A beautiful pendant, with its smooth, palm-sized emerald and silver frame looking too expensive for the rusted chain it hung from. Even though wearing it might give him away, he couldn’t bear to part from his magical focus. A wizard without a focus was like a painter without their paint. They couldn’t do anything without it.

Quickly, Marvin pressed two fingers to the surface of the emerald, which immediately started glowing. When he pulled his hand away, the glowing light stuck to his fingertips. He drew a rectangle on the ground with his fingers, leaving light behind like chalk on a board. Once the rectangle was fully formed, the middle of it faded away. Now, Marvin was looking at the inside of a small box. And inside the box were a few things. A small dagger, a bottle of brown glass, a coil of thread, a white handkerchief, and a candle. Marvin plucked the bottle out from the box. He reached for the breakfast tray—swatting Draco away in the process with a “No, not for you”—and pulled it closer. Then he unstopped the bottle, poured a few drops of the liquid inside onto all the food items, and stopped it again, putting it back inside the small box. Once the bottle was back in place, the glowing rectangle disappeared. The floor reappeared as solid stone once more, with no sign of the magical box that had just been there.

“Good,” Marvin said, grinning to himself. He pulled away the tapestry, picked up the food tray, and stood up. “Now for the most difficult part...the stairs.”

That statement was a joke—a joke for no one, really, since Draco was the only one around and he didn’t really understand human humor—but Marvin was definitely winded by the time he reached the room at the tower top. No matter how often he walked up stairs, no matter how frequently he’d done so in the past week, he still hated them. Maybe that said more about how fit he was than the design of the stairs themselves. Which made no sense, he’d spent the past few years running around the kingdom, surely he’d be more fit by now?

He was getting distracted. The room door was in front of him. Wooden. A fine door, but no more fine than literally any other door in the castle. Yet...the King was inside.

Following the instructions, Marvin knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for a reply before easing it open and setting the tray down on the floor inside. Draco almost poked his head through the gap, but Marvin pushed him back, then closed the door.

He waited for a few minutes. Expecting to hear movement inside. But there was nothing. Well...the room must have thick walls, then. With his task accomplished, Marvin turned back and headed back down the stairs, which proved much friendlier on the way down.

That poison worked quickly. By that night, they’d hear news of the King’s assassination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But that was not the case.

Marvin waited with anticipation, but nothing happened. There was no outcry of poison, no panic as the King’s lackeys were left unsure what to do. Things proceeded as normal. Leaving him confused. He was sure he got the dose right, and he’d made sure to poison all of the food on the tray. Hadn’t he?

The next morning, the exact same thing happened. Ursula barged into the kitchen, demanding a breakfast tray for an important guest. Everett said everyone was busy, and Ursula repeated the urgency. So, Marvin volunteered to deliver it again. Once he was alone, he took the poison from the hidden box and again dosed the food, making sure to add a bit more this time before putting the poison back and delivering the food to the top of the tower. He even had to push Draco back from the door again.

But still, nothing happened.

And when the same thing happened the next morning, Marvin was about ready to shout out “Am I going mad?!” But he didn’t, and instead played it cool. This time, Everett asked him to take the tray up ahead of time, expecting him to be able to. And of course, Marvin agreed, and secretly added even more of the poison. And of course, Draco once again tried to squeeze into the room at the top of the tower. Honestly, Marvin felt he should have more control of his familiar, but given how cats were impossible to order around under normal circumstances, he took Draco even listening to him as a plus.

When nothing happened the fourth day, Marvin began to suspect something unusual was going on. Perhaps someone tampered with the poison? No, that should be impossible. That box was buried in the ground, far away from Portmota Castle. He could only access it because of his magic. But...maybe? If he tried again today and the King still did not die, he’d try a different method.

So once more, he took the breakfast tray when offered, headed to a private area to get the poison out of the box, added yet more of it to the food, and trekked up the stairs to the room at the top of the central tower. He knocked on the door, then without waiting for a response, opened it to slide the tray inside.

And the instant the opening was big enough, Draco leaped through the gap and into the room beyond.

“Draco!” Marvin cried out, dropping the breakfast tray. Without thinking about what to do next, he threw the door open and rushed inside to scoop up his cat.

But of course, there was someone in there. Someone who’d been startled by the sudden appearance of an off-white cat, but was even more surprised to see someone run into the room after it.

Marvin skidded to a halt, looked around, and before he could even think about it, blurted out, “You’re not the King.”

The person inside slowly shook their head.

“Oh.” Marvin took a step back. Now that he wasn’t worried about his familiar jumping into the hands of the King, he gave the stranger inside a once-over.

The person—Marvin now recognized him as a man—looked a bit like the King, at a first glance. He had brown hair, as most people in the kingdom did, and was fairly thin. But he was shorter than the King was said to be, had a distinct, dark mustache, and most importantly, blue eyes. Not green. His clothes were fine, indicating nobility, but the style was a bit old fashioned. Like the black bow he wore around his neck, something that had gone out of style at least ten years ago.

Draco was sitting on a stool next to the man, looking very self-satisfied. Evidently, the strange man had started petting him right before Marvin barged in.

“Well...sorry, then,” Marvin said awkwardly.

The man smiled and shrugged. He gestured to Draco.

“Huh? Yes, sorry about him. And about barging in, I wasn’t thinking.” Marvin glanced around the room. “So...is the King going to be back soon?”

The man tilted his head, puzzled. And shook his head.

“Why do you look so confused?” Marvin took a minute to think. Then a possibility occurred to him. “Wait...is the King...not staying in these rooms?”

And the man shook his head again.

“Damn it,” Marvin whispered, barely audible.

Honestly, looking around the room, he didn’t think this place was fit for a king, anyway. Certainly, it was noble. There were plush sofas and chairs sitting about, and a desk with a mirror and stool in the corner. The windows had thick blue curtains that one could pull over to cover the glass. And he could see two more doors, both slightly ajar and showing a bedroom and a bathroom. But...it was rather small, in all honesty. The furniture was pushed together, and the blue wallpaper looked a bit old. Not to mention it was cold, as well, with no fireplace. Marvin wished he’d thought to bring a cloak, but the one he owned was too fine, and he had to leave it behind while masquerading as a servant.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed,” Marvin said politely. “They said someone very important was ordering the breakfast trays so—wait, have you been eating that food?”

The man looked embarrassed, and shook his head again.

“No? Well it couldn’t just disappear.”

Now even more embarrassed, the man pointed towards the bathroom.

“You’ve been...dumping it in the lavatory?” Marvin realized, shocked. “Every day? Well no wonder you look so thin, then, if you’ve been skipping breakfast the whole time.” He then remembered the tray of poisoned food he’d brought, and dropped in the hallway. “Oh. But ah, might have actually been a good idea this time. I mean, the—if I’m being honest, it was all undercooked, anyway,” he lied. “And the one for today is all splattered now. Sorry.”

The stranger smiled good-naturedly. He nodded.

“Um...I’ll just leave now.” Marvin took a few steps backwards towards the door.

Hurriedly, the man shook his head, gesturing for him to stay. Meanwhile, Draco pressed his head against the man’s arm, demanding pets.

“Oh. Right. Draco, come on.”

Ears drooping, disappointed, Draco hopped off the stool and walked out the door. “Sorry about all this,” Marvin muttered, backing fully out of the room and pushing the door closed.

As it shut, he could have sworn the man inside had a very strange expression on his face. Something like disappointment and desperation mixed in one.

How...odd. Marvin hesitated, wondering if he should go back inside. But...maybe he’d misread the man’s face. That was far more likely than...whatever he just saw. Yes. He should turn his mind to more practical matters. Like where the King was actually staying, if not here. And getting someone to come up and clean the tray he’d dropped.

But as he retreated back down the stairs, he felt somehow regretful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, the order for a breakfast tray came in, as usual. Marvin wasn’t sure about delivering it, but by this point, he’d volunteered enough that Everett and Ursula expected him to. After all, it was much easier to have one person do something than to constantly find someone new every day. So Marvin quietly took the tray and headed to the central tower once more. This time, he did not stop to poison the food along the way. Now that he knew the King wasn’t there, it wasn’t much use.

When he knocked on the door, it swung open before he could pull it open himself. The strange man from the day before was standing there, smiling and practically bouncing with excitement. He immediately grabbed Marvin and dragged him into the room.

“Whoa! Watch out, you’ll spill the milk!” Marvin quickly set the breakfast tray down on the nearby desk, making sure nothing had fallen off. He didn’t want to make another mess.

The strange man didn’t respond to that comment. He was kneeling on the floor, petting Draco. Much to the cat’s delight, of course. There was a lot of purring.

“Why’d you do that?” Marvin asked. “Pull me in, I mean. If you want to know if the breakfast’s good to eat this time, it is. I...um, checked. Did you just want to pet my cat?”

The man made a so-so gesture.

Marvin suddenly felt frustrated. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want?!” he snapped.

At that, the man stopped. He looked over at Marvin, then stood up. He was wearing another neck bow today, blue this time, and he silently pulled it down so that his neck was more visible. There, right in the middle of his throat, were two scars, arranged in a + shape. Clearly the result of some sort of surgery.

“Oh.” Marvin’s stomach immediately sank. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

The man waved away his stammered apology with a small smile. It was clearly a sensitive subject, but since it was an accident, all was forgiven.

“Still, I...I’m very sorry. Ah...do you have something to write with, maybe?” Marvin suggested tentatively.

The man shook his head. He did that a lot, didn’t he?

“...nothing at all? What about in this desk?” Marvin wandered over to said desk, opening the drawers. But the man was right. There weren’t any quills or chalk to be seen. There wasn’t even any stationary, and Marvin knew that nobles were fond of keeping their own personalized paper nearby in case writing was needed. Instead, the desk’s drawers were mostly empty, only containing a few game boards and card decks.

As Marvin looked through the drawers, the man walked over to stand next to him, watching. When Marvin opened the drawer with the cards inside, he reached forward and quickly snatched up one of the decks. He turned to Marvin, grinning, and pointed at him, then at the cards.

“You...want to play cards?” Marvin asked, trying not to sound excited.

The man nodded.

“Well...I’m supposed to have chores, but why not?” Marvin grinned as well. “I have to warn you, I’m very good at Luck of the Deal.”

That only made the man smile wider. He guided Marvin over to the sofas and gestured for him to sit.

A couple hours passed before Marvin remembered he had more to do. Not just chores, but he also had to locate the King before the Longest Night celebration, after which he’d leave and return to Suilthair, the capital, and be untouchable. So Marvin hurriedly excused himself, but found himself leaving with a certain spring in his step. It had been a while since he’d sat down and played a few card games with someone. He...really missed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next few days, he and the man in the tower developed a routine. Marvin would take a breakfast tray up to the room, and the man would drag him inside for a few games. Cards, mostly, though they pulled out some of the board games, too. The breakfast tray would be mostly ignored, though Marvin tried to insist that the man actually eat it. The stranger was on the thin side, after all, he probably needed a meal. A bit odd to see a skinny noble, actually. They could definitely afford enough to eat. But Marvin wasn’t going to ask, in case it was sensitive, like the voice issue.

There were, however, other questions that he wasn’t afraid to ask. The first one came up on the second day of this routine. They’d finished their first game of cards—Enchanter’s Gambit, a shorter one—and Marvin had asked, slowly, “Can you tell me your name? I understand you can’t speak it, but there has to be something I can call you.”

The man paused in shuffling the cards, thinking. Then he set down the deck, stood up, and walked over into the bedroom. A few moments later, he returned, holding something. He handed it to Marvin.

“A handkerchief?” Marvin asked, turning it over in his hands.

The man pointed to one of the cloth’s corners. Marvin examined it, and saw a small design embroidered in gray thread. A rabbit, curled up and sleeping, surrounded by a circle of thorny plants. It was the sign of a noble family. But not just any family. One Marvin instantly recognized.

“That’s the Jairsolas crest,” he gasped. “But—that’s—a-are you a friend of theirs, or...?” He trailed off, not needing to finish his question. The man’s grim expression confirmed everything. “That’s...impossible,” Marvin whispered. “They’re all dead.”

More specifically, they’d been massacred. By the King and his forces.

The death of the Jairsolas family had been one of the earliest signs of how dangerous the King was. The Count and Countess Jairsolas had ruled over the small family peacefully, loved by the people of their land. When the King began demanding more warriors, when he began taking away royal funds from medicine and farming, they were one of the nobles who protested. Eventually, they refused to enact his royal decrees in their northern territory, saying they would not compromise the welfare of their people. They accused the King of swiftly becoming a tyrant. The King immediately proved them right by forcibly invading their land and killing the entire family.

And yet, even after this clearly unwarranted act, there were still nobles out there who stood by the King. There were still warriors who pledged loyalty to him and believed in his cause. There were even common people who repeated that the King was just and good, though that was usually because they were simply unaware of what was going on. The nobles and warriors, however, had no excuse. They continued to fawn over the King and happily harm innocents. It made Marvin sick just thinking about them.

“I’m...so sorry,” Marvin said quietly.

The man nodded slowly, sadness flashing in his eyes. He must’ve been a more distant relative, to survive the King’s attack. Marvin, unsure what to do, placed a hand on his arm, hoping the gesture would convey the sympathy he felt. The man patted it, and smiled a bit, indicating it was alright.

“Jairsolas is a bit cumbersome,” Marvin said slowly. “Can I call you...Jair? For short?”

The man nodded, eagerly accepting the nickname. He pointed at Marvin, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? I’m M—I’m Westley.” Marvin remembered his pseudonym just in time, and quickly changed the subject. “Want to play another round?”

For someone who couldn’t speak, Jair was very expressive, gesturing widely and exaggerating his facial movements. Marvin assumed that was necessary, to compensate for not being able to say anything. Though it was odd that there were no writing utensils or parchment in his room. That seemed like it would be helpful, and easy to acquire, too. But Marvin didn’t want to push the issue. Maybe it was just a preference. Or maybe Jair assumed Marvin, appearing to be a servant, couldn’t read much.

Despite the issues of communication, Marvin proceeded with his questions. About eight days after the first breakfast tray delivery, he got tired of Jair continually ignoring the breakfast. That was perfectly good food going to waste. “Why do you even order the trays if you don’t want to eat them?”

Jair looked up, a bit surprised to be asked this while the two of them were in the middle of a game of Fidchell. He indicated himself, then shook his head.

“You...you mean you’re not the one ordering them?” Marvin asked, confused.

Jair nodded, confirming this, and looked back down at the board, moving a piece.

“Wh—how’d you do that?!” Marvin spluttered, momentarily distracted. “I was going to move one of the warriors there—you just cut off my path!” He scanned the board. “How did you surround my king again?!”

Jair laughed silently, a breathy sound, clapping his hands in delight at winning another game.

Marvin scowled. Draco promptly jumped onto the sofa and knocked over the board, scattering the pieces. “Yea, take down that game. I’m shit at it, apparently.” He sighed, and grabbed the cat, moving him to the side. “Who’s ordering the breakfast trays, then? Can you tell them to stop? It’s enough work as it is.”

Shaking his head, Jair pointed at Marvin.

