#he may b tall but he will fly away in the wind . | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

namjoonchronicles · 4 years ago

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the money project | 1

↳ pairing seokjin x you

↳ genre melodrama, angst, enemies-to-lover, fake marriage, intense pining on each other

↳ words 5.5k

↳ summary growing up, you know for a fact that seokjin is the worst person on the planet and you could never see eye-to-eye because he is boastful and tall. when his father exiled him from the family registrar, and threatened him with homelessness, he resorted help from his father's favorite person a.k.a the last human on earth he'd rather talk to. he asked you to marry him. events unravel and seokjin may have not been as bad as you thought he was.

↳ warning strong languages, suggestive content

↳ song bts 'fake love (haunting vibe mix)', bts 'tear (string mix)'

The Americano is not bitter enough. Seokjin’s assistant starts wincing, and so are the rest of the members of the meeting. Some are immediately fetching for the bottle of water on the table to chase away the caffeine’s revolting after-taste— all of which sought no reaction from the company’s leader, the sole heir, Kim Seokjin. His stare was so intense, the shareholders could have sworn his ring finger could have been burnt by the looks of it. The presenter at the end of the table, face shone by the projector kept on talking through his stammers, seemingly afraid of the boss’s unengaging, unresponsive, most silent demeanor. His focus is fleeting and there’s only one reason why.

Aggressively yanking your clothes off while he practically plastered his lips on you, harsh breaths on your skin, Seokjin pushes your back further into the wall more than humanly possible, nip and bite on his way down while you held on for dear life, in the ecstasy caused by his lawless hand. All he could hear is your strangled moans, struggling to stay quiet as if he told you to do that. He rids off your pants, hooking his finger around the bands of your panties and getting that off of you, too. He moves like he was possessed, all relentless, and hungry. While you let him ravish your body as if you had been waiting for him to do so, all your life.

This was just a pretense. We were pretending. Just…

The sight of him chattering up that Slovakian beauty honestly irks you. He doesn’t even speak good English to be holding a meaningful conversation and she’s simply nodding at everything he says, noticing his fat wallets and pearly teeth, twinkling eyes— all the lot. With his stupid straw hats, beach shorts and black PUMA slides with that repulsive hand-dyed rainbow shirt. By the way they were looking at each other, they were ready to pounce once they stepped into the hotel room. Typical Seokjin in his habitat. His areas of expertise. He is obnoxiously smiling at this girl as if she was his whole world and you were fighting the urge to roll your eyes back into your skull.

If it wasn’t for your egoistic dad, who place value on his precious friendship with Seokjin’s dad, you wouldn’t have board this stupid cruise ship, in the middle of the sea, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, with Seokjin shoving his coy, chatty skills at random Barbie wearing bikinis. Packed with the confidence of a rich man’s son, it was no surprise that he’s got people staring at him, wanting him. But the view…

Endless blue sea, the dolphins swimming by the ship, and the occasional pack of birds flying across the blue brilliant sky. Yes, the view was to die for. Refreshing wind, surrounded by strangers. People are passing beverages, snacks. The piano is being played by a skilled pianist, his fingers dancing on the keys. A tune you don’t quite recognize but it was soothing nonetheless. Two hours into the voyage, Seokjin is already pestering you with his bottle of beer to ‘loosen up’. Nudging his elbows to your ribs, relentlessly bothering you with his mere existence. Ever since he pulled your teddy bear’s head out of its socket when you were 12, you have hated him. And you thought, as time passed by, you would find one or two things to like about him, but no— he became increasingly frustrating as he grew older.

Especially at close proximity like this.

“Oh I will loosen up, if you let me punch your face, in all honesty, Kim Seokjin…” you grouched, leaning over the rails, “It’s already so annoying I had to see your face every single day, now you’re trying to strike a conversation with me… the ledge is looking very tempting right now.”

Seokjin replied to your snarky remark with a chuckle of his own, chuckling and looking away as he tips his head back to drink down the beer.

“Jump then, I dare you…” he arched an eyebrow, “The water is cold and there are sharks, you’ll be gone, ripped apart and no one will notice… I’d get away with murder.” He tips another hearty amount of the liquor and leans his back on the hand rails.

“Let me slap you once, I’ll be so content,” you hissed.

“You can’t, because a) I’m your dad’s best friend’s son and b) you can’t reach my face,” he tips his head back to down the bottle, and “You’d really think I’ll let you feel content while I’m here?” gazing to the bottom of the bottle, see if there’s still liquid inside of the green tinted glass.

“I hope you die of liver cirrhosis from the beers and wines and gins you kept drinking,” snarling, you moved away. Stomping your feet on the wooden panels, but of course, Seokjin followed, so you barked, “Why are you bothering me? Where’s your dad? Can’t you have them meet so I could go home and do literally everything else?! I didn’t see him board the damn ship.”

“Because he hasn’t landed,” Seokjin threw the bottle in the recycle bin, tutting his tongue and replace his straw hats to a black baseball cap with its beak covering his eyes, and,

“There he is right now,” Seokjin pointed at the helipad with his chin. The rotating motors are loud, relentless to the eardrums. Propellers rippling, slicing through the wind. There’s 4 people in total in that black helicopter. Two pilots, two personnel in the back. One is in casuals, the other wearing a suit and an ear-piece. The logo on the helicopter is Kim Seokjin’s family coat of arms. The turbulent wind brought by the landing helicopter hasn’t stopped. The engine continues to drill through your ribs even as it shuts down and you know this by the sound of its mechanical zing it projects. The four-bladed helicopter had yet to completely stop when Senior Kim stepped out, looking like James Bond on a mission with his private bodyguard. He was wearing black shades with a pastel yellow golfing attire with matching khaki trousers, looking like he just walked out of a golfing tournament. No wife in sight.

“Rich people antics, you won’t understand,” Seokjin gloated and gave you his hand, palm facing upward.

“Hold my hand,” he shot.

You crossed your arms. Eyeing him up and down. Who the hell does he think he is? He widens his eyes at you.

“Give me your hand, or I’ll hold your waist,” he growled under his breath.

His hand approached your hips so you caught his hand in time. But yanked them out again, because you didn’t understand why you had to listen to what he said.

So he hissed, “I told my dad we’re together.” “But we are not!”

“I know that! I need you to pretend we’re dating…”

“Excuse me?!”

“I can’t explain it right now, just hold m— “

He grabbed your wrist again but you yanked them out harshly while walking to greet Senior Kim, widening your steps but Seokjin easily grabs your waist next, forcing out a smile at his dad.

“Hello my future daughter-in-law,” he beamed and you drew a stricken unappealing, unassuming smile on your otherwise pleasant face.

“Are you alright, my love? Where’s your old man? I missed him so much.”

“I’ve been constipating, and dad’s in his lounge, he has a headache… a little seasick from the cruise. He just took some meds, he’ll be alright,” you answered, while actively trying to peel Seokjin’s hand from bruising your hip. Senior Kim walks ahead, ignoring Seokjin entirely, as if he didn’t see him at all, wasn’t there at all. It was as if Seokjin didn’t exist in his eyes. Seokjin’s smile is swept off immediately. He dropped his head and gaze lowered. He fell silent. It was so strange. An estranged father-son relationship? What did Seokjin do that made his dad that way? Senior Kim is the most loving, most affectionate person you have ever met but he was so cold and distant towards his own blood, his own biological son. For that brief moment, you actually felt sorry for Seokjin.

But your hate towards him was larger than whatever he has going on with his dad. Whatever happened between them is none of your business. If you toy around the area, he will call you nosey, and that’s the last thing you ever want to hear from him. You don’t want him to think that you cared about him, not even one bit. His fingers are still clutching on your hip.

You growled at him once, Mr. Kim is gone from sight. “What the fuck?!”

Seokjin sat on the couch of his VIP suite, knees spread wide, reading the in-house menu. While you pace left and right across his room.

“So if you’re dating me, you’re back in the family registrar because Mr. Kim doesn’t like Rachel who is an American Korean, he doesn’t want a foreigner in his family registrar…?” “Precisely,” he flips through the menu, unamused. Scanning down the unfamiliar French cuisines and settling for the usual menus he’ll have every time he boards. Mushy green peas sound rather good at this time of the day.

Now pacing to the left of the room, you groveled, “Because your dad likes my family a lot… and you still want to be the sole heir. But you are the sole heir? You have nothing to worry about...”

“Wrong. I am only the presumed successor. Several family members are already in line,” Seokjin held his crooked finger up, correcting you.

“So? You will still earn some kind of royalty, right? Why the hell would you need more money? You already have enough!” You stopped in your track and quizzed him.

“I have zero experience in company managing, he is not hesitant to throw me off the family registrar. Because I pose no significance in his life. I have pride. I want to defend myself for using his last name. I need to save face. Therefore, I try to win his favor,” he looks up at you through the menu, “Through you.”

“My father likes you a lot, he considered you to be the daughter he never had so if I propose a marriage plan he can’t refuse, he would put me back on the registrar…” Seokjin meticulously sort out the agenda he had.

“But then we will end up getting married?”

“No, silly. You will be the future-daughter-in-law he would hate,” Seokjin’s eyes twinkles again. With a slight pause and a wide devilish grin he said, “Then the marriage would have to go under, rejected, disapproved and he will have to let me marry Rachel, the foreign girl I chose to marry in the first place. Isn’t that spectacular?”

His gaze, sharp. Holding you captive. Until you decide to blink and look away, “My dad doesn’t know we’re dating…” you recalled.

Seokjin folds the menu and sits back in his chair, crossing his knees and lacing his fingers over his stomach, “That, I was hoping you could fix.”

“Fix?” you repeated his word, “ Fix— you make it sound like a broken toy car that I could jab a tire in, or a Lego building snapped into two… It is not that easy, Kim Seokjin,” you crossed your arm, towering over him, “Not to mention that it wasn’t my problem to begin with. You put me in this position against my will and asking me to lie to my own father, you clearly have not thought this through…”

Seokjin shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. Eyes flickering to the floor of the side where you weren’t standing on. He cleared this throat and blinked rapidly as he noticed how rash this decision was made. Watching the great prideful Kim Seokjin cowering, noticeably scrambling under your stare was intoxicating; you have no idea how adorable he looked at this angle. Helpless, quivering mess of a man that carried himself so highly all these while.

“I don’t have to help you.

I don’t want to help you.

I have no reason to help you.

Your wellbeing is none of my concerns,” You spat heartlessly, mercilessly.

“What’s in it for you, is that what you’re asking?” He began, feeling the statement was rather bold. He shrugs off, feeling the tension on his shoulders that reminded him of a physiotherapy appointment he needs to attend, all this stress is building up stress lines on his beautiful face. Money has always been tight in your home. His quick wit would grant him a way out this time, he guarantees it.

“You’re dating the top 10 most eligible bachelors in the world,” such boastful, shameless remarks coming out of his mouth. The audacity. You scoffed to your left, arms stretching to reach the door knob and Seokjin said,

“Debts.”

He tipped his PUMA slide upward. Uncapped his baseball cap, pushed his bangs back and refastened his cap. His perky pink lips pouting, chin pointed, and jaws parallel to the floor. He gave a side eye to the menu and collected his iPad to order.

“Your study debts, your college fees. It will take years for you to repay your study loans… And you’re not guaranteed a job either…” He said in a sing-song voice as he scrolled down the menu in the iPad, seemingly more invested in the choice of food instead of how the future would look between you two. It’s such a dangerous game. There are risks to be considered— pride and individualism, freedom etc.

“I can do two jobs, maybe triple,” You darted.

“Right. Your mother’s medical bills are still ongoing, yes? How did her surgery go? I thought your dad couldn’t afford it? Your study loan, your brother’s study loan, your father’s bank debts— should I go on?”

You stopped and thought for a bit. Seconds felt like minutes. Every seconds of silence exchanged, brittle Seokjin fleeting hope, his final try for the family wealth.

Seokjin stood up from his chair. He paces around his chair.

“You get your money, I get my spot as his son back. Win-win…” his voice was soft, persuasive like the devil’s tongue. You couldn’t wrap it around your head; what do you have to lose? It wouldn’t be like an actual relationship, and you won’t have to worry if you could pay the bills at the end of the month, your brother doesn't have to work at McDonald’s to pay his study loan and your father? He would be less burdened. It all sounded good. But your silence seems to be taken the wrong way by Seokjin.

“I knew this was going to happen,” Seokjin muttered under his breath, “You think with your face, you could get around with a face like mine? You hit the jackpot by bewitching my dad. I will never understand what he likes about you.”

If you were being truly honest, Seokjin had gotten your attention the moment he mentioned your mother’s surgery. You don’t care about how good his face looks, it was the only thing he could brag about. The money he has is not even his.

“Some people have an eye for a good personality and… Wow, you’re not being a good boyfriend right now, I feel like I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore. Congratulations on being homeless,” you clapped and strode your way through the hall at the door when Seokjin stopped you midway. His eyes were soft. Pleading. And it felt good that he is finally beneath you, now that he needs your help, instead of the other way around. He mumbles in the softest whisper,

“Please.”

You took full advantage of the situation, and made sure he kneels over your demands, like a spoiled girlfriend. Carefully shaping the character of an overindulged girlfriend with a habit to spend. Hopefully that your antics will be enough to turn Mr. Kim to retract his love.

“Seokjin, my feet,” you said, so he massages it.

“Seokjin, drinks.”

“Hurry up, Seokjin. You’re so slow.”

He tails behind you at the shop on the cruise ship. He swipes his black card, passing it to the cashier every time. He carries the bags. Seokjin answers calls here and there whenever he could. You would catch him staring at the stock market displays once in a while. Snooping by his side, you would ask, “What are you looking at?”

“Numbers…”

“Yes I can see that…”

“Then you know what it means. “Seokjin, I’m a science major. Not Wall-Streeter major.”

Seokjin twitches a side smile, his cheeks turning pink and you’re not sure if it's from the heat inside the ship or from the scary looking graph the TV is now showing.

“Come on, don’t be stingy. Tell me what are we looking at…” you coerced him.

“The KOSPI index is going to drop in the next month so I’m opting for another investment somewhere in the middle... “

“So which stocks are you planning to sell?”

“KOSPI obviously. KOSDAQ is worth buying… Want to buy?”

“With what money?”

Seokjin walks away chuckling, “The Swarovski perfume smells very good on you… I hope you bought it.”

You sniffed your own wrist and blouses but crumpled your face because you didn’t smell any fragrance on you so what was he talking about?

Seokjin this, Seokjin that. Best thing about that is, he was so taciturn, and obedient. Until…

“Daughter....” your father called out for you, “What are you doing?”

“I’m in love, dad…” you feigned a smile at your concerned father, “He said he wanted to treat me…”

“Yes, but… this is too much don’t you think? These bags, these shoes, clothes and perfumes? You never spent money on things like these before? Is this what you’ve always wanted? Is it because I couldn’t afford all this? You let Seokjin pay for it all? Is this love to you?”

He walked away, shaking his head and crossing his wrist behind his back and walked to the patio where the wooden chair was. And he sat. He refused to look at you and usually, you would have sat next to him and talked about whatever, but your spa appointment is waiting. Seokjin would be pissed if you’re late, you’re the one who booked it. With a heavy heart, you stepped into the ship and made your way to the spa center. It should be nearby. Half of the time, you don’t know if the plans are working. It’s been four days and you’ve spent thousands on Seokjin’s card but there is no indication that Seokjin’s dad was unhappy about your relationship.

In fact, he supports it.

At the dinner reception for four, as Seokjin was helping your dad to grab desserts, you were left with Senior Kim on the table. The television shows KOSDAQ stock market jumped triple the price, which means Seokjin made the right decision to buy it. Your head swung to where he was to inform him the happy news but Senior Kim got your attention. He cuts his sirloin steak with a fork and knife with ease, and he does it while smiling, grinning ear-to-ear. He glances up once in a while and places a bite-size meat on your plate. You opened your mouth to speak, wanting to tell him how smart Seokjin is, how he taught you stock markets and how to know which shares to buy and sell but, the older man had another idea for a conversation topic.

“You should eat more meat, you’re getting so much more frail than the last time I see you,” he chuckles. Seokjin is waiting for a scramble egg next, cooked by the chef while your father was entertained by the little flipping pancake show hosted by the waiter. You see your father smiling so widely at the performance and Seokjin looked more like his son than your brother ever was. Helpful and attentive. He is helping him pinch a lobster into the plate and fetching him his soft drinks from the beverage area.

“I…” you begin, “I would like to thank you, Mr. Kim sir. Had it not been you, me and my father would not have been able to experience something like this, getting on a cruise ship, dining with good food, accompanied by pleasant people like you. Seokjin had been very nice,” you poke the meat and nibble on them. The meat is succulent and savory, juicy. The lobster sauce was just a perfect amount of saltiness, creaminess and texture. It was served exactly like the ones in the luxury channels restaurant.

“I hope I am not going overboard, but I am more than delighted to welcome you into my small family. I don’t mind having your father over and it was a shame that your mother and brother couldn’t join. I could have appointed a medical team in charge of her here…” Senior Kim sighed in regret he didn’t deserve to have.

“Please don’t say things like that,” you ensured him, reaching across the table to cover his knuckle, soothing him, “You’ve done so much, too much for our family, it’s becoming an increasing debt we could no longer repay and I’m sure my father told you that always…”

Senior Kim sets down his fork and knife to fetch for his soft drink. He dabs the corner of his mouth with the cloth and clears his throat, “The more time I spent with you the more certain I am. Certain that you are the woman for him, my son. Who can put a leash on him. He has been on his best behavior since this voyage began. And I hope you can get married on this ship itself. It will make me and your family very happy. I will have your mother and brother flown in, if you wish.” Silence from your side. There’s literally nothing you could think of to say in order to turn the situation.

“If you’re really concerned with the debt you owe my family, why don’t you be a part of the family, officially?”

Suddenly, it all became all too real.

Now it wasn’t a charade or a façade anymore; this time, a knot is about to be tied. Panic rushed through your veins; hair in the back of your neck stood up as flashes of your unforeseen future were now in the hands of Seokjin. From his father’s word, he might be proposing as soon as possible with the best ring he could find on the ship. Seokjin must have said that the relationship had been going on longer than what you actually experienced. Hence, that’s why he is pushing for the marriage quickly. Because of that statement, a simple walk with Seokjin back to your cabin turns into a full blown argument. Popping veins and bulging eyes and everything.

“You were the one who was behaving in the favor of your father! How is this my fault?! If you had been ignoring me, he would have forced you to leave me alone! But no, you wanted to be the good son to your dad and mine! Now he thinks you’re good because of me and now wants me as his daughter-in-law!” you roared in his face, yanking the door heading to the back of the ship where the basketball field was and he went after you.

“If you just kept calm and be the dirt-poor you, instead of a spoiled brat, maybe he would have gotten bored instead of going with the plans! But no, you wanted to show him the extravagant-you so you could match the ideals you so desperately wanted to be! You’re so blinded by money that you probably wanted this to happen!” Seokjin’s face is turning red in anger.

“You thought that I would be desperate to marry a foul-mouthed scumbag like you who has nothing— no credibility, no profession, only after his daddy’s money because he doesn’t have any of his own?! You really said with your whole fucking chest that I wanted a man who insults my face and my height out in the open? You are so full of yourself, maybe it’s good that your father is throwing you out… you’re a trash, good-for-nothing douchebag!”

“I’m a douchebag? Full of myself? You’re all over smiling at my dad, consoling him to like you, and completely forgetting our original plan. You’re not a catch yourself, midget! Give me a fucking break… you just want to suck my dad’s money dry. You’re probably planning this behind me. You’re after my daddy’s money too, don’t forget that!”

You turned to face him, shoving him by the chest until he stumbles back with every word you say, “Our original plan?! I followed the original plan by the book, you fucker. Suck your money dry? Are you fucking stupid? Do I look like one of your Slovakian girlfriends?!” Shove.

“Those Slovakian girls are sucking your money dry, air head.” Shove.

“You asked me to help you and I did my best, fuck wit.” Shove.

“So is your stupid girlfriend Rachel! No one loves you for you. All they see is dollar bills on your face, no one knows who you are, nobody cares about you and what you like or what you hate, I’d hate to be you to be honest…” Shove.

“Stop pushing me...” Seokjin warned. And you stopped, but not because you were scared, but because you wanted to give him your final thought.

“You are a coward who lives off your father’s fortune he made on his dog days. You are so infatuated with yourself that you fail to see that you’re a kind person and you don’t need these girls to validate your existence. Making others feel small does not make yourself bigger. You just sound like an asshole, dude. You are a talented businessman but you don’t want to properly work because you thought you’re meant to waste money like other heirs your age. You try so hard to fit in the groups of ‘friends’ you thought to be your standards of friends, only for them to talk trash behind you when you weren’t there. Constantly proving your worth by buying new chains, new cars, new rings, new expensive ridiculous toys you could brag about having. But you truly have nothing. You’re a poor rich man’s son.

There’s no amount of money that could buy you the affection you secretly crave from the world.”

You dashed past Seokjin’s shoulder and walked back into the ship and into your cabin. But before you could close the door fully, Seokjin shoved his shoes between the gaps and held them open, forcing himself in. Fire in his eyes.

“And you care about me?” Seokjin’s voice is low, uncertain. Hesitating. Unalike his hold on the door that is firm and determined.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been courting Slovakian girls because I wanted you to see what you’ve been missing, and it irks me that you don’t want me, despite what I have.”

“Seokjin…” you felt the cold board behind you and he inches closer. Not stopping.

He took your lips in a forceful, heavily inhaling, sucking air out of your lungs, pouring his heart in it. Don’t fall in love. Do not fall for him.

“But Rachel…” you stammered when he parts from your lips to switch sides, “Your girlfriend, Rachel.”

