#he’s probably holding the cane wrong but oh well ://
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blartboy29 · 4 months ago
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Draw tj
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tj maxxing 🤑🤑
erm this is my first time drawing tj actually so yeah
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diyasgarden · 16 days ago
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merry christmas, please don’t come
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“Oh, golden boy, you shined a light on our home and at your best you were magic we were sold. But don't tell 'em what you told me. Don't even tell 'em that you know me.I would rather burn forever”
from “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” by the Bleachers
“What do you mean Patrick isn’t coming?”
Art doesn’t know how many times they’ve had this conversation. (He stopped keeping track after the fifth time)
Memory loss, a dwindling attention span, and blanking. All problems the doctors said his grandmother would struggle with after her stroke. He’d expected difficulties with remembering her routine or where she was. Even the people around her. General things, he could walk her through. Not something so specific. And frankly, considering all the things she could forget, this feels like a cruel joke.
He lets out a steady exhale, stepping closer to where his grandmother stands by the small fir covered in lights, tinsel, and other markers of the Christmas season. Sebastian, the old tabby, is nuzzled right by where his grandmother placed the small, wrapped box under the tree, looking up at him with a cautious gaze.
“He isn’t able to come this year,” Art repeats, reaching to the home-made popsicle candy cane ornament hanging at arm’s length on the tree. It was the decoration he made with Patrick when he came to visit Christmas in 2000 — the first of a long line of ornaments they’d make together for the holiday. 
His grandmother lets out a gentle, albeit unbelieving scoff as she shakes her head. “He always comes,” she remarks, a blatant dismissal of Art’s words. 
His thumb rubs aimlessly over the painted birchwood decoration, as he looks back at her with a tentative gaze. She wasn’t wrong, Patrick would always come for the holiday. After spending Hanukkah with his folks, he’d fly out to the midwest by the twenty-fourth and spend the rest of winter break with him. “For a proper Christmas experience” he’d tease, although Art knew that he just didn’t want to be at home.
Now it’s the twenty-third and he was nowhere in sight. 
“Well he isn’t this year, grandma,” Art sighs, eyes quickly darting back to the tree. The ornaments he made with Patrick are there on nearly every other branch. His thumb presses down harder on the candy-cane popsicle, continuing it's steady back and forth motion, as his eyes jump from one decoration to the next.
Her eyebrows knit and she looks down to the present she placed for Patrick, Art’s gaze trailing behind her’s. In smooth, cursive black sharpie, the word “Pat” is written on top of the metallic red wrapping paper. It's small enough that Art can’t figure out what it is, but its presence may as well take up the whole room. 
“Did he say why?” she suddenly asks, instantly looking back up to him. 
The question is ironic. As if Patrick had any say in the decision. As if he chose not to come. Really Art should just say "he isn't welcome here" and move on. But that's an over simplification in itself.
Art turns his head up to her and settles with: “He’s busy.” 
t wasn’t a lie. The last time he checked, Patrick was somewhere in the Mediterranean, probably trying his luck with the European tour. Or at least that’s what Art gathered from Patrick’s recent facebook posts. (He allowed himself a peek every once in a while to keep his curiosity at bay)
His grandma takes in a soft inhale, looking back down at the present. Sebastian moves away from the box to rub against her leg with a purr, and she looks down at the cat, before shrugging. “We’ll keep it in case he comes.” 
He supposed the danger of going no-contact with Patrick meant that his old friend really had no way of knowing what Art expected.
And Patrick always had a tendency to see what he wanted.
we'll keep it in case he comes
Suddenly, Art feels a sharp poke in his hand, and he turns back to where his finger holds the popsicle stick decoration to see a splinter in his thumb.
He stares at it for a moment and then yanks the decoration off the tree.
It’s around midnight when he goes to properly handle the decorations.
He tip-toes down the stairs, cautious to avoid Sebastian on the railing who is already looking at him with an accusatory gaze. If it wasn't for the cat's general hatred of him, he'd assume it knew exactly what he is about to do. When he walks to the kitchen to grab a trash bag, he can hear the cat hiss. Drawing out an eye roll as he creeps towards the tree in the living room.
The place is only illuminated by the yellow-toned string of lights on the tree, and he just stands there, taking in all the ornaments he is about to take down. 
Some wash pin-figures
Couple of snow globe bulbs
Many paper snowflakes. 
And the candy cane popsicles.  
He lets out a deep exhale before quietly pulling each decoration from the tree and placing it gently into the trash bag. He moves quietly and focuses his eyes on the motions of his hands, not allowing himself to look at any ornament longer than he has to. Only Sebastian’s displeased purrs filling the room.