“I could find some other way to get up here.” Marvin paused, noticing Jair’s slightly uncomfortable look on his face as he went about collecting the knocked-over game pieces. “Can you...not tell them to stop?” He thought about it for a moment. “It must be someone higher ranking than you, then. That would make sense, and it would explain why they always said someone important ordered the trays. Heh. Is it the King?”

Marvin asked the question jokingly, but for a moment, Jair’s shoulders stiffened. Then he brushed off the question, laughing without sound again.

That...couldn’t be right, could it? Why would the King go out of his way to order breakfast for some random noble? And one related to the Jairsolas family, which he destroyed? It didn’t make sense. There must be some sort of lie or trickery involved. Maybe it wasn’t actually the King. Or the King didn’t know Jair’s true identity. Or Jair didn’t know what happened to the rest of the family. Something like that.

Either way, Jair was quickly putting away the Fidchell pieces and board, clearly wanting to move on. So Marvin dropped the subject for the day.

But he still needed information. The King was somewhere in the castle. Other servants had caught glimpses of him, but Marvin still hadn’t figured out where he was staying, or run into him at all. Longest Night was approaching. He was running out of time. So, he decided to ask Jair a few more questions.

“Have you seen the King around?” he asked one day over a game of Saelan checkers. “Apparently he’s in the castle for the celebration, but I haven’t seen the tail of him. Others have, though. What bad luck, huh?”

Just like the last time he brought the King up, Jair stiffened, and immediately denied anything with a shake of his head. He pointed to the board.

“Right.” Marvin moved one of the small stone balls that served as pieces, getting closer to the end goal at the other side of the board. He wasn’t too good at board games, preferring cards, but he was better at this than he was at Fidchell. “I suppose I shouldn’t assume you’d know, anyway. I was just curious. I’ve never seen him. Does he really have green eyes?”

Jair nodded, distracted by planning out his next move.

“It’s strange that none of us know what room he’s staying in. That’s why I assumed he was staying here, ha.” Marvin watched Jair’s face as he continued to talk. “Is he even staying on the castle grounds? I know it’s traditional and all, but I don’t know if anyone would stop him.”

Jair shrugged. This time, his response didn’t seem like avoiding the question, but genuinely not knowing.

“Do you...I’ve never seen you out in the castle,” Marvin realized. “Do you stay in these rooms the whole time?”

Squirming, Jair didn’t answer, instead focusing on jumping one of his pieces over two of Marvin’s, capturing the last one.

“That’s not good for you. Staying in all the time, I mean. Especially when you don’t have a fireplace here. And it looks like an old room, you’re probably breathing in dust all the time. You don’t have to go out and make conversation with others, or even go outside, but just walk around. Do you even go to the main hall for dinner?”

Jair leaned back and looked away, folding his arms.

“Oh. Sorry, I...didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Marvin said. “I was just...worried, I suppose. You don’t eat breakfast, you don’t go out, you don’t have a fireplace...it’s just...worrying. I’m...worried about...your health.”

Despite the clumsiness of Marvin’s statements, Jair looked touched. He patted Marvin’s hand and gave him a reassuring smile.

“If you’re sure you’re alright,” Marvin said reluctantly. “Try to take care of yourself, though.”

Jair placed his hand over his heart, suddenly emotional. He nodded, smiling.

Had...no one ever said anything like that to him before? Had no one looked after him? Marvin felt something stirring deep inside his chest. A familiar ache. He’d...he’d never someone he could...well...relate to.

Marvin was supposed to ask more about the King, but he found he couldn’t go through with it today. He would try again tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Marvin arrived at the tower room a bit later than usual. It took them a bit longer to cook it today, since there was more food than the previous times. He hoped that meant Jair was planning to actually eat it, and not just feed pieces of sausage to Draco the whole time.

He knocked on the door, waited for a few moments for Jair to open, but when he didn’t appear, Marvin pulled open the door himself and walked inside. Huh. Jair wasn’t actually in the room. The bedroom and bathroom doors were closed, so maybe he was doing something in there. “Hello? I’m here,” Marvin called as he set the tray down on the desk. Something brushed against his legs, and he looked down to see Draco curling around his legs. “Hmm? What’s wrong?” Draco didn’t usually stick close to legs, not after too many occasions of people suddenly moving and tripping over him. And his tail was standing straight up, the fur all puffed out.

At that moment, the bedroom door opened, and Jair walked out. He waved at Marvin the moment he saw him.

“Tthere you are. I was wondering why you didn’t open the door.” Marvin glanced back down at Draco, still on edge, then back up. “Is everything alright?”

Jair nodded, waving away the question. He then walked straight over to the desk and started rummaging around the drawers, pausing for a moment to gesture at Marvin.

“Oh, I don’t want to do anything specific today. Maybe more cards?”

Nodding again, Jair pulled out one of the decks. While he walked over to the sofa and began shuffling, Marvin glanced around the room once more. Nothing looked out of place...what had Draco so spooked? He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains, looking out the glass at the scenery. Clear skies ahead. On the ground below, there were...a lot of people in the surrounding open-air keep. More than he saw on the way over to the tower. That wasn’t too unusual, though. So Marvin closed the curtains again. “What were you doing?” he asked Jair.

Jair looked up at him, confused.

“I mean, you’re usually waiting for me. What was different this time?”

There was a slight pause. Then Jair shrugged. He pulled on the ends of his neck bow, tightening it, and followed it up with a so-so gesture.

“I don’t understand, what do you mean? Something about getting dressed?” Marvin asked. This whole thing felt...odd. Why did it feel odd? Was it just because Draco was still clinging to his legs?

Actually, Draco wasn’t just staying close to his legs. He was also staring at something, ears flat, a warning growl low in his throat. Marvin followed his line of sight...to the door they’d just come through. And...now that he wasn’t speaking, he could hear something underneath the sounds of shuffling cards. Faint, but growing louder.

Footsteps coming up the stairs.

Now why would someone be coming up the stairs? The only thing in the central tower were guest rooms. But most rooms were farther below, and the steps were definitely close enough to be heard. Meaning...someone was coming to this room. Why? Jair wasn’t exactly sociable. It could’ve been Ursula coming to get Marvin for chores, but...Marvin grabbed his amulet through his shirt, and his eyes lit up the smallest amount. No, he could sense more than one living person approaching. Quite a lot more, actually.

“Can I use your lavatory?” Marvin asked. He didn’t wait for Jair to nod before heading over and disappearing inside, closing the door behind him.

Just in time for the room’s entrance door to open, and for all those living people to fill the room. Accompanying the footsteps he’d heard before was the faint sound of metallic clanking, like...like chainmail. Or weapons.

Panic flooded Marvin’s mind. They’d discovered him, hadn’t they?! He had to get out of here! There was a small window in the bathroom, maybe just barely big enough to squeeze through. It was quite a drop to the keep below, but better than nothing. Marvin tried to break the glass with his fist, but only managed to crack it, so he pulled his amulet out and began to focus.

“Open up! We know you’re in there, traitor!” Bang bang bang bang bang!

“Damn!” Marvin cursed. They were knocking on the bathroom door. He didn’t have time to break the window, he needed to go through them! He whirled around—

The bathroom door slammed open, revealing three warriors wearing tunics with the royal crest. Marvin grabbed his now-glowing amulet and made a throwing motion. Light flung from his hands, hardening to stone as it hurled through the air, and three good-sized rocks hit each warrior in the chest, knocking them down. Marvin immediately bolted.

The small room was packed with other warriors, as well. Many were blocking his way to the door, armed with broad-bladed swords. Marvin threw more light to either side of him, and the warriors yelled as they tried to get out of the way of the suddenly-appearing rocks. For the ones in front, he pulled more glow from the amulet, forming it into a long, thin whip made entirely of green flame. He swung it around and many of the warriors scattered. Two stood their ground, acting quickly to pull circular shields from their backs and block the magic fire. But then Marvin was in front of them, his hands ablaze with more flame.

And then pain wrapped around his torso.

He looked down just long enough to register the black thorny vines wrapped across his chest before suddenly being yanked backwards. Pulled off his feet, he landed on his back and was dragged across the floor for some distance before suddenly stopping. He looked up and saw a face looking down at him. Unnaturally blue eyes. Pale blonde hair, stylishly curled around her face. And a few smattering of freckles, almost disappearing beneath a light layer of cosmetics. She looked as surprised to see him as he felt seeing her. “Marvin,” she said.

“Thalia,” Marvin scowled.

“I didn’t think it would be you. They said the servant’s name was Westley. Unless—you lied, didn’t you? Like you always do.”

“You’ve always been the liar.”

“No I haven’t. I’m always honest with everyone.”

“Nope. I know you haven’t told anyone about those secret visits to the mountains, have you?” Marvin laughed at Thalia’s surprised expression. “That was hard to find out, but I immediately recognized your handiwork. Burning the stone? Really? Talk about excessive.”

“Shut up,” Thalia snapped. She reached up and touched a silver-and-ruby broach pinned on her tunic. Her focus. Her eyes lit up. “I’m the one in charge now.”

“No you’re not.” Marvin grabbed his own focus, flicking the light from it up into her face. Thalia yelped as the glow turned into liquid and went into her eyes, and she lost concentration on the vine spell. Marvin shot up and looked around the room again. Now counting, there were ten warriors. One of them was holding his cat-shaped mask. Damn it! They went through his belongings and found it. He could have left it behind, but he brought it in case something happened and he needed it. Clearly that hadn’t been worth the risk.

All of the warriors were strategically blocking his ways out. The window, the door out, the doors to the bathroom and Jair’s bedroom—

Wait, Jair?! Where was he?!

Marvin didn’t have to look far. Jair was sitting in the exact spot he’d last seen him. On the sofa, having not moved a finger since the warriors and Thalia entered. His eyes were fixed downward, his hands clutching the deck of cards tightly in his lap. Marvin blinked. “Jair, what are you—”

Fog suddenly filled the room, unnaturally quickly, blinding him in seconds. Marvin whirled around, lighting up his amulet to try and see through the mist.

Dark figures lunged out of the fog and grabbed at him. Shouting, Marvin threw the light in a circle, turning it to green flame again. Several people cried out, and the fog lifted as the fire burned through it. Marvin saw the surrounding figures of the warriors, and then someone lunged at him from behind, wrapping legs around his and pulling his hair.

He yelped. “Thalia! Get off me!”

“No, give me that focus!” Thalia demanded, clawing at the chain around his neck.

“Die in freezing!” Marvin tried to grab his amulet, but that was a bit difficult while the chain was strangling him. He had to divert effort to giving himself room to breathe. “Who jumps on someone’s back?! You’re thirty years old!”

“You’re the one acting like a child! You stole that, I recognize it!”

“It was mine, too!”

After a few moments, the combination of struggling and the weight on his back caused Marvin to fall over, bringing Thalia down with him. The moment he was down, five of the ten warriors lunged forward, pinning him. He struggled, but there were just too many. Then Thalia pulled once more on the chain holding his amulet, and it broke. She backed away, holding the amulet upward in triumph.

Out of nowhere, there was a yowling sound. Thalia screamed as a streak of off-white fur ran at her and began clawing at her leg, tearing through her trousers while spitting and hissing. Instinctively, she kicked, and the ball of fur went flying across the room.

“Draco!” Marvin cried, managing to push free of the warriors for long enough to see his cat stand up again. “No! Get out of here!”

Draco wailed, then hissed, ready to attack despite being outnumbered by eleven tall humans.

“No! Out! Run!” Marvin’s magic was quickly fading without his amulet within reach, but he had to get Draco to safety. He looked Draco in the eyes from across the room. His flickered blue for a moment, and Draco’s eyes glowed for a second in the matching shade. Marvin sent the image of a safe place to go through the connection he had with his familiar, and followed it up with instructions on how to get there.

Reluctantly, Draco turned...then bolted, weaving in between the legs of the warriors in a sudden burst of speed. Once he reached the door, an unnatural wave of strength overcame him, and he pushed it open and disappeared. The warriors cried out, but Thalia called, “Let it go! It can’t do much!” She looked down at Marvin. “Really? A cat? Why not bond with something more useful, like a dog?”

“Fuck you!” Marvin shouted, and lunged at her.

Then a warrior brought the hilt of their sword down on the back of his head, and everything went black.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos au #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #brigid writes fanfiction #fantasymasksau

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ga-yuu · 3 years ago

Text

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 10~Part 1

Chapter 9

------Part 1------

(I feel hot.)

I looked up and stared at Kurama with my tearful vision. <-- her orgasm face.

However, the contrast between the black hair and red eyes that adorned the well-formed shape drew my attention.

Kurama: “................”

Kurama looked at me as if he was observing my expression...

Kurama: “.....I see. So you like the way how I look.”

Yoshino(blushing): ".......Nn."

I can feel my cheeks heat up to my ears.

Yoshino(blushing): "What are you saying..."

Kurama: "You're the one who denied that this happens no matter who touches you. Then there must be a reason why you react like this when I touching you. When you look at me like this...so close, you’re forgetting to resist. It's obvious."

Yoshino(blushing): "Mm...of course...I'm still resisting.."

Kurama: "-----Yoshino."

Yoshino(already wet): "Mmm......."

Just one word poured into my ear, and I'm already about to fall apart.

Kurama: "That's right. I forgot you loved this."

Kurama laughed as he whispered in my ear in a deliberately nasty way.

Kurama: "Yoshino, you don't just like my looks apparently, you like my voice too."(V.A Morikawa Toshiyuki’s voice is sexy)

Yoshino(blushing): "Don't say anything.....Oh.."

The sweet teeth on my neck made me squeal.

Kurama: "Do you remember? Your body is prone to drowning in stimuli, even though you can easily speak out in fear."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Let go...(+4/+4)

2. Don't say anymore....

3. Forgive me...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino(blushing): "L....Let go...of me..."

Kurama: "I wanna try and see how long your dream resistance lasts. But for today I've had my fill. I'll take care of you again when I feel like it."

Yoshino: "Take care? Is how you're going to take care of me...?"

Kurama: "What? Not enough?"

Kurama easily moves away from me when he sees me shaking my head impatiently.

Then he walked out of the door without looking back.

Yoshino: "The road ahead is too long....!!"

Thus began my life as a prisoner of war.

...........

(This is the third day, and I have nothing to do....)

The garden, which I was allowed to explore, was magnificent, but as you can imagine, I get bored with it every day.

Yoshino: "I'm bored so that I borrowed some bamboo broom from the maids....."

It's not as if I'm going astray collecting leaves from the enemy camp.

(I can't help it, can I? I was so busy when I was in the Shogunate, I can't settle for this kind of life.)

I clutched the bamboo broom tightly in my hand, my heart filled with sadness....

Kurama: "Who are you going to knock down with that broom?"

-----Part 2-----

Kurama: "Who are you going to knock down with that broom?"

Yoshino: "Kurama!?"

Without a sound, Kurama, who was standing behind me, called out to me.

Kurama: "I thought you'd be quietly sitting in the corner of your room like a miserable little puss, but you never cease to amaze me. How about you and I aim at the heads of the guards around there and make them fall into a coma."

Yoshino: "I can't do that!"

Kurama: "Then what are doing with that?”

Yoshino: “I was going to sweep the garden.”

Kurama: “Sweep?”

Yoshino: “I have some much time in my hands, so I thought I would do this.”

Kurama’s eyes narrowed as if he was looking at something insurmountable.