“There’s no more Rachel…” His fingers found their way in between the gaps of your jeans and blouse, travelling up and up and up to your bra straps. He expertly unfastened the clasp with one hand while you gasped at the cold air. Hiking a breath in as he peers down on you through his nose bridge. The tip of his nose tracing down the length of your neck. His hand moves in between your clothed legs, steadily making their way to cup you. His middle finger is now teasing you through the fabric while he whispers your name hotly in your ear. Emphasizing every syllable. You could feel yourself pulsating against the pad of his finger, desperately praying that he couldn’t feel it. He chuckles in your nape, murmuring softly, “I can feel you wanting me…” You clawed his shirt, trying to stop yourself from squirting but to no avail, his maneuvers were too good, too skilled. Light-headed, fleeting, he was hitting all the right places and it’s almost sinful how delicious it felt. This is probably why people got addicted. The euphoric sensation of his fingers and voice and scent, multiplies into a concoction of a man-made ecstasy too beautiful to describe. And the worst part was that, he did that all without undressing you.

Harshly yanking your clothes off while he practically plastered his lips on you, harsh breaths on your skin, Seokjin pushes your back further into the wall more than humanly possible, nip and bite on his way down while you held on for dear life, in the ecstasy caused by his lawless hand. All he could hear is your strangled moans, struggling to stay quiet as if he told you to do that. He rids off your pants, hooking his finger around the bands of your panties and getting that off of you, too. He moves like he was possessed, all relentless, and hungry. While you let him ravish your body as if you had been waiting for him to do so, all your life. Throwing your limp body on the single, pathetically tiny bed, your knuckles turn white, grabbing on the sheet. The creaking of the bed did not make it any better.

Your hand scrambles to find a solid ground to hold on to, your palm slapped against the foggy window, leaving a prominent hand print. Your breaths and his rhythmically exchanged. You claw his chest, thighs and waist while he marks your neck breast and abs. He was relentless and raw. He didn’t stop for anything.

“I’m taking you, and I’m taking you now.”

This was just a pretense. We were pretending. Just…

Seokjin held his pen in a closed fist. The presentation had ended and his assistant was nudging him with a gentle, barely audible tap on the table. Wearily, the poor middle-aged man cowers over Seokjin’s view informing that the data have all been presented. Seokjin lifts his chin up, sets down his Parker’s designer pen and clears his throat. Every individual in the room lowered their head, couldn’t even look at him in the eye. He stood up, grabbed his folded blazer laying on the table, brashly and fastened them on without a single word passed. One arm in and out the other end. His personal assistant scurried out after him.

“So, sir… the new project,” the assistant stuttered but before he could finish his words, Seokjin dashed, “Do I look like I want to discuss the project?”

The assistant bowed and shut the door behind him after he left. Seokjin leans back into his chair, closing his eyes in agony of the troubles he went through today.

“I can’t believe they flew me in to listen to a 5% initiated project when there is absolutely no progress to access!” Thud! Seokjin kicked the bottom of the table and swatted away his pen holder, in anger. He can’t imagine what you could be thinking.

And to be perfectly honest, he doesn’t even want to know.

The morning after.

The sun isn’t fully up yet. You groaned awake at the view of the crumpled sheets when the cabin door was knocked twice and a staff sent in a breakfast tray. You could barely make-up the face and what’s truly prominent is the aching between your legs and sores around your thighs. You rubbed your face on the fluffy pillows, visions gaining clarity in a snail’s pace before it became clear to you that— you were awake alone on this bed in your cabin. You scratched the itch under your neck only to hiss in pain. When the staff leaves, you gather the blanket around you and walk up to a full-length mirror in your room. Tracing your finger down the length of your neck, you find strange purplish-blue bruises trailing down the middle of your chest, down your torso and your thighs.

“Do you like this position? Do you like this?”

The memories come flooding in like a blizzard.

Flashes of obscene images. Sheet-gripping, white knuckles. Hot passionate breaths and raunchy moans. And one particular face above you, those dreamboat shoulders, plush soft lips and vulgar words— you could still feel him in between your legs.

So big and so full.

You hiked a breath in, just like you did last night. He got you feeling so high and incredible. His dreamy love-making makes the empty bed look like a nightmare. You felt you’ve crashed down on the concrete ground. Insignificant, undignified, terribly unloved and uncared for. It was the worst feeling one could feel.

Along with shaky exhales, you casted your gaze downward and chuckled bitterly, pathetically upon your black and blue marks he left.

How depraved. How truly repulsive.

To be continued...

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

HASO, “A Ship Named Infinity.”

Hope you all enjoy your morning :)

Geea and Beatrice made their way from the underground bar as the music was still playing. Beatrice had one of her arms hooked through one Geea’s lower left, and together they sauntered slowly up through A136 and towards the docking area. Beatrice flipped a knife between her fingers as she did, “I don’t see why you are trusting this guy.” Beatrice grunted, “He could just as easily hail the Omen as soon as we got close and tell them that they have been hijacked.”

Geea shook her head, “No, he wouldn't, and i will make sure of that.”

Beatrice looked up at her and she hummed rather smuggly, “If he tries anything, I release all of his criminal activities to the GA and UNSC. there is nothing that he can do about it, besides we are going to have our crew on his ship as well, and they should be able to keep him in line.

Beatrice nodded, though she didn’t seem entirely reassured.

Together the two of them made their way up through the winding passages, and clattering stairways until they eventually made it to the main docking bay. The room was filled with twenty or so docked shuttles, and looking around they found captain Kell sitting with some of his crew members outside a waiting shuttle.

The men and women that stood behind him were….. well , they were no joke.

They seemed fit and capable, though most of them sported some sort of metal attachments.

Captain Kell stood to greet them, and in this lighting the two of them were able to give him a more thorough once over.

The man was still wearing his long brown coat, and the black hood was still resting on his head though it didn’t shadow his face so much in this room. She saw strands of tawny hair peeping out from under the front of his hood. As she had seen before, one side of his face was covered by mechanical components, primarily the right eye, the cheek and down onto the lower jaw. His remaining good eye was a muddyish brown.

Walking up to stand before him it was clear that the man was tall, over six feet to be certain and well muscled, which Geea couldn’t help but find odd in a pirate. Sure pirates did some hard work, but mostly they followed the motto of work smarter not harder, and their life of heavy drinking didn’t exactly lend to people with bodies like his.

Under his jacket he wore a white shirt and a chin around his neck with some sort of arrowhead attached to the end.

His boots were high and tall, making her wonder if he was trying to make himself look taller than he really was.

She could still see the glittering metal of his right hand as he moved to greet them.

The men behind him eyed them suspiciously. One was shorter and darker than the captain but just as well muscled. He was wearing heavy cargo pants, though his chest was mostly bare except for some sort of bandelier he carried over one shoulder, though it was his honey gold eyes that made it very clear he had no issue with beating them up and stealing their lunch money.

The woman just off to his right was short and bald with extremely pale skin and bluish eyes, but she had the look of someone who you didn’t fuck with no princaple.

Geea noticed Beatrice eyeing her and tried to ignore it. B was always trying to make her jealous, and she didn’t want to give her that sort of satisfaction.

Captain Kell stepped forward, “Ladies.” He nodded before turning to wave a hand at his two bodyguards, “This here is Angelo.” He said pointing first at the man and then at the woman, “And that is Mace.” The two didn’t even nod their heads in acknowledgement, but looked on at hem in suspicion and distrust.

That was the way of the pirate though.

There was a sharp thudding, and out from behind the shuttle came a tall hulking figure at nearly nine feet tall.

The large Drev wiped grease from his hands as he stepped into place beside his three human companions. His carapace was a muddy black color with a red undertone. Geea raised her head in mild disdain for his coloring, though he didn’t seem to care what she thought.

“And this is our associate Noble.”

The Drev crossed two of his arms over his chest as he looked them over.

“The shuttle ready?” the captain asked.

The Drev nodded, “Yes, the components are clear to fly. That shake was from our right underwing stabilizer, though it was just a little loose.”

“Good.”

He motioned the two of them to follow him into the rusty little shuttle, and they strapped into the seats behind the pilot’s chair buckling in across from Angelo, Mace and Noble, all who eyed them with more than a measure of mistrust and suspicion. The captain for his part, seemed the most pleasant and sociable out of the groop, though he took his seat in the captain’s chair and called in to be let into atmosphere .

The group of them felt it as the struts gifted off the ground, and they hovered slowly over to one of the landing tubes leading up to the surface of the planet.

The doors to the docking bay opened revealing a long, water stained tunnel before them.

“Thirty minutes until the next fire wall comes, so you should be safe.”

He acknowledged the radio, and slowly began to lift them up through the long dark tunnel.

As they approached the top, the heavy steel door that kept them safe from the elements of the A1 death plant opened up.

There was a heavy mist outside causing condensation to appear on their front windscreen as they rose into the night. In the distance, the sun was just beginning to rise, and from here thre group of them could see the fast approaching firewall on the horizon.

The ground below them was still wet, but that would change soon as rising temperatures caused the water to burn off into steam and return to the atmosphere to start the cycle again.

However, they didn’t stay long enough to watch the spectacle, and Captain piloted them easily upward through the cloud cover.

Geea had to admit that the man was a handy pilot. That was the steadiest flight she had ever had from the surface.

Either that or he just got lucky.

When he exited the atmosphere, he hurriedly made contact with the bridge of his ship. They approached slowly, and she could see the small ship with its sharp lines and black painted hull, better to blend into the background of space. It wasn’t a large ship by any means but it was still a good enough size that she expected it to have at least a class B warp drive.

They docked some minutes later, and the soundless environment around them was suddenly sucked away as a rush of air flooded the airlock. Red lights highlighted their faces as the Captain began powering down the ship. The others unbuckled their seatbelts and the back ramp opened up for them.

The captain followed last from the ship, stepping onto the deck as the airlock doors opened into the docking and cargo bay.

It was…. Almost exactly how she expected it to be.

The ship was small enough that most of the rooms doubled for something, and men and women lounged around the small cargo space just as they might on her own ship. A few of them were tying down tarps over piles of unknown goods, while others were taking manifest from inside open crates with the UNSC seal stamped on them.

She was surprised to see that, thinking that the man was too much of a coward to pirate goods from the UNSC itself, but it seemed that she was mostly wrong.

The captain spread his hands wide and turned to look at them, “Welcome to the Infinity.”

Men and women in the cargo bay sat up and turned to look at the newcomers, and immediately Geea could see that the crew was a diverse one with Tesraki Celzex Drev, and even the odd Burg, though this one was one of those strangle Male burg with the gossamer wings.

He turned to look at the crew, “And crew say hello to our new employers for the next month or so.”

The room shifted rather uncomfortably.

“Since when did we do mercenary work?” Someone shouted from the crowd.

The captain grunted under his breath, “They made me offer I couldn’t refuse.” Then he straightened up, “Either way play nice, and don’t get into fights or I WILL shoot you out the airlock. We should be expecting more of their crew boarding soon, so make room, and get to know each other.”

He walked past the group of them without another word, and marched off towards the font of the ship.

Geera and B followed after him their boots clattering on the floor underneath them.

“I am not instilled with a great amount of confidence that your men will behave.” Geea said

The captain turned to look at her, and the appriture of his robotic eye narrowed, “Look lady, you are the one who came and threatened ME. If anyone here shouldn’t be trusted it is YOU.” He turned on his boot heel and marched up the next hallway, pushing through the doors and onto the bridge, where he took his seat in the waiting captain’s chair.

The ship itself was a bit old and rickety, and the chair had a bit too much glowing neon on it for her liking, but when he ordered his men to get to work, they worked seamlessly as if they had done it thousands of times before.

Geea had to admit, grudgingly of course, that it was the most disciplined pirate ship she had ever seen. There was no arguing or backtallking or arguing or people trying to shirk their duties, the men and women here worked as if they were trained for it, like those fancy crews she had seen aboard some of the GA and UNSC ships.

This was probably why the captain came so highly recommended.

The Celzex on his shoulder hopped down from his position and into a small seat just off to the side of the captain’s chair. From over the top of his furry head, she could see that he was busy running diagnostics on the weapons systems.

That made her smile.

To think that they would have Celzex weapons on their side was rather thrilling. She, and no one else she knew had ever been able to acquire weapons from the fuzzy little creatures. They may have been willing to join pirating crews, but most of them were still loyal to some stupid and unknown code of honor that didn’t allow them to just spread their technology around, so they kept their mouths tight shut to the annoyance of everyone.

She wondered how this particular human had gained the trust of the Celzex enough to acquire their weapons. In fact, she had never seen a Celzex wit on a man’s shoulder like that, and doubted that was something the Celzex had been willing to do on their first meeting.

This human was becoming more and more interesting the more that she watched him.

He reached out with a gloved hand and flicked the switches on the console before him. He piloted this craft with the same ease in which he had piloted the shuttle.

The Com burst to life just then, “Infinity this is War preparing to dock.”

The captain turned to look at her over his chari, “You named your ship war?”

B snorted at the derision on his face, “She just likes being able to say ‘ This is war” whenever she goes to dock.”

Geea ground her teeth, and Captain kell rolled his eyes as he turned back to initiate the docking sequence, “Waar, this is infinity, please move to docking port A and standby for confirmation.”

He let go of the transmission and looked over at Geea skeptically, “You name your ship like an idiot.”

She didn’t like that much hands balling into fists though B traced a consoling hand over her back.

“Watch your mouth.” She growled, low in her throat.

The man did not seem at all worried by her denouncement of him, “Naming a ship is an art. You have to know her, to feel her. You have to walk around and fly in her to get a real understanding for what she means. It isn’t just about slapping a word on her. Just like you would name your son or your daughter you have to know what she iis about BEFORE you name her.”

Geea rolled her eyes at the sudden fervor in the man’s voice.

She honestly couldn’t give a shit what a ship was named as lng as it worked.

There was a sharp thudd through the hull as her ship docked, and she turned to go and greet her men down in the cargo bay leaving the Captain to contemplate his stupid philosophies on how to properly name a ship.

Making eye contact with him one last time, she couldn’t help but notice the strange fervor she saw in his eyes when he spoke about ships. This was a man, she thought, sho loved being in space.

She herself didn’t mind it so much, but when she looked out the window of a ship, all she saw were stars.

There was nothing particularly beautiful about it.

Together her and B walked into the cargo bay where her men were slowly filtering onto the ship

She only need around twenty of them, sure that that would be enough when paired with captain Kell’s crew.

They didn’t plan a big complex assault after all.

Hopefully, all of this would be done while most of the crew of the Omen were sleeping and they would be on and gone before the shit hit the fan.

Geea spent the next few hours helping her crew settling onto the ship warning them that if they caused any trouble she was going to hurt them. Of course they would listen to her, they were afraid of her and that is what a good leader needed to keep her men in check. Fear was generally the best way to control people she found, and while they didn’t like being ordered around, they would rather do what she said then suffer the consequences.

From there she went to find Captain kell again , and found hm in some sort of meeting room just off the bridge perusing a star map with some of his men and women from the bridge .

“UNSC channels indicate their last known location to be in this area.” A woman was saying zooming in on a cluster of stars as he did, “Now It seems to me that in this area.” she motioned with a wide circle, “We can send out scanning probes to look for his ship. It shouldn’t take too long and the probes aren't likely to catch the attention of a ship that big. I would suggest using a distress beacon to lure them into the nearby nebulae and then use that as a distraction to dock quietly.. Now the Omen is so large that it actually works to our advantage. It has multiple cargo bays and multiple docking bays, all of which have their own set of airlocks.”

There was a sharp blip in the image as the woman pulled up a schematic of the ship.

She heard B mummer in surprise from behind her.

“How did you get that.”

Captain Kell turned to look at her, and the woman crossed her arms seeming rather annoyed to have been interrupted.

Captain kell motioned to the schematic, “What, you think we only deal in goods.” he shook his head slowly, “No no, schematics and information are easy enough to get your hands on if you know where to look.” He nodded towards the hologram, “I bought these schematics off a guy at the Europa station a few years after it was launched. The guy was drunk, but he had been an engineer that worked on it before it was deployed.”

He turned back to the woman, “You were saying?”

She huffed and continued, “Well, from the information I have been able to gather, the primary cargo bays are here and here below the ship, they would be easy enough to bring a small ship up and usie the hacking equipment to open their airlock without being noticed and send a small team inside.”

She turned to look at Geea, “We only need a small team to do what you are suggesting.”

She glanced back at the map, “The only problem with this plan is that the safest place to board is also the furthest location away from the Admiral’s quarters which would be on the top deck right here.” She jabbed a finger at the upper deck, so we are going to have to plan this and our rout up if we want to avoid being spotted.”

Geea nodded, “The maintenance tunnels should be our best bet.’

Captain Kell tapped his chin, “Both yes and no I think. There will be less security there, sure, but the people most likely to be up are those in engineering, and they would spend most of their time in the maintenance tunnels.”

There was a nod of agreement from the others.

“Better to deal with a few nerdy engineers than highly trained marines patrolling the halls.” Geea said

Captain kell nodded slowly and behind him Angelo snorted rather derisively as if the idea of a well-trained marine struck him as funny somehow.

Across the table from him Mace was smirking right along with him.

Geea didn’t like those two, there was something about them that made her want to punch them in the face, but she kept her cool and continued to listen to the plan as the group gathered around each other .

She was mostly surprised at what she saw. The crew of this ship was well functional, worked well together, were relatively professional, followed their captain and even seemed to admire him. It was something she had never seen on a pirate ship before. The way they worked together was almost militaristic, but she supposed that is why they had survived so long and gotten so good at what they did.

She frowned as she thought about it wondering why her crew didn’t behave this way. Her crew tended to be lazy slackers most of the time, only working when they wanted to which was hardly ever

But these people did their jobs as if…. Well as if they actually liked them and respected their captain.

See eyed Captain Kell doubtfully.

They must have been REALLY afraid of him to follow him like this.

She wondered what he did yo people who disobeyed him

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years ago

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-3: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it. And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

“And just where are you running off to now? “

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Police: Name?

Cindy: My name’s Cindy. My earrings are gone! I’ve spent an entire week on them. Please, you must help me find them!

The girl who was desperate to the brink of tears was none other than Cindy, the oldest contestant amongst us all.

Half an hour ago, Cindy had suggested reporting this to the police seeing as how many of the designers had their accessories go missing. Now, she was the first one to undergo questioning by the police.

Police: Earrings, you say? Alright, I’ve noted it down. Has anyone else lost anything?

Designer A: Me. I lost an Emerald hairpin.

Designer B: My pearl ring is gone too.

MC: I’m (Y/n), my brooch has also gone missing.

Police: I’ve gotten the gist of the situation here. All of your items were found lost after less than half an hour after having been left here.

Police: My colleague went to check the surveillance tapes. There was no one suspicious who entered and left the room during that time frame.

Cindy: How can that be…

Police: But there are blind spots where the surveillance cameras cannot reach. Plus, things don’t simply disappear for no reason at all.

Police: So, I’m asking everyone to think carefully about it again. Did any of you see anyone who was acting suspicious?

MC: A suspicious looking person…

The image of the figure dressed in black and wearing a mask flashed into my mind along with his skull pendant and flickering silver chains.

MC: I saw someone that I didn’t recognize walk out of the room, but I thought that he was a model…

MC: But now that I think about it, no model would come here.

Police: What did this person look like?

MC: He’s very tall and looks to be around 185cm. He wasn’t wearing a staff uniform.

Police: Can you give me a detailed description of his appearance and how he was dressed?

I nodded, trying my hardest to remember what I’d seen in that split-second.

MC: I couldn’t make out his features since he wore a black mask, but I remember his clothes…!

MC: He wore a black leather jacket paired with light grey jeans and a pair of studded boots.

MC: He had a long silver necklace with a skull pendant hanging from it along with a few silver chains hanging from his waist.

MC: His countenance is hard to describe. He appears to give off a very mysterious vibe, but honestly, the design of the pants he wore needs to be optimized…

I continued prattling on, unaware of how the policeman who’d been recording my descriptions down stopped short.

Police: Optimized?

Suddenly realizing what I’d just said, my face flushed in embarrassment.

MC: Sorry, but that’s pretty much all I saw…

Police: Alright. We’ll look further into the matter with this information.

Police: However, considering the large number of people here, the vastness of the venue and the small number of missing items, it’ll be quite difficult to find them.

Police: You’d best be prepared.

Everyone lapsed into collective silence after the police left. The solemness of the atmosphere in here was tangible, like a heavy cloud that hung over all of our heads.

Cindy had already succumbed to despair. She silently squatted down; head buried into the crook of her arm.

★Night Choice: Settle your own problems

Even though I want to comfort Cindy, I know very well that whatever I do or say will only pale in comparison to how she feels right now.

Why don't we just spend the time to think our next step through, instead of being overwhelmed by negative emotions?

Most of the contestants around her have already recovered from the brief turn of events, returning to their tasks at hand.

The contest was just this cruel. Everyone couldn’t afford to be distracted in this race against time as they all raced to the finish line where the ultimate goal laid.

MC: How about just making another one since the chance of finding it is so slim?

MC: But there are only 3 days left… What if I can't finish it in time…

I subconsciously glanced out the window. The huge poster screen of Sariel greeting my wandering eyes once more.

MC: There's no time to be pondering over this.

MC: If it were Sariel in my shoes, he wouldn’t waste time worrying over things that may or may not happen.

The perplexing feeling of loss and the sadness I felt over this incident disappeared almost immediately as I immersed myself into re-making it. The light of the sunset shines through the glass window, bringing about a tinge of warmth.

☆Light Choice: Comfort Her

I walked up to her, gently patting her back.

MC: Don’t worry, I’m sure the police will be able to help us all find our missing accessories.

Cindy: You guys are all young and talented… you’ll have other things to fall back on if you fail here, so of course you wouldn’t be too worried about it… but such a thing doesn’t exist for me…

Her soft voice was distorted by her sniffling, so much that I could barely distinguish what she was trying to say between sobs.

I’d overheard the others talking about her before. Cindy was originally a white-collar worker who’d eventually resigned and got a loan to study design overseas. It was a do-or-die situation for her, in a way.

I didn’t know what I should say to comfort her, for everything I say right now would only pale in comparison to what she was going through. All I could do was to gently pat her back.