By the time he’s done, his stomach churns at the sight of the tree now mostly decorated by store bought figures, tinsel, and lights. It’s a foreign sight he keeps looking at, up and down, until eventually the little present with the cursive “Pat” written on-top catches his attention. 
The metallic red wrapping of the little box reflects the Christmas tree lights back like a kaleidoscope. Art just stares down at the sight, still unsure of what the present is. 
Hesitantly, he bends to the floor and gingerly reaches for the box, picking it up in a sluggish motion. It fits into the palm of his hand, and makes no noise. There's a certain weight to it that he can’t place. and his thumb deliberately runs against the tape of wrapping paper.
Then with the same sluggish movement from before, he puts it back down underneath the tree. His hands flex against where he holds the trash bag, and he remains on the ground. Eyes tracing the loops of his grandmother's handwriting and the fractured reflections of colored light.
When he eventually pushes himself to go back upstairs, he puts the bag in the back corner of his closet. Tucking it away behind some old duffle bags from his time at the academy before dragging himself to bed.
Patrick posts a photo of a Turkish marketplace on the twenty-fourth. Somewhere in Istanbul. Or Izmir.
Art doesn't really care where.
At least he was right about it being the Mediterranean. 
authors note: this is me fighting the art donaldson hater allegations!! not really sure how i feel about this, but i think of art and patrick everytime i hear this song and knew i had to write a fic based on it for them. although i did change the line for the title, just so it would fit better with the final product. many mixed feelings on this, but i hope you enjoyed it!! tell me what you think!!! and if you want an edit of artrick to this song...check this out!
art credit: from the December 1960 issue of the new yorker
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salemoleander · 2 years ago
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"My teeth hurt," Martyn says.
He and Scott are on the deck, enjoying the morning sun before it has the chance to get humid; Scott is busy crafting sugarcane into paper while Martyn is (ostensibly) trying to carve a bowl.
"What, like- cavities? We've only been here for a few days, and I know you're eating the same fish and dried kelp as me." Scott pauses, holding a fresh sheaf of paper. "-and if you're not, and you've been holding sweets out on me, I'll be pissed."
Martyn huffs a laugh, then grimaces when pain shoots up through his sinuses. Ambling over to the table, he half-sits, half-leans on the back of one of their deck chairs.
"Nah, same food as you. Man, I don't know what I did. TNT to the face carry over, d'you reckon?"
He grins, and Scott blanches. Well, shit.
"Alright, what's wrong with my mouth?" Martyn asks, stress rising when Scott doesn't answer. "I've still got teeth, right?"
Scott nods sharply. He wavers on an answer for a moment before sighing. "Yeah. You've just got some new ones, seems like."
‐---------------------------------------------------------------------
The hard part of suddenly having shark teeth, Martyn quickly discovers, is that they are not particularly designed for beings with lips, and certainly not ones that talk.
He tells Scott this, nursing several sore spots on his lips and tongue.
"Have you considered talking less?"
"Oh, screw you."
Scott rolls his eyes, and they go back to sorting through chests in companionable silence. Waves gently lap against the edge of their island, while bamboo canes creak and shift. After a few minutes Scott says, "In the- last time. I remember being relieved, a bit, that even though Cleo and I chose each other-"
"Exactly the conversation I wanted to have," Martyn deadpans.
"Would you shut up? Honestly." Scott smiles, but his jaw flexes as he does and Martyn resolves to shut up and let him say this, whatever it is. At least for the next ten or fifteen seconds. Probably.
"Anyways. I was a tiny bit relieved that I was paired with Pearl, because she was human. And I'd seen how it was for BigB getting canine features and Joel getting whatever the hell from Etho, and you, y'know..."
"Rotting?"
"Eugh. Yeah." Scott looks through their fence-lattice walls and out to the water. "But Pearl didn't stay human."
Martyn raises an eyebrow. (For effect. If Scott is doing a dramatic monologue towards the ocean, Martyn at least gets to make faces, whether or not Scott sees him. Them's the rules.)
"She got kind of... wolf-y? Or more accurately, the game made her wolfy. Not like Ren, not nearly that elegant a combination."
Scott's voice is bitter, an edge to it that Martyn associates with fireworks going off too-close by. "I woke up one morning and my teeth were sharp and there were too many for my mouth. And it hurt, and the worst part was knowing this wouldn't be happening if we'd just done what the game wanted."
Blinking, Martyn says, "Oh." Brilliant. Nailed the response, there.
"I just wanted to tell you. That it might- those might be my fault, because it seems like whatever runs this game doesn't like me very much. There's a reason I set up alone out here."