Kurama: “You sweep gardens to kill boredom?”

Yoshino: “It’s can’t be helped. I’m a prisoner, but I just don’t want to sit around doing nothing....So I thought...”

Kurama: “I see.”

Shortly after that, Kurama pulls my wrist.

Yoshino: “Hm? What is it?”

Kurama: “Come. If you have a lot of free time, I’ll give you some work.”

(Ohh)

He pulls me without waiting for my reply....

.............

Yoshino: “This must be Kurama’s room?”

Kurama: “That’s right.”

A black feather fluttered from his back as he answered languidly.

Kurama: “Sit down.”

Kurama sits down first and points to the floor in front of him.

Yoshino: “.....Okay.”

(What on earth is he going to make me do?)

I sit down, a little nervous, and Kurama offers me something.

Yoshino: “Hm? Tangerine?”

Kurama: “Peel them.”

Yoshino: “Can I eat it?”

Kurama(glares): “Don’t be silly. That’s mine.”

Yoshino: “Oh.”

Kurama: “Fine, then I’ll give you one slice as a special treat after you’ve finished peeling.”

(It’s not that I wanted tangerines that badly, mind you.)

I started to peel the tangerine as I was told, feeling unsure about what to do.

Yoshino: “I mean, why won’t you peel it yourself....?”

Kurama: “If no one is around, I’ll peel it myself. But it’s troublesome.”

(As usual, he’s unreasonable...)

Kurama takes the tangerine I offer him and puts them in his mouth.

Yoshino: “.....So?”

Kurama: “Tastes like tangerines.”

Yoshino: “That’s right....and?”

Kurama: “Yummy.”

(Ah........)

I looked at him lightly, distracted by his surprisingly straightforward answer and the sweet smile on his face.

Kurama: “What?”

-------Part 3------

Kurama: ”What?”

Yoshino(blushing): “Ah? No, nothing.”

(I can’t tell him...that he looked cute..)

Yoshino: “Do you like tangerine? Tamamo once said that demons don’t need food.”

Kurama: “Most foods are a pain to prepare, but tangerines are the easiest to eat and don’t taste bad either.”

Yoshino: “Yeah, because I was the one peeling them for you....”

Kurama: “Are you now feeling busy?”

Yoshino: ”Of course!”

Kurama: “You said you were bored so I invited you here and looked after you. I’m sure you’ll have no complaints now.”

(This question is dangerous to deny...so let’s just nod our heads for now.)

And then--------

???: “Knock knock, anyone home?”

Kurama: “.....Sueharu is here.”

(Sueharu? Who’s that?)

???: “Looks like I’m ‘obliged’ to come in....!”

A lilting voice sounded from outside the room, followed by the opening of the sliding doors.

Yoshino: “Kurama! Your wings...”

When I was thinking what to do to hide his wings----

Sueharu: “Am I interrupting you? Kurama. Ah, those usual magnificent wings. They’ll fetch a good price when I sell them.”

(Ah! This person isn’t surprised at Kurama’s appearance....)

Sueharu: “Hm? You are.....”

I reflexively bow to the man with the eye patch who enters.

(......Hm? Wait, I think I’ve seen him before...)

Sueharu: “Wait. Kurama with a girl? I that a sign of some kind of natural disaster or something?”

Kurama(glares): “Watch your mouth, Sueharu.”

The man named Sueharu showed his white teeth and smiled, seemingly unconcerned by Kurama’s retort.

Sueharu: “Anyways, do you remember me?”

(Eh?)

Sueharu: “You’re the girl who asked me for directions near Kamakura.”

Yoshino: “Oh yeah...”

Kurama: “You guys have met before?”

Yoshino: “On the night I met Kurama and Yoshitsune-sama for the first time, I met Sueharu-san on my way to Kamakura.”

Sueharu: “Yeah. I was a bit worried at the time being, a woman traveling alone...”

The one eye looked at me and then at Kurama puzzled.

Sueharu: “But if you’re with Kurama, does that mean you’re involved in this chaos?”

(Well...)

Yoshino: “Did you already knew? That the Shogunate and the Rebels were about to clash that night.”

Sueharu: “I’m a merchant who sometimes goes in and out of Hiraizumi. I’m also close to Yoshitsune-sama and the others so I happened to know about the Sesseo-seki.”

Kurama: “What are the odds of that?”

Part 2

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden kurama #ikemen mc #otome #main story translations #cybird #cybird otome #cybird ikemen

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years ago

Note

For the word generator I got sketch! So maybe like, some of your favorite danganronpa characters (Preferably from NDRV3) finding some Halloweeny type sketches in there s/o's sketch book? ~🏁

Oh hhhh I got too many favs but I’ll just pick 5!

.............

Miu

“Woah! You drew these? Pretty fucking awesome!” The inventor laughed as you showed off your recent sketches, all of which were Halloween-themed since it was that time of year. “You make a better Ultimate Artist than that stupid bobblehead!”

“No, I couldn’t possibly take her talent.” You shook your head, flipping the pages. “Sketching is just a hobby, that’s all. I wanna draw some more Halloween stuff later-”

“Oh I got an idea: draw me as a sexy witch~”

“....pardon?”

“I know what I said!!” Miu puffed her cheeks out as she posed on her chair, stretching her legs out. “I’d make one hell of a sexy witch, wouldn’t I? If you want inspiration, all you gotta do is look towards your hot girlfriend Miu Iruma~!”

There was a twinkle in her eye as she spoke so boldly of herself, though she blinked as you smiled and got out a pencil.

“Alright. If you say so-”

“W-Wait!! A-Ah I’m....I’m actually not ready y-yet! I’m not a SHSL M-Model, ya know....”

Looking up in confusion, you saw her covering her now reddened face.

But you just sighed and shook your head, having expected this sort of reaction.

..........

Kaito

“A-AH!”

Hearing a scream as you walked into your lab, you stopped when you saw Kaito standing there. But then you noticed one of your sketchbooks laying on the ground beside him and frowned.

“Kaito why are you going through my stuff? I got nothing to hide from...” As you approached him, however, he turned to face you, standing rigidly with a scared expression.

“Y-You um....you d-draw good...” He managed to stutter out.

It was then you noticed the page your sketchbook was on--a collection of Halloween doddles, mostly ones of ghosts.

Nothing too scary...at least not in your eyes.

You just sighed and shook your head, looking back at the astronaut as you opened your arms up. “C’mere you big baby.”

Kaito still looked petrified even as he hugged you tightly, shaking like a leaf.

You never knew his fear of paranormal things was this bad, but now you had a better understanding of it.

“Promise me you’ll stop going through my shit?”

“Y-Yeah...I promise....I-I definitely won't do that again."

.........

Korekiyo

“How fascinating! You're quite the artist, my dearest."

“Thanks, though these drawings aren’t anything too special.” You chuckled, seeing Korekiyo hold up your sketchbook in awe as he looked at the Halloween-themed drawings you’ve made. “It’s just that time of year.”

“It is, indeed.” He handed it back to you. “I see you’ve even drawn your own interpretations of the creatures I’ve told you about. They’re beautifully haunting, I must say.”

Nodding, you closed your sketchbook. “You got any more interesting stories about Halloween traditions in other cultures?”

“Ah, but of course. There are many practices that are far more...dark than today’s lighthearted ones.” The anthropologist smiled beneath his mask. “Perhaps you’d like to know about guising, which is known today as trick-or-treating?”

...........

Kokichi

“Hey! Hey! [Y/n]! Check this out!”

Sighing, you decided to take the paper Kokichi was shoving into your hands, looking at it.

It was a childish doddle of him as a demon, apparently attacking Kaito, with ghosts surrounding him. Said astronaut had his hair drawn in the shape of a banana, which was quite amusing.

You chuckled. “So you wanna be a demon and scare Kaito this Halloween?”

“Mhm!” He nodded, though his eyes went to your nearby sketchbook. Before you could say anything, he sprinted to it and grabbed it.

“Hey!”

“Relax, I’m not gonna rip out any--oooooo, this is cool!” With his eyes practically sparkling, he showed you a page where you had a finished werewolf sketch. “Obviously my drawing skills are superior but this is pretty badass. I’m gonna keep it.”

“Wait, I thought you said--” But you were cut off by a tearing noise as he ripped it out of the sketchbook, smiling innocently.

“That was a lie. You can keep mine in exchange~!” With that, he dashed off to his room, and you chased after him.

“KOKICHIIII!!”

.........

Kirumi

"[Y/n]? I found one of your sketchbooks here. I promise I did not go through anything that might be personal to you."

Blinking, you saw the maid hand the book to you. "Awh, thank you, hun. But did you see the drawings?"

"Ah..I did. You drew some spider webs that resembled the ones on my dress." Then she looked down at the book, her eyes flickering back to you in hesitance. "Do I have permission?"

"Absolutely."

Kirumi flipped it open to the page where you drew some spiders and cobwebs. She was quite impressed with the amount of details you put into each and every one.

"I think with just a few more cobwebs on your outfit, you'd make a beautiful spider queen for the party. Oh! What if I did your makeup for it, too?" You clapped your hands together, smiling as you saw the small blush rising to her cheeks.

Though she nodded slightly and closed the book. "If that's what you wish, then I don't mind." A small smile appeared on her own face.

#clanask #checkered flag anon #danganronpa x reader #drv3 #miu iruma #miu iruma x reader #kaito momota #kaito momota x reader #korekiyo shinguji #korekiyo shinguji x reader #kokichi ouma #kokichi ouma x reader #kirumi tojo #kirumi tojo x reader #halloween #fluff #one word prompt

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skiller0dani · 5 years ago

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Queens and Castles | King Henry V

M A S T E R L I S T

smut requested (I’m a little disappointed in this piece, it’s not good. forgive me) requests info wanna be on a Timmy taglist? click here

While the King was quite the handsome fellow, this was not how you envisioned your betrothal. Never had you imagined your Father selling you off to foreign lands to wed a King you had not met prior. Your Father was King Eric VII of Denmark, and after King Henry’s famous rejection of the French princess Katherine, you were apprehensive to meet the famed warrior King. King Henry’s strength was unquestioned, as was his stunning ability to strategize on the battlefield. This was proven tenfold during his impressive victory over France, your Father grew frightened of King Henry coming to seize control of Denmark. As a peace offering, King Eric VII has offered up his only daughter to be wed to the King of England. That being you.

So here you sat, sailing across the North Sea towards England to meet your future husband. You’d heard many a tale of the King’s days as a wayward Prince, and famed lover to many. This thought did not settle well in your gut, but his past is his own as yours is your own. Though yours is not near as exciting or scandalous as the Kings’. You haven’t the faintest clue as to why the King agreed to marry you, for he had not laid eyes upon you before. Nor had you, but the stories of his stunning and magnetic eyes and atop his head an unruly mane of dark hair had risen heat in your lower belly. The port lay nestled on the horizon as a personal guard from your Father’s castle stood near, merely for your protection. Your heart thrummed in long anticipation as you drew nearer, and much to your dismay a small gathering of common folk were awaiting you at the docks.

They were indeed eager to meet their beloved King’s future wife, and their own future Queen. Yes King Henry was indeed loved immensely by his people, and this you found to be rather endearing. As your ship docked at port you observed the people gathered along the pier. Some with bemused expressions, some with gleeful expressions, and some with hard glares. While most of the people seemed to take your arrival with joy and glee, some were still apprehensive of your intentions- merely for the sake of their King. You found their fondness of Henry admirable, they truly did love their young King. While the people seemed to warm to you, you pondered upon the temperature of the King’s heart. Would he be as warm and inviting? Or would his heart be hardened and icy due to the prolonged years of solitude, with no Queen by his side?

A horse awaits you, a horse to be led by two of Henry’s guards. Your long blue and silver silk dress falls to your heels as you step cautiously down the ramp. Your cheeks were set a blaze when you seat yourself upon the horses back, and the short ride to the palace begins. The castle looming in the great distance of London is hard to miss, and you find yourself thinking of the tormented and lonely soul that occupies those stone halls. You find yourself thinking of the demented sadness looming in the King’s heart. For reasons you know not, you cannot envision him as a gleeful carefree man, nay, you imagine him to be full of passion and intensity. Your hair falls in careless curls down your back as children joyfully run along side the horse until you pass the castle gates. You know not which feeling stirs so heavily in your gut. Be it excitement or dread.

Offering you a hand, a palace guard helps you down off the horse and onto the cobblestone steps leading into the castle. “The King awaits you my lady,” The guard says, before bowing deeply to you. He reached forward to ensure you don’t have to open the heavy wooden door yourself. Once the door is closed behind you, the castle feels as hollow and empty as you imagined it to be. A mute maid bows to you and turns to lead you down the halls of the castle. You imagined to meet the King in the great throne room but you must have underestimated how dearly the King values his privacy. Arriving outside of what you can only assume to be the King’s quarters, the maid knocks thrice before stepping to the side. When the door is opened your breath is stolen straight from your lungs as the sight before you is the lonely King himself.

Your heart feels aflutter in his presence, and once the two of you are alone with no staff or guards your heart thrums faster than you knew to be possible. Sitting upon a plush bench, you kept your hands folded on your lap. You Father always told you a Queen’s duty is to please her King, to be seen, to look beautiful, to always ensure the King is happy. You never agreed with a notion such as that, but for Denmark you would play your part to ensure a successful alliance with the King of England. The image of the King razing your beloved home to the ground, the hilltop in which your palace home sat ablaze, strikes unspeakable pain to your heart. But when you look up into his marble of kaleidoscope eyes, you cannot see him being so maliciously cruel. “Princess Y/N, you are as fair as I’ve heard.” The King muses as he sits in a seat in front of you.

Your heart surely seizes in your chest upon the kind words from a man you know nothing of. “My King, your words do me a great honor.” You speak softly, trying to appear weak and dainty. You Father also informed you a King needs to feel in control of all things, including his Queen. “If you are to be my Queen, the foolish notions brought up in your head must be forgotten.” Henry informs you abruptly, and for a mere moment you are unsure of how to respond to the King. Seeing the lost expression dawning upon your features Henry smiles gently. “I do not desire another to please me, I desire a Queen who speaks her mind freely. I wish not a maid Queen, but a Queen equal to myself.” Henry says again, and you’re frozen in your seat. You find it folly to fight the smile threatening to appear across your pale lips, the King of England exceeds the tales of greatness told of him. “Yes my King.” You agree and he nods, seeming pleased by your answer.

“We are to be wed 3 evenings from this moment, only by then if you’ll have me. I wish not marry a Princess who does not wish to marry me.” Henry tells you, his eyes falling away from yours. You think back to the Princess of France, surely he must have found her beautiful. Why then would he turn down the opportunity to solidify that alliance with France. “My King, I have a question, if you’ll allow me.” You ask him politely and he looks up into your eyes- all of his attention on you. “Why did you not wed the Princess Katherine?” Your eyes hesitantly find his, a bold question such as this would have earned you trouble with your Father. You fear a displeased expression resting upon his face, but no expression he shows is displeased in any way. Instead, he looks merely lost in the thought of how he wished to answer. “When I looked into her eyes, I saw a longing desire for chaos. I do not desire chaos, I desire lasting peace.” Henry tells you, his eyes searching yours for you know not what. “As do I.” You tell him, and a hint of a pleased smile is at the corners of his lips.