Cindy: Why did this have to happen now…? It took me such painstaking efforts to get this far…

All the doom and gloom that she exuded was contagious, and I soon felt my heart drop along with her worsening mood.

???: What are you crying about?

Wu Yue: Those who whinge and always feel sorry for themselves but do nothing to fix it will never succeed.

This was the first time I’ve ever heard her speak off-stage.

I couldn’t help but to be surprised at the look of dead seriousness on her face.

MC: There’s still another 3 days before the competition, so let’s hurry and start re-doing what we’ve lost.

Gao Cheng: I… I can help everyone fetch the materials they need. You can also ask me for help if any of you need an extra hand…

Designer A: I’ve already long since wanted to change my hairpin design! I’m sure the new one this time will turn out a hundred times better! You guys better watch out!

More contestants started inputting, and the gloomy atmosphere soon dissipated. Cindy had also stopped crying, vigorously rubbing at her eyes.

Cindy: You guys are right. I cannot give up here…

Despite all of us not knowing what results awaited us 3 days later, and despite all of us being fellow competitors, we were all teammates now, working hard with the same goal in mind.

After getting our moods in check, everyone returned to their own working space, making the best out of the remaining time left to continue with their respective creations.

❖☆———————————★❖

The hands on the clock had already moved past the 8 PM mark by the time if gotten up for a good stretch.

MC: The gown’s pretty much good to go, and I’ve also finished drawing out the new brooch design. Everything’s turning out pretty well~

Gao Cheng: Your design’s inspired by the starry skies, right? It’s really pretty…

Gao Cheng’s faze lingered on the draft of my design for a while before he seemingly snapped out of it. He raised his head, frantically waving his hands in front of him with a flustered look on his face.

Gao Cheng: S-Sorry, it wasn’t my intention to peek at your design. I just happened to get attracted to it when I walked past…

MC: Don’t worry about it, you came at a great time. Could you tell me what you think about it?

Gao Cheng: Is the brooch meant to represent the brightest star in the sky?

MC: Yup, it represents the north star.

Gao Cheng: But Polaris isn’t actually all that bright. It shines at 2nd magnitude, so you can use a darker gemstone to represent it.

It was as if he were an entirely different person when it came to the topic of stars. He gushed enthusiastically about it with unrivalled passion and seriousness.

Gao Cheng: Ah, I just like astronomy, so I know about it a little more than others. Please don’t get mad at me…

MC: Why would I be mad? I’m actually extremely thankful for your input!

I’d previously searched up pictures of the starry sky up on the internet to use as reference pictures, but what Gao Cheng said reminded me once again that even though the pictures captured by a camera’s lens turn out beautiful, it still isn’t as real as the real thing.

Nothing beats seeing it with your own eyes and ascertaining it for yourself after all.

MC: Maybe I should go up to the rooftop and check the stars out.

❖☆———————————★❖

The cold air of the night greets me as I push open the doors to the rooftop. The vast night sky was spread out before my eyes, the many little red dots beneath it denoting lights of the thousands of households below.

I held onto the railing with both hands raising my head to inhale deeply.

It was then that my phone rang to life as messages from An'an came pouring in one line after another.

An'an (SMS): I’ve gotten my hands on the guest list!

An'an (SMS): You won’t believe how elaborate this guest line-up is! Osborn’s actually coming, you know!? His club’s going to be collaborating with the Warson Group!

MC: …Osborn?

An'an (SMS): Please tell me you still remember him. I’ve shown you a picture of him before! He’s my favourite R1 racer who has won 4 consecutive championships!

I hadn’t yet had the chance to truly think back on it when I suddenly heard a faint noise. It was the familiar sound of metallic chains clinking against each other.

There had been no one here when I came up to the rooftop.

My heart leapt to my throat as I unwittingly headed towards the direction of the sound.

There was someone hidden within the shadows, standing silently in one of the corners where the moonlight never reached.

Seemingly having noticed my gaze, the person moved forwards, stepping out of the shadows.

❖☆———————————★❖

I finally managed to vaguely make out his appearance. He was tall and intimidating even from a distance away. He wore a black jacket across his shoulders, the moonlight glinting off the skull necklace that rested upon his chest.

MC: That’s the guy I saw back in the corridor!

I hadn’t yet recovered from the initial surprise of seeing him here when I suddenly noticed that he was holding a red earring between his fingers.

Cindy’s Earrings! So, he really WAS the thief!

The clouds blocked off the moonlight, darkening the skies as my heart raced, pounding loudly in my ears. Did I interrupt him in the middle of something? Am I going to be “silenced”?

All hesitation flew out the window the moment my thoughts stopped there. I immediately turned and made a dash for the exit.

However, just as I was about to pull the door open and make my escape, a well-defined hand pressed against the door, blocking off my escape.

??: And just where are you running off to now?

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-1) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-5)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

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thewidowsghost · 4 years ago

Text

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 5

(Y/n)'s POV

I have weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

I must've woken up several times, but what I hear and see makes no sense, so I just pass out again. I remember lying in a soft bed and spoon-fed something that tasted like (Favorite/Food), only it's like pudding. The girl with curly blond hair hovers over me, smirking as she scrapes drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she sees my eyes open, she asks, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" I manage to croak.

She looks around, as is afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I slur, "I don't . . ."

Somebody knocks on the door, and the girl quickly fills my mouth with the pudding.

. . .

The next time I wake up, the girl is gone.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stands in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He has blue eyes - at least a dozen of them - on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

When I come around for good, there is nothing weird about my surroundings, except they are nicer than I am used to. I am sitting in a deck chair next to Percy - who was looking at me with concern - on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smells like strawberries. There is a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that is great, but my mouth feels like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue is dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

On the table next to me is a tall drink. It looks like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol sticks through a maraschino cherry.

My hand is so weak I almost drop the glass once I get my fingers around it.

"Careful," says a voice.

Grover is leaning against the porch railing, looking as though he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradles a shoebox. He is wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops, and a bright orange t-shirt that says CAMP HALF-BLOOD.

"You two saved my life," Grover says. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, he places the shoebox in Percy's lap.

Inside is a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare. My mother was gone.

"The Minotaur," Percy asks.

"Um, Percy, it isn't a good idea -" Grover gets cut off.

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" Percy demands. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull."

Grover shifts uncomfortably. "You two have been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"Mom," I say softly. "Is she really . . ."

Grover looks down.

I stare across the meadow. There is a grove of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley is surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, is the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looks beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother is gone . . .

Nothing should look beautiful. The whole world should be black and cold.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffs. "I'm a failure. I'm - I'm the worst satyr in the world." He groans, stomping his food so hard it comes off. I mean, the Converse hi-top comes off. The inside is filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole. "Oh, Styx!" he mumbles.

Thunder rolls across the clear sky.

Mom had really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

Percy and I are alone. Orphans. We would have to live with . . . Smelly Gabe? No. I'd live on the streets first.

Grover is still sniffling.

Percy says, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."

"Did our mother ask you to protect me?"

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least . . . I was."

"But why . . ." Percy begins and I suddenly feel dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover says. "Here."

He helps me hold my glass and puts the straw to my lips.

I recoil at the taste because I was expecting apple juice. It isn't that at all. It's chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. But not just any cookies - Mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body feels warm and good, full of energy. My grief doesn't go away, but I feel as if Mom had just brushed her hand lovingly against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was upset and told me everything was going to be okay.

Before I know it, I'd drained the glass. I stare into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asks.

I nod.

"What did it taste like?"

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I reply and Percy looks at me knowingly. "Mom's. Homemade."

He takes the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it's dynamite, and sets it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting.

3rd Person POV

The porch wraps all the way around the farmhouse.

Percy's legs feel wobbly, trying to walk that far, and (Y/n), though her legs feel like Jello, had moved to support her brother. Grover offers to carry the Minotaur horn, but Percy holds onto it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I'm not going to let it go.

As the trio comes around the opposite end of the house, (Y/n) catches her breath.

Percy's POV

We must be on the north shore of Long Island because on this side of the house, the valley marches all the way up to the water, which glitters about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply can't process everything I'm seeing. The landscape is dotted with buildings that look like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all look brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school–age kids and satyrs play volleyball. Canoes glide across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's are chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shoot targets at an archery range. Others ride horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I'm hallucinating, some of their horses have wings.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sit across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoonfed (Y/n) is leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me is small, but porky. He has a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it's almost poker. He looks like those painting of baby angles - cherubs. He looks like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He is wearing a tiger-patterned Hawaiian shirt, and he would fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I get the feeling that this guy could out-gamble even my step-father.

"That's Mr. D," Grover mutters to me and (Y/n). "He's the camp director. Be polite. That girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron . . . "

He points at the guy whose back is to me.

First, I realize he's sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognize the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, and the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cry.

The Latin teacher turns and smiles at me, then looks curiously at (Y/n), who is still supporting some of my weight. His eyes have that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulls a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Percy," he says. "Now we have four for pinochle."

He offers me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looks at me, then (Y/n), who is leaning against my chair, with bloodshot eyes, and heaves a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to the glad to see you."

"Percy, why don't you introduce me?" Mr. Burnner says, sending a soft smile towards (Y/n).

"Oh, this is my twin sister, (Y/n)," Percy says.

(Y/n)'s POV

I smile and wave shyly.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," I say. "Percy's told me a lot about you. Even said you were his favorite teacher."

A warmer smile spreads across Mr. Brunner's face and then he turns. "Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls to the blond girl.

She comes forward and Mr. Brunner introduces us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, (Y/n). Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and (Y/n)'s bunks? We'll be putting them in Cabin Eleven for now."

"Sure, Chiron," Annabeth replies.

She's probably about my age, maybe an inch or two taller, and a whole more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she is almost exactly when I think a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruin the image. They are startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she's analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

She glances down at the Minotaur horn in Percy's hands then looks back up at me. She says, "You drool when you sleep." My cheeks take on a slight red tinge as she sprints off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," Percy says, looking anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," not Mr. Brunner says. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay," Percy says, looking totally confused, then looking at the director. "And Mr. D . . . does that stand for something?"

Mr. D stops shuffling the cars. He looks at Percy like he'd just belched loudly. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason.

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"I must say, Percy," Chiron - Brunner breaks in, "I'm glad to see you alive, and the chance to meet your sister. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?" I ask, interested.

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct Percy. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met him. He sensed he was something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to...ah, take a leave of absence."

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Percy asks.

Chiron nods. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood, and then we learned of Miss (Y/n), here." He nods to me. "But you still had so much to learn, Percy. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Grover," Mr. D says impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

Percy's POV

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembles as he takes the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyes me suspiciously.

"I'm afraid not," I answer.

"I'm afraid not, sir," he corrects.

"Sir," I repeat, liking the camp director less and less.

"Well," he tells me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules"

"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron says.

"Please," I plead, "what is this place? What are we doing here? Mr. Brun— Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

Mr. D snorts. "I asked the same question."

The camp director deals the cards; Grover flinches every time one lands in his pile.

Chiron smiles at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.

"Percy," Chiron prompts. "Did your mother tell you nothing?"

"She said . . ." (Y/n) begins and I remember her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told us she was afraid to send us here, even though our father had wanted her to. She said that once we were here, we probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep us close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D says. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I ask.

He explains, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron says. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient.

"Orientation film?" (Y/n) asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"No," Chiron decides. "Well, Percy, (Y/n). You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know -" he points to the horn in the shoebox - "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either. What you may not know is that the great powers are at work. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are very much alive."

I stare at the others around the table.

I wait for somebody to yell, Not! but all I get is Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackles as he tallies up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asks timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bites a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chews it.

"Wait," I tell Chiron as (Y/n) sits down on the edge of my chair. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."

"Well, now," Chiron says. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

"Smaller?"

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class.

"Zeus," I say. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."

And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day.

"Young man," says Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around if I were you."

"But they're stories," I say. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Mr. D scoff. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I flinch when he says my real name, which I never told anybody—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continues. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

"Percy," Chiron says, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," (Y/n) says.

"Exactly," Chiron agrees. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you Perseus and (Y/n) Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how children can get over losing their mothers."

My heart pounds. He's trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. I say, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmurs. "Before one of them incinerates you."

Grover pleads, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbles, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe!" He waves his hand and a goblet appears on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet fills itself with red wine.

"You're Dionysus," (Y/n) says and Mr. D looks at her. "The god of wine."

Mr. D nods then stares at me as I say, "You're a god."

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

He turns to look at me straight on, and I see a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man is only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I see visions of grapevines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turn to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I know that if I push him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straitjacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.

"Would you like to test me, child?" he says quietly.

"No. No, sir."

The fire dies a little; he turns back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron says. He sets down a straight, tallies the points, and says, "The game goes to me."

I think Mr. D is going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighs through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He gets up, and Grover rises, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D says. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beads with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners." He sweeps into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

"Will Grover be okay?" I ask Chiron.

Chiron nods, though he looks a little troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been . . . ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," I say. "You're telling me there is really a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like...in America?"

"The what?"

"Western civilization?" (Y/n) guesses and Chiron nods for her to continue. "It started in Greece, then spread to Rome, right?"

"That's correct, Miss (Y/n)," Chiron says.

"And then they died?" I ask, looking between my Latin teacher and my sister.

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course, they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either —America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

"Who are you, Chiron? Who . . . who am I? Who . . . who are we?"

Chiron smiles. He shifts his weight as if he was going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I know that was impossible. He's paralyzed from the waist down.

"Who are you?" he muses. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

And then he does rise from his wheelchair. But there's something odd about the way he did it. His blanket falls away from his legs, but the legs don't move. His waist keeps getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I think he's was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he keeps rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realize that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair isn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg comes out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stare at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"You're a centaur!" (Y/n) says in awe, and Chiron's eyes sparkle with amusement as he nods.

"What a relief," the centaur says. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Word Count: 3702 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert #fem reader #female reader #reader insert

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daydream-believin · 4 years ago

Text

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (there’s nothing wrong with Ohio)

Summary: Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - (Part 5) ohio hijinks. national forests, a b ‘n b. next- (part 6) start here -> (part 1)

Warnings: swearing, meat eating, idk gambling kinda?

Word Count: 6620

A/N: AAAAAHHH i gotta stop writing shit at 3am. it’s showing. also i cant believe i reworked their entire planned trip route for this. ajhqhdsjhfljh i have no excuses for any of this

Douxie was uncharacteristically quiet during the trip through the first bit of Indiana. Y/n hung over the railing feeling awkward. The treetops below flew past her in a blur. Y/n kinda felt bad, like maybe she had broken him. Did she nudge a little too hard? She had thought, if anything, her flirting would get him flirting too. Hell, Doux flirted with everyone. It was just part of his charismatic persona he’d built over the years. And he had been so strange this week, but especially strange during the time they’d spent on the road. Every time Y/n had thought she’d figured something out with him, he’d surprise her.

Douxie was still processing what had happened earlier that day. He may have been going mad finally, immortals do tend to do that, but he was starting to think Y/n had feelings for him too. Which was something he had to be imagining, and yet she kept making it really hard to dismiss. Maybe it was just that their trip to St. Louis had felt pretty damn close to a date. His gaze lingered over her form, looking out at the scenery, covered in his jacket, a little piece of him to always cling to her skin, mingling their scents. His eyes snapped back to the sky in front of him as he narrowly dodged a telephone wire tower.

They had decided on taking one last pit stop before settling for the night. They were making their way up to Cleveland, which was a little unnecessarily high north into Ohio, but since Y/n was the one holding the map so to speak, she got to shift their course, almost to her whim even. Douxie was happy with anything as long as they kept moving. There was something she wanted to see in Cleveland. It’s not like Douxie wouldn’t enjoy it too, though. In fact, if her memory served her correctly, Douxie might enjoy the trip more than her. Back to that last pit stop. Hoosier National Forest. Somewhere nice and nature-y for Nari, and as a bonus, nice and forested for magic boat hiding. It would be a good opportunity to stretch out their legs.

Speaking of stretching, Y/n stretched out her arms to the expanse below, her fingers spread with the wind whistling between them, and she let out a soft groan. She was just trying to make her shoulders less stiff, she had been holding onto that railing tightly for quite a while now, but Douxie did not like that action one bit. He locked his staff in place at the helm, giving him just enough time to loop his arm around her midsection and pull her back into the center of the ship. He was able to return quick enough to stop them from hitting the top of a particularly tall evergreen. Y/n was still confused as to what just happened.

“Why don’t you take a seat now, Love.”

She did as she was told, less confused now, yet disgruntled at the fact the Doux had just scooped her away like she was a tiny kitten he was keeping from jumping off the couch.

Hoosier National Forest was magnificent. Well, Y/n thought all forests were wonders, but this one was still great, promise. There were tall trees and big rocks and waterfalls. What more does a national forest need. She managed to convince Douxie that they should go for a hike. Just a little trail, only half an hour, scouts honour. They had flown most of the way, and a brisk walk was what they all needed. It would be good for Nari, after all. Archie took a hard pass, in favor of yet another nap in the sun.

There was a waterfall nearby. A small one, but a waterfall nonetheless. Y/n had pulled up the map of the forest on her phone. Thank the stars for living in a cyberpunk dystopia. She led the way on the trail, until Nari told her that she could feel the waterfall and they could get there faster if they stepped off the path and made their own way. A bad idea, really, don’t do this. Y/n was all for it, to Douxie’s dismay. He had hoped she’d be more sensible, but no, now they were climbing down a steep rocky hill with a literal spirit guide. Nari led them through more twists and bigger rocks to climb over. Douxie tried his best to keep up with Y/n, to keep a hand on her, but she and Nari were moving too fast. At least he could still see them. If Y/n ate the dirt he’d just have to patch her up, he supposed.

Once they made it to the waterfall site, coming out of some brush, they took a moment to rest. Apparently, they were supposed to relax and enjoy feeling the waterfall’s aura or something but Douxie was too preoccupied on assessing the damage from the trek. After he voiced his concern, Y/n boasted that she made it here with only a few scratches and only one cut. Completely normal Dewdrop. Douxie was going to make her take the actual path back. He was probably ruining the waterfall’s calming energy.

After patching up Y/n with bandages and alcohol from the pack on his back, Douxie took a moment to actually take in the water feature. It had carved itself through the rocks it came forth from. It wasn’t powerful when it began, but capable of cutting through solid sediment now. Thousands of years, spent in the same rock formation, and yet none of the water flowing was water that had been there before. Constantly moving, and going nowhere. Neatly polished stones as it’s only reward. Doux was starting to get uncomfortable thinking about this insentient piece of nature now.

They weren’t planning on stopping again until the next national forest, Wayne, so they picked up a bite to eat from a camp store on their way out. Not exactly a restaurant, their meal consisted mostly of beef jerky, almonds, and some dried fruit. Eh, good enough. It was easy to eat on the fly. Pun intended. And it reminded Douxie a little of the dried winter foods he used to eat back in the day. A good meal indeed.

` ` `

The sun had set hours ago. Douxie was keen on spending another night flying until morning but Y/n and Nari looked like wilted flowers. Nari a little more literally. They were slumped over on each other, barely keeping their eyes open. Y/n’s eyelids fluttered. He supposed they could spend yet another night actually getting a decent amount of sleep, in a comfortable bed, and not the deck of a magic flying boat or whatever. They were still in Wayne National Forest but he could see lights up ahead. Not many, but enough that it was probably another tiny town.

Douxie steered the boat to the outskirts of the town. Not much going on, but they were in the middle of nowhere yet again after all. He called over to Y/n, who gave a jolt at the sound of her name, waking her up enough to give him her attention. He watched as she looked around, gaining her bearings. The town itself was nothing they hadn’t come across dozens of times before. Despite the inky blackness from the thin moon, and the remoteness of location, the town had a homey vibe to it. A relief, after yesterday. This town had either already started decorating for Christmas despite it being September, or never took down their decorations from last year. The lights in the trees made up for the absence of the moon, glistening off the orange leaves. This town still had a drive-in movie theater, and it was showing Roman Holiday, for some reason. It looked like more than half the town’s population was parked in that drive-in. It was almost like this little place was stuck in time.

Y/n pointed over to a gingerbread house. The hanging sign swung in the wind, reading Avalon Bed and Breakfast, painted in fancy blue cursive letters. There was an illustration of a floating island under the script. Douxie wasn’t exactly feeling good about that name, they had had enough of spending the night in someone’s final resting place last night. Sure, it looked harmless enough, but most Venus wizardtraps did. There was a wrap-around porch, illuminated by the warm light spilling from the windows, and a woman sat in one of the rocking chairs, telling a story to a couple of children, sitting on the ground around her feet. Y/n’s pupils were really big, locked onto the scene. Avalon B ‘n B it is then. If all goes well, they leave this place in the morn with a magic buzz, not entombed. Or it could just be a regular inn with a sacred namesake. It was always hard to tell with these things.

Douxie hid the boat in the nearby forest and they set off for the B ‘n B on foot. There was a chill in the air. Y/n put her hood up to shield from the wind to their backs. She threaded the fingers of the hand not attached to Nari through his. Douxie’s hands were too sweaty for her to keep doing this to him. Hopefully she wouldn’t stop. Archie jumped up on his shoulders, ready to hide if need be by shape shifting into something much smaller and less noticeable than a cat. Y/n googled the inn as they walked. They were listed as pet friendly, however their website revealed that this policy only extended to cats. Luckily for them, Archie was cat-passing. No need to become a rat that stayed in Douxie’s cap.

As they stepped inside the large wooden door, they were bathed in an orange light. There was a deep scarlet rug under their feet. The atrium they stepped into had a bench with too many colorful cushions stacked on it, an antique mirror that was probably silver-backed behind that, and a counter blocking the way for you to step into the rest of the house, with a few keys hanging behind it. The old man behind the counter stood as they entered, grinning.

“Welcome to Avalon! Name’s Robert. Why, what a beautiful family you have here.” He leaned over the counter to speak to the veggie lady. “And what’s your name, Little Miss?”

“I am Nari of the Eternal Forest.”

Y/n laughed, in an effort to be convincing, “Oh, she’s going through a wee fairy phase, it’s our fault, we took her to a renn faire last month.”