Martyn- ignoring the ache from his jaw and the kernel of self-interest that tells him to get while the getting is good- scoffs. "None of that, thank you! I don't care if bloody Herobrine has it out for you, we're sticking together."
Relief washes over Scott's face. Martyn adds, "If whoever runs this circus thinks unlimited knives for teeth is a punishment, they're mad."
"Clearly! You were already enough of a menace." Released from whatever tension kept him still, Scott reaches over to flip another chest lid up and starts rifling through. "It's like trying to annoy Joel by giving him too many TNT minecarts."
Martyn snorts. "Right! Once my mouth gets the memo about where everything is now I'll be doing fine- probably better than I was before! A supernatural entity trying to tell me who I can be friends with? C'mon, nothing that stupid is busting the Mean Gills up."
He almost believes it.
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violetrainbow412-blog · 2 years ago
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Trust [K. B]
Kaz Brekker x fem!reader
wc: 7.8k
summary: something goes wrong with a heist and Kaz's anger lashes out at you, only later realizing it's not for the reasons you thought.
A/N: I feel like it took me literally YEARS to write this. Someone requested the central idea but I decided to expand a bit and since in anon he mentioned that they like hurt/comfort I hope I have achieved it. I hope you like it, thanks for reading!
warnings: trauma (again)
taglist: @be-lla-vie @milkshake0 @ladespedidas
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As soon as you stepped foot inside The Slat, you felt enormous relief to think that you could finally get some rest. The day before, the boss had told you that it was necessary to recover something and had drawn up a general outline of how things would be carried out, so to avoid mistakes, instead of sending just one group, the whole team would go. But at a certain point things had gone wrong and then the whole mission had gone awry. You were scared and everyone else was scared, but you knew that Kaz was probably the most upset about it. He hadn't spoken to anyone since you had to flee the mansion.
“Well, I declare that a resounding failure. Good night, my friends,” Jesper said, holding his side with a wince. Wylan was at his side to catch him in case the pain buckled his knees.
You sighed, defeated, and started walking towards the stairs to take a shower to remove all traces of dust, blood, and shame that you had impregnated on your skin, however, Kaz's cane stopped hitting you in the stomach, blocking your way and suffocating you at the same time.
"Are you crazy?" he asked, his voice raspier than usual. You asked yourself if he was referring to your plans, which he obviously couldn't know about, and why he was upset, but it didn't take anything more to get an answer, "What the fuck was that in the mansion?"
Oh, that is what he meant. 
To recap a bit, your goal that night was to recover a few bags of cash that a new gang at The Barrel had stolen but originally belonged to the Crow Club, i. e you guys. It was a payment for an exchange that Kaz had made days ago with art supplies or something, it was a business that none of you were very involved in.
The black-haired man knew the place where it was kept (he always seemed to know the whole city like the back of his hand) and so he had drawn up a pretty solid plan with which you could get away with it. Regularly his plans contemplated in the most opportune way each of your abilities: guns, stealth, the Grisha qualities, strength, chemicals, and the skills with your hands in which you surpassed the man. It was almost like something in you and your friends used to joke that your hands were a kind of magnet for everything shiny, although those same hands also worked perfectly to use a pick and give access to many places.
Things were going well that night, until you had to make a last-minute decision when you found out that an unknown person was in the place and you wanted to get them out of there so they wouldn't be in the crossfire. That was the 'certain point' I had mentioned before, where everything got screwed up. It was about a poor and defenseless servant girl who started screaming like crazy when she saw you and although you tried to calm her down that was enough to draw the attention of the guards, who came towards you to capture you. And since you were very busy struggling with two armed goons, you couldn't fulfill your part of the plan, which was to open the vault where the money that you were going to steal was. It had been a rather unfortunate chain of events.
"Kaz, you know I didn't mean to…"
"Are you deaf, then?" he interrupted you, ignoring your attempt at justification. He took a step towards you, limping a bit due to the lack of a cane, and then you could see the expression on his face.
You'd only seen Kaz this angry once and the poor man who caused it was already resting in peace, so you cringed in on yourself like a scared little bird.
"Or why didn't you do what we agreed?" you didn't know if he wanted a verbal answer, but even if he had, what could you say to that? It was more than obvious why you had done it "If there is a plan, it is because that plan must be executed as I have said, if not, then what would it be?"
"I shouldn’t…"
"No, you shouldn't," he interrupted again, speaking louder than usual to look imposing. And boy he was doing it. “That was the stupidest thing you've ever done, and all for a damn maid? What were you thinking?
"I wanted to help her"
"Oh really? And how did she thank you? Yelling at the guards to come to get you! Did you think about that before acting? Do you ever consider the consequences?” his voice didn't drop in volume, but rather rose gradually with each word that came out of his mouth.