“I have a present for you, although it does not equal your beauty- I can only hope it comes close.” Henry tells you as he stands and moves to a wooden chest sitting on a desk in the corner of the room. Lifting a necklace out of the chest your eyes widen at the beauty it beholds. It’s a blue sapphire hooked upon a silver chain. The edges of the stone are lined with silver, it’s a stunning piece of jewelry. Henry stalks behind you to secure the necklace around your slender neck, the brush of his fingers across the nape of your neck leaves your skin tingling in his wake. “My King, why then have you agreed to marry me? You have not met me prior, not much unlike how you met Princess Katherine.” You ask him, your eyes finding his as he comes around you again. Henry kneels in front of you, taking your palm in his. His much larger hand engulfs yours and the very moment your skin makes contact you feel the electricity pounding between you.

Henry himself looks puzzled for a moment, “the answer I know not. I do, however, know the seizing of my chest when you entered the room.” He admits you, his eyes glimmering as he looks up at you. Your cheeks burn a deep crimson as your fingers curl around his. The sun is resting low in the sky and Henry stands, pulling his hand from yours. “I will have a maid escort you to your chambers-” he begins but following the beating of your heart you stand from the bench. The thought of being away from him for more than a second is more than you can bear. “I wish to slumber in the same quarters as my King.” You say boldly, and Henry turns to look into your eyes. Henry takes slow steps towards you, and brushes a stray curl from your face. “I am not yet your King.” He whispers, his eyes flickering between yours.

Later in the evening after you had been bathed and dressed for sleep, you lay awake in your chambers. While you didn’t expect to be miserable here, you did not anticipate the itching in your fingers to run your hands over the King’s bare skin. You did not anticipate never wanting to leave his side, you didn’t expect him to strike you so intensely, so quickly. Henry said he did not desire a maid Queen, or a Queen to obey his every wish. So you push the covers back and grab a lit candle at your bedside before beginning the trek across the castle to the King’s quarters. The guards pay you no mind as you walk silently past them, through the silently groaning halls of the old castle. The wood expanding and settling as you place your weight down upon it.

Drawing closer to the King’s quarters an unusual sound causes you to halt. You hear a high pitched whining, followed by the deep groaning of the King. Your heart feels a terrible ache of pain through it upon the realization that the King is not alone in his bed chambers. You turn back on your heel to quickly make your way back to your own bed chambers. How foolish had you been? Perhaps he was a maid King, a man who only wished to please his Queen. Even if that meant lying to her face, only to bed another woman that very same evening. You gasp as tears choke you, you feel as though you’re floating in a sea of nothing. Big black empty nothing, and the King was to be your boat but instead he has sailed to save another. You lean against the wood of your door once it is securely closed behind you. You should have prepared for this, for you indeed heard the many tales of the lover Prince of Wales. Why then did you expect his loving days to be over once he’d been crowned King? Of course he would continue as he was before.

When the dawn comes you feel sick in your stomach, and aching in your heart. You fear you would die an early death due to the breaking of your heart if you continued here with the King. That was unfortunately your duty to Denmark, your duty was to marry the King- and marry the King you shall. Your eyes flicker up from the plate of fresh fruit in front of you as the King comes into the room, to dine with his future Queen. “My Queen, how did your sleep fare?” He asked once he’d taken a seat at the head of the table. You feel tears brimming at the edges of your eyes, how quickly your happiness had soured. “Dreadful my King.” You reply, your voice far away from the emotion you had shown the King the previous evening. His eyebrows pinched together as he took you in, sitting rigid with your eyes fixed purposefully at your plate.

“I took a stroll through the castle in the evening for I could not sleep. I heard such peculiar sounds from the hall in which your bed chamber lies.” You snap, pushing away from the table to march out of the dining hall. Hearing the scraping of the King’s chair you wish for him not to follow, but he does. He grasps your arm, a look of dreadful guilt washed over his beautiful face. “My Queen I assure you, you did not hear what you fear you did.” Henry tries to explain but you know exactly what you heard. “My ears did not deceive me Henry, lover Prince of Wales.” You reply, your voice sharp and the emotion swelling thick in your tone. Henry falls silent, knowing he had indeed been caught by the woman meant to marry him 3 evenings from now. “I care not for an explanation, nor do I desire to marry you. But I must, for my kingdom. Leave your late night frolicking to a Tavern and not the bed for which I am forced to share with you.” You beg, meaning to sound far angrier than you did. Instead your voice sounded hoarse and broken.

“My Queen, I am no snake in the grass. Last evening was merely a farewell to a woman who seems to have grown fond of me. Lonely is this castle, living here in solitude is lonelier still.” Henry begs, his hands reaching for yours. Your anger has long since melted away, replaced only by the breaking and re-breaking of your heart. “Allow me to prove my devotion to you, and if by the time we wed you are left unconvinced you will not marry me. But I will still ally with your Kingdom, even if you should choose not to marry me.” Henry promises and finally your eyes lift to meet his. He offers his hand to you, and very hesitantly you take it and allow him to guide you out of the castle. You know not what to make of the King, the hauntingly distressed look in his eyes tears your heart in two different directions. He looks as though he fears you will leave, but doesn’t his actions portray a lack of concern for your emotions?

Leading you out to the castle grounds, you find yourself stood in the center of a beautiful garden. The sight before you is one to behold, the beautiful blooming sea of flowers canopied by overhanging trees. “I know not how to devote to another, for never have I had another devote to me.” Henry admits softly and you turn your gaze from one beautiful sight to another. His eyes focus on the horizon, the light from the sun reflecting in his eyes. “My King, that is all I require of you. Devotion.” You whisper to him, looking sadly into his eyes. He turns to look at you once more, bringing your hand to his lips before pressing a sweet kiss to the skin upon the back of your hand. “Then I will learn to be the King, and husband you need me to be.” He promises and in an instant your heart is thrumming loudly in your chest once more.

“My King, you send my heart aflutter, and in the same moment aching so deeply I wish never to hurt like that again.” You sigh, pulling your hand away from his. You feel your chest clench shut upon remembering the pleasure filled sounds echoing softy outside his bed chambers the night before. In the short time he’s come to know you, Henry already cares deeply for you and wishes for you to have faith in him. “What can I do to ease your pain? How do I restore your faith in me?” Henry asks desperately, his eyes searching yours for an answer you fear you do not have. “I fear nothing can. Perhaps we were not meant to be wed my King.” You sigh as you turn back to the castle, leaving Henry alone in the garden with his thoughts.

Your heart aches more than you knew possible, and more frightening than that is how quickly Henry filled every available space in your mind with nothing but thoughts of him. Then the sun had settled below the sky on your second evening in England, you once again found yourself trekking towards the King’s chambers. Your heart seized with fear when you drew closer to the King’s chambers once again. You listened for a moment before moving closer, pleased upon hearing no noises coming the other side of the door. When you open the door you see the King standing near a large window overlooking London. His trousers hang low on his hips and his torso is bare. Your cheeks are aflame as you gape at him, he must not realize you’re here. You push the door shut behind you, drawing his solemn gaze to you.

His eyes watch you apprehensively as you take slow steps towards him, the light of the moon illuminating his features in a stunningly graceful way. “Perhaps I was wrong for being so quick to lay judgement on you my King.” You whisper, the words floating through the empty space. Henry’s hand rose to glide gently across your cheek, his eyes full of both happiness and despair. “Your judgement rings true my Queen, I am nothing but a lover Prince pretending to be a warrior King.” Henry says, his voice heavy as he turns his head to look back out the window. Your hand slides into his, “no, you are a great King.” You whisper to him and he sighs slowly before his fingers squeeze yours. Your eyes look up to the stars, and in this moment you feel nothing but contentment resting deep in your soul. “I wish you marry you, tomorrow.” You breathe the words into the space between the two of you. Henry’s eyes flutter towards yours, wide and unbelieving. He smiles, “then tomorrow it shall be.” He agrees, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

The entire city was bursting with frivolity and excitement at the news of the King’s wedding. Many were eager to lay eyes on the beautiful Queen, for not all had been awaiting you at the docks. The flowers gently being placed in your hair were divine, pure white as though made from drops of starlight. Your dress was beautiful, more beautiful than any you’d put on before. It was made of the finest silk and hung down your body, accentuating the curves in your waist, but highlighting your delicate beauty. The sleeves hung from your arms low, and the veil was gently pinned to your head. You felt like a Queen, and your heart hammered heavily against the inside of your chest. The cathedral was filled with people, and decorated finely for the King’s betrothal. You held your bouquet and the only piece missing was your Father. Surely he could have taken time for his only daughter’s wedding? But when a guard approached to hand you off to the King, disappointment settled deep in your chest at the revelation that your Father was not here.

Everything about the ceremony was beautiful and perfectly as it should be. Henry looked striking, and the way his eyes watched you come down the isle to him had butterflies coming alive in your stomach. You don’t think your eyes separated for a single moment as the Priest spoke, and all the nobles watched with love in their eyes. When you first set sail across the North Sea, you did not envision your wedding being an arrangement but now looking into Henry’s eyes- you are glad it was. When Henry pressed his lips gently to yours, your hands came up to grasp at the nape of his neck and the deafening sounds of gleeful nobles made your ears ring. You never wanted his short kiss to end, but eventually the King did pull back from you with nothing but happiness gleaming in his eyes. The second you turned, hand in hand with the King- the people in the cathedral all bowed their heads to the new Queen of England.

Lips, teeth, tongue. It’s all you can think about as soon as the King closes the door of your shared bed chamber. His lips are against yours, his teeth gently biting at your tender flesh, his tongue licking its way down the sensitive place on your neck. Your hands reached up to grasp at him, “make me your Queen.” You whispered into his neck and a deep growl emitted from deep in his throat. Henry’s hands found your waist as he nudged you backwards towards the plush mattress. He pushed his embroidered jacket from his shoulders as Henry’s fingers fiddled with the strings securing your dress around your torso. Never have you felt a desire burn so deep in your belly before as your hands held tightly to his shoulders. Soon your back of you knees are pressed against the edge of the mattress as Henry’s lips move languidly against yours. The kiss sears through your entire body, igniting every nerve ending. You’re tingling everywhere as Henry very gently lowers your back to the mattress.

“Married or not,” Henry begins, his words being swallowed by your lips pressing to his again. He smiles against you, “nothing we do,” he continues before once again being interrupted by your lips following his. Pressing his forehead against yours he smiles wider, “nothing we do will be without your permission my Queen.” He whispers lovingly, and your heart belongs to him and only him as soon as the words leave his velvety lips. You arch your back into him, to press your chest up. The pounding between your legs is becoming near unbearable as you look up at him with desperation pooling in your eyes. “Kiss me, please my King. Please kiss me.” You beg softly and Henry gazes down at you with a fond smile on his face. Henry obliges and presses his lips to yours again, swallowing the satisfied sigh that threatens to escape your lips. Your fingers curl around the expensive fabric of his shirt before tugging on it.

Henry leans back and unbuttons his shirt lazily, very much enjoying the agonizing need burning behind your eyes as you wriggled underneath him. “Henry why do you taunt me so?” You whine as he very sluggishly shakes his shirt from his slender shoulders. Henry responds with nothing more than a playful grin as his fingers very carefully push the fabric of your dress off your shoulders. You arch your hips up into his, the teasing and taunting from your young King beginning to build pressure in your pelvis. Henry nuzzles his nose against yours before consuming you with his lips once more. The kiss is filled with burning passion and grace as you lean up into him, your lips slotting against his perfectly. You reach down to pull your dress up to your waist, “please Henry. Make me yours, please. Please take me my King,” You whimper in a helpless plead. The sound of your voice begging for him causes him to become even more rigid than he already is.

Pushing his trousers down and kicking the fabric from his legs he wastes no time removing your dress as you hold it bunched at your waist. He is panting softly as his head slips into you with ease, before the rest of his throbbing manhood is pushed deep inside you. You cry out against his chest as Henry’s arms wind around your torso lovingly. He begins to rock into you gently, his movement long and fluid. Pulling out as far as he can before gently sliding all the way back inside your warmth. “You are such a vision my Queen,” Henry whispers against your hair. You can do nothing but moan quietly as he rocks into you tenderly. He holds you softly, carefully, as though you were made of porcelain and easily broken. Henry holds you to his chest as though you were a precious treasure needing to be protected. Everything about this moment was nothing but love, passion, and tender careful touches.

“I will love you, and you alone.” Henry promises as his lips find your neck. You continue to cry out against him as he maintains his slow loving pace. Your arms wind around his back as the slow burn of pleasure builds. “Never have I needed another so badly,” Henry continues to groan loving words into your skin, keeping his rocking steady as he continues the slow build of pleasure. “Henry,” you moan softly beneath him, your hands holding him tightly to you. You feel that binding coil twisting tighter in your abdomen as you begin to pant. “Please don’t stop my love,” You whisper as you begin to press light kisses to the pale skin of his shoulder. Henry continues to push into you, and soon you’re arching into him crying out softly as you come around him. He guides you through your orgasm before he’s groaning into your neck and coming inside you.

“I love you my King,” You whisper as your fingers trace the side of his face. He brushes his nose against yours as he delicately pulls out of you. You nearly whine at the unbearable sensation of emptiness as he slides out of you completely. Henry lays on his back next to you, his chest heaving and a content smile spread over his face. “I love you my Queen.” He whispers against your temple.

“Forever?” You whisper into the air, and he winds his arms around your torso, pulling you much closer to him.

“Forever.” Henry promises with one last gentle kiss to your lips.

#timothée hal chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #lil timmy tim #hal #prince henry of wales #king henry smut #king henry v #the king imagine #the king smut #timothee chalamet the king #timothee chalamet the king smut

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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years ago

Text

The Best Way for a Spy

A bright flash of lightning streaked across the sky. A thunderclap and a baritone bout of rumbling followed on its heels. The smell of rain crept through the air.

Alone on the muddy road wandered a figure of androgynous shape, robed in fancy attire, in all manners of bright red and deep black and gleaming gold. A porcelain mask of beauteous shape concealed their face. And they stopped. Stared skyward. Pondered.

Evening neared and the cloudy sky had stolen away the sun, bathing the idyllic countryside in a gloomy twilight, a fittingly bleak azure to accompany the chill in the air. A lonesome inn stood by the roadside. Warm and orange lights from the inviting hearth inside lured the masked figure.

The best way for a spy to stay hidden was to hide in plain sight. So spake their mentor. Thus, they always stayed on the road to deliver important messages. For spies who slinked across the rolling hillocks tended to get confronted and questioned more thoroughly by the knights-errant and the militiamen and the inquisitors. The spies and thieves who dressed in muted colors; those who dared to look inconspicuous, they always drew the most attention.

Hence the colorful jester's attire. The fancy mask, unsettling and like to draw questions, but also a face easily replaced.

First drops of rain bounced off the porcelain and turned the garb a shade darker wherever they landed, soaked up by the fabric.

A soft sigh escaped the thin line where the mask's mouth allowed its wearer to breathe, and the spy set into motion. They approached the inn's entrance.

The Boot of the Cockfosters, read the letters on the sign outside the inn. The colors painting the rooster dancing on a treasure chest had faded years ago. The iron rings from which the board hung now squeaked as the signpost swayed in the wind.