“Oh, how adorable. Could I get a name for your reservation Ma’am?”

“Casperan.”

“Perfect. And we have both a room with a single queen, and a room with a queen and a twin. We also have a room with two twins available, but I’m sure that wouldn’t serve you folks well.”

“We’ll take the single, our little one still isn’t very brave when it comes to sleeping in new places.” It was cheaper.

“Alrighty, here you go. We ask you to pay the bill up front if that’s okay with ya’ll,” Douxie came forward to hand the man his card, which he promptly accepted with a flourish, “And don’t worry about your feline, he should be fine as long as he can get along with our resident kitty cat, Sammy.”

“No worries, it should all be fine, Archie here is very friendly,” Y/n gave Robert her biggest smile. She shot Archie a look when the man turned away. He better get along with Sammy if he knew what was good for him. Speak of the devil, a little gray cat one could only assume was Sammy came trotting over and sniffed the feet of these new people in his domain. Douxie put a none too happy Archie down to greet the new friend and told him to play nice. Sammy sniffed Archie, hesitated for a moment, but then rubbed his cheek on Arch’s shoulder. Douxie let out the breath he was holding. Archie kept his tail from flicking and chirruped to the gray cat.

After passing by an archway that led into the dining area, where several old ladies were playing bridge, Robert led them up the stairs and through an unevenly rugged hallway to their room, near the end. “Now take your time settling in, but do join us downstairs soon, you’ll miss all the fun.”

After promising to show back up in a jiffy, they took in the room after he left. There bed was covered in four different green quilts, or that were as many as were visible. The windows were covered in thick green drapes. They came in and laid down their packs. The wallpaper was covered in green vines. There was some fancy loveseat, also green. Nari loved the amount of green. There was an oil painted portrait of a cat on the wall, and below it, a large vintage radio that looked like it might as well had been new. Y/n turned it on. ‘Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered’ was playing. Ooh, she loved this song.

She grabbed Douxie’s hands and pulled him to the center of the room. “C’mon, dance with me Dewdrop.” With a hand extended for him to take, her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. Well, there was no way Douxie was saying no to that face. Y/n pulled him into her embrace the second he tentatively put his hand in hers. It was a sweet, slow love song, so they began to dance sweet, slow, and loving. Nari had made herself comfortable on the loveseat with Archie, who was pretending to be busy cleaning himself to give them one less pair of eyes watching them. Nari grabbed a book off the doily covered coffee table titled ‘Poisonous Herbs and How To Use Them’ that had caught her eye.

As they swayed, Douxie leant down to Y/n’s ear, “Why are we sharing a bed once again, Love?”

“You saw those people downstairs, if they knew we weren’t married they wouldn’t have given us accommodation, you want to go look for a new inn at ten o’ clock?” Douxie nodded, “and I figured we shared a bed last night and that was fine so why not tonight too? Oh stars, did I make you uncomfortable last night?” Douxie could hear the panic surging in her voice.

“No, no not at all, Love. Well, a perhaps wee bit,” Y/n pulled slightly away from him, which he quickly countered, “But in a good way. I- liked it.”

Y/n eyes got big as she scanned his nervous face. A weak smile spread across her flushed face. “I liked it too- oh,” Doux spun her around to the music. She giggled, but soon locked onto his eyes. There were so many things in them that she couldn’t name. Despite the chaos behind them, looking into them made her feel safe, his hazel eyes always did. A brilliant hazel, a little brown, a little gold, haloed in green. Warm colors, the palette of her fondest dreams. Ella Fitzgerald’s sweet voice still sung, Y/n couldn’t tell if the melody was lasting forever or if time had just slowed in each other’s embraces. His gentle touch on the small of her back, the warmth beneath his palm, was going to linger long after they parted.

She leaned closer, resting her head on his shoulder. Y/n could smell a mixture of cheap soap from the motel, the sweat of his skin, and the pine needles from their hike. His hair tickled her face. She could hear him take every breath. It was enamoring. Bewitched indeed, Ella. Y/n was so lost swaying in Douxie’s embrace that she almost didn’t catch what was being sung.

Y/n lifted her head back up. “Wow, I don’t remember the lyrics to this song being so dirty.”

Douxie laughed. “That’s because most versions are not. They cut it off before it gets too far, but this is the full version.”

“And people were listening to this in the fifties?” Y/n asked incredulously.

“Oh, Love, you’d be surprised.”

It took some convincing to get Nari to put down the book so they could go downstairs. She was engrossed in a page about bloodroot, and wasn’t happy about having to stop. Douxie wasn’t sure about how he felt about Nari getting into said literature, and was annoyed that Y/n was slightly encouraging it. Y/n knew all about this kind of stuff, sure, but he trusted Y/n not to suddenly turn on him when the whim found her. Bleeding balroths. Before now, Douxie hadn’t realized that he didn’t quite trust Nari. That was probably bad. Sure, Merlin trusted her, and that should be enough for his apprentice Hisirdoux. But Doux had trusted a lot of people over the years, even some endorsed by Merlin, before his slumber. It was a dangerous game, that trust. The scar on his hand served a permanent reminder, the thread tied onto his pinky, a promise to never forget.

Douxie felt bold, and laced his fingers through Y/n’s this time as they headed down the stairs. Archie took his perch on Douxie’s shoulders, it would give him an excuse not to have to interact with the inn cat. They were met cordially at the bottom of the stairs by the innkeeper’s wife, Sherry. She had been on her way from the kitchen to the dining with a platter of cookies. She beckoned the group to follow her, she’d lead them to where the action was at. Said action was laughing people sitting at the dining room table playing cards, with drinks ranging from a posh teacup to an Oktoberfest beer mug littering the table, children stealing sweets from the platters on the buffet cabinet in the midst of their game of hide and seek, and a new mother rocking her infant by the fire, a quilt draped over her lap.

“Hey folks, the Casperans have joined us finally.” They received a cheery greeting by all in the room.

Y/n didn’t like the idea of Nari joining the children in their hiding game, since Nari was not someone who should be left out of sight, so she suggested the veggie lady go ask the woman in the corner of the table who was knitting if she’d show Nari how. That kept the forest child busy all night. Easily explained to the adults by her being a strange little one, a shy child. Besides Robert there was only one other man in the gathering, so they seemed pleased by Douxie’s arrival. They tried to get him out of his shell and bond over beer, fishing stories, and how much they loved their wives. Douxie was trying his best to fit in with the merry men. As Y/n sat, the blue haired lady next to her offered her hand to shake and asked her name. “Y/n Casperan, pleased to meet you too, Ma’am.” Douxie bit the inside of his cheek, it was all he could do to keep his soul from leaving his body. Archie teased Doux with his eyebrows, which made it worse.

Much to Archie’s dismay, Doux got his revenge by putting him down on the ground and telling him to go play nice. Besides, it would be weird if Doux just left him there on his shoulder all night. Disgruntled, Archie took a perch up on the back of one of the old plush couches nearby. He kept an eye on Nari, since Douxie and Y/n were distracted. He had hoped he could stay anti-social from up there, but no, Sammy saw him from wherever the old cat was in the house and joined him. The gray cat snuggled next to Archie, loafing. It’s not that Arch didn’t like cuddles, he just didn’t want them from this random Russian blue from Ohio. Sammy began to purr; Archie could feel it against his own chest. Sighing, he accepted his fate, but didn’t hold back from flicking his tail in contempt.

The gathering dealt Douxie and Y/n in for the next round. Apparently, Y/n was a card shark, not something Doux was expecting. Y/n’s secret is that she’d oftentimes sneak off from her aunt’s fancy parties to go gamble with the snooty rich men who never thought a little girl in a poufy pink dress could clean ‘em out. They were often too embarrassed to tell the tale so she never got caught. He watched her lovingly as she bluffed and bantered with the other women. Y/n glanced over to him from across the table, catching his gaze. Her own gaze softened at the sight of his adoring expression towards her. She looked back down at her cards and promptly ended the hand. The dealer started passing around cards again, but Y/n refused hers.

“Oh, I sure would love to play another round, but I need to go have a conversation with my husband outside for a moment.” She shot a glance to Douxie and he understood. He stood up from the table and pulled her chair out for her as he did.

“Of course, Love.”

Douxie followed Y/n out to the porch. The soft orange light streaming from the window illuminated her back as she grabbed his hand to lead him towards a more private spot. Now no longer within the sight of the party, she leaned back against the porch rail, facing Doux. The expression he bore was a slightly questioning one, slightly eager. Y/n gulped, here goes nothing.

“So!”

Douxie cocked a brow, “So?”

“I know. And You know. And you didn’t know that I knew but I know, and I don’t know if you know but I’ve made it pretty clear so I’m hoping that you do know.”

Douxie’s eyes flittered back and forth as he tried to make sense of that babble. “Er- Love, could you say that in proper English for me? I think I know what you’re saying, but I- I need you to say it,” He looked away, pushing his hair back with his hands.

“I- Love You,” She lost her courage for a moment, taking a deep breath and not daring to look into his eyes, “This is so irresponsible, I know. But I, Y/n L/n, love you, Hisirdoux Casperan. And- and I have for quite some time now.” She waited a beat with no response. She still refused to look up from the floor as she asked, pleading, “Do you, return my feelings, or- or-“

“Yes.” He cut her off. She hadn’t noticed him getting so close to her. “I, Hisirdoux Casperan, love you, Y/n L/n.” Her heart skipped a beat as he chuckled, “I have for quite some time now.”

Y/n let out the breath she was holding in a dreamy sigh, “Okay.”

“Okay.” Doux brought his hand up to move a stray strand of hair away from her face, and he let it linger against her skin. Y/n placed her hand over his, and drew him closer. Her eyelids slowly closed as she reached her hands up to his hair, pulling him in for a sweet kiss. Douxie couldn’t believe this was finally happening. His eyelids snapped shut and he deepened it with fervor in an effort to show her just how much he wanted this, in case she had any hesitation left. He surely was going to wake up any moment now, alone on the smelly old couch of the bookstore with his songbook on his face. She pulled away from him way sooner than he was happy about. With their foreheads still together, he took in her flushed face. Looking up into his eyes, her voice rasped, “I- I’d- I’d like to apologize.” Douxie’s brows furrowed. His head was a little fuzzy, but he’d not know where she was going with this even if he hadn’t just kissed the love of his life. “I- I’ve been so weary, and for nothing. And-and I’ve probably wasted all this time we could have been happy an-”

He cut her off with another kiss. This time he’d make sure it lasted a good, long time. Although a bit sloppy at first, they eventually found their rhythm together. Their lips slid across each other in sync. Y/n tightened her arms around his neck as she pulled him even closer, clinging for dear life. As they eventually surfaced for breath, the hot ragged breathing visibly mingled in the chilly autumn air. He pressed his forehead back into hers, nuzzling, “I believe it was worth the wait, Darling.”

They could have spent all the time in the world in that moment, if not for the sudden crash coming from the dining area. “Oh fuzzbuckets, Nari.” Doux mumbled under his breath as he grabbed Y/n’s hand to go check out the startling noise. Once back in view of the window, they could see it was a false alarm, as Sherry had dropped a metal platter and was cleaning it up. Nari was still attentively watching the knitting woman, and Archie seemed to be getting cozy with the inn cat. Ooh Archie, you Casanova. Douxie breathed a sigh of relief. Y/n tugged at his hand,

“C’mon Dewdrop, let’s rejoin the merry making.” Douxie obliged.

And the merry making lasted until just before midnight. Surprising, considering the company they were in. They didn’t even stay until the others retired for the night, Douxie wanted to get an early start on the day and also really didn’t want to have to hear another one of Bill’s fishing stories and act like he knew anything about fishing. He complained as soon as the door closed behind them. Archie argued that he had had it worse, which Doux scoffed at. They bickered back and forth, making Y/n smile. She never knew family arguments could actually make her heart fonder. Strange. So this is what genuine love brings.

After brushing their teeth, such a mundane thing that Douxie loved doing with Y/n, they settled in to bed for the night. The autumn chill might have come, but it still way too warm for the fifteen blankets the bed had been covered in. They removed the extra and set them neatly on a pile in the loveseat. Or Y/n at least made sure the extra quilts were neatly folded, Douxie had just thrown them off and let them bunch up. Nari got under the covers, like she’d seen humans often do before, but decided it was not a sensation for her. It felt strangling, to have something weighing down at her. She joined Archie where he lay at the foot of the bed and curled up. Archie was not in the mood for more cuddles, and Nari appeared to sense that, and stayed a little ways from the dragon-cat while still trying her best to be close to him.

Y/n nestled in, with the blanket pulled up on her ear, looking cozy as ever. Douxie’s heart skipped a beat. This was still so surreal. This entire day had been surreal. There was no way this wasn’t all one big dream. Maybe he did get eaten at the Missouri motel. Perhaps something was draining his life force but giving him a pleasant dream to pacify his dwindling mind. Y/n noticed him, still standing there at the side of the bed in a trance, and reached for his hand to drag him in. He fell flush against the mattress, and as he picked himself back up, she could see his cheeks were flushed as well. Y/n giggled at the sight of him.

“Get in, just mind Arch and Nari.”

Douxie carefully got under the covers without disturbing the two at the foot of the bed, laying on his side to face Y/n. For a beat they stilled, looking into each other’s eyes and watching each other breathe, miles apart despite being so close, until Y/n stretched an arm out to place it on his shoulder, an invitation. Doux got the memo and closed the gap of sheets between them, and Y/n snuggled into his chest. He tentatively wrapped his arms around her. This was sleep time and he was supposed to be settling down and relaxing but now his heart was beating fast as if he were running. Surely Y/n could feel it, hear it even, with her ears against his heart itself. He hair smelled lovely, like dirt but right as it first starts raining. Gently smiling to himself, he tightened their embrace.

“You know, I wanted to do this last night too. So, so badly.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Bold words of someone who literally just apologized for wasting our time with her weariness.”

y/n pretended to scoff, but failed to contain her snickers, “Oh, sod off. I am asleep now, and I cannot hear you.”

Douxie woke up to a face full of dark fur. Not an unusual thing for him to wake up to, just not what he was expecting for this particular morning. At some point in the night Archie had climbed up and nestled into the space between his face and Y/n’s. Impertinent, but endearing. Douxie supposed he’d be waking up like this for many mornings to come. This magic moment would become normal, a fact of his life that he got to enjoy. Just him, Arch, and Y/n. His tiny little family. What a lovely thought. What a lovely future.

Breakfast was at seven. That was the best part of staying in a bed and breakfast, Douxie reckoned. The fragrance of the goetta frying was heavenly after not having eaten anything but beef jerky and nuts since yesterday afternoon. The innkeeper’s wife had also made biscuits that she was serving with apple butter and her signature chocolate gravy, which neither Douxie nor Y/n were brave enough to try. The apple butter was just fine, after all. Nari didn’t care for the goetta, or many meats at all, Douxie was starting to realize, instead opting to glop way too much apple butter on a biscuit that she made into a sandwich. The fruit sauce dripped out when she bit into it, which only made the other guests dote on her, telling her how she was just so cute.

Y/n was wearing that new outfit, that Ash Dispersal Pattern shirt. It looked good on her. He hoped he wasn’t being possessive here, but it really made him feel good to see her in it. They would wash their other clothes in New Jersey. Hopefully they’d make it to the garden state and the troll settlement by nightfall, but by the way things were going, Douxie could only do that, hope. They’d make their way through Pennsylvania and maybe tuck through Maryland and Delaware to avoid Philly. The new Trollmarket was under a bridge of a small town in the thick of New Jersey. They’d make it there, that was the plan.

They bid their goodbyes to the people at the bed and breakfast, and headed off to Cleveland around eight. It was an uneventful trip, unremarkable and not even worthy of being described. Although one aspect of it that Douxie enjoyed was that Y/n stayed away from the edge, choosing to hang on his arm instead of the railing. A win-win if he had ever known one. Archie made some sarcastic gagging noises at their pda, but Doux ignored him. He had been waiting way too damn long for this to not embrace his beloved on his own fucking flying ship. Arch could tease him all he wanted. This casual affection he was now allowed to show somehow was worth it. The fact that he could now just touch Y/n? And she would not only not flinch from his touch, but would even touch back? It was priceless to his heart, marrow to his old bones, chicken soup for his soul.

As they drew nearer, Douxie found out that the reason Y/n had directed them to the metropolitan area around Cleveland, pretty high up into Ohio, was that she had wanted to make a visit to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Douxie knew he shouldn’t have expected anything less. He sure knew how to pick ‘em. He could get on board with this, a little trip down memory lane might be nice. There was a reason he’d never been. A lot of his old friends who’ve earned their places in this building had passed on. Yet, it might be nice to see their faces once again.

They once again hid the boat in a wooded area and took a bus into town. It wasn’t a problem finding a close stop, since their destination was a popular tourist destination. They wandered the halls, Douxie told Y/n and Nari about some of the people from bands that he had known. Y/n listened intently. Nari really liked all the pictures and memorabilia. She understood that this was some sort of memorial, and she was making sure that she was being respectful as Hisirdoux told her about it all. She didn’t quite understand why there were tributes to some still living humans, but did not question the humans’ rituals. Perhaps they were going to die soon. All mortals will.

There was a little station with a sundry of instruments, there for people to try out. Everything was most likely out of tune, being floor instruments touched by thousands of hands. That didn’t stop Y/n from grabbing an acoustic guitar to show Nari, plucking at it’s strings effortlessly. It was a silly little ditty, meant to entertain the veggie lady, but still impressive. Wait.

“Since when have you been able to play?”

“Ah, I dunno, Dewdrop. High school, I guess? I can’t really remember when, but my friend Roxy showed me a few chords and then I was obsessed for months.”

“What, I- I gave you lessons just last month. You were terrible.”

“Hisirdoux Casperan we both know that was just an excuse for you to hold me and touch my hands as you positioned my fingers.”

Douxie’s face was red. She was right, of course, but he hadn’t thought he had been so obvious about it. He watched her fingers drift across the neck as she started playing a softer tune. It was a song he recognized. Y/n seemed to get lost in what she was doing, mumbling the words here and there. At one point she started actually singing. Softly, under her breath, but it was audible nonetheless. Either she had forgotten he was there or she was finally getting comfortable enough around him to let him hear the beautiful voice. He hoped it was the latter. Nevertheless, whichever it was, it was like a siren song to Douxie’s ears.

“Why don’t you ever sing?”

Y/n stopped suddenly. She looked up from the stings, her eyes wide. “What?”

“You’re always humming as you do things, but you only ever actually sing when you think no one’s around. Why’s that, Love?”

While he wouldn’t recommend she try out for a singing competition reality show any time soon, her voice was hypnotic to him. Soothed his soul. Not that silky as was traditionally praised, but somehow felt like home, like a less smooth polished fabric, like a well-loved linen. The cadence of her voice was the best sound he had ever heard even. He had only been lucky enough to hear her fully sing a few blessed times, yet he knew that he could listen to her sing forever. Addicting.

“I – well it’s quite embarrassing isn’t it? To sing in front of people. I’m no starlet.”

Okay, now Douxie was ready to punch the lights out of anyone who made her think she should hide the angel voice of hers. Embarrassing. Who the fuck had the nerve. “Hmm. I think that’s bullshit, Love.” Y/n looked taken aback, and morphed into an expression of confusion. Douxie decided this wasn’t a time to be subtle. He cupped her face in his hand, drawing her in to make eye contact. “Let me make this clear, My Darling. Everything I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth has been nothing but angelic. I would never want you to feel shame about expressing yourself, even if I didn’t think your voice was my favourite sound on the planet.”

Tears welled in Y/n’s eyes. She hadn’t expected him to say anything like that. She was so cautious to keep him from hearing her before, but he liked her singing? It was hard for her to fathom. The first time he had caught her crooning to herself while unboxing a new shipment of bestsellers in the bookstore had been mortifying. She had never wanted to relive that, but maybe she wouldn’t have to. She loved singing. Her father had liked to call her his little songbird. She had hidden away that part of herself like a chest of out of fashion clothes in a dusty attic. If someone like Douxie, her beloved, thought so kindly of her though, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to open up the chest and try on a few dresses.

“I- You’re serious? You really think that?”

Douxie held her gaze. “Absolutely.” He tipped her face up towards his to punctuate his point with a kiss.

They continued to wander through the rooms and exhibits of the museum. Douxie stopped to look at a portrait of someone he particularly missed, an old friend he had many good times with. He’d miss the geezer. He really was a great musician. He had taught Douxie a lot of tricks, and Doux wouldn’t be able to play the electric guitar half as well without his friend. He had a different kind of magic.

He was caught in his reverie when Y/n popped in from another room, urging him to come see something. Her excitement was something Doux would never stop enjoying, so he let her grab his hand so he would follow her. Douxie didn’t know what he was expecting her to show him, definitely not this. He was staring face to face with his own poster, circa 1960. They were experimenting with a new style, the rock of the day that was becoming increasingly popular. He remembered it fondly. It was a new age. The drummer in the photo, he was mortal, and while he could have been alive today, sadly he was taken, just ten years after joining the band. Seeing his smiling face filled Doux with peace. So many memories, he was glad he got to make them. And there would be more memories to come, he’d make sure of it. No order of ancient terrors breathing down his neck was gonna stop him from doing what he loved.

He was so lost in thought they he almost missed what this meant. He was in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. How did he not know he was in the fucking hall of fame. They didn’t even tell him. Well, he supposed this version of him no longer legally existed, so that made sense. Still. It was fantastic news. He was pretty proud. Some sweet validation that he always craved. Y/n had brought him here, she’d been here before, she knew. She was showing him off, to no one in particular, but the thought made him grin. Ash Dispersal Pattern in the hall of fame. Heh. He’d have to tell the others; in fact he would announce this to the group chat as soon as he had some free time. Zoe would get a kick out of him not knowing. Y/n tugged on his arm.

“Aren’t you cool, Mr. Rockstar.”

#hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x reader #douxie casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #tales of arcadia x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie imagine #douxie casperan imagine #hisirdoux imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie casperan #toa douxie #my writing #nert

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toosicktoocare · 4 years ago

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prompt: If you want, a whump fic idea for Dick where he gets drugged and hallucinates the fam being hurt or attacked?

This is highkey dark, so I’ll trigger warning here for hallucinations of violence, breaking and entering, Joker being his TYPICAL asshole self...

Dick’s standing just outside the manor. He can’t remember how he got there. He can’t actually remember anything. All he knows is there’s a lingering, tight prick of pain on his neck, a small, circular bump that’s hot against his palm as he rubs insistently at it.

He stumbles forward, his legs wobbly, uncoordinated, and he glances down with a loose frown, his torn, frayed suit bottoms swimming in and out of focus. He pats a bare knee, bringing his hand up to find thick, red blood coloring his pale palm. He hums, briefly trying to supply missing pieces in his mind, but he quickly finds that thinking makes his already pounding head want to split into two.

Absently wiping his hand along his side, which weirdly hurts, an inside kind of hurt that confuses him even more, he cranes his neck back up toward the manor, body tensing to alert as a familiar tuft of overly-processed green hair slinks in through the front door.

He makes to rush forward, but he falls instead, dropping hard to his hands and knees. Glancing back, he frowns when he spots dense, dark mud gluing his feet to the ground, mud that he’s sure wasn’t there moments before.

“Shit,” he hisses, twisting around until he’s clawing through the mud that seems to produce faster and thicker the harder he digs. The mud is tight and sharp at his feet, each drag of his hand bringing forth bouts of pain, but he presses forward until a sharp, familiar scream echoes from the manor.

His entire body falls rigid, and he can’t whip around fast enough. His eyes are trembling as he scans for the source, stopping at a window peering through the study. Joker’s got Damian’s arm twisted tightly behind his back, and Damian’s trying to strategically struggle against the grip, but then Dick hears a loud snap, louder than the air that puffs fast from his lungs, and Damian’s dropped to the floor.

“No,” Dick mutters clawing at the ground before him to drag his cement feet forward. He pauses when he hears a window shatter, and he whips his gaze to the sound, finding Tim unconscious and hanging over the edge of the broken window on the second floor, blood dripping like rain drops down to a pool of red at the ground below.

“Tim,” Dick gasps out, panic an iron weight against his lungs. “No, Tim!” He desperately digs his fingers into the mud below him, teeth clenched tightly. He has to...

“Watch and learn, sweet, little Bird!”

Dick’s blood runs cold, his breath squeezed from his lungs at the chilling, teasing voice that carries across the wind. He pushes himself up, head tipping toward the roof to see Bruce dangling over the edge by a tight, pale hand around his neck. Bruce is struggling, both hands wrapped desperately around Joker’s wrist, but Joker appears impossibly unfazed, and he’s laughing.

“Take notes. This is what it looks like to kill.”

Joker lets go, and Bruce’s limp body starts falling, slowly. Everything around him is suddenly too slow, and Dick reaches forward, wishing he could move, wishing...

“Bruce!”

***

Bruce jerks awake with a sharp gasp, and the almost immediate sounds of hard, frantic footsteps growing louder and closer tells him something is terribly wrong. He’s swinging his legs over the bed when Alfred throws the door open, eyes wild and worried. “Master Bruce, it’s-”

“Dick!” Tim shouts from downstairs, clashing with the loudly strangled “Richard!” from Damain.

Bruce doesn’t wait for an explanation, he follows Alfred out of the room, moving along a suffocating push of adrenaline until he’s stumbling to a stop out of the front door, his jaw going slack and his mind going frigteningly white hot.

Dick’s on the ground, brusied and bloody, and he’s moving his hands over Damian and Tim as if his life depends on it. He can hear the tremble in his voice, the repeated insistence that the Joker was just here, and that he watched him attack everyone, that he threw Bruce off the roof.

“Fear toxin.”

Bruce jumps slightly, whipping to see Alfred at his side, a syringe clasped tightly in his hand. “We’ll have to run blood work, but this antidote should take the edge off. May I?”

Nodding, Bruce finally wills his legs to move, stepping down the front steps with heavy footfalls, Alfred right at his side. He drops to a crouch in front of Dick, reaching forward but afraid his touch won’t bring comfort to Dick’s lost mind.

“B-Bruce? I saw him! You... He... He choked you. Bruce, he’s here.”

“He’s not, chum,” Bruce tries, his heart physically chipping at the loudly evident break in Dick’s voice. “It’s fear toxin. You were hallucinating.”

“No,” Dick growls, reaching forward, supporting himself with one hand wrapped tightly around Bruce’s arm. “He was here. He was... wait.” He whips unsteady eyes around, throat bobbing, entire body shaking. “Where’s Jason?”

“Richard, he’s at his apartment,” Damian tries softly. “Todd doesn’t usually stay here.”

“No... No, no, no! He has Jason! He has Jason again, and we can’t- Bruce! We can’t... Not again!”

“Call Jason,” Bruce growls to Tim, not bothering to hide the fear laced in his tone. “Get him here, now.” He can hear Tim fumbling with his phone, and then Tim’s speaking, voice shaking, small.

“J-Jay? Can you come over here? It’s Dick.”

“Jason!” Dick screams, and Bruce has to wrap both arms around Dick to keep him grounded.

“Stop, B! We have to- Jason!”

“Alfred,” Bruce growls, and Alfred bends down and jabs a syringe into Dick’s neck, pushing down hard until Dick’s frantic shaking and struggling begins to slow.

“Easy, Dick,” Bruce mutters into Dick’s sweat-soaked hair, his arms softening around Dick’s slumping frame. “We’re all here, and you are going to be just fine. I promise.”

Dick hums into his chest, and then his body all but melts against Bruce, his eyes fluttering closed and his breathing evening to slow, steady rises and falls.

“Let’s get him inside.” Bruce stands, lifting Dick with a desperate ease despite Dick’s broad, tall frame. “Alfred, prep medical for bloodwork, and call Leslie. I want a full assessment.”

“Right away, sir.”

Alfred starts off first, and Bruce keeps a slow pace to match with Tim and Damian, the two eerily quiet at either side of him.

“He’ll be fine.” Bruce isn’t sure who he’s really reassuring here, two rattled sons or his own, rapid heart. “He won’t want to see you both so somber when he wakes.”

“Bruce...” Tim starts, worrying his hands. “What do we... I mean... We should do something, right? We have to do something.”

“I agree with Drake, father. We need to track Richard’s movements over the last few hours, pinpoint his coordinates and investigate each location he’s stopped at for more than a minute.”

If Bruce weren’t seconds away from isolating himself to work through a full blown break down, he’d be impressed at Damian’s immediate willingness to agree with Tim; however, the situation at hand is very much real.

“There will be time for that, I promise. Right now our entire focus needs to be on Dick because coming out of fear toxin is-”

“-the equivalent of climbing your way out of a grave after dying,” Jason mutters as he slows his run down to a quick walk up the driveway, bike keys tightly gripped in his hand. “Heavy and confusing, but what would I know?”

Bruce can immediately tell that Jason’s attempting to deflect from his rattled fear, but he can still hear it loud and clear in Jason’s tone, a slight, frayed edge to his voice, one that’s typically reserved for his siblings.

“What happened? Jason questions, ignoring the pained, tired glare from Bruce as he falls into step beside Tim. “Who’s ass are we kicking?”

“No one’s tonight,” Bruce mutters, stepping ahead into the manor but staying close enough to hear his other, three sons.

“Christ, Jay, it was scary.”

Tim’s voice, Bruce notes, finally a little less shaky and more alert.

“We woke up to hear Richard screaming father’s name, and we found him outside. He was.... He thought the Joker broke in and attacked us.”

Damian’s voice, Bruce thinks, is still trembling far too much for his liking, but it’s the single, cracking word that follows that brings his heart to an agreement with his waning adrenaline.

“Fuck.”

***

“He would be the one to hallucinate bad things happening to his family. He’s such a softy.”

“Jason.”

“Grayson isn’t heartless like you, Todd.”

“Oh, there’s a heart in there, Demon Brat. I just willingly choose to perceive it as nothing but a lumpy organ that keeps me alive.”

“That’s the most absurd thing I think I’ve ever heard from your mouth, Todd.”

“Damn, I must be off my game if that’s all it takes to rattle that tiny brain of yours.”

“Will you two shut the hell up? You’re going to wake him.”

It takes Dick a worryingly long moment to gather that he’s the “him” in question, and that he’s awake. Sort of. His mind is wrapping around the present, but it’s a long process that’s slowed down by fuzzy roadblocks, unhinged snapshots of memories that aren’t quite forming fully.

“Wha..?” He croaks out, eyes flying open at the shouts that follow.

“Dick!”

“Richard!”

“Easy, idiots! You’ll overwhelm him.”

Dick’s eyes dart around each face, drinking in each sight. He’s not sure why, but he’s desperately relieved to see his family. His eyes linger on Bruce’s face, a need he doesn’t fight, but then panic hits, and he whips his entire head until he finds Jason, alive, not... captured? He thinks; he’s not sure.

“Fear toxin,” Jason supplies quietly, knowing that look all too well. “You saw the Joker.”

Dick’s immediate response is to bark out question after question, his memories flooding through is mind like murky, cold water, but Bruce rakes steady fingers through his hair, easing some of the panic pressing against his ribs.

“There’ll be time to talk, son. But right now, you need rest. You’re concussed, you have three broken ribs, various lacerations, and your ankles and feet are scraped up pretty badly.”

“I...”

“We’re all fine, Dick,” Jason presses firmly, catching Dick’s clouded eyes.

“And we will still be fine when you wake again.” Damian takes a seat on the edge of Dick’s bed, mindful of the tubes and wires. He places a single, steady hand to Dick’s covered arm, a wordless reassurance that Dick clings to.

“You’ll all still be here?” Dick rasps, throat a dry burn from disuse. He’s bone tired, exhaustion tugging at him from all angles, tethering him to another bout of dreamless sleep.

Tim steps closer just as Dick begins to fade, his arm brushing against Jason’s, and he brings a voice to what’s colored in everyone’s eyes, what’s reflected in the strong, protective postures surrounding Dick’s bed.

“We aren’t going anywhere, Dick.”

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lightbeyondeden · 4 years ago

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Weatherman

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

a/n: this is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins ‘s small creators list! My prompt was “reader loses a set of very important papers after they blow away. Spencer, who happens to be nearby, helps collect them.”

this isn’t my favourite but i figured i’d post it anyway :(

This is also in first person, which I am experimenting with so let me know how you like it!

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings: Mentions of schizophrenia/general mental illness and doctor talk, some cursing

masterlist

I am late. I am so, so, so very extraordinarily late.

What may very well be the most important meeting of my career starts in 3 minutes, and I only just got off the bus.

I grab onto the folder beside me - which contains over a years worth of research, research that I need for the most important meeting of my career - and take off towards the entrance of the hospital. I’m just about five feet short of those steely sliding doors when I hear a crack of thunder that stops me dead in my tracks, and it would’ve only been that which stopped me if I hadn't have seen him standing there.

He was tall and he dressed like he had been born in the 1960’s, though he couldn’t have been more than five years older than myself. He turned around and I was caught in these honey gold eyes. His hair had that kind of effortless curly look that was perfect for running your fingers through. I probably could’ve stood there looking in those eyes for the rest of my life if I hadn’t suddenly become aware that the folder in my hand had snapped open with a gust of wind from the storm.

I watched my work dance away in the wind.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit shit!”

That was all I could think of the say as I desperately chased after my research papers as they now found a new home on the ground in front of the sliding doors I came so close to entering without incident. I should’ve known that would’ve been too easy, I have never been graceful.

The honey-eyed boy and I both jumped into action, chasing down the papers as efficiently as we could in a stormy, crowded, cement slab. When he turns to hand me the stack he collected, I don’t even have time to think about the words flying out of my mouth. All I know is I need to be in conference room B right now, wooing a table of investors into taking on my clinical trial.

“Thank you! I’m so late!” I could feel myself slipping into his features already, which likely why I huffed out those last few words.

“You're gorgeous. I’m SO late.”

With embarrassing sentiment on the table, I turn on my heel and race to my conference room.

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

Once the door shuts behind me I’m finally able to let out the breath I feel like I’ve been holding for the past hour. An hour I had just spent pitching my new clinical trial to the hospital board, or basically begging them to fund it. I could not be more nervous, even now that the meeting was over my mind was still in jumbles and going a mile a minute.

However this career defining moment wasn’t the only thing that had me flustered; I can’t stop thinking about the man from earlier. I can picture his veiny hands, the watch wrapped around the cuff of his shirt, the fact I had called him gorgeous…

Okay, so that last one makes me cringe a little, but it wasn’t like it was a lie. Plus, I was probably never going to see him again. He didn’t work here (I would remember someone that pretty), and we had interacted for like five seconds anyway.

That’s what I told myself - until I turned the corner and ran right into him.

“Oh! I am so sorry.” He says immediately, like a reflex, and I want to choke him out right there in that hallway because not only does he look like an angel but he's polite too.

And I’m so caught up in that thought that he speaks again,

“You’re Dr. Y/l/n.”

I just look up at him dumbly because yes, I am, but I don’t know where he’s going with this yet and I really, really do not want to embarrass myself in front of him again.

“I’ve read about your work in the Journal of Clinical Psychopharmacology.” His eyes are darting wildly around the room, and he's talking so fast I can barely comprehend what he's trying to say, “Your research in pediatric onset schizophrenia is really groundbreaking. I mean, the use of Olanzapine Pharmacokinetics during inpatient stays is-”

“Y/n.” I interrupt, reaching my hand out for him to shake.

“What?”

“You don't have to call me Doctor Y/l/n. You’re not a patient or an asshole, and those are the only people who have to call me that. My name is Y/n.” I say, trying to put some humour into the conversation.

He looks at me for a little too long before taking my hand. I can tell he's uncomfortable the second he touches me, and I’m horrified that it’s because my hands are clammy. He must sense my discomfort as I do his, because he looks at me with the first smile I earn from him and says;

“I’m not really a handshake person. Too many germs.”

I chuckle, but only because I want to see that smile painted across his face for as long as I can, savouring every second of it.

We stand in the empty hallway and when I breathe in it smells like hand sanitizer and cinnamon, and now it’s my turn to smile because this gorgeous man smells like fall and has read my research and has a smile that could stop wars and I know that I want to know every part of him, let him infect parts of me with his smell and his touch and I don't even know his name yet.

“Spencer,” He says, reading my mind, “That's my name. You don’t have to call me Doctor either, just for the record.”

I laugh again, and it is much too loud for the amount of funny that statement was. I was a fifteen year old again and he was the cute boy in my math class who I couldn’t talk to without giggling and blushing.

“You’re a doctor? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Not that kind of doctor, I have PhD’s.”

He smiles that million dollar smile and my legs are like jelly. Just like that I know I will fall in love with this honey eyed man. It’s now or never, and I don't know where I get the courage to ask him out for coffee but I do it - with shaky hands and a quiet voice - but I do it nonetheless.

We plan to see eachother again that night and I can’t breathe until I see him. The coffee shop is empty except for us and even if it hadn’t been the world would have fallen away from me anyway. He walks me to my door, and it starts to rain, and I’m not even annoyed that my hair was ruined by the sky.

I guess the weather works in my favour sometimes.

Tags

@mollygetssherlockcoffee @imagining-in-the-margins

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #Criminal Minds

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ad1thi · 4 years ago

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@starklysteve me?? spamming you w recs because i love talking about my ships?? more likely than you think :)) (here’s some rhodeytony to get you started on what is objectively the best tony ship)

i place your hands around my neck: @fanfictiongreenirises

"Rhodey could practically feel his lungs getting heavier again, weighed down by roots of plants that he’d thought would never take hold in him again."

Or: the one where Rhodey's been pining over Tony for much longer than either of them realised and develops the Hanahaki disease

Pretend We’re In Love (The Heartache Still Hurts): @marvelingjules

Rhodey's dad is dying, and what he's always wanted is for Rhodey to be happily married. Tony and Rhodey were best friends, and haven't spoken in years. But after a chance meeting at the airport, and a desperate, insane idea on Rhodey's part, they end up pretending to be engaged.

But how much of it is really pretend?

i can’t seem to get a grip, no matter how i live with it: @psikeval

Tony knows he's got no business being a father.

A Million Shades of Blue: @notfknapplicable

“I just know that if I could get to wherever he is, I could find him. Dead or alive, I'd bring him back to us.”

James Rhodes will never stop searching for Tony Stark.

Twenty Five Years: @notfknapplicable (part of a series)

Nobody knows how long this has actually been going on. (Tony Stark has pretty much been in a monogamous relationship since he was 18 years old.)

Leave The Light On: @notfknapplicable (part of a series)

He was never doing this for fun. He'd just wanted to stay awake. And whatever you do, please don't tell that guy he's been fucking. He kinda likes him.

coloured in sun: @heleus

The one in which Anthony Edward Stark, having just reached the warm age of seventeen, realizes that he's in love with his best friend.

(The idea is terrifying.)

the planets that bend us: @deathsweetqueen

When Antonia Margaret Stark wakes up on her sixth birthday, it’s to the words: I didn’t get any sleep last night after that fucking lawn mower decided that 7 in the morning would be a perfect time for him to start his day, right outside my room.

She runs a thumb over the long string of words, wrapping around her wrist like a thick leather band.

She smiles.

She’s fourteen when she meets James Rupert Rhodes for the first time.

Written for the "more than a partner" square (S3) for the Tony Stark Bingo 2019 and the "soulmate" square for the Iron Husbands Bingo 2019

we rattle together in a bed of honey: @deathsweetqueen

Toni first met James Rhodes in Cellular Neurophysiology and Computing, when she was fourteen and trying very hard to stay in the shadows. She stumbles into the classroom, clutching her books and binders and pencil case close to her chest, as she stares at everything, wide-eyed and hungry and terrified. She seizes on the contempt, the confusion, the incredulity of the other freshman who look at her like she’s an incongruity – she’s used to that look, all that hate and derision.

She eats it up like chocolate cake.

Much to her luck, all the seats are filled, all except for one towards the middle of the row, a table shared only by a tall, handsome black boy, sleeping on top of the counter.

a winding road that stretches to the truth: @/coulddaughter (this author ostensibly has a tumblr but im unable to locate it -- so if anyone knows what their tumblr is please let me know so i can tag them!)

“Why do you need a date? Also, no offence, but why did you come to me? I stole, like, four of your girlfriends and at least two boyfriends, remember.”

“I do remember that, Tony,” said Jim, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, I need you to come on a date with me.”

Love in the Eyes: @child-of-sunshine

The moment each of the Avengers realized Tony and Rhodey were in love.

The Curious Case Of The Discarded Condom: @/AssvengersArsemble

Natasha, Clint and Steve get just a little nosy about Tony's love life. Tony finds it extremely amusing they can't see what's right under their noses.

takes a lot of love and compliance: @gyzym

She's born breech, feet kicking out before the rest of her screams free; she's born breech, and never stops running. (Rule 63!Tony)

Targeted Persuasion: @galwednesday

Jim opened Tony's most formal closet and started pulling out tuxedos. "Put one of these on.”

"Why?"

"We're getting married."

Tony froze. "No, we're not."

"Oh yes we are." Jim tossed three tuxedos onto the bed. Three was a good number of options, enough for Tony to make a choice, but not so many that he'd get lost analyzing the ramifications of navy pinstripes vs. charcoal paisley. Tony did best with clear, specific expectations rather than an unlimited universe of possibilities that he would inevitably filter through his neuroses and obsess over, and Jim was really kicking himself for not considering that, oh, ten years ago when they’d first started this, but there was no point in beating himself up about it now when he could put that energy towards solving the problem instead. "You brought this on yourself, Tones. Pick a damn tux."

Five thousand roses: @/forestgreen

She is broken and all the more dangerous for it. The world should tread carefully around the shards of her former self lest they cut themselves on Antonia Stark's sharp edges.

A Guide to Handling the Unhandleable Tony Stark: @/nightrider101 (this is ab a/b/o verse)

Written for the following prompt on the Avengers Kink meme: The rest of the Avengers assume Tony is an unbound Omega by the way he acts. He's reckless and carefree and does what he wants. Imagine their surprise when they find out that Rhodey is Tony's Alpha. They're all confused at the way Rhodey lets Tony act and how they can be away from each other for long periods of time and Rhodey's just like 'He didn't want to give up his career and I didn't want to give up mine. And I gave up trying to tell Tony what to do years ago.'

It’s Not Bacon Until It Ceases To Be Bacon: @sobebold

Tony has lived with his best friend Rhodey for fifteen years, and everything is perfect.

Until Rhodey finally gets a boyfriend, and Tony's world gets turned upside down.

by any name: @machi-kun

Tony calls him ‘mine’, sometimes.

And he also calls him platypus, honeybear, sugarplum, all those stupid nicknames; but James’ favorite will always be ‘mine’.

Tutor Me: @wisiaden

Tony really wants James Rhodes to be his math tutor. The guy was hot, and if he had to play dumb, well, he can say he hates math.

run and hide: @/starksrhodey

Tony may or may not have a crush on football captain James Rhodes.

Or, Tony is extremely insecure, Pepper knows best, Steve likes to bake, Bucky loves red heads, and Rhodey keeps trying to talk to Tony.

This Is The Real Life: @blancheludis

It takes doing the laundry for Tony to realize he is completely, irrevocably in love with Rhodey. Who knew that the way to Tony Stark's heart is to teach him how to wash his clothes.

Anything For You Darling: @areiton

Tony is sitting on the balcony of his palace in Malibu, and Rhodey hates it, more than he's ever hated anything, watching his best friend stare at the water, limmed by the sun and utterly alone.

"She's dead," Tony says, before Rhodey can ask and he feels his breath catch, his heart stumble.

There's--

Grief. For pretty, troubled Maya with her big eyes.

Heartbreak. For a sweet infant who will never know the mother who gave him up, whose life will never be exposed, now.

Relief. Because Harley is safe. Safe. Gods, he's safe.