You were in a panic, somehow strangely having the strength to meet his angry eyes, for you didn't think he would start saying such things to you in front of everyone else, who had been silent since the exchange had begun. You tried to think of anything to defend yourself, but even if you found the right argument you knew you couldn't outsource it due to nerves.
Even with your devoted silence, Kaz did not seem satisfied and he continued speaking.
“You had to follow simple orders: wait for the signal and open the vault. Everyone stayed in their positions. Was it very difficult for you to do that?”
"Kaz, I don't think…" Jesper started to say, trying to help him out of the situation, but he fell silent as he watched the black-haired boy turn his head to look at him. It was true, you guys hadn't seen Kaz in that state more than a few times and even the gunslinger, who loved you immensely, thought it wiser to keep silent if he didn't want the opponent's anger to lash out at him.
"Look at Jesper," he said close to your face. If he hadn't been so averse to touching you, you were sure he would have held your face to keep your gaze on him, because by this point your eyes were cloudy and you were trying to focus on anything other than the conversation “He's hurt. You are hurt. Imagine what would have happened if we hadn't been able to get out in time or if Inej hadn't come to your rescue, do you think those men would have tempted their hearts before killing all of us? Of course not! There's no room for charity here because until that servant was in real danger, she wasn't your problem. You behaved stupidly and those actions affected all of us” Kaz fell silent and you thought that was it. You were with your arms crossed, perhaps as an unconscious act of seeking protection, not daring to look at him.
But he took a few seconds to examine you and then said something else:
It is your fault that we are now in this state; without a single penny in our pockets.
The words your fault, and without a penny were the cause of a tug across your chest. It was useless to hold back the tears that had already treacherously begun to slide down your cheeks and that you wished you had the strength to wipe off with the sleeve of the jacket you were wearing.
In all the time you had belonged to the crows he had never spoken to you like that. There had been disagreements, of course, and he'd even called you out for neglecting some tasks he'd given you, but those kinds of hurtful words were reserved for criminals from whom he extracted information or threatened. That's why you were so upset, because Kaz was terrifying when he put his mind to it and you'd just had the misfortune to experience it firsthand.
The rest of your friends were also perplexed by what had just happened, since most of them had found your outburst in the mansion quite justifiable, since it was an innocent life that you had tried to protect, a very present code always.
The other part that had managed to break you was knowing that the man's annoyance was actually due to the money you had caused him to lose rather than the fact that you or someone else had been in danger. Or at least that was what you had understood by the final sentence.
The silence was sepulchral, no one even dared to breathe harder than usual for fear that he would take them as the next victim, and only a small sob that escaped you broke the silence. You hoped that would soften Kaz’s expression a bit, but he didn't flinch.
A part of you thought, due to shock, to apologize to him, but you weren't even able to. You just stood in the middle of that room under his questioning gaze.
When your body finally wanted to react, you walked directly to the stairs to go up to your room, without even looking back, collapsing on the floor and crying as soon as you closed the door behind you. You didn't even think about taking a shower anymore and the burning pain in your ribs, which you hadn't mentioned to anyone about, intensified. You had to cover your mouth with your hand so that the crying wouldn’t reach the floor below and you felt that everything around you was spinning.
You stayed in that position for a few minutes, which felt like hours, until someone opened the door and stuck their head inside. It was Nina, who had surely gone of her own free will but also partly at the request of others. She could hear your erratic heartbeat and your lungs struggling to hold some air, so it didn't take her more than a second to kneel next to you to wrap her arms around you and start running her hand up and down trying to comfort you. She offered to heal you and you agreed, but through it all you thought that even though the blows on your body burned like hell, what was definitely causing you the most pain was the wounds you just received to your heart.
After that night you could say that the tension in The Slat could be cut with a knife. You thought that the others were also going to blame you for the failure of the heist, with justifiable reasons, but you were pleasantly surprised to find out that this wasn’t the case, since they all told you so explicitly as soon as they had a chance. Matthias, who was most of the time the most mature among you, told you that sometimes things went wrong and that at least he was glad that you were okay; with Nina there, the physical problems could be solved and the money would be recovered somehow. But, to your surprise, it was Kaz they weren't very happy with.
You never meant to start a mutiny against the boss, God knows you didn't, but as much as you tried to change their minds, they were distant and reluctant to talk to Brekker. And Kaz, in turn, didn't exchange a single word with you.