The spy, now going by the name of Gladstone—or Rain 'o Blades, or just "Rain", as people in the savvy of their trade referred to them—pushed inside. The wood of the door and the floorboards creaked. They stopped just beyond the threshold, just outside the weather's reach.

The heads of three people turned. Three men sitting at a table by the fireplace, huddled over tankards of ale. They stared. Studied the eerily serene porcelain mask, the garish garb. Did not notice the many knives strapped to Rain's body in different spots, concealed by frivolously fancy layers of cloth.

The men's eyes only ever rested on the darkness of the eyeholes of the mask, and on the short dirk sheathed at the spy's side.

"Who are you?" asked one of the men at the table. A local, given the ring of his accent.

Rain shook their head. Slowly. Tired.

The men still stared.

"Here for a room for the night?"

Rain nodded. Firm and resolute.

"Come, sit with us. My price for boarding is fair, and fairer yet if you share a drink at my table."

"And good news," said the next. "So few guests here this season that you need not share a bed. Unless you want."

Raucous guffaws exploded out from the three men's throats.

Rain approached their table. Crept with strange grace. Some of the beads and gilded rings on the spy's dress jingled.

Always jingled when Rain wanted to be heard. And stayed silent when they snuck.

The keen ear that seeks the sound always misses the silence, so spake the master. The best way for a spy to sneak was to be noticed whenever they wanted one to notice them, so less attention was paid when they wanted one to not notice.

The men watched Rain's approach with a strange glint in their eyes. A lopsided smirk here, carrying a smug sense of superiority; a leering, lustful gaze there, seeking for a feminine form hidden underneath the jester's cloth.

"You some sorta artist? A dancer mayhap?" asked another one of the men.

"Looks like you lost your carnival, eh?" asked another.

More guffaws from the round.

While rain loudly poured from the clouds, drenching the countryside, Rain stayed silent. Stopped midway across the room. Bowed deeply, flowing like water. The fabric rustled; the jewelry jingled. They flowed from bowing into crossing slender arms before their center, and spinning around in a series of elegant pirouettes, excess cloth flapping and twirling colorfully as Rain finished the series of dancing moves with a dazzling somersault.

The rings jingled one last time as they landed in a striking pose, one hand pointed at the men, splaying all fingers to punctuate the performance.

Another rumble of thunder ripped through the heavens outside the inn. Another flash of lightning lit up the windows. Then Rain bowed again.

The three men chuckled nervously. That made way to clapping and cheering in welcome response to the spy's impressive display.

One slapped the table and waved Rain over to sit with them, and the spy took the last steps. Only trained eyes would notice how easily and deftly they pulled out a chair and slid onto its hardwood seat without a sound.

The grin faded from the innkeeper's face. He leaned over the table, grabbed his tankard, and raised it between them.

"Good show, good show. But in these whereabouts, it's not proper polite to wear hoods and hats 'n masks in the presence of your fellow countrymen, jester."

Rain nodded. Slowly.

A hand gloved in black and silver finery crept to the mask. Into the hood. A latch and buckle clicked, thin fingers clutched the faceguard and removed it.

A lock of curly black hair flopped down before a narrow forehead, a set of piercing amber eyes, and the angular features of a long and symmetrical face devoid of facial hair. Rain's thin lips twitched, suppressing a smile in response to seeing the faces of two of the men fall—having expected to see a woman's face revealed behind the mask, now uncertain over what they beheld. The third was intrigued.

This range of reactions—it always amused Rain.

"Come, drink," said the innkeeper. His face beamed less with enthusiasm and more with curiosity as he turned.

Slapped the table again, causing the plate with the candle and a knife on it to clatter.

He shouted over his shoulder.

"Woman! We have a new guest for the night! More ale!"

Soon waddled from another room a woman dressed like a maid, muted earthen colors as her garb and skin flushed red from the heat of the kitchen.

Her eyes lingered for too long on Rain, searching the jester's figure for defining form and drinking in the sharp features of their face. The innkeeper noticed the awkward pause, and the spy felt his burning glare as it rested upon them.

"Give this good man his drink and get on with it," snarled the innkeeper.

Rain bothered not to correct him. Rain never did.

The woman fumbled with the fourth tankard of ale and placed it in front of Rain, some of its contents sloshing over the edge and splashing the tabletop, and not once did she break eye contact with the mysterious jester-dressed spy.

She had a strange air about her. The spy struggled sometimes to read overly subtle expressions, and the long road and the longer day had been too long for them to dwell on whatever they could have read in her face. Sorrow, perhaps. Despair, possibly.

Rain's lips twitched again, this time forming a timid smile. They nodded. The innkeeper's wife eked out a crooked smile of her own—genuine, warm, but feeble.

"There we go," said the innkeeper.

The very moment Rain picked up the fourth tankard presented to them, the innkeeper clapped a meaty palm onto Rain's bony shoulder and hugged them close, clinking their tankards together in a motion of merriment. The woman retreated into the kitchen, taking her time to peel her gaze away from Rain's captivating presence.

Asked one of the other men, "You don't talk much, eh?"

Rain shook their head. Kept a straight face.

The best way for a spy to be forgotten is to give them only what you want them to remember. The less you spoke, the harder it was to recall how exactly you sounded. So spake the master. These men would only remember the garish colors and the fanciful dancing, reckoned Rain.

"I know what I said, and I am a man of my word, but I'll tell you what. Drink's on me, stranger. You wanna pay less for the room, then you let us hear your voice—just once."

The innkeeper grinned. Missing a front tooth. Bad breath, damp and warm upon Rain's cheek.

Rain smiled, though they had to force it. It did not reach the spy's eyes.

"You're too kind," said Rain. Smoky, silky, and smooth.

One of the men gaped while the other squinted, both still unable to determine the spy's gender.

Copper coins jingled as they danced on the table. One of them almost landed on its edge, then toppled over to join the rest. Nobody had ever seen the "jester" produce them, or where on their body the currency had come from. Like all good magicians, they only saw what Rain wanted them to pay attention to.

Rain lifted the tankard to their lips and gulped away. And gulped. And gulped.

The three men watched in stunned silence. The logs in the fireplace crackled, exploding with a tiny shower of embers. Rain continued to gulp away until having downed at least half the tankard.

They finally paused, swallowing before a belch could arise. Exhaled sharply.

The men still stared. Brows arched, their curiosity still burning.

"It has been a long day for me, so if you'll excuse me, I shall retire for the night," said Rain. "Thank you very much for all your hospitality."

Smiled again, this time more in earnest. Gently put the tankard down and slipped out of the innkeeper's uncomfortable embrace—and out of the chair. Slinked away to the nearest flight of stairs. All eyes on them.

Rain swiveled and performed another low bow, as elegant as the entrance they had made, permitting rings to jingle once more.

Said one of the three, "G'night."

The other two nodded as a courtesy. Then they exchanged curious glances amongst each other, and Rain was already up the stairs, making nary a sound.

They poked their head into the rooms to confirm they were meant for guests, then chose the one in which the weakest smells lingered. It still reeked of onions and stew, but it would serve. The spy opened the window to let some air in while undressing. This attire always cost a lot of time to get in and out of.

Just like armor.

Armor for the identity.

The best way for spies to protect themselves from harm was to wear the proper clothing. For the right attire helped others manage expectations and manipulate them into not ever even wishing to do the spy any harm. So spake their master.

Outside, the storm whipped heavy drops of rain against the window, soon closed for the night by the spy to keep the cold and wet elements at bay. The sound of the downpour and the long and thunderous rumbles had a soothing quality to them, lulling them to sleep. Slowly but surely.

It had been a long day.

Rain jolted awake.

The rain had stopped. The storm had subsided.

The darkness of night had blanketed almost everything, broken only by silver moonlight that poured in through the window.

Neither the spy nor the man standing inside the ajar door to the room had seen how fast it happened, only the flash of the dirk, gleaming in that moonlight, held out in front of Rain. A sharp tip pointed at the man.

He blinked. One of the three men from earlier—not the innkeeper.

The smug sense of superiority admixed with a hint of fear as he went cross-eyed in staring at the pointy tip of the blade.

Said the man, "Pardon. Did not know you was in here." Drunken slurring rounded off each word.

He grinned, but it looked forced.

Rain just stayed sitting in bed, measuring the four paces of distance between them, the blade held steady and pointed at the bothersome man's face. They said nothing in response.

"I'll be leaving, then. Unless you want some company to warm your bed?"

Rain shook their head.

He grunted and closed the door behind him.

Rain sheathed the dirk in one fluid motion, then slumped back down into the uncomfortable straw-stuffed bed. The wooden frame creaked.

They sighed. Clamped their eyes shut and twisted and turned under the heavy, coarse blankets, trying to find slumber anew. Exhaustion from the road returned. Rain's world went dark once more.

Commotion from downstairs made Rain jolt awake again.

More time had passed.

The moon had wandered across the sky, judging by how its silver rays now bathed the interior of this guest room in a different light.

The innkeeper shouted something. Swearing, muffled through door and floor and walls. His maid-wife shouted something back.

Things clattered.

They fought with words and objects.

The familiar sound of a slap echoed through these halls.

Sobbing. Another slap, a cry in pain. More clattering.

Rain twitched. Twisted and turned. Rubbed their eyes, pinched the bridge of their nose, then gazed at the sheathed dirk leaning against the wall right within reach beside the bed.

Fighting the urge to act, they closed their eyes again, hoping to get more sleep. The noise might stop soon, after all. Why endanger the objective by interfering in some animated lover's spat?

The best way for a spy to succeed on their mission was to not get distracted. Distractions led to mistakes, and mistakes led to failure. In the end, the mission was all that mattered. So spake the master.

There was no need to get violent, reckoned Rain. They could just threaten the innkeeper a little bit to mediate matters, perhaps. The spy was very good at mediation. People rarely got hurt. Just a gesture here, a little threat there, and they would be quiet again.

But this was permitting distraction—even just thinking about ways to silence the fight downstairs. Rain perished the thought, and Rain's mind quieted again. The noises downstairs had stopped. Perhaps sleep would come again easily.

Several slaps followed, making Rain flinch more each time. The wet sound of something hard like wood or metal hitting human flesh. Repeatedly. The sobbing choked, sounds of pain and misery mixed in from the woman's subdued wailing, interrupted by brutal strikes.

The spy emitted a soft sigh.

Swung their feet out of bed with the grace of a trained dancer. Slipped on the jester's jacket—a tunic lined with several hidden daggers.

Rain made no sound on the way down.

Found the innkeeper standing over his maid-wife, who lay on the ground, sprawled out. Blood had sprayed iron pots and the door to the pantry. The innkeeper held the crude weapon in his hands; a now-bent pan clutched in a meaty fist.

A single slipper of the wife lay elsewhere, astray, the other still dangling from her twitching foot. It smelled of cooked chicken and rust in the kitchen. Two smells Rain never connected but would not easily forget.

A dark pool spread out underneath the woman. She tried to lift herself up from it, but her arms buckled like the legs of a newborn foal. Funny how closely that death and new lives danced together, reckoned Rain.

She looked like she was dying. They would have to act quickly if the innkeeper's wife was to survive the night. And the man raised his improvised weapon high over his head, ready to bring it crashing down in another, potentially fatal blow.

The final step that the spy took to enter the kitchen fully, they allowed some rings on the jacket to jingle.

The innkeeper's head snapped around. He glared at Rain with murder in his eyes.

Growled with a sneer, "What in the hells do you want?"

Rain said nothing.

Let the daggers do the talking. Let them spell out the name.

Rain 'o Blades.

The innkeeper gurgled and the bent pot fell from his hand, banging against the floor and ringing out from there until it stopped bouncing. He pawed helplessly at the knife sticking out of his throat and gripped the one in his belly with a trembling hand.

Rain had crossed the distance with little pause, a deadly pirouette accompanying the motion as two more small blades gleamed in the glow of fire and moonlight. Blood sprayed and then two more knives were sticking out of the man's body. Yet more blood splattered from his insides as Rain yanked out the first two to spell his demise.

The man continued to gurgle as he clutched his opened wounds where blood pumped out at an alarming rate—alarming to the man, at least. A cacophony of falling kitchen utensils and pots erupted as he dragged the entire surface of a table down to the floor with him in his final fall.

"You're going to pay, you basta—"

Whoever of the other two men had entered the same door as Rain just to utter that oath, two more knives greeted him. No gurgling escaped his throat, just a hoarse groan as he slowly teetered back and forth, a face gaping with surprise and one eye wide open while the other had a knife sticking out of it.

Rain already knelt by the woman in the puddle of blood before the dead man hit the floor. The spy turned her over and cradled her head in their hand.

Eyes white, rolled back. Her crinkled chin quivered, allowing only unintelligible whimpers as the lifeblood continued to spill from her skull.

The spy had seen this sort of trauma before. Too late to save her, no such magic commanded they. The only magic Rain knew was mundane, the methods of toying with simple men's senses, the art of deception, and the sorcery of blades in the dark.

Gingerly, they placed the woman back down, bedding her in her own growing pool of blood.

They produced another knife from the jacket and inserted it. Lovingly. Slipped it right in, underneath the chin, driving the blade right from the soft gap into the brain. Stopping that mouth from flapping uselessly like a fish suffocating on land.

Ending it quickly for her.

The best way for a spy to complete their mission was to complete it without bloodshed, because blood always left a trail. So spake the master. But sometimes, death was inevitable. So, also, spake the master.

And sometimes, death was a mercy. So thought Rain.

They held her in her final moments. Her spark of life slowly dulled until fate snuffed it out entirely.

Rain slowly rose to their feet again. Undergarments stained with dark crimson from the carnage.

Wooden floorboards creaked. Something heavy hit the ground. Rain was out of the kitchen like a flash of lightning. The third man fled towards the inn's front door. Ripped it open, letting it slam against the wall.

He had seen everything.

When all had gone wrong, the best way for a spy to stay hidden was to leave no witnesses. So spake the master.

A lesson Rain always despised but understood the necessity of.

The third man took five flying daggers to the back. Rain did not rush, hurling two at a time with deadly precision, walking at an almost leisurely pace after him, slowing him down with each additional knife launched. A sixth blade flew right into the man's nape, and he collapsed outside, face down in the mud.

His hand helplessly clenched the muck, and mud oozed out between his fingers, just as painfully slow as the life escaped his body and his soul passed on to the afterlife.

Rain sighed once more.

Looked skyward. Observed and pondered.

The rolling thunder rumbled farther in the distance. Though the clouds still hung heavy in the moonlit sky, they had parted, and the rain had long stopped.

Not even a faint drizzle remained.

A short rest at best, this was no longer a safe place to stay. Lights still glowed inside the inn, but it had fallen deathly silent.

Now, Rain would have to go against the best ways for a spy to do anything.

Fully garbed and armed again, all daggers cleaned and back in their rightful place, and the porcelain mask back on their face; Rain stood outside the burning inn. Flames licked outwards from the ground floor windows, and the inside of the establishment glowed brighter than ever before.

The Boot of the Cockfosters would be little more than a husk come morning.

By the time anybody could investigate, the spy would have long snuck away across the hillocks, spending a miserable night in a cold crypt to get some muchly needed sleep.