Rhodey helps Tony raise his son.

it goes like this (just like heroin): @quandongcrumble

He’s twenty-six and you’re twenty-eight and you get a midnight phone call from Obadiah and between the two of you, you manage to beg and bully until you can fly back to the States and sit beside the white hospital bed while they say words like heroin and accidental overdose and that Tony should pull through but Tiberius might not wake up.

It goes like this—for almost sixteen years Tony’s addiction problems are a blight on Rhodey’s relationship with him. Friendships crack and trust is shattered, over and over again.

motor oil and coconut oil: @/halfasgoodasanything

James loves his best friend. He's entirely supportive of his friendship and his almost relationship with Steve Rogers. He is! He is. Carol and Pepper seem to think otherwise, but he's cool. Loving Tony doesn't mean no one else can. Even if he wanted to.

lost and found: @starkslovemail

“Are you lost?”

Tony jumped at the voice cutting into his thoughts. Turning around, he saw another teen, maybe a year or two older than him, decked out in Team USA gear. He shook his head, flashing what he hoped was a disarming smile, “Nope.”

“Are you sure about that?” The athlete raised a disbelieving brow as he stared down at Tony. “You’ve been walking up and down this hallway for the past ten minutes, and the least embarrassing reason why is being lost.”

The blunt honesty startled a laugh out of Tony. He grinned cheekily, rocking back on his heels, “Guess I’m lost then.”

Written for the RhodeyTony Mini-Bang! Art can be seen on twitter here!

two boy geniuses walk into one frat house: @starkslovemail (part of a series)

There were too many white people at this damn party.

The Other 'Mr Stark': Iron Man’s Mysterious Paramour: @presidentrhodes

Clint leans over to Tony and whispers. “For the record, I know you’re lying. You’re describing the perfect man and he doesn’t exist. You might as well say you’re dating Superman because at least Christopher Reeve was a looker.“(Based on this prompt: Tony keeps telling the avengers how awesome his husband is but they don't believe he exists because it has been months and they still haven't met him yet and then finally, Rhodey comes home.)

#adi's rec list #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #james rhodes/tony stark #james rhodes x tony stark #this got long 😳#but all of these fics are so worth it #twenty seven recs #I HOPE YOU ENJOY THEM RHAE

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ladypogue · 4 years ago

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Used to This

Summary: JJ Maybank has had his fair share of one-night stands and random hookups. He never considered himself a relationship kind of guy. He wasn’t sure if it was his fear of commitment or the years of being told he wasn’t good enough, but he was content with his current situation. So, what happens when JJ, the troublemaker of Kildare, finds himself face to face with a girl that could change his whole outlook on love and relationships. Will sparks fly, or will the two crash and burn?

Warnings: None :)

word count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello to any readers, as always, thank you for reading, it means a lot to me. I am terribly sorry for the late update if you’ve been waiting for it. I was away on vacation and had no service so I couldn’t post and then when I got home i rewrote a bunch.. I’m still not fully happy but it will do. As always feedback (both positive and negative) are welcome. Enjoy! :))

Part 2

JJ stood in his place, staring after the girl who just whizzed past him. Not even catching her name, JJ shook it off and made his way back to his friends who were standing around the keg, jumping back into conversation with them like nothing happened. However, even upon rejoining his friends, he couldn’t help but scan the crowded beach for the girl. Spotting her standing with her friends, he let his eyes trail over her figure from afar. She was wearing a red tube top that complimented her skin tone nicely with a pair high waisted jean shorts. Her long hair was blowing in the wind, the light of fire radiating off her features, she appeared to glow in the dim light; JJ couldn’t deny she was beautiful. Noticing he wasn’t paying attention to the group anymore, Kie tried to follow his gaze.

“What are you looking at JJ?” she asked, figuring it was a girl and ready to tease him about it.

“It’s nothing” JJ mumbled under his breath, not wanting to admit he was staring at the girl and endure the remarks Kiara was likely to throw his way.

“Uh huh, sure” she rolled her eyes but dropped the subject, turning back to the other two boys; John B and Pope oblivious to the exchange. When he looked back up, he was surprised to already be met by her gaze. He blushed and looked away, for whatever reason this girl made him nervous. This was new to JJ, but he just chalked it up to him not having hooked up in a while, so he was off his game.

“Seriously dude, what is up with you?” Kie prodded, noticing his blushing, which was very un-JJ like in her mind. It was weird to see the most confident person she knew blushing like a schoolgirl.

“Kie, do you know that girl over there by the fire? In the red top.” He asked glancing at the girl once more, Kie following his line of sight nodding her head.

“Yeah, that’s Ella. Ella Thomas. We were friends growing up. She’s a little quiet but a sweet girl. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Kie explained, giving what little knowledge she had about the girl to JJ. He just nodded his head taking in this information, having an internal debate on whether he should go talk to her or not.

Finally spotting her friends after what seemed like an hour of searching, Ella ran up to them excitedly, ready to share her experience with the tall blonde she bumped into, knowing her friends were always ready to talk boys.

“Oh my god, there you are Ella! We were worried when we got back, and you weren’t where we left you!” Grace exclaimed as she pulled Ella into a hug, relieved to see her friend hadn’t been kidnapped by some stranger. Sophia and Ella chuckled; their friend being known for her dramatics as it’s not like Ella was gone for more than 15 minutes.

“Here I am, some guy was flirting with me but I wasn’t interested so I got up to find you guys so I could shake him.” Ella explained gingerly. She did feel a little bad that she didn’t shoot them a text saying that she got up but figured they wouldn’t care about that as she continued her story.

“Ella, it’s summer, you officially have little to no responsibilities. Would it kill you to give into a little flirting every once in a while?�� Sophia groaned hearing that her best friend turned away yet another potential boyfriend.

“So, I guess you don’t want to hear about the guy I bumped into on my escape route then.” Ella smirked taking a sip of her drink, watching her friends’ eyes light up at this.

“Boy?? There was a boy? And you didn’t hiss at him?” Sophia asked, joking, but only in the slightest.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. But yes, there was a boy. He was so cute, but not in a boyish way. He had the most beautiful blue eyes, oh and he was so strong. When I bumped into him, he caught me and held me steady. I never wanted him to let go. And when he smiled at me, it felt like time stood still. I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve never experienced this before.” Ella gushed to her two friends, who held onto her every word.

“Ella, babes, it sounds like you have a crush.” Grace smirked, but secretly cheering on the inside, rooting for her bestie.

“How can I have a crush on him? I don’t even know his name.” She sighed, realizing she never caught the strangers name and the likely hood of her seeing him again after their encounter would be slim.

“You didn’t get his name?!” Sophia yelled, “that’s the most important part when meeting someone, is getting their name. You know what, it’s okay, could you point him out if you saw him? Maybe we know him.”

Ella nodded fervently, “There’s no way I wouldn’t be able to recognize him.”

“Well then start scanning the beach! We don’t have all night” Grace pushed, equally excited to find this mystery boy. Ella started looking around, trying not to be too obvious or weird, hoping to see those ocean blue eyes once again. She felt as if someone staring at her once again. Turning to meet the gaze of her onlooker, ready to brush them off no longer interested in anyone else, she was pleasantly surprised to make eye contact with the boy she’s had been searching for. He was standing around the keg with his friends, seeming to be paying more attention to her than them. Blushing and dropping her gaze with a smile, Ella turned back to her friends.

“He’s the blonde standing by the keg. But do not make it obvious that you’re looking at him.” Following her instructions, Grace and Sophia glance towards the keg, eyes almost popping out of their heads once they realized who Ella was referring to.

“Elle, sweetie, that’s JJ Maybank.” Sophia said, coming out of her shock. He didn’t seem like her type. She always imagined Ella with someone who was well off, probably a kook of sorts or maybe a touron who was visiting for the summer, but definitely not the troublemaker of the island.

“Who?”

“You know, resident player of OBX. Known to have his way girls and then leave them. He’s not a relationship kind of guy, really only wants one thing.” Grace explained.

“Definitely not a good idea. He’s bad news.” Sophia added on.

“But he seems to be friends with Kiara, and she doesn’t seem like the type to be friends with a terrible person.” Ella looked like a deer caught in the headlights, not wanting to be judged by her friends for her choice of attraction, even if she couldn’t help it.

“Don’t get your hopes up and do not get hung up on him”

“Yeah we want you fall in love, not get your heart broken by some douchebag.”

Ella took in her friends’ warnings and couldn’t help but be hurt, yet still endeared, by their words. How could they say such things about JJ when they didn’t see how he was her? Maybe they knew him better than her, but she couldn’t help but feel that they were wrong. But then again maybe they were right, they were more in the social loop and definitely talked to other girls about boys, so they had to have heard stories from them. And they did want what’s best for her. Plus, they only had a brief interaction so what did she really know about the boy, nothing. Looking back up to see if he was still looking at her, she noticed he was gone. He probably went to find another girl; she shook her head. Stupid of her to think he could possibly be thinking of her too. Noticing her change in demeanor, Sophia wrapped her arm around Ella’s shoulders, pulling her in close.

“Aw Elle, we didn’t mean to ruin your first crush, but there’s no way we could stand to see you get hurt. Especially by someone like him.”

She just nodded her head, tipping her drink back, finishing it. “I’m going to get another drink.” She stated, walking away not giving her friends a chance to reply. She wanted to take a walk and think about what they had told her. So, his name was JJ, she wondered what it was short for. She thought about his reputation and how many girls he had to have been with and mistreated for him to get it, but it didn’t seem to add up to their interaction. Granted their interaction was brief, and he could’ve just been being nice, but her gut told her otherwise, that he was actually a good guy. She was still nervous though, as he appeared to have quite the body count, while hers was still at zero. Not wanting to overthink she quickened her pace and made her way towards the keg that JJ’s friends were still standing at, ready to get drunk and block the blonde boy from her mind.

She was looking down at her feet, trying to not to think of JJ with another girl. She had no right to be jealous, as far as she knew, he had no idea who she was besides the girl who ran into him. Pushing the thought from her head she looked up just in time to smack into the chest of someone. Getting a strong sense of déjà vu, she felt their hands grab onto her arms and she looked up only to be met with a smirk from the boy she was trying so hard not to think about.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.” He chuckled as he made sure she was steady before removing his hands from her arms and backing up ever so slightly.

“I’m so sorry! I guess I better start watching where I’m going, or this may end up being a regular thing.” She laughed along with him, less nervous this time but her heart still racing.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” He smirked slightly, “just maybe less crashing into me, I’m nervous you’ll break your nose. I’m JJ by the way.” He stuck his hand out for hers. Placing her hand gently in his she introduced herself. When JJ felt the pressure of her hand in his, he brought it up to kiss the back of her knuckles, leaving her staring at him in awe, as no one had done that before.

“What?” he smiled down at her.

Snapping out of her haze, she shook her head and smiled to herself, mumbling a ‘nothing’ before looking back up at him with a slight blush on her cheeks. Laughing at her shock, JJ inquired “So Ella, where were you off in such a rush?”

“Which time?” She laughed back at him, realizing now how cliché their meetings have been.

“Both.” He smiled.

“Well the first time, I was avoiding this guy who had been attempting to flirt with me.” JJ felt a twinge of jealousy build in his stomach. Obviously someone was hitting on her, she was beautiful, of course JJ wasn’t the only one who could see that. “I was kind of into it but then I realized that it’s the same guy my best friend has been crushing on so I couldn’t do that to her. So, I got up to leave but he tried to follow me, so I was looking for my friends.” Relief washed through him and he admired her for the way she cared more about her friends’ feelings than her own. “And this time I was going to get a drink, just a little distracted by my thoughts so I wasn’t paying attention. What about you? Where were going?”

“Our first meeting I was going back to my friends after wringing it out” he chuckled as Ella made a face, “and this time I was looking for you.”

Her facial expression changed from that of minor disgust to shock, “you were looking for me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? A pretty girl literally runs into me but rushes off before I get her name. Of course, I’m going to look for her.” He told her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Ella couldn’t help but blush at his words, not sure how to handle that fact that he seemed to be flirting with her.

They stood there talking for a few more moments, her next drink completely forgotten and the ones she had previously consumed calming her nerves. Eventually the pair parted ways, returning to their friends, yet they continued to steal secret glances, each flushing pink when their eyes would meet those of the others already awaiting stare.

As the night dwindled down and people started to leave, in a bout of courage, JJ jogged up to Ella and her friends when he noticed they were heading out. He grabbed Ella’s hand, turning her around, making the trio stop and stare at him, all three shocked he was standing before them. Looking directly at Ella, and avoiding the harsh stares of her friends, JJ took a deep breath.

“I know we just met tonight but I couldn’t let you leave without asking for your number. So, can I have it?” JJ inquired, fidgeting with his hands trying to calm his nerves, preparing for a rejection. Giddy on the inside, Ella nodded her head and held her hand out for his phone. Relieved JJ took his phone out for her to put her contact information in. Smiling when she gave it back, JJ glanced down making sure everything was there, adding an emoji to her name without her noticing. Both of them smiling wide, he started to turn to head back to his friends. Before he could get too far, he heard her call out, “You better use that number Maybank!”

Telling her he would text her later he waved goodbye as she and her friends turned back around and started their walk home.

Both returned to back to their beds, having endured grilling from their friends. Grace and Sophia continuing to warn Ella of the possible mistake she was making and the Pogues just confused on why JJ didn’t try to bring her home. Both of them shrugging of their friends and falling asleep with smiles on their faces.

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astryelle · 4 years ago

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Phantasm-Round 2

Author’s Note: A playlist to listen to while you read this because self control is not a thing I have. Each song relates to a part of the round!

(Chicken Boy is a nickname for Gakusa Oh)

(Image: Aerial of Taiyuu’s island, angle of the train coming in)

The end of the weekend brings the close Lana’s home visit. How Dinara almost managed to set the kitchen on fire for a third time is beyond her. Really, the sheer amount of chaos that happened in two days dumbfounds her.

A thin, wispy mist sits over the island, giving everything a hazy sort of screen. She was supposed to be back at 7, the night before, but a storm had the train delayed til the early morning hours. From her window, she can see the damp campus grounds, dull greys in the out-of-focus weather.

The car is basically empty; Fujinuma and Spellman being the only other occupants of it. No one tries to make small talk; Fujinuma is nodding off in her sleep, and Spellman is scribbling something in her journal. There’s a stagnant, but peaceful atmosphere, much like the feeling the storm has left behind. As the train eases into the station, it stops with a quiet hiss and doors slide open.

“Mind the gap when stepping onto the platform. Mind the gap when stepping onto the platform. Mind the gap when stepping onto-” The automatic voice reminds her.

“Have a good weekend, Ogura?” Spellman’s voice rings from above as her classmate is currently a whopping two and a half meters.

“My aunt almost burrned aparrtment komplex down,” she deadpans as they leave the station.

“Sounds fun.”

“No.”

Spellman laughs, bumping Lana with her shoulder as they reach the dorms. In the common room they part, with Lana continuing up the stairs to her room while Spellman stops to talk with Masaki.

There is a grand total of half an hour to get ready for school this morning. No run, just a quick shower, breakfast, and Lana is off for the academic buildings.

(Image: Wolfsboon, 1-B Homeroom teacher)

Wolfsboon looks about as thrilled to see 1-B as he was the first week. Kottoba and Chicken Boy “help” by having an insult battle (awful choice on Chicken Boy’s part, really). After they both get detention for the foreseeable future, announcements begin. “Today will be your first official heroics class,” he bites out, glaring at the whispering class. Once the room is silent, he continues. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes sir!”

Wolfsboon narrows his eyes for a fraction of a second, lips slightly jerking into what someone might call a smile. The expression is gone the next moment, as he moves on to who didn’t do their homework-Chicken Boy, who else?-and who would be washing the classroom because of it.

By the time Heroics rolls in, the clouds are threatening another storm. Other students have put on the long sleeved gym uniform, but Lana doesn’t care enough to change, so it is what it is.

Wolfsboon and Aurora spend a few minutes quietly arguing about something before the round is announced.

It seems deceptively simple.

Then the match-ups are announced.

‘Tokei Yameru vs. Ogura Svetlana’

Chicken Boy bumps her. “Have fun, Lanka.”

She replies by smacking him with her tail.

Everyone is sent to their respective side of the field and given ten minutes to prepare.

“Stay in your fields or collaboration zones, and do your best!” Aurora calls.

“Cheaters will be punished,” Wolfsboon adds.

She elbows him after she thinks the kids are out of sight.

(Image: Claws out; let’s go.)

Lana’s ten minutes are spent warming up. Tokei isn’t a person she’s very familiar with. They’re tall, quiet, and have some sort of time quirk that’s touch activated. Avoiding their hands is a given, but without knowledge of how long their quirk lasts, or if it has any disadvantages, she may as well being going in blind.

Dammit. She should’ve asked Chicken Boy when she had the chance.

The buzzer goes off and Lana descends on the city ground. She keeps to rooftops for the best view, hopping between buildings in purple puffs.

Below her, there’s a large flash with a white braid flying behind it.

Tokei.

Whatever they’re using their quirk for, it’s making them fast.

Her eyes catch on the glowing white circle in their arms.

(Image: Tokei Yameru running with the orb.)

Shit.

Lana appears in the street connecting to Tokei’s.

She just has to touch the orb and make it back to the goal.

Tokei turns the corner and Lana pounces.

With their advanced speed, the surprise doesn’t phase Tokei for long. Lana manages to knock the orb loose, but fighting Tokei for it is another problem.

(Image: Tokei’s quirk activates)

Lana tackles them, teleporting in several different directions within the span of a few seconds. She’s about to hop back as the orb falls, before a hand plants itself firmly on her arm.

Her limbs feel as if she’s trying to swim through a pool of syrup. Tokei stumbles back before regaining their balance and scoops the orb up. They take off in a different direction, not as quickly as before.

A minute later, the quirk cuts out and Lana hits the ground in a roll.

Tokei’s footsteps are fading. They don’t seem to be speeding themselves up anymore. That gives her more time.

It’s back to the rooftops; Lana takes longer jumps to get to Tokei’s goal-line first. It’ll take too long to find them, so cutting them off is the best Lana can do.

She drops at the goal line, just after an intersection with many dark alleyways.

Lana pauses, ears twtiching, before she straightens. “I know you’rre therre, Chicken Boy.”

(Image: Talking to Gakusa)

“You’re no fun, Lanka. And you’re on the wrong side.”

Lana huffs. “I know. What arre you doing?”

“Well, this is the collab zone, and I figured I come see my very best and conveniently useful friend-”

Lana shoots him a glare. “Get to the point.”

Chicken Boy rolls his eyes, a teasing smirk on his lips. “So mean to me. Anyway, what are you doing down here?”

“Waiting forr Tokei.” “Lost them already?”

She huffs.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You know they’re-” He squints at something to the far left. “-definitely not going the right way.”

Lana raises an eyebrow. “Rreally?”

“ ‘s what I said, isn’t it? They’re running toward your line.”

They must’ve gotten turned around after the confrontation.

I can work with this.

“Uh oh. Is my Lanka, God forbid, thinking?” Chicken Boy flicks her forehead. “I’m so proud. I could cry. Getting emotional just thinking about it-”

She smacks his hand away. “I hate you.”

He sticks his tongue out. “No you don’t. Whatcha gonna do?”

“I’m going to need coverr if I want orrb.”

Chicken Boy snorts. “Kemuri’s across the field. Maybe he’ll make you your own cloud wonderland so you can look even scarier.”

She swats him again.

There’s a dramatic gasp. “Slain by my very dear Lanka....whatever shall I do?” After the theatrics wrap up, Chicken Boy straightens. “I got a round to finish. See ya.” He snaps his fingers and then disappears down an alley.

Lana glances in the direction Tokei is in and then teleports into the next collaboration zone. Kemuri is drifting above the cityscape on a cloud, likely searching for his opponent.

“Kemurri. I need favourr.”

(Image: Talking to Kemuri)

The cloud drifts down to a rooftop. “What is it, Svetlana-san?” Despite the response, there are notes of resignation in what little is visible of his face.

“Could you put cloud coverr overr the field?”

“Why?”

“I need to catch Tokei.”

The boy pauses a moment before nodding. “Alright.”

(Image: Aerial, cloudy field)

The field, having already been a bit foggy, is now dense with clouds.

Lana turns back to him, ears twitching slightly. “Someone is in that building.” She indicates a tall shopfront a few streets away.

Kemuri raises an eyebrow, eyes sharper and posture taut like a bowstring. “Thank you.”

They both nod and return to their separate fields.

With the thick clouds dashing any hope of seeing Tokei on ground level, Lana stays to only the highest buildings, scanning for movement. Halfway to her goal, she sees the familiar glow of the orb radiating through the canopy of white billows.

Found you.

She drops down to the street.

(Image: Lana in the shadows)

Tokei’s looming figure staggers by, looking disoriented and dizzy.

Perfect.

She darts behind them. Tokei spins around, squinted eyes illuminated not by their quirk, but by the dull light of the orb. Lana lingers in the shadows of an alley, watching their posture shift to defensive. They tighten their grip on the orb and proceed with caution.

There’s a rock at her feet. Lana picks it up, hurls it at a window, and watches Tokei leap to face it. “Ogura-kun-?”

While they’re distracted, she comes up behind them, and swipes them off their feet with her tail.

They struggle to their feet, but Lana rams into them from behind, knocking the orb loose.

The second time they go down, Lana makes a beeline for the orb, scooping it up. She casts a quick glance over her shoulder.

Tokei’s arm shoots out, eyes beaming with signs of quirk use, all five fingers extended. They reach out-

(Image: Tokei slows the orb down.)

-and touch the orb, missing Lana in a purple cloud of smoke.

(Image: “You missed”)

It’s only a minute before Tokei realizes their mistake, but a minute is all Lana needs.

She behind them again this time, except this time, there is no chance to get back up.

Tokei hits the ground hard, head spinning.

Lana steps over them and closes the distance between her and the goal in three short jumps.

And as it had began, it’s over just as quickly.

“Lanaaaaaaa-chan!”