Jesper and Nina were the ones who showed it the most, the first one kept looking down at your friend as if he could make him combust spontaneously with his eyes while the woman simply didn't say anything, as if he were invisible. The rest of the group hadn't cut off the communication suddenly, but it was evident that they weren't entirely happy with the black-haired man's behavior.
Although there were few occasions when the seven of you, or the majority, coincided in the same space, since you were always doing other things around The Barrel or the club.
You weren't the proud type, yet you refused to offer an apology for something that wasn't wrongdoing and finally stopped feeling guilty for applying this silent treatment to thinking that Kaz deserved it. Just a little. Also, if he didn't bother to talk to you, everything would be easier for you, because, although you still did some general tasks, most of the time you spent locked in your room, doing anything to entertain yourself.
If you looked at it from the outside, unaware that you guys were a bunch of criminals living in the same horrible building, that looked like a real teenage fight. But you couldn't blame yourself too much, because you were teenagers.
Sometimes, when he didn't notice, you watched him from afar. You analyzed his expression, his posture, his eyes, anything that would help you figure out if he really cared about your absence or the silence of others. You tried to believe that he was in a bad mood (more than usual) because he wanted you to not be angry anymore, but after a long time you always came to the same conclusion; he was inscrutable, shielded in that armor that you highly doubted could shatter, much less by you. Sometimes you wished you could know what Kaz was thinking so you could figure out if he had noble motives for acting the way he did or if he was just a heartless jerk. And, although your desire to read minds wasn’t fulfilled, you began to bet more on the latter the day a new job was presented. It was, now, a kind of revenge against the men of the opposing gang (who had stolen your business payment in the first place), however, when the meeting took place you noticed that he was skipping a detail. 
"And what will Y/N do?" Jesper had asked, going ahead of you, after listening carefully to the plan and realizing that you weren't contemplated anywhere. You expected Kaz to say you were going to stick with him, even if it was so he could keep an eye on you and avoid another outburst, but when he shook his head you were completely offended.
"She's not coming"
It was one thing to have received a scolding for the mistake made and quite another to be removed from the team just like that. And that Kaz had responded as if you weren't there made you feel completely humiliated and, consequently, angry.
"Great, so now it turns out that I'm grounded," you said sarcastically. It was the first time in weeks that you had spoken directly to Kaz and he just looked at you sideways for a few seconds, as if examining you, which made your blood boil even more "Are you really going to leave me out?" you continued, now with more seriousness than before. You wished he dared to face you with an answer, and you were surprised at how quickly this happened.
"It’s not personal. This time it’s better that you stay” was all the explanation he offered you. The way he said it made it clear to you that it wasn't up for discussion and you felt powerless, but before any of your friends could say anything in your defense, you decided to take it the best way.
If Kaz didn't want you around, you weren't going to make him. If you didn't receive even a measly part of the money from now on, you didn't care. If it was true that you had screwed up, you weren't sorry for anything and you weren't going to give in so easily, despite the love and respect you felt for him.
“Good luck then,” was all you said, offering the best fake smile you could have and purposely patting Kaz on the shoulder. He watched you walk away with eyes wide open in surprise, even though you didn't even notice it when you got lost in the hallway, and it was hard for him to keep his composure as he turned around again to clear up any doubts regarding how the crime would be carried out; although he tried to hide it, almost most of the group could tell.
What the hell did Kaz have against you lately? The others had made mistakes countless times and never suffered consequences as harsh as yours, because probably the hardest part had been dealing with the boss's anger and being forced to find a solution for what they had screwed up. You probably would have offered to get the money back yourself if he had let you end the problem, but you couldn't even do that because you knew it would only fan the fires of anger.
So when you left there everyone thought that things had already gone on too long and someone had to point it out to Kaz.
"Is everything clear?" he asked, looking at the crows and receiving a general nod.
We would have to wait until night to work, so once there was nothing more to say, each one dispersed in opposite directions.
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“Inej,” Kaz said, not even looking back. He knew she was there, he always knew, as if there was a connection between the two of them "Everything okay?"
“Everyone is where they should be. The carriage is on its way and the streets are free”
"Good"
“But there is something else we need to talk about”
Kaz was afraid it was something to do with you, and he closed his eyes for a moment at the possibility. They were on a roof, he too close to the shore to be able to supervise that the robbery was carried out effectively, and she took a few steps until she reached his side. The two kept looking down for a few seconds, preparing internally for what was coming; talking about feelings was never one of their strengths.
"What would that be about?”
"About who" she corrected him "This discussion with Y/N has already escalated to exacerbated levels, you didn't have to forbid her to come"
"And what did you want me to do?" he muttered, more upset than he would have liked, and he had to take a deep breath before speaking again, “She's… was impulsive and… she doesn't measure the danger she