But before all of that, Rain o' Blades unfolded the folded parchment that had been hidden inside their jacket this entire time.

The message.

The mission.

The best way for a spy to ensure their survival was to never read any messages they had been tasked to deliver. So spake the master. And so, Rain ignored the lesson, as this night had been a lesson of its own.

The note read:

PZHZERI UZROVW ZMW RH YFIRVW. GSLFTS IVTIVGGZYOV GL VMW GSV YOLLWORMV GSFH, GSV PMRTSG’H XSROW NFHG WRV HL GSV UZNROB’H HVXIVGH TL GL GSV TIZEV DRGS GSVN. HL HKVZPH GSV NZHGVI. NZPV RG JFRXP.

Rain studied the note. Let their eyes scan over the cryptic arrangement of letters. Then again. And again. All the while searching memories for different ciphers to unlock the meaning of this message.

Once they had understood, anger guided their slender hands—crumpling up the parchment and stuffing it back into their jacket in a huff.

The best way for a spy to live long and die peacefully in their bed one day was to carefully heed the master's every lesson. The best way for a spy to succeed at any mission was to not get personally or emotionally involved. So spake the master.

But that night, Rain decided that their master's way was no longer the best way. Watching the inn burn brightly, they found a new resolve. A new purpose. Someone to protect. A quest to prevent being a mere witness of another innocent death at best, or an instrument of murder at worst. A quest to shed any willful blindness towards the woes of the unfortunate.

That night, walking away from the inn burning bright, Rain decided to blaze their own trail. To no longer serve as a spy. To no longer bow to any kings or masters.

To make their own best way.

—Submitted by Wratts

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northcarolinanative · 5 years ago

Text

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝟻)

Chapter 5: The Bigger Picture

A/N: WOW! Y’all are so sweet and amazing <3 Here is Chapter 5. Tension is building, kinda. This is so s l o w burn that it’s hurting me. I kinda want this to be about more than just a romance tho? Especially in the beginning, but I am working on the other chapters, and where it is heading, I promise! Bare with me haha! Also I have no clue if those maps exist or if that’s even a thing. I’m just making it up, but it could be right haha.

I practically dragged JJ through the front door of the Chateau. “What’s all this about Y/N” JJ finally asked as you both walked through the kitchen. I pulled my keys out of my pocket, fiddling on the keyring, finding the small golden key. I held it up to JJ, rattling the other keys, a smile plastered to my face. “A key? How exactly is that supposed to help us Y/N?” I rolled my eyes in response. I turned to the door, just on the side of the living room.

My dad’s office.

As long as I could remember, I was never allowed in there for extended periods of time. I would wander in some late nights when he left the door cracked, or to bring him a glass of water and a snack. I could see him now thinking back, hunched over the desk, glasses low on his nose, pen in one hand, the other holding the map that he was marking up.

“Ah. Y/N. Taking care of your old man, making sure I stay alive I see” and he would chuckle, but I didn’t. I left, and days later her disappeared, he was killed all because of that stupid shipwreck, just like my brother.

I rummaged through a few things, pulling binders down and looking through the first few pages. JJ looked over at me, honestly worried. I mean if I was watching someone else in my position I probably would be too. I know I probably looked crazy, I was grasping at short, short straws. It was all because I was not ready to give up on my brother just yet. I found the binder labeled “Ship maps”. I pulled it out and handed it to JJ. Okay, maybe this was a little far-fetched, but it was something.

JJ took it carefully out of my hand. He hesitantly looked at me before looking down at the map, slowly unfolding it. I started to tap my fingers against the table. My nerves were on edge as JJ looked between the map he was unfolding and me. His hand reached down to cover mine that was tapping at an annoyingly fast pace. I bit my lip as he looked over the map.

He furrowed his brows and looked up at me. “What am I looking at exactly?” He questioned. I laid the map out on the table. I couldn’t blame him, if my dad had not been into this stuff I wouldn’t know what was happening either.

“Okay so here,” I pointed to one of the lines that were on the page, and traced it down the coast of North Carolina, to where it landed in a port in Charleston, “is the route that the ship was recorded to talk, based off of the sonar and the GPS in it. Ya know, the kinda thing that the bigger, hauling, cargo ships have? For the long trips?” I finished looking for the key.

JJ slowly nodded his head looking at me. He could tell I might be on to something, he just was not quite sure yet. I flipped up the side of the map, just the first panel, and it showed an elaborate excel table, filled with numbers and symbols. “Here” I pointed to one of the highlighted symbols along the path that I previously traced, “Is…” I took my other hand to skim the table to the side, trying to find the matching color and symbol. “Ah. Here.” I tapped the symbol in the table, JJ leaned closer to me making my breath hitch involuntarily, we were so close, we were touching, practically no space between us. “See here it says that this ship reached 35.1146° N, 75.9810° W, on Saturday, May 14th, 2007, at…” I followed the line with my finger, 16:45” I finished my rant.

“Okay.” JJ breathed out, his brows still knitted close together. I could see the worry in his eyes. At this moment I could not see it, but he thought I might have been going crazy, things are starting to get to me.”Y/N, this is great, but I don’t know what this has to do with John B.” He sighed. “But I'm not gonna lie, a girl who knows her way around the ocean, the commanding voyage out to sea, boss babe style, kinda hot Y/N” JJ joked, trying to lighten the mood and his worry, then he realized how close we were, but he didn’t move.

I let out a laugh. It felt natural, which was nice. “I'm being serious JJ,” I said, still laughing and pushing his shoulder back.

“Whatever you say,” He paused. “Princess.” I rolled my eyes looking back over the map. “What does all this mean though? How is this map, from before we knew what the Merchant was, going to help us find John B?”

“Ah, you have to think bigger JJ. You see if we can get the coordinates of the Phantom’s last signals, where it was found, or where it could have been between last night and when they pulled it up, we can cross-reference that, with any boats that may have come through. If we can somehow get a map from any of those larger companies, maybe the ferries, hell we might even be able to get it off the internet. We can see if any boats came around then start from there?” I said, but it sounded like a question. “I know that it’s barely anything, but it’s something JJ!’ I continued rambling. “If the ships picked up JB and Sarah, pulled them on board, then maybe…” I didn’t know how to finish the thought. I looked up from the scattered maps to JJ.

JJ stared blankly at the maps then up at me. He both put his hand on the sides of my face and just looked at me. He probably thought I was crazy, that I was losing my mind. “You’re a genius Y/N” He then placed a quick dramatic kiss on the top of my forehead. “Seriously, I never would have even thought to look into any of that.” He stepped back. I was slightly taken about by his actions had we always been this touchy with one another when John B was around. “So where the hell do we start Nancy Drew?” JJ said, rubbing his hands together making me laugh.

“The ferry would be a good place?” I said shrugging my shoulders. “But I haven't exactly thought that far ahead” I laughed a little, and saw a smile still on JJ’s face.

“Then we’ll start at the ferry’s office!” JJ said moving out of the office. I looked up and around the room. At all the research that my father did. All the books that line the walls, the maps hung up, all of it. I wanted to get rid of it. My skin felt hot and I could feel it turning red. I gripped the table tightly, hoping the anger would pass. A picture frame on the wall caught my attention. I lifted it from the hook it was sitting on. In the frame was a picture of the Royal Merchant, labeled and matted. Stuck on the outside of the glass, covering the lower corner of the Merchant was a picture of the three of us, John B, my dad, and I. It was taken a few summers ago by our neighbor, we had come back from a long day out on the boat fishing. I felt tears start to form in my eyes. My back was facing the door so I didn’t see JJ enter the room. He came up behind me, putting his hands on either of my shoulders. He looked down at the photos in my hands.

I reached one hand up to wipe a stray tear. I was so sick of crying. “I can’t believe that a shipwreck from the 1800s made me lose two of the most important people in my life.”

“I know” JJ spun me around to look at him. “You have a plan,” He said smiling

“We’ve got a plan” I corrected him. “Actually, before we head out on this chase, do you think you could help me with something?” I said softly.

“Anything,” JJ replied. The worried look still in his eyes.

“Can you help me clean up here?” I looked around at the mess, from when I got here, and the mess that I had just made. “I don’t know, I just want to clean it up, lock the door, and not think about it for a while,” I said, starting to fold-up maps.

“Of course.” JJ smiled starting to close up binders and arrange them on the shelf. “If you were going to use me as a maid Routledge, you could have at least bought me one of those cute costumes?”

I pretended to gag. “JJ that is an image that I did not need in my head.”

“You may not have needed it, but I bet you’re enjoying it.” He winked in my direction. I felt the blush creeping back onto my face.

“In your dreams J,” I said with a laugh.

CH 6

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dsoe-masteroftheheavenlyyard · 4 years ago

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Chapter 4–The Heroes; Scene 4

master of the heavenly yard pages 79-89

Eventually everyone had opened their eyes, and were all gathered around Arth in the Hall of Mirrors.

They all wound up discussing what they would do now.

“—I think we ought to keep watch here,” Prime Minister Minis declared openly, his expression reserved. “At this point in time we are outnumbered by our enemy. And when the main unit is added on to it—Not to mention, they are people from a time period much later than ours, and obviously they are highly skilled with weapons. By contrast, there are…many people here who know nothing of combat. We have no hope of victory.”

“Even so, that doesn’t mean we can just leave the princess in danger, yannow!”

The one who countered him there was Chartette, who had been a maid attendant on the princess.

“But she’s not necessarily in danger, is she?” said Retasan Fortress’ commander Lily as she walked forward.

“Obviously she is, yannow!”

“But Riliane has died and become a soul just like the rest of us. It’s not like they can do anything further to her now, right?”

“—I’m not so sure.” The person who interjected there was the head maid, and also one of the Three Heroes, Mariam. “Those men outside must know that too. And yet the fact that they’re chasing the princess despite that…Perhaps they know some method to kill souls further, or even have them erased.”

“Does such a method exist, Mariam?” asked Riliane’s mother, Queen Anne.

“I don’t know…But there was once someone who had the ability to freely transfer souls. If that person were involved—”

“Who—do you mean?”

“…Abyss I.R. The woman who killed my parents and raised me to be an assassin.”

The moment that name left Mariam’s lips, a commotion began among several people.

“You’re the adopted daughter of Abyss I.R. …This is first I’m hearing of it.” Germaine didn’t hide her surprise.

“Yes. This is the first time I’ve told that to anyone—Or rather, I myself had lost my memories of it before. How ironic that I finally remember now after becoming a spirit. …Well, that aside. Whatever the case, though she may be a disembodied soul we can’t definitively say that she’s safe.”

“To put it another way,” For the first time Arth, who had been quietly listening to everyone else’s opinions, opened his mouth. “If we were to face off against those others…there’s a non-zero chance that we will be erased ourselves.”

An unpleasant silence fell over the room.

“…Can I say one thing?” cut in a bespectacled man with his hand raised.

“And you are?” Arth asked his name.

“This is our first time meeting, Your Majesty. I am the merchant, Keel Freezis.”

“I see. …So then, do you have a suggestion?”

“The weapons that the troops outside carry—Judging by appearance, I would think those are guns. As Prime Minister Minis just said, they are most likely much more powerful than the matchlock weapons we are more familiar with.”

“That seems certain, assuming that the flow of time is consistent with advancements in technology.”

“Right. But, as they are also spirits like us, then it follows that those weapons are illusions borne out of their imagination. Just like this palace, and the clothes we’re all wearing. So then—what if we also created guns like the ones they’re carrying with our ‘imagination’? If we do, we’ll be on even ground in the way of weapons, at least.”

“Hmm…Good point.”

But someone appeared who went against Keel’s view.

“I think that might be tricky, Papa.”

Unexpectedly enough, it was Keel’s own daughter, the novelist Yukina.

“Why is that, Yukina?”

“It’s true that we souls are able to create things that used to exist on the ground world by using our imaginations. But…after doing some experimenting, it seems there are limits to it.”

“Limits?”

“Yeah. It’s simple. The things we can create—are only that which the soul in question had knowledge and experience with when they were alive. For example…I’ll show you right now—Hah!”

The moment Yukina called out, she was holding a rifle in her hand.

It was exactly like those of the Tasan army soldiers in design.

“And now, with this gun…Miss Lily, could you go stand at that wall over there?”

“…? Sure, like this?”

Immediately after Lily went to stand at the wall at Yukina’s instruction—

“--!? Ow!”

--Yukina aimed the gun at her and fired.

“…As you can see, while in appearance it may resemble a modern weapon, its power is only that of the matchlock variety from our time. So it doesn’t have much point to—”

“Just wait one second, Yukina! Why did you fire it at me!?” Lily yelled at Yukina, clutching her abdomen with both hands.

“Oh, well I just, I figured you were the most sturdy out of everyone here…”

“There are plenty of other tough guys around here! And ya didn’t need to shoot at anyone in the first place!”

There was a murmur of laughter among those watching the two argue.

…But it quickly came to a stop.

Ultimately, they still hadn’t come to a resolution.

“…”

It seemed that Arth was thinking about something as he remained silent—

Eventually he spoke out to the crowd, appearing to have made up his mind, “As you can expect—I cannot leave my daughter in danger. I intend to do battle to stop those soldiers. …The kingdom of Lucifenia is no more, and we are little more than lifeless souls. There are many among you who once served Lucifenia—who served directly under me—but there is no need to observe that any longer. I wish only for those who…want to protect Riliane to fight alongside me.”

Everyone listened to Arth speak in silence.

But…no one immediately raised their hand at his suggestion.

“My King. I’m sorry, but…I dunno if you understand our feelings here.”

A large, one-eyed man took a step forward from among the assembled crowd.

“York…It’s been a while.”

“--! You remember a lowly soldier like me?”

“How could I forget? You sustained that wound on your eye protecting me.”

“There was that. But that’s a thing of the past now. Yes, the long ago past…My king, we have--grown too used to peace. We died and went to heaven, and in that garden of Champs-Élysées we have led lives without strife. Though you ask us to fight again, this late in our existence…I just can’t get on board.”

“…I do understand. It’s true there is something about that place that puts one’s heart at ease. It felt very comfortable for me as well.”

“That ain’t all. Well, it might be a bit off for me to say despite coming to this banquet all nonchalantly like this, but…You know what your daughter did, don’t you? For the people of Lucifenia, Riliane was nothing less…than a ‘Daughter of Evil’. I haven’t got the heart to hate her after so long…but I also can’t bring myself to wanna fight on behalf of that princess if it means puttin’ myself in danger. And I wager that’s true of everyone else here.”

“…”

Arth knew that York didn’t say those things out of any malice.

He had done nothing more than air his honest opinion after thinking on the matter himself.

“Does this mean my daughter’s…Riliane’s sins are unforgiveable, after all?”

“Those men outside called the princess a ‘criminal’, didn’t they? You might not wanna hear it, but maybe they’re right—”

At that moment, Germaine—who had been listening in from behind—whispered:

“Her sins can never be forgiven—Is that truly so?”

York turned around.

“Germaine…”

“Riliane did commit sins. But—she was also given an equivalent ‘punishment’.”

“You mean that she was beheaded on the guillotine?”

“…Yes.”

“Germaine…You think that I don’t know?”

“Huh?”

“—We executed a fake. Someone else was executed standing in for the princess.”