Between the short notice, and the fact that she’s exhausted, Lana has no time to dodge as Tokachi barrels into her, wrapping her in a hug.

The wind leaves her lungs, but she manages to stay standing. “Hello Tokachi.”

“Is your round over now? Did you win?”

“Yes.”

“Me too!” Tokachi lightly punches her in the arm. “Was it hard?”

“Harrderr than I thought.”

“Yeah. Tokei-kun is really strong. Do you think Gakutorii-ni will win?”

Lana gives her a look. “He’s a twig.”

“Lanaaa-chan! Don’t be mean!” There’s a pause before Tokachi starts laughing, serious expression cracking. “He is.”

“Wow. Nice to know how loved I am,” Chicken Boy deadpans. “Really, go on, guys. It’s very flattering.”

“Gakutori-nii! Did you win?”

“Of course I did-”

“Ameko-chan! I won!” Yukino pops up.

Tokachi gives Chicken Boy an amused look and pushes him aside. “That’s great Yukino-chan!”

The boy grumbles about his loss while the two 1-A students chat. “You lost the bet,” Lana says.

“Yeah, yea, I know-”

In the distance, there’s a deep rumble followed by a loud ‘boom’.

Silence sweeps the group.

“Was that a fucking building?”

“Lana-chan! Nowo cursing!”

And then it begins to rain, just as it had been threatening to do all day.

Of course.

@taiyuu-high-oct

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brn1029 · 4 years ago

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Get those tin foil hats ready to go!

The 10 greatest conspiracy theories in rock

By Emma Johnston

In a world where fake news runs rampant, rock'n'roll is not immune to the lure of the conspiracy theory. These are 10 of the most ludicrous

Conspiracy theories, myths and legends have existed in rock’n’roll for as long as the music has existed, stretching all the way back to bluesman Robert Johnson selling his soul to the devil at the crossroads in exchange for superhuman guitar skills, fame and fortune.

There are those who believe Elvis Presley and Jim Morrison live on, others who think the Illuminati control the world through symbolism in popular culture, and plenty of evangelical types with their own agendas trawling rock and metal songs for secret messages luring the innocent to the dark side.

Let us take a look, then, at rock’n’roll conspiracy theories ranging from the intriguing to the ludicrous, as we try to separate the truth from the codswallop.

Lemmy was in league with the Illuminati

Few men have ever been earthier than Lemmy, but one conspiracy theorist claims that the Motorhead legend didn’t really die in December 2015, instead “ascending into the heavenly realm” after making a “blood sacrifice pact” with the Illuminati.

A “watcher” of the mythical secret society some believe are running the world – despite evidence that is at best flimsy, at worst straight from The Da Vinci Code author Dan Brown’s discarded notebooks – told the Daily Star: “Lemmy signed up for the ultimate pact – he signed his soul to the devil in order to achieve fame and fortune.”

While we can only imagine what the great man would have to say on the matter, there’s one word, in husky, JD-soaked tones, that we can just about make out coming across from the other side: “Bollocks.”

Paul McCartney died in 1966

As you might expect from the most famous band that has ever existed, there are enough crackpot theories about The Beatles to fill the Albert Hall. From John Lennon’s murder being ordered by the US government, who, led by Richard Nixon, suspected him of communism (the FBI actually did have a file on Lennon, but the story is spiced up by the man behind murderlennontruth.com, who apparently believes author Steven King was involved due to, uh, looking a bit like Mark Chapman) to Canadian prog outfit Klaatu being the Fab Four in disguise, there are plenty of tall tales more colourful than a Ringo B-side.

The most enduring, though, is the notion dreamt up by some US radio DJs that Paul McCartney died in a car crash in 1966 and was replaced by a lookalike. They came to this conclusion having studied the cover of Abbey Road – McCartney’s bare feet on the zebra crossing apparently symbolising death, while others found “evidence” in the album’s opaque lyrics. There were a lot of drugs in the 60s.

Gene Simmons has a cow’s tongue

It’s easy to see why all kinds of far-fetched stories sprung up when Kiss first took off in the 1970s. The fake-blood-spitting, the fire, the demon-superhero personas – middle America clutched its pearls and word spread that these otherworldly weirdos’ moniker stood for Knights In Satan’s Service. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

It was Gene Simmons’ preposterous mouth that got the nation’s less voluminous tongues wagging though. So long and pointy is his appendage, and so often waggled at his audiences (whether they asked for it or not), that eventually the rumour spread around the world’s playgrounds was that he’d had a cow’s tongue grafted onto his own. The bovine baloney is, of course, bullshit, but Simmons has admitted it's one of his favourite Kiss urban myths.

Supertramp predicted 9/11

The Logical Song may be Supertramp’s calling card, but one man in the US stretches common sense to the limit having come to the conclusion that the artwork for their 1979 album Breakfast In America gave prior warning of the terrorist attacks on New York on September 11, 2001.

Look at the album cover – painted from the perspective of a window on a flight into the city – in a mirror, and the ‘u’ and ‘p’ band’s name appears to become a 911 floating above the twin towers, while a logo on the back features a plane flying towards the World Trade Center.

So far, so coincidental, but when our intrepid investigator falls down a rabbit hole of Masonic interference, strained Old Testament connections (“The Great Whore of Babylon – Super Tramp”), and the title Breakfast In America reflecting the fact that the planes crashed early in the morning, things get really tenuous.

It’s fair to say it’s unlikely a British prog-pop band had prior knowledge of the terrorist attacks 22 years before they happened. But maybe Al Qaida were really big fans.

Stevie Wonder can see

Stevie Wonder is a genius. That fact is not up for dispute. The soul/jazz/funk/rock/pop legend was born six weeks prematurely in 1950, and the oxygen used in the hospital incubator to stabilise him caused him to go blind shortly afterwards. But his love of front-row seats at basketball games, the evocative imagery in his songs, and the fact that he once effortlessly caught a falling mic stand knocked over by Paul McCartney (who, let us reiterate, did not die in 1966) has caused basement Jessica Fletchers to muse that he’s faking his blindness as part of the act.

Wonder himself, a known prankster, has great fun with his status as one of the world’s most famous vision-impaired musicians. In 1973, he told Rolling Stone: “I’ve flown a plane before. A Cessna or something, from Chicago to New York. Scared the hell out of everybody.”

Dave Grohl invented Andrew W.K.

When Andrew W.K. first broke through in the early 2000s, dressed in white and covered in blood, his mission was serious in its simplicity: the party is everything. He took his message of having a good time, all the time, to levels of political fervour. But rumours of his authenticity have been doing the rounds from the start.

Reviewing WK’s first UK show at The Garage in London, The Guardian’s Alexis Petridis wrote: “One music-biz conspiracy theory currently circulating suggests that Andrew W.K. is an elaborate hoax devised by former Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl.”

As time went on, the theory gained traction – Grohl was believed to be the mysterious Steev Mike credited on the debut album I Get Wet. And as W.K.’s style changed over subsequent records, and his own admission that there were legal arguments over who owns his name, whispers began that he wasn’t even a real person – he was a character, played by several different actors, an attempt to create the ultimate Frankenstein’s frontman.

"I'm not the same guy that you may have seen from the I Get Wet album," W.K. said in 2008. “I don't just mean that in a philosophical or conceptual way, it's not the same person at all. Do I look the same as that person?" The jury is out, but if this is a great white elephant concocted just for the sheer hell of it, we kind of want this one to be true.

Jimi Hendrix was murdered by his manager

An early victim of the 27 club, the death of Jimi Hendrix was depressingly cliched for a man so wildly creative: a bellyful of barbiturates led to him asphyxiating on his own vomit, according to the post-mortem. But in the years following the grim discovery at the Samarkand Hotel in London on 19 September 1970, a different theory was offered by the guitarist’s former roadie, James “Tappy” Wright.

In his book Rock Roadie, Wright claims Hendrix was murdered by his manager, Michael Jeffery, who he says force-fed his charge red wine and pills. The motive? He feared he was about to be fired and was keen to cash in on the star’s life insurance. One thing we do know for certain is Jeffery won’t be able to give his version of events, as he was killed in a plane crash over France in 1973.

The 50th anniversary of Hendrix's tragic passing was "celebrated" with the release of Hendrix and the Spook, a documentary that "explored" his death further and was described by The Guardian as "a cheaply made mix of interviews and dumbshow dramatic recreations by actors scuttling about flimsy sets in gloomy lighting." Sounds good.

Courtney killed Kurt

Courtney Love is no stranger to demonisation from Nirvana fans. When Hole’s second album, the searing, catchy, feminist, witty, aggressive, vulnerable and unflinchingly honest Live Through This was released, days after Kurt Cobain’s death, rumours almost immediately started up that Love’s late husband wrote the songs. That was insulting and sexist enough, but nowhere near as damaging as the conspiracy theory that Love hired a hitman to kill Cobain amid rumours they were about to divorce.

After Cobain’s first attempt to take his own life in Rome, the Nirvana frontman was eventually convinced to go to rehab following an intervention by his wife and friends. He ran away from the facility, and the private investigator hired by Love to find him, Tom Grant, eventually became the source of the idea that Love and the couple’s live-in nanny Michael Dewitt were responsible for Cobain’s death shortly afterwards.

His claims, made in the Soaked In Bleach documentary, include the notion that Cobain had too much heroin in his system to pull the trigger of the shotgun, and that he believed the suicide note was forged.

People close to Cobain (and the Seattle Police Department) have refuted the theory, including Nirvana manager Danny Goldberg: “It’s ridiculous. He killed himself. I saw him the week beforehand, he was depressed. He tried to kill himself six weeks earlier, he’d talked and written about suicide a lot, he was on drugs, he got a gun. Why do people speculate about it? The tragedy of the loss is so great people look for other explanations. I don’t think there’s any truth at all to it."

The CIA wrote The Scorpions’ biggest hit

Previously synonymous with leather, hard rock anthems and some very questionable album artwork, West Germany’s Scorpions scored big with Wind Of Change, a power ballad heralding the oncoming fall of the USSR, the end of the Cold War, and a new sense of hope in the Eastern Bloc.

In a podcast named after the 1990 song, though, Orwell Prize-winning US journalist Patrick Radden Keefe follows rumours from within the intelligence community that the song was actually written by the CIA, as propaganda to hasten the fall of the ailing Soviet Union via popular culture.

“Soviet officials had long been nervous over the free expression that rock stood for, and how it might affect the Soviet youth,” Keefe is quoted as saying. “The CIA saw rock music as a cultural weapon in the cold war. Wind of Change was released a year after the fall of the Berlin Wall, and became this anthem for the end of communism and reunification of Germany. It had this soft-power message that the intelligence service wanted to promote.”

It's a convincing theory, but one that is disputed by Scorpions frontman Klaus Meine: “I thought it was very amusing and I just cracked up laughing. It’s a very entertaining and really crazy story but like I said, it’s not true at all. Like you American guys would say, it’s fake news."

There are satanic messages in Stairway To Heaven

The great comedian Bill Hicks had something to say about people searching for evidence of devilry in rock’n’roll: “Remember this shit, if you play certain rock albums backwards there'd be satanic messages? Let me tell you something, if you're sitting round your house playing your albums backwards, you are Satan. You needn't look any further. And don't go ruining my stereo to prove a point either.”

The memo didn’t get through to televangelist and stylus ruiner Paul Crouch, who in 1982 attempted to scare the Christian right into believing Led Zeppelin’s Stairway To Heaven was stuffed with demonic meaning, and that played backwards it revealed the following message: “Here’s to my sweet Satan/The one whose little path would make me sad, whose power is Satan/He will give those with him 666/There was a little toolshed where he made us suffer, sad Satan.”

Guitarist Jimmy Page, of course, is no stranger to the esoteric, making no secret of his interest in occultist Aleister Crowley and the attendant magick, and there were even rumours the band made a Faustian pact to achieve fame and fortune. But hiding messa

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likesomekindofcheese · 5 years ago

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Songbird of Jamestown Chapter 3 (Samuel Castell x fem! Reader

Summary: The year is 1620. You have arrived at the Jamestown colony along hoping for a new life, friendship, and possibly marriage. Falling in love with the already betrothed company recorder and gaining unexpected enemies wasn’t a part of the plan, though.

A/N: Checking this, it seems my writing got somehow deleted and I was not a happy camper!!! So here it is again!!

One scene of this chapter was inspired by a scene in @bluesfortheredj‘s masterpiece A Beautiful Mistake. So all credit goes to that work and its writer! Please read their work and give them all the love and support and reblogs!!! Here we start with a very lovely, sweet scene that includes some fluffy flower picking. Enjoy everyone! But the drama is just beginning and poor Reader is in for it soon...

Content Warning: brief physical abuse. Attempts at historical accuracy.

Word Count: 3122

“Alice! Are you sure?” you asked.

She shrugged and said, “I have to. I won’t be alone. No matter what I think I…I must do it. I’ll be back home soon to you.”

Home. Already this place that was her little shelter away from her trauma was her home. Not the place she was bound to. The place you now knew the family was in debt in order to have her.

She gave you a look that everything was alright, despite its tiredness and walked off with the family. You clenched your fists and stared until she had disappeared. Just to be sure.

Off to see the lands that she would have to manage soon. Lands that would support her.

Yet at what cost?

The next few hours were quite typical. Church dulled everyone. People turned to chatter and gossip and scatter as soon as that final amen boomed the white, wooden walls. Jocelyn walked out with her nice hat and clean cloak and walked before the many men of the council. She was like a shadow behind them as they walked into the courthouse and she had vanished. Nothing different.

But what was different was Samuel approaching you.

“Miss Y/L/N, have you, by chance, seen the field yet?” he questioned.

You shook your head and gave a slight bow, though propriety inside of you demanded you keep your eyes to his polished shoes, you kept looking up. At least while he was still free, you could enjoy what you saw.

“No, Master Castell, in between chores and church I have not,” you answer politely.

“Well, I have had some of my duties relieved and I have been gifted a free afternoon. Might I accompany you there? I know it’s nearby but…you may feel a little safer.” He suggested.

He even stretched out an arm for you to hold onto.

You nodded eagerly, took his arm, and walked by his side. A few townspeople looked up in a little bit of amazement. Samuel Castell walking in public next to a young woman who was not his servant.

Especially not his fiancée.

But you tried your best to ignore such squinted looks and enjoy how the sunshine felt on your cheeks and the slight green sea of grass beyond the gate.

It was a rare day in Virginia that did not feel burning compared to England. The field outside the gate was green as could be. Samuel pointed to the east and walked next to you. Soon enough, as he promised, near the woods, there were the promised flowers. Colors filled up your eyes, more colors than you could even imagine. Far more colors than England. Yellows. Reds. Whites. The greens and browns of the trees, grass, and soil.

In a few feet of walking, you spied the flowers. A whole, long crowd of them springing proudly up to that endless blue sky. You let go of his arm and raced out. A bit of childish cheering let out of you. But how long has it been since you had seen flowers?

“This land is rich in many things, not just gold,” he affirmed, calling out.

At once, you began to sit a little in the grass, picking up what you could eagerly. It felt like grabbing for bread. You brought a few yellow blooms to your face to take in that warm, earthy scent. You even spotted a small purple flower, as fragile and tiny but proud.

“Master Castell!” you said. You turned around where he had stood close by, merely watching under the shade of some trees.

You picked up the flower and brought it to him.

“I’ve never seen purple in a flower before!” you said happily.

“It’s lovely,” he agreed with a smile that made you feel even warmer.

He took it in his hands, and you admired how long and smooth his fingers looked as he twirled the little flower around, his hands were large, befitting a very tall, broad man and he could have easily crushed it. Yet he didn’t.

He handed it back to you, pressing two of his hands between yours, feeling the coolness of his rings.

“I think Alice would love it, dearly!” he boasted.

“She would!” you look around and then at him. You had the urge to pause. A slight breeze picked up and you felt bits of your hair drift off.

It was getting too warm. You wanted to take it off, to have the back of your head feel free and light. To not put in another strand or hurry somewhere to tuck it into your bun at least.

But the words on your last day at the boat were still there. And you were in a man’s presence, too.

“What is it, Miss?” Samuel asked. He walked forward and leaned a little closer to you.

You lowered your eyes.

“Would you not like to keep a few flowers? I thought a few would light up the little house I have, but perhaps you would like some as well?”

“Well I…yes, I think I would,” Samuel answers. He blinks in surprise but delighted surprise.

You stifle a laugh at the thought of making a purple flower crown and standing on your toes to crown it on his brown head. But you settle for choosing a couple of white and yellow ones and then handing it to him. The wind picks up slightly and you feel a few more untucked strands fly out. So much for propriety.

“I thought yellow because I remember that was what you were wearing when I walked off the ship,” you say.

He smiled a little, “really?”

“Well, no other person was wearing the color! So you popped out quite a bit like these flowers!”

He looked down at the blossoms. You wondered if he would comment on how his fiancée or even his servant would love them. But he was quiet, only smiling. Sweetly as well.

“I will keep them safe, my lady.” He praised tenderly.

He looked at you, breathing a little quickly. His eyes darted around a bit.

“Miss Y/L/N…” he began.

You turned around and sat up.

“I…I mean…” he started. He looked up at you and down at the flowers, twiddling the flowers a little.

“I thought this morning I heard you with the blacksmith and before that, you were singing that ballad….

It is a pleasant melody, old, but sweet. Yet I cannot remember all of the words. Only the first bit.” He explained. He fiddled with the rings on his left hand.

“Greensleeves? Well, I can…” you say shyly.

You begin to gather some flowers as you busy your hands, trying hard not to look at Samuel and sing them, or else you know you would feel something inside you break.

“Your vows you’ve broken, like my heart

Oh, why did you so enrapture me?

Now I remain in a world apart

But my heart remains in captivity

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

And who but my lady Greensleeves

I have been ready at your hand

To grant whatever you would crave

I have both wagered life and land

Your love and good-will for to have.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

And who but my lady Greensleeves”

When you peeked back at Samuel, he looked a little flushed himself.

“Well, I may have to write them down!” he quipped.

He looked at you for a moment, those last minutes finishing the garlands.

Your beautiful, smiling face underneath the sunlight. With the grass, the faint chirrup of birds, and the colorful flowers all around.

How your skirt bloomed around you gently, like a rose blossom among these.

And your sweet, soft humming, recalling and even repeating the lyrics of that old Tudor lament for memory. There was something inside him that refused silence.

He didn’t know when it started, perhaps when he noticed how you defended Alice and got to see the true nature of your character, one of bravery in the midst of danger, utter devotion to those close to your heart, empathy, and determination to fight for those who have been hurt in spite of what others in that position would choose.

Maybe it was your eyes in church, tired, but a little bright. Half in the earth, half in heaven. But which part of you came from which half was sometimes even unknown to him.

Perhaps it even started when you stepped off of that boat. Shy, a little hurried, clearly worn from the journey, yet still hopeful, curious, looking for a bit of good in spite of the grey, dirt, and rocks, and clutching a book in your hand. The only other person in all of Virginia interested in books. Other than him.

He wanted to admit it, for the first time to himself, out loud, what was locking him up. The reason for those sleepless nights he had. For when he was alone, those thoughts would not go away. Especially not in dreaming.

There was so much he wanted to say at that moment, yet all he could get out was about bloody Greensleeves lyrics.

“Are you done, my lady? Allow me to walk you home, Mercy might need assistance with supper…”

The next morning, when you woke up you noticed something at the window. A spy, perhaps? You leaped out of bed and ran forward.

But no, it was a small gathering of primroses!

“Alice, look!” you gasp, shaking her awake.

She hurried out, still in her nightgown and returned with the pink flowers in hand.

“Why, they’re beautiful! Are you going to make this hut a garden?” she wondered, sniffing them and looking at the other wildflowers around your house.

You shake your head. “Oh, no! Not at all! I didn’t pick them yesterday!”

There is no note, no object, no sign at all who the flowers are for. So you both are quiet until you start poking at her.

“I think it’s Silas…or James!” you joke.

“What, no!” Alice denies, though her blushing betrays her.

“Oh, Alice! You’re a coquette! Admit it!” you tease lightly.

Alice smiles a little bit, hits you lightly, and sniffs the flowers a second time. She collects a tin cup to put them in on the table. You both smile at how it is another pinch of color among even the wildflowers you had managed to decorate in the place.

The simultaneous gurgling of both your stomachs interrupted the scene.

“Is there any bread left? I’m famished and we can’t eat flowers!” Alice wonders.

She walked over to the small kitchen area. There was only enough for two slices. She looked in the pot and saw that there was only so much milk that the goat was letting out at a time for two grown women to drink.

“We will be out soon…” you fret. “Do you have any spare coin for a bit of meat for later?”

Alice shook her head. “Not much, because I’m about to be…”

A little exasperated from hunger you groan “uggh! There’s hardly anything!” You almost go over to kick the pail but you stop yourself, feeling Alice’s warm hand grab your arm so tightly you feel the bone.

You pause a bit, Alice turning pale at the reminder of who would be providing for her for the rest of her days.

“Sorry…I have a rather nasty temper sometimes…I just need to work, that’s it…” you correct.

Besides, you weren’t Alice. You didn’t have men falling at your feet with the promise of income with just one word from you.

If you wanted to have enough to live, you needed to do it yourself.

Alice chews her lip.

“Maybe…if you went around town and spoke to a few people, you might find something. Though, one never knows what will happen, Y/N!” she shrugs.

You put on your outing cloak and tuck your hair into a cap and head off into town. If you looked carefully, amid the clang of James’s iron, the polite tipping of hats, or the smell of fires being kindled, there would be a way to make some wages.

Well, to respectfully make wages. Prostitution was at least extreme and at most possibly illegal.

But as you passed the Meeting House, there you caught two faces you had not seen in public outside of the church. One was the golden head of Jocelyn, and the other was the white-capped head of Mercy. Your mouth opened a little as if to call out her name impulsively.

But you had barely taken a step further when Jocelyn reached an arm up and slapped Mercy across the face. The servant girl was so surprised the hit pushed her to the ground.

You jumped, letting out a cry in surprise the same as Mercy. Mercy looked up, red-faced and tears welling up. Her tiny hands were full of dirt.

“That’s what you get when you won’t hold your tongue!” Jocelyn hissed, her hand was still up and her fist clenched.

Samuel had just hurried out when he saw the scene. His blue eyes seemed squinted, confused, and shocked, looking between the three women. Only you went down to catch Mercy’s hand while Jocelyn laced her arm around Samuel, sighing.

You look up at Samuel, then back down to Mercy, leaning down to pull her up.

You looked back at the two, then at Mercy.

“Mercy…you should have…well…” your mouth moved faster than your brain and Mercy was still sobbing.

“I will look after her and then return, safely.” You promise the couple and then head off.

Samuel stole one last, sad look at you as if to memorize how your footsteps sound on the ground. Merely giving him a worried glance, you turn your head to Mercy.

“Oh…it’s you! Oh, you are such a good soul!” Mercy blabbered as you reached your home.

“I know your mistress well, Mercy. I slept near her on the ship. I was going to tell you that you should have known better than to do something to provoke her…but with Jocelyn, who knows what will provoke her,” you sigh.

The heavy smell of all of the flowers hits you even just outside the door. You lead her inside and decide to give her a bit of water.

“For you, Mistress Mercy,” you say.

Mercy returns it, the memory of your mistake shining in her eyes.

“My mistress was in a foul mood…well, my soon-to-be mistress. She kept telling me she wasn’t feeling well and my chatting was making her worse but…” she began to cry again into her cup.

“My tongue! My bloody tongue!” she wailed.

You begin to hush her and even hold her hand. Mercy cried, shaking, and then paused. Tears now were arriving much slower. Her chest was heaving far slower too.

“Miss Y/N, it’s been told people hear you sing as you do your chores,” she whimpered.

“Oh, really?” you reply with a blush.

“Do you know anything nice? Anything comforting, please. I haven’t worked for so long I can’t remember any.”

You begin singing one of comfort to her and she only looks at you, occasionally sipping her water.

and assure it’s alright when you hear a knock.

Arriving, it is Samuel again. You could have jumped if you weren’t so used to him surprising you.

“Is she alright?” he asked, leaning down to look you in the eye.

“A bit in shock, but yes, she is. She just needs a bit of time…” you answer. You turn your head back to see Mercy has set her cup down and jolted up to stand for her employer.

“I just wanted to say…thank you, for looking after her. Mercy is a gentle soul. She doesn’t even burn my bread without a hundred apologies after I was…shocked too.” He added.

“Is your…your wife at peace?” you ask, not resisting the bitterness.

“No, not yet. She is feeling very ill, she claims but Christopher will…”

“She should not have hit her,” you blurt.

“I agree.” He huffs.

Mercy’s eyes grow wide watching you both. She starts to make her way back down to her seat and keeps drinking her water.

You walk outside with him and close the door, better to leave the poor girl in peace for a second.

“Master Castell…” you begin and he looks at you.

Why? Why are you marrying her? You wanted to ask. Can’t you see who she really is?

“Master Castell…are you happy?” you manage to question.

There is a little pause. You both remain in the shadow of the house for a while as it stretches with the setting sun. “Almost, Y/N.”

You were a little shocked.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” he apologizes, he even steps back.

“It’s alright!” you insist, raising your hands peacefully.

“I’ll pay for it; you can call me Samuel.”

“Alright Samuel, would you like to talk to Mistress Mercy?” you offered, lightening the mood.

“I will walk her home when she is ready. I will speak with her then and Y/N…thank you. Endlessly.”

You went back to Mercy. Her face was still red and her dress dirty. You wiped off the dirt with a cloth and asked her something to distract her.

“Do you know of any work? I can sew, but I’m bad at cooking,” you list, counting skills on your fingers.

“Some gentlemen need maids for their wives and servants, I know of a few. With so many men, women are getting married every day.” Mercy reports. She sets aside her cup and curiously fingers through the flowers.

You thought of the upcoming Castell nuptials. It was probably the day after tomorrow, from the rumors you heard. As you got a cool cloth for Mercy’s cheek, you made silent plans to visit Verity’s tavern and wheedle her for as many ales as you could possibly drink that very night so you could forget…

“All it seems except my mistress…”

Your head whipped around and you nearly dropped the cloth.

“What! I mean, what do you mean?” you hiss, aware of who might be right outside the door.

“Oh, it must be one reason my mistress struck me. She doesn’t like living where she is, the bed’s too hard for her and she has to try to clean and cook like a servant, she claims.”

“Mercy, what about your mistresses’ wedding?”

“Master Castell is delaying the day of the wedding by a month!” she exclaimed.

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rikumorimachisgirl · 5 years ago

Note

Hi Iris! You surf, right? Which fictional character would you like to go surfing with?

Hello! Yes, I do. And I love to get stoked every chance I get. This is an interesting question and I've thought about this several times before writing this answer. I thought of a couple of characters, but to choose them is rather predictable, so I'm gonna go with someone not a lot of people would think of. I also made a little story to go with it (if you don't mind).

You giggled as you watched your boyfriend repeat after you with his eyebrows furrowed. It hasn't been a long time since you've taken up surfing, yet you're already hooked - and you wanted nothing more but to share your newfound hobby with your better half...

"So, let me get this straight - this weekend, you want to 'chase the stoke'?"

If only he would agree to trade his lab coat for a pair of board shorts and ride the waves with you. Literally.

"I've been so stressed out from work lately, I really could use a break, " you said, as you mimicked the stance you usually take when you're trying to stay on your surfboard. "I just want that awesome feeling you get after surfing. You know, the stoke."

With his chin resting on his knuckles, he looked at you thoughtfully and smiled. "You seem very excited about this, but I'm afraid I'm already booked this weekend. Remember the symposium that Professor Zorn invited me to?"

Your heart sank as you nodded. "I understand, " you said in a small voice.

"I'm really sorry, babe. How about we go next weekend? The weather forecast doesn't seem so promising. It looks like a storm is coming in over the weekend."

"B-but I've already booked a room at the resort and I've signed up for two-hour lessons on Saturday and Sunday, " you whined. It was bad enough that you were going solo, but to have to cancel your trip altogether was another story. "At least let me stay at the resort, Lucien? I really need time away from the city. Please?"

He chuckled as you threw yourself in his arms and gave him your best sad-puppy eyes. "Alright, " he finally conceded when you buried your face against his chest. He stroked your hair. "Alright. But I'd like to know which resort you're staying at, what your room number is, and I'd like you to keep me posted on what you're doing... Hourly."

"Every hour, " you gasped incredulously.

"I believe that's what the word means, " he winked and gave you a boyish smile. "Now, how about you give me a memory I can hold on to? I'm going to miss you while you're away after all."

Saturday came sooner than you expected, and along with it came strong winds and even stronger currents. As you walked along the shoreline, you noticed that except for the lifeguard and you, there were no other surfers around. You sighed, thinking you had the worst luck possible - but you weren't going to let that stop you from riding the waves.

"I wouldn't do it if I were you, Miss."

You turned around and saw the lifeguard running up to you. "Excuse me?"

"The beach is closed. Look at the weather! The storm's coming and pretty soon the waves are gonna crash in. I've seen waves up to twenty feet tall! Unless you have a death wish, please go back to your room, " the lifeguard sternly warned.

"Look, I'm not gonna surf, okay. I'm just gonna sit on the sand and watch the ocean for a bit." And to prove your point, you sat on the sand, just beside your surfboard and watched the sea.

The lifeguard rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself, Miss. But remember - don't go into the ocean!"

"Noted." You watched the young lifeguard jog back to his station for a little while before training your eyes on the ocean once again. 'Why oh why did the storm have to come today of all days', you whine silently.

After half an hour of sitting by the shore, contemplating on your misfortune, you noticed the current suddenly calmed a little. Looking up, you noticed that the sky cleared up a bit but everything was still dead silent - not a bird was flying around in search of fish. You knew that going into the water was probably dangerous still, but the current isn't as strong and if you were lucky, you'd at least be able to whitewater surf at least one or two times. Having made up your mind, you stood, carried your surfboard and made your way to the water. You felt the adrenaline rush as soon as you the water touched your toes, and you suddenly plunged into the water and started to paddle - only, you weren't headed to the direction you had wanted - the current was pulling you away.

"Riptide! Oh no!" You started to panic when you realized how far away from the shore you were being carried out. You started screaming and flailing around, gulping sea water. Your mind was blank. All you could think of was how stupid you were for not staying on shore, and not listening to Lucien when he had asked you to move your trip so he can come along. This was it, you thought. You were going to die - out in the ocean alone.

"Lucien, I'm sorry."

"Babe -"

You suddenly hear a frantic cry in the water. You may have been hallucinating, but you could have sworn it sounded like Lucien. "Lucien?"

"Babe, stay calm. Just lie on your board. I'm coming for you!"

'Coming for me?' You chuckled sadly but did just as told. After all, if you were dying, you may as well do it calmly. Despite your heart hammering against your chest, you found the strength to lie on your back, your hands holding the board for balance. Above you, you could see the thick grey clouds moving across and you felt the current underneath you getting stronger once again. You closed your eyes to drown out your fears, but you could feel your tears streaming down your face.

All of a sudden, you felt something bump against your board. You gasped and wondered if you had hit a rock or something. And then you felt a warm hand touch your cheeks, and you opened your eyes.

"Babe, you're all right -"

"Lucien!"

"I'm here, babe. I got you." Although his voice is as calm as ever, your usually cool-as-a-cucumber boyfriend was shaking as he helped you on to the back of his jet ski and tried to help you put on the spare life vest he had with him. "Hold on tight..."

"But my board -"

"I'll buy you a hundred of those. Let's just get to shore okay?" He didn't wait for you to respond before he kicked up the engine and road parallel to the shore for a few meters more before he expertly maneuvered the jet ski and rode to the shore where the lifeguard and the paramedics were waiting. As soon as you hit the shore, Lucien carried you in his arms while the medics and the furious lifeguard ran up to the two of you. You could have sworn they were asking you questions, but they all seemed like a blur as you closed your eyes and faded into unconsciousness.

The next day, Lucien took you out for a walk along the beach. The weather had brightened up overnight and there were families all over the beach, relaxing. Despite avoiding the topic about your near-death experience, you felt restless. He must have picked up on your restlessness, too, as he glanced at you while you were walking hand-in-hand.

"What's on your mind?"

"Lucien, about yesterday -"

"Is it okay if we don't talk about that yet? It really scared me, you know, " he said, as he squeezed your hand. "When I'm reminded of it, I still get scared."

"I don't blame you. I'm really sorry I went in the water when I shouldn't have. The current was really scary -"

"That wasn't why I was afraid though, " he said, cutting you off.

"Oh?"

"Babe, I was scared I'd lose you. As soon as I heard the forecast that the storm was approaching and the winds have picked up speed, I told Professor Zorn I couldn't facilitate the symposium and just headed out here to be with you." You could still feel him shaking as he talked about his emotions. "I can't stand not being with you, Babe. I'll follow you to the ends of the earth, and I will always, always save you."

As you listened to his confession, two things became crystal clear - you had the best boyfriend in the world, and you were going to spend the rest of the day proving to him just how grateful you were for coming into your life.

The end.

(Eek! Sorry, this turned out to be so cheesy! 😔 but thank you for the ask!)

#anon asks #answered #mr love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc #mlqc lucien

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concerningwolves · 5 years ago

Text

Before the earth had settled, before magic allowed itself to be bent and shaped, humans lived in terror. Only a select few dared to brave the wildness of Ys. These were the fisherpeople — the Herdannan. They fished in the bays in early spring and harvested the herring’s eggs in summer, taking what they could from the teeming waters before winter descended once again. But no matter how bountiful the waterways of Ys, the land was hungry and perilous. Things from the marshes crept amongst their yurts at night and snatched children from the cradle, stealing faces and playing tricks with the human mind. Wolves savaged the goats and emptied the hunting grounds.

And worst of all, ravens plagued the settlement night and day.

(Rostfar scrunched up her nose and broke in, "No, not ravens.”

Skanna frowned down at the telling stones, and Natta frowned at Rostfar.

"What else were they then?" Natta scoffed. "Flying ponies?"

"No. Why would ponies—?" Rostfar gave up with a shake of her head. "Look." She pointed to where three chiselled divots in a vertical line intersected the painted symbol for a bird. "Not like Ethy’s ravens. Ravens like—like the wyrdaetha. They weren't really ravens at all."

Skanna took the stone from Rostfar and held it closer to the candle. Her pale eyebrows arched. "You've good eyes, my girl. So they were."

"I'd have seen that," Natta huffed, even though Rostfar knew her sister couldn’t read the stones. Not that she minded the lie. She just wanted to hear the rest of the story.)

Wyrdaetha who assumed the shape of birds plagued their settlement. These not-ravens stole the fish from their nets and descended in great flocks during the roe-picking season, plucking the clusters of herring eggs straight from the hemlock branches as fast as people could harvest them. The fisherpeople were in despair.

But then, when the winter bore down upon them with freezing rains and hunger, a beast came walking.

The beast was many things; he was a silent watcher who slumbered among the mountains, and he was a single constant in a world that was forever changing. One day, they would worship him as a god. But he was also a monster, and for this, the people feared him. His eyes gazed out on the world beneath brows of blooming fireweed, and the antlers of a caribou wreathed his head like a crown. Moss grew on his back and bees nested in the branches of his antlers, for he moved so slowly and so infrequently that he became a part of the land itself.

The people called a meeting. Shambler, as they knew him then, was someone to live in awe of. Not someone to trust. He was magic itself, and magic had not been a friend of the fishers for many a year.

"We haven't any choice," said the Old Man who served as both Dannaskeld and Dannhren. Nobody else wanted to lead or protect a settlement under siege. "If he can call away the creatures, we may yet save our last roe harvest for trading."

All the people seemed to agree, and that was when a boy spoke up.

"But what is his price?" asked Boy. "We have nothing he would want."

Old Man laughed. "Why would he ask anything in return? He came to us."

The next morning, when Recc was high in the sky, Old Man went to Shambler. He seemed like a small replica of the mountains where he slept, just a few spans outside of the Fisherpeople's circle of huts. When he breathed, the earth shivered.

"Will you help us?" Old Man asked. His voice startled a nesting flock of terns from the miniature forest on Shambler's back, and Shambler lifted his shaggy head with surprising speed. Old Man was afraid then, but he would not show it.

"You've woken me," Shambler said in a voice that wasn't a voice at all. His words went right through Old Man's head, clear as day, but he had no mouth to speak with. "For what purpose?"

Unease spidered down Old Man's back. But, undeterred, he said, "You came to us from your mountain roost. Was it to help?"

Shambler hummed, and the earth hummed with him.

"Perhaps," he replied. "We are kin, after all. Or perhaps not, for those you would have me defeat are my kind." Shambler rose until he stood on his hind legs with his long, long arms dangling down past his knees. He was so tall he blotted out both moons.

“We will give you anything,” Old Man said, too hastily. He did not understand that the ancient mountain-beast had already decided.

Shambler laughed. "Do not give me thanks. That is all I ask."

"Do not give thanks?"

"No," Shambler agreed, "I will not accept any instruments of debt from you, little one, not when I am going against my kind."

Old Man sensed that he had a deal. From his belt he drew a sharp knife. Bending down to Old Man's height, Shambler held out one of his own hands. It was as big as a human was tall. Old Man drew the blade across his palm and pressed the wounded skin flush in the centre of Shambler's leatherlike hand.

"We're settled," Shambler said. And with that, he turned and loped back into the mists from whence he came.

That night, the Fisherpeople were woken by the thunderous grinding of stone on stone. They stumbled from their yurts, children clinging on to the limbs of their parents in mute terror.

Cast in the light of both the red and silver moon, his body cut from the shadows of deep night, Shambler was an awesome sight to behold. In his long arms he held great boulders, and to these stones he whispered the words of a language that only the earth knew. When the rocks would not listen he hurled them out into the tundra and then went to retrieve them — all with a gentle, serene gait.

In the morning, Shambler lay down near his huge pile of stone slabs and half-closed his eyes. The children, curious and frightened in equal measure, edged ever closer. They did not near him that day, nor the next. But after three nights, when Shambler had laid the foundations of the wall, he was no longer frightening. The first to approach him was a girl. Her name was Almr, a name that people would love and fear in equal measure in the centuries to come.

Almr rode on Shambler's shoulder the next day, half-hidden amongst the fireweed and lousewort. He made strange flowers blossom from his palms and Almr wore them in her black hair with pride. Crisp, sweet berries grew along the ridges of Shambler's spine for the children to eat and he would hold them up so high that they could pretend to touch the clouds. They loved him, and he loved them in return. That, for Shambler, was worth more than all the thanks and gifts in the worlds.

But Old Man did not understand. He was already planning, desperate to pass his titles on to someone — or something — else. He whispered to the children in the evenings across dying fires, planting suggestions: make him a bracelet, ask him to help, show him where baby hares sleep, seek him out for your chores. Unaware of anything but their fondness for this huge, slow beast, the children listened. They were, for the first time in their short memories, safe. The walls encompassed everything, with space aplenty for play, and for once their parents did not call after them in hushed terror. Shambler had given them that. So surely, they thought, they should give him something in return.

By the Bloom’s end, Shambler had finished the walls around the settlement, but he showed no signs of leaving. The people grew accustomed to seeing him asleep outside their walls, or carrying most of the village children on his back. He helped with the roe-harvest and whispered old words to the earth to make it fertile. Beads of clay and silver adorned his antlers, glinting in the sun and moonlight, and the birds that once found safety on his body fled for quieter, child-free heights. The children wanted to share their sweetcakes, so Shambler made himself a mouth and sat at mealtimes, tiny little drinking-bowls clasped in his fingers. In time, the adults loved him, too.

Only Almr withdrew from Shambler’s shadow. She heard how the adults spoke — asking favours when Shambler was content by blazing fires, using their children as mouthpieces if they thought he would not otherwise agree — and it rattled her to the core. Shambler had trusted Almr with his true name, told her secrets and showed her how to let the magic of the wyrdness into her soul. Old Man’s game made her bristle.

In the depths of the night when everyone was asleep, Almr donned her cloak and crept out to Shambler’s sleeping-place. Seated upon his shoulder, she whispered her suspicions and begged him to leave.

“I’ll come with you,” she said, holding on to the crags of his face so she could gaze into one drowsy amber eye. “But if you stay here, they’ll chain you up with your own kindness.”

Shambler did not believe her. He didn’t want to. And he continued to dismiss her claims night after night, until the fateful feast on the last day of the Bloom.

Safe in Shambler’s presence, everyone gathered outside of the walls eat and drink. Fires blazed and spirits burned bright in defiance of the long, dark winter to come. No creature of magic could cross their walls, their children were safe, and the summer had been bountiful. For this winter at least, they would want for nothing.

Standing on a pile of sacks, Old Man blew his horn and called for quiet. His voice carried in the sudden stillness. “Tonight, we feast, and tomorrow we close up our homes against the winds. But there is someone who made all this possible — our friend, Shambler.”

Cheers went up. Shambler nodded his head as if he was listening to an interesting new idea, his face otherwise impassive. Almr sat at her mother’s side and held her breath.

“I asked the K’anakh smiths of Aaven to make you a gift finer than any you have had before.” At this, Old Man stepped off the sack-cloth and pulled it aside. Bone-forged steel glistened in the moonlight, huge links carved with beautiful patterns. Almr wondered how much corn Old Man had traded for it. She felt sick.

Brow furrowed, Shambler lifted the chain and held it up between forefinger and thumb. His newly made mouth curved into a grimace, but Old Man did not seem to notice. With a triumphant smile, he drove the final blow home.

“You are loved here, my friend. Without you, I fear we would have died — our children would have died, starving and frozen.” He reached up and placed a hand on Shambler’s leg. “For that, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts.”

Shambler dropped the chain. He looked past Old Man, across the fire-pits, and met Almr’s eyes. A shiver of rage passed through his body, stirring the earth and making the walls tremble.

“You have shared your last meal in my company,” Shambler said. “Tomorrow, I leave.” And then, without another word, he lay down with his back to the people, as unyielding and cold as the mountains he came from.

And he kept his word.

On the first morning of winter, after five whole months among the herdanna, Shambler went home with Almr sitting proudly on his shoulder. Seeing this, some of Almr’s closest friends gave chase. They followed all the way out into the tundra, where Shambler welcomed them with open arms.

“Where are you going?” Old Man yelled from atop the walls.

“I am Erdan,” the beast called. “I nurtured your kind, pulled you from the foaming sea, and I would have loved you no matter what you did. But you’ve wounded my faith in you.”

“But we gave you our gratitude!”

At that, Erdan turned around. New flowers bloomed on his arms and back, and birds had returned to his antlers, sensing a change on the winds. Almr was the one who spoke. She stood between his antlers, a crown of flowers in her hair, and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“No, we did.” She held out her arms to show the other children. They waved. “You tried to trap him with guilt and use his good old heart against him.’S best you let us go, else he might lose his faith in all of humankind everywhere — and then you’d starve for real.” She grinned, bright and gleeful, Erdan’s magic humming in her veins.

Old Man gaped, but no words would come out.

Content with his newfound company and satisfied with a job well-done, Erdan turned and loped away into the horizon. And all the children went with him.

Don’t know who or what a “when dealing with wolves” is? Here’s the info post.

A wild Ysan folktale for WDWW appears! It’s been aaaaages since the last tale (Speaker and Shield) but! Hopefully, it won’t be too long until I get the next instalment out. This just spent a very long time in my drafts and i forgot abt it oops.

Tag crew: @yvesdot @kriss-the-writing-nerd @lady-redshield-writes @thespooniewrites @weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables @wri-tten @oheoo @focusdumbass @wolvesofarcadia @incandescent-creativity @heniareth @ofvisitorsthefairest@reikeburgen @mirror-of-too-many-books @pixiepurple

If you want to be added to/ removed from the tag list, just let me know!

#when dealing with wolves #writeblr #my writing #writers on tumblr

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