“Yes…So you knew.”

“The revolution had succeeded, and for a time peace had come to Lucifenia. That fact alone was enough for me, so I never spoke out about it.”

Just as York said, the person who was executed in the town square after the revolution was not Riliane, but her brother Allen.

“True, she survived after the revolution…But, York. ‘Punishment’ doesn’t just refer to dying for what you’ve done. Rather, sometimes living on is more painful than death.”

“…”

“I won’t ask you to understand. …I’m sure everyone else has their own thoughts on it. But I, at the very least—I don’t think we can just abandon Riliane.”

Germaine drew her sword, and held it aloft before Arth.

“Your Majesty. I, Germaine Avadonia…Do hereby vow to offer my sword for the princess of Lucifenia, Riliane.”

Amidst the crowd’s murmurs, Arth said to Germaine with a resolute expression, “…Thank you, Germaine.”

--There was someone who stood apart from the crowd, watching this sight with a wine bottle in hand.

He threw the bottle in his hand to the floor, gently lifted his hands, and started slowly clapping.

Clap, clap, clap.

“—That was wonderful. What a heroic young lady. Wish I could see her father’s face right now. …I bet he’s quite handsome, and the best swordsman in the world, besides.”

Germaine, and everyone else, turned to look at him.

“…Dad…”

The swordsman clad in red armor, Leonhart Avadonia, walked forward until eventually he stood by his daughter.

“That’s right, Arth. Lucifenia’s legendary king, and the leader of the Revolutionary army. Add on to that the red lion knight, the strongest of the Three Heroes. With the three of us, I’m sure we’ll manage somehow against an army that size.”

“Leon—”

“Oh, but it’s not just three of you, is it?”

Queen Anne, who had been silent all this time at Arth’s side.

She slowly stood before Leonhart.

“Naturally, We’re coming along too.”

She took her folding fan in hand and raised it above Germaine’s sword.

“Sigh…Good grief, I guess there’s no helping it.” As Mariam sighed, at some point her maid outfit changed to her battle uniform. “Though I’d be more reassured if Elluka were here…Honestly, I wonder where she’s loitering around now.”

As she grumbled to herself, she held her knife toward the king.

“W-waaaait a minute!” Chartette cried as she dashed up to Arth and the others, carrying a sword so enormous that it was completely at odds for a maid to be wielding it. “I was planning to help from the beginning, yannow! I just—got caught up in the mood around here!”

“Chartette…We’re grateful to you, but could you put down that gargantuan sword? It’s poking into my shoulder.”

“Ah…Sorry, Mister Leon.”

After that, several other people there began to step forward in twos and threes.

Some were in high spirits, and some were hesitant—but they vowed to join in the fight.

--Watching all of this, Keel murmured, “I wonder if they were moved by Germaine’s words, or if they’ve simply been swept up in mob mentality…Well now, what’s wrong?”

As he spoke, he glanced over at Yukina to his right.

…Even just looking at her from the side, he could see that the eyes of his beloved daughter were openly shining.

“Such a dramatic development…I have no choice but to join in too!”

The moment she said that, she sprinted up to the king and the others, carrying her notebook in hand.

“…Oh dear. I guess I can’t just run off on my own now.”

As Keel stared on in bafflement, a hand fell on his left shoulder.

“Keel, you oughtta stay here. You’ll just get in the way.”

“What an unkind remark—Kyle. They need to have at least one person who’s got brains, don’t they? …Even you, albeit fairly skilled yourself, are far from the level of the Three Heroes. Would you fair alright?”

“Ha—”

The blue-haired man gave a bold smile.

“What’s this? You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

“Yukina gave me a good idea earlier. I guarantee it. We—will win this fight.”

“A guarantee from the king of Marlon, huh? How dependable.”

The two of them faced each other, and then, both smiling, walked up to the front as well.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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lliblo · 3 years ago

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BN06 Fangs and Explosion

Prompt:

Dragon Bakugo becomes infatuated with the bastard son of king All for One.

Izuku was kept secret from the kingdom but the citizens knew there was a younger son (Shigaraki being the older prince) but they had never seen him. If anyone did they’d know the boy was born out of some cursed wedlock with his unnatural green hair.

What no one knew, except for the king, was that the young prince Izuku was mothered by a dragon. The evil king tricked her into falling in love with him believing she would pass on an ancient ability of legend to their offspring. (A prophecy said that his half drake son will possess such power) But the boy was born without the quirk of a dragon (no magic, no dragon form). He wasn’t even that impressive by human standards. Unfortunately it took 5 years to find that out and by then everyone already knew of Izuku’s existence, even if they hadn't seen him that much or known of his hair, so it was too late to have the boy disposed of. Enraged he killed Izuku’s mother(Izuku was unaware of this. She was locked in the castle dungeons and he never knew of her existence). Izuku lived his life neglected but still lived with the luxuries of a prince though was moved to a secluded estate at the edge of the kingdom near the forest. The only one to raise him was the kind hearted woman, Inko, who worked in the kitchen but was basically the unofficial head of the household.

Bakugo didn’t know it but a part of him could sense the dragon blood in Izuku. That’s what drew him to the boy.

When he was still a hatchlings he would sneak into the prince’s garden on the secluded estate. At first he just visited the small boy as a lizard. (Magic designs hatchlings making them look like cat sized lizards. Not uncommon creatures in this world) then when he got his quirk he could control his magic. After that he visited the boy in a human form. He look like a little wild thing running around barely clothed with tribal gear. Izuku didn’t mind the brash noisy yet oddly secretive boy. He just wanted a friend. Bakugo hid around the adults. Inko was the only one that saw glimpses of him and thought he might be a spirit of the forest. She hoped that he would take Izuku away from his fate. They would be far more kind to him then the king, very few knew of his tyrannical ways since he liked to keep a good image with the public.

From ages 5-12 they played together in secret. The only thing that stopped them was when Izuku was sent away to get a higher education so he’d be a suitable pawn to be used in a political marriage. He was sent far into the kingdom away from the border where Bakugo couldn’t follow.

Izuku was forced to dye his hair white to match that of his father. (An uncomfortable and gross presses that involve potions that burnt his scalp). He got educated, learning of politics and sword play but was treated poorly and often hurt and bullied. But he kept hold of the comforting memories of the imaginary friends he used to have. (It had to be right? Why else would there be a strange boy coming from the woods (did not know about Bakugo being a dragon))

It wasn’t until he moved to the castle at 18 years old that he accepted his role in life. He was to marry the younger princess of another kingdom and live his life as a lord of some estate as he followed his fathers orders. He would be caught in a loveless marriage and required to produce children to prolong the bloodline.

Over his teen years he’d come to accept that his dreams of going on adventures and seeing the world, becoming a hero of legend, was just that... a dream.

His life had nothing to look forward to but at least his childhood was happy. Even if it might have been the overactive imagination of a lonely boy.

News of the mirage spread far and wide since it would be the first step in the great kingdom acquiring another territory.

But no one anticipated the news spreading far enough to reach the ears of one particular dragon.

The notoriously bad tempered dragon of destruction, Katsuki Bakugo. He had grown into his magic and unique power of causing massive explosions. He was no longer a little lizard anymore but was now a matured dragon. It has been 6 years since he last saw the love of his life and he refused to let some weak ass human take what was his without a fight.

Even if Izuku didn’t remember, they made a promise to each other: the two would be the greatest warriors in the world! or heroes, whatever the nerd called them they were going to be the best.

He gathered some of his trusted clutch mates and under the cover of night they stormed the castle.

The castle panicked. Sure they had defensive against dragons but they were never prepared for a siege like this. Dragons had never been known to do that before. (Something Izuku knew for sure. He spent all of his free time studying the magnificent creatures. Something about them captivated him ever since he spotted the baby dragon when he was little. That, unlike Kacchan, was something he knew was real(Izuku never made the connection that the lizard was Kacchan))

They tore into the castle but never touched the town. Searching and prodding they looked for Izuku.

Bakugo caught the heartbreakingly familiar sent. He ripped open the castle roof like it was made of leaves and there he was.

His hair was white, his round face had grown into sharp handsome features but those eyes. Those eyes. Those kind passionate eyes would never change. Even if they looked fearfully up at Bakugo with a sword in hand as he protected a cluster of maids.

It wasn’t dragon steel so the sword has no effect on Bakugo as he swiped it out of the human’s hands. With an annoying scream from the maids, Bakugo snatched Izuku carefully in his jaws. (Izuku gets knocked out somehow)

Bakugo knew Izuku’s fate to the arranged marriage, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think that the king was as gracious as all the humans seemed to believe so to make everything easier for his heart he decided to fake the prince’s death. With many witnesses he tossed the unconscious body of Izuku to Froppy the frog dragon who could safely store things in a stomach pouch.

Though to outsiders... their beloved youngest prince was eaten by a dragon.

Note: I assume AfO and Shigaraki have some kind of powerful magic of their own.

Bakugo, being the entitled little lizard that he was at the time, see’s Izuku’s eyes for the first time and thinks they shine brighter then even the purest emeralds and decides that he wants them. Of course his little dragon obsession turns into love as he spends more time with Izuku, and he was determined to be the greatest mate in the world and make Izuku’s grand dreams come true.

Of course... he may have forgotten to mention his feeling to Izuku. He simply assumed Izuku knew about them. How else would you explain the way Izuku’s magic hummed with affection whenever Bakugo was around?

Or something. yeah take what you want from that.

Izuku is thought to be ‘magicless’ because he didn’t posses the quirk of a dragon... but All for One didn’t consider the fact that maybe the ancient magic he was looking for wasn’t draconic in origin.

This is one of those fics that you could have fun with! so have at it! Feral child Bakugo is always a favorite of mine and I really hope to one day get to this prompt myself.

Rules for Use:

Feel free to expand or alter if this inspires you!

Repost a link to your fic on this post (I wanna read it!!)

Give proper credit and link this post in the fic itself (Pretty please?)

Return To: LlibLo’s Fan Fiction Prompt Index

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moscnios · 4 years ago

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NOBODY BUT YOU ━ﾞ

⁺◟ CHARACTERS . . . kujo jotaro fem!reader kujo jolyne ‘ holly

⁺◟ GENRE . . . au fluff oneshot

⁺◟ SYNOPSIS . . . ( y/n ) is the princess of ( k/n ) and her family wishes for her to marry an honorable prince from another kingdom in order to form an alliance through marriage. but ( y/n ) has eyes for one man and one man only. her butler, jotaro, who shares a mutual love.

⁺◟ TRIGGER WARNINGS . . . mentions of blood ‘ wounds ‘ violence internalized misogyny ‘ bad parents ‘ killing ( but no one dies ) ‘ weapons

⁺◟ WORD COUNT . . . 4.4k.

⁺◟ COMMENTARY . . . probably a little ooc jotaro for this one because he’s actually pretty kind in this one lol. i hope it’s not too much though. i was told to write a oneshot, instead i felt like i wrote a plot for a short story. this now my second longest fic. there’s just something about jotaro that makes me wanna act up when i write about them. ( f/n ) ‘ father’s name ‘ ( m/n ) ‘ mother’s name ‘ ( k/n ) ‘ kingdom’s name ‘ ( h/n ) ‘ horse’s name

“Jojo, you do not have to hide, I know you’re there.”

A woman spoke up, as she sat on the edge of her bed looking out toward the wide window a few feet from her bed, closed, boarded up from the outside at the discretion of her own mother. Through the cracks, sunlight peered into the room alongside the other much smaller windows on the same stone wall.

She stretched, a sigh leaving her lips followed by a yawn. She looked over her shoulder looking her now wide-open door, there in the door frame stood a man with the height of just about two meters with his back turned to her.

The young woman giggled, “Are you shy, Jojo? Or...do you just do not like my appearance?”

“I am not shy nor do I dislike your appearance, princess. You are just underdressed and it would be appreciated if you were to cover yourself before I can attend to you,” The man answered, his voice was rough and a little mean sounding but she knew he meant no harm by it.

That name. Princess. Her title.

“Jojo, you know you don’t have to call me Princess, right? I mean, we’re friends, right? And I am the same age as you. You can just call me by my name,” She added, standing up from her glamorous bed and walking over to put on a silk robe that was gifted to her from a friend of her mother.

The man hummed, “I do know that...( y/n ) but out of respect for both you and your family, I have to refrain from referring to you so improperly and I must address you by your title.”

Princess ( y/n ), first and only daughter of ( f/n ) ( l/n ) and ( m/n ) ( l/n ) of the lovely kingdom of ( k/n ). A kingdom that prides itself on all of its resources natural and human. And it would one day be all ( y/n )’s one day in the near future.

As she was the only child her mother could bear, she cursed from the beginning of her life to take the throne when she would become an adult, as her mother did not bear a son.

It would all be hers...alongside a man, she would probably be forced to marry from another kingdom to form some type of alliance to share a throne she didn’t want in the first place.

She was a young princess, a bit curvy around the edges with the attention of many suitors from her own kingdom and those from afar. Men near and far would do just about anything to even catch a glimpse from her. Who could blame them? She was young, attractive, strong, could defend herself, independent, and very rebellious against her parents and everything her kingdom stood for.

Her rebellious behavior and independent attitude were not what ( k/n ) stood for and she knew that which made it all the better. She prided herself in not being like the princesses before herself. She didn’t want to be like her mother, she didn’t want to be like her ancestors. She wanted to be much more than that.

She wanted to be free of her duties and to live a quiet life outside of the kingdom. Away from the stress. Away from the suitors who wanted nothing more than to marry her, turn her into a powerless walking baby carriage, and strip her of her independence and strength by force, if necessary.

( y/n ) had learned from a young age to not trust the men around her, for that very same reason. Not even her own father, who wanted to marry her off years ago to ensure the kingdom would survive another 100 years and he would get grandchildren.

She had been failed by people she had trusted and was starting to lose hope that there was really anyone out there who she could trust.

And that’s when she met him. The man who stood at her door frame with his back facing her. The man who always made her heart flutter no matter what he did.

Jotaro.

A descendant of the Joestar bloodline, the direct descendant of the great and gentle soul Jonathan Joestar who fought against evil to avenge his father’s tragic death, dying himself before it was all done. Grandson of the cocky bastard whose legendary battle stories traveled across the world, Joseph Joestar.

Despite his bloodline, Jotaro had seemed to be the opposite of both his grandfather and his great-great-grandfather. He was, at first, delinquent. His name was known across the kingdom fairly quickly for a young man.

It all had started after a misunderstanding. A man had swung at him first and he simply defended himself, beating the man almost to death without even batting an eyelash. The incident quickly became known across the kingdom.

He would get into much more trouble after that but nothing that brought the king’s attention to him, that was of course before ( y/n ) had suddenly became involved.

The young princess had left the castle without her guards when she was supposed to be asleep. She had wandered into a pub on the outskirts of the kingdom in disguise, where she danced on top of a table until one of the few customers at the pub had tried to grab at her.

As the unknown man grabbed her wrist with one hand, with the other he pulled out a small dagger that was clearly homemade as the blade looked a bit uneven, but it sure was sharp as it pierced through the skin on her neck and drew blood.

The rest was a blur to her, the next thing she remembered was waking up in someone else’s bed, being looked after by a fair-headed woman with emerald eyes with a gentle smile. She learned her name, Holly.

Before she could explain, her son walked in, Jotaro. He had explained what happened and why she was here, as it slowly started to come back to her. When she returned back the castle, there she saw a huge search for not only her but a search for Jotaro as well.

Before she could find him and warn him, he was already found and arrested. There she ran, she ran home to the castle and that’s when she saw a sight that still haunts her dreams to this day.

Jotaro in a guillotine with both of her parents eagerly watching the scene before them. She let out a terrible shriek, gathering everyone’s attention before she ran through the crowd that was slowly forming to watch Jotaro’s execution. As she laid her head under the blade, crying, “DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL! LEAVE HIM BE! THIS MAN SAVED MY LIFE! YOU KILL HIM, YOU KILL ME! YOU’LL KILL THE FUTURE OF THIS KINGDOM AS WELL!”

He, along with everyone else, was surprised by her actions. The princess of ( k/n ) had laid her head down on the guillotine in order to save a commoner.

The crowd began to murmur, rumors began to spread. The execution was called off and Jotaro was set free...or at least he thought. While the crowd settled down, ( m/n ) had offered him anything he had wanted in order to keep him out of the picture, knowing he would ruin ( y/n ) precious image in the other kingdoms.

He declined her offer, saying those words that ( y/n ) would never forget, as it was the first moment she had ever felt her heart race for someone. It was like she knew she had loved him.

“I don’t want your money, your jewels...I don’t want anything you can give. What you can do is listen to your daughter, Queen ( m/n ). It doesn’t seem like you don’t do a lot of that. Take care, Princess ( y/n ).”

“I’m decent now, Jojo. You can turn around,” ( y/n ) added, leaning against one of the nightstands, folding her arms across her chest.

He looked around her room, “It is awfully late for you to be just waking up, your highness. Where are your maids?”

She sighed, “I sent them away. I didn’t want to get out of bed today. I told them I have come down with something and I do not wish to get them sick. Getting those old women to leave me alone is such a pain in my sides. They kept insisting until I had to literally push them out of the room and shut the door. I can’t catch a break around here I guess.”

“Well, you are meeting another suitor today, your highness,” He pointed out, his eyes had traveled down to his feet. Just saying those words made him sick. He hated when young woman had to meet suitors. Every prince that had walked through those doors didn’t want a companion to spend the rest of their days with, they wanted a woman they could return to whenever they wanted. He knew boys his age, they didn’t want marriage and they damn sure didn’t deserve the woman standing before him in a silk robe.

When she asked him to be her butler, he declined. He didn’t want to work for the very kingdom he didn’t want to be apart of and wanted him either dead or behind bars in a dungeon. But she didn’t give up and she had bothered him for weeks on end, begging him to be her personal butler and he would not have to answer to any of the kingdom staff and he could live on castle grounds with his mother if he pleased.

Growing tired of her begging, he finally accepted under the condition that his mother would not be treated like a maid, which ( y/n ) accepted as she had grown fond of Holly.

After spending more time with her, he realized his true feelings. The way his heart raced and how hard it was to hide even the slightest blush when she called him by his nickname, Jojo. How she trusted him even more than she trusted the castle staff who she had grown up knowing. How her soft hands would graced his own.

He had accepted that he was in love with her almost a year ago before her mother began to truly force courtship down ( y/n )’s throat in order to take the throne. She didn’t take it laying down, which was another thing he loved about her. Her rebellion toward her family and the traditional way of things.

“Oh, that’s right. Some wealthy prince where to buy his way into a marriage he doesn’t plan on putting effort into. I’ll pass,” She joked, making Jotaro give her a small smile.

“Did the cold Jotaro just...smile?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just messing with you, Jojo. So what should we do today instead of meeting my suitor? I was thinking we make a break for it with ( h/n ) and run out of ( k/n )’s gates at full speed. They’ll never be able to catch us!”

He raised an eyebrow, “Are you crazy? You’ll get me killed. Your mother already has a bounty on my head and is ready to kill me off at any moment. We are not to leave ( k/n ), especially not together. There are already rumors still floating through the kingdom about the two of us.”

Her face fell. The rumors, she almost forgot about those. The rumors of them being in a relationship. The rumors of him corrupting her and taking her innocence. While they hurt his image, they had pretty much tainted hers.

She would pretend they wouldn’t hurt, but they did, they always did. He knew that and he offered to disappear but she never wanted him to leave her or she would truly never trust anyone.

Jotaro let out a sigh, walking over to her, putting a finger on her chin to make her look up at him. It sent chills down her spine, looking at him like this with those blue-green eyes of his. He was even more gorgeous up close.

“Do not be sad, your highness. A rose bath will make you feel nice. I’ll fix your bath. While you bathe, I will clean your room. And then after, I will escort you to the main hall where your parents are waiting for you. ”

She nodded, “Thank you, Jojo.”

“No problem.”

He did just as he told, fixing her bath, pouring hot water into her wooden bathtub, filling it with rose red and pink rose petals before heading to her room where he “cleaned” as she bathed and relaxed. She was pretty much a clean woman already, there was much to clean besides some dusty spots. His eyes kept darting to the boarded-up window.

‘They truly do wish to lock her away like she is some animal, huh?’

The door to the room opened to reveal a familiar-looking woman, who wore a scowl on her face. ( y/n )’s handmaiden, “You should not be in here alone with Princess ( y/n ). You know the rules, Kujo. Should we relay them to you once more?”

He rolled his eyes, “I do not need your rules. You shouldn’t assume the worst of your princess now, should you?”

“Who are you to threaten me?!”

“You said my name, you know who I am. Princess ( y/n ) is currently in the bath and is getting ready to―”

The handmaiden blinked, “DID YOU SEE HER INDECENT?!”

“You are awfully protective for someone who jumps to conclusions.”

“Isabel, enough!” ( y/n )’s firm voice sounded through the room. The two looked over toward the bathroom door to see the young princess wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her body tightly, covering all it needed to, “Jojo has done nothing and has been always been nice and expected my boundaries, unlike the suitors you, mother and father try to marry me off to. He did not see me indecent and nothing has happened. Please do not assume the worst of him. He is only doing the job I asked him too.”

With a regretful look on her face, she turned to him. Their eyes locked, “You may leave now, Jojo. I should get ready for my suitor.” She turned to Isabel, “You too. I wish to dress myself this evening.”

The two bowed, going toward the door. Isabel had walked out, leaving the two young adults for a moment. She gave him a little smile, “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re planning something...aren’t you?”

“You know me so well. Wear the cutest suit you can find at home. I’ll be looking forward to it.” She gave him a wink. He did as he always did, pretended not to care and just walk off...before...he stopped, “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“No problem. It was wrong of her to accuse you like that.”

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, Princess? And your dress really compliments you in all of the right ways.”

Silence.

“Princess? Princess ( y/n )?”

The young princess rapidly blinked, turning to the young man standing to her side dressed in an outlandish suit that was crafted to his tastes. She shook her head, “My apologies, my head seems to be somewhere else at the moment. Could you repeat what you said?”

The young prince cleared his throat, gesturing toward her dress, “I said that you look absolutely beautiful tonight. Your dress truly compliments you in all of the right ways.”

( y/n ) looked down to the blush-colored dress she wore, one she pretty much squeezed herself, the tight corset crushing her sides only added to the extreme discomfort she felt along with being with him, the newest suitor.

Prince Andrew from a neighboring kingdom known for their crops. A man on the shorter side with ginger hair and pretty bad achy across his face. He was probably the least interesting of the many suitors who had asked for her hand in marriage so it was easy for her to get lost in her thoughts. All he talked about was how gorgeous she was and how an alliance between their two kingdoms would be amazing.

He lost her after hello. Besides she was too busy thinking about the man who occupied her heart. His smile, his eyes, his charm.

( y/n ) gave the young ginger prince a small smile, patting him on the back as a friend, “Prince Andrew, you must forgive me but I want to be honest with you because I see something in you that I never saw in any of my other suitors.”

“A possible alliance and marriage?” His eyes sparkled.

“Heavens no. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a sweet, smart, and talented man and I know any woman would be happy to be your queen, but I’m not one of them. We could be really good friends, but I don’t see a future marriage between us. We can still have an alliance, just not one through marriage,” She explained.

His head fell just below his shoulders and a sad expression printed on his face. She rubbed his back gently, “Prince Andrew, please do not sad.”

“There is a man who holds to key to your heart already, isn’t there?”

She stayed silent, letting out a sigh.

“The man...who holds your heart, is he a commoner?”

“He is.”

“That is why you do not wish to meet suitors. Your heart belongs to a commoner. I see. Does...does he love you too?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

“The commoner that you adore, is he Jotaro Kujo of the Joestar bloodline?”

“How did you...”

“We know all, Princess ( y/n ). When you threw yourself under a guillotine for him, talk began to spread not only through your kingdom but through all of the kingdoms. It is why your parents are ready to marry you off so fast. So you don’t end up marrying him and mixing your precious bloodline with that of the shameful Joestar bloodline. Why do you think he has yet to show up despite being your personal butler?”

“You know something I don’t know. Prince Andrew, I demand you to tell me! WHY HAS HE NOT SHOWN UP?!”

She grabbed the ginger by his collar, her hands shaking in fear of the unknown. Andrew let out a shaky sigh, “We were told Jotaro would be taken care of. He had two options. He could either let you go and leave as nothing happened or...”

“They’ll kill him. Andrew where do they plan to kill him?!”

“I’m not sure. I saw soldiers marching to the east gate.”

“That’s not far! Thank you so much, Andrew!” She released the ginger’s collar, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek, causing him to blush a deep shade of red.

She ran in the way of the east gate, praying that she would make it in time. Her dress starting to rip and shred in the tree branches and bushes, while it began to blackened from dust and dirt. During her run, she lost both her shoes and most of the bodice of her dress which was probably stuck on a stray tree branch. Cuts and scratches covered her arms and collarbones, but none of the stings got to her. The adrenaline in her body being the reason.

In her vision, she could see it. East gate. She could see a few torches and horses. As she got closer, running now through the grass she saw two soldiers, fully armed with swords in a hand the reigns of their horse in the other.

On the ground, in front of the soldiers there, he was in a now tattered suit, Jotaro.

“No...”

“We are giving you the chance to live and leave Princess ( y/n ) so she can be happy. Don’t you want her to be happy?” One of the soldiers spoke.

Jotaro whipped the corner of his mouth, glaring at the soldier, “Of course I want her to be happy but why would she happy among you liars and corrupted people. I’m not leaving this shitty kingdom without her. If you’re going to kill me then kill me. My mother will still be around to watch over ( y/n ) for me until we meet again in the afterlife because I know that she can protect herself from here on out and she’ll never let a man walk all over her ever again whether I walk out of here alive or not. And because I never got to say it allowed to her, I want to say it now so I do not die with regrets. I have come to the terms with it. I love her. I love ( y/n ).”

His confession made her heart race, as tears formed in her eyes. He did love her back. She made herself now, stepping out of the tall grass, Jotaro seeing the tattered blush-colored dress first and then her face, “ ( y/n )! What are you doing here?! Why aren’t you at the ball?!”

The young princess walked to his side, kneeling next to him, taking his hand into hers, “I said it once and I’ll say it again no matter how many times it takes. You kill him, you kill me! I wish for the same brutal death that he gets because I love him too!”

Jotaro looked to the young princess with a shocked look. She shared his feelings.

“And if I’m not marrying him then I do not wish to marry at all! Now take your sword and finish us! Do your worst!”

“WOAH! MOM DID THAT?! SHE’S SO COOL!”

Jotaro let out a little chuckle watching his now seven-year-old daughter jump and down in glee, repeating ( y/n )’s iconic phrase that she had become known for through her ongoing reign as queen of ( k/n ).

Of course, she went on to reign as queen to become queen after marrying the love of her life. It was a long road to get to that point, it was an even longer road to get her parents to let her marry him. It took a lot convincing on both sides but by some miracle one day the former king and queen caved in and said yes, as they saw that Jotaro had made ( y/n ) the strong woman she was today.

Not long after their marriage, ( y/n ) and Jotaro had become queen and king of ( k/n ). And on the day of their coronation, ( y/n ) discovered she was indeed pregnant.

Nine months later, the sweet baby girl was born.

Jolyne.

She was Jotaro’s pride and joy. ( y/n ) had already predicted that Jotaro would love her more than anything, as she watched him hold her the day she was born for hours, barely even speaking to her. Watching his eyes spark as he looked down at his daughter, it warmed her heart.

“Princess, I don’t see why you’re so excited to hear that part. I’ve told you the story of how your mother and I began dating many times.”

The black and green haired girl sat down on her bed, and folded her arms across her chest, “It’s still really cool! She took you in and made you a king.”

“That’s not―”

“That’s exactly right, Jojo,” A sweet voice chimed from behind the father-daughter duo. The two looked toward the door with the same look on their face. It was easy to tell they were related.

“MOMMY!” Jolyne climbed out of her bed, running to her mother, hugging her tightly. ( y/n ) smiled, hugging her daughter back tightly, “How is the Princess of ( k/n )?”

“Great! Just listening to Dad tell the story about how you two started dating. I want to be like you when I grow up.”

She patted her daughter’s head, “And you will be one day when you become queen. You’ll be even better than me. But it is time for the little princess to fall asleep and go to dreamland while Daddy and Mommy retire to our own chambers.”

As if it was on cue, Jolyne let out a yawn, rubbing her eyes. She slowly let go of her mother, returning back to her bed to allowing Jotaro to tuck her in tightly.

“Tomorrow, we will go to the stables and ride horses.”

“Yay!”

“Good night, Jolyne.”

“Good night, princess.”

“Good night, Mommy and Daddy.”

Jotaro kissed the top of Jolyne’s head, standing up from her bedside, blowing out the candle next to her bed, and walking out of the room with his wife. He closed the door gently, slowly inching away from it before sweeping ( y/n ) off of her feet, the woman let out a small yelp.

“J-J-Jotaro!”

“Does this bring back memories?”

( y/n ) giggled, wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck, “Of course it does. It was actually this very hallway that you picked me up and carried me down. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the night you “tainted” me forever, as my mother says.”

“All I did was kiss you.”

“J-J-Jotaro!”

“Yes, Princess ( y/n )?”

The man chuckled lowly, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, catching her off guard. He slowly pulled away, a dark blush formed on her cheeks as she stared at him with surprised eyes. “D-D-Do you just go around kissing girls like that?”

“Only girls named ( y/n ) ( l/n ),” He answered.

“Never took you for a romantic. You were cold and quiet. You barely even spoke to me back when first began meeting,” She pointed out.

His blue-green eyes looked into her ( e/c ) ones, “But you saved me. I’ve always been the one saving others and you saved me. You were the first person to risk your own life to save mine. Just like you, I didn’t trust many. And you walked into my life and I saved you, I expected it to end there but then they tried to kill me but you almost threw your life away for me. YOU, the Princess of ( k/n ), almost threw her life away for me, a commoner. Something changed in me that day. For a while, I didn’t know if it was good or not. But now that I have in my arms like this, I know it’s a good thing, Princess ( y/n ).”

“There you go with the title again, ruining the moment. You'll never learn huh?"

"I'll call you by your name when you marry me."

"That will be pretty soon."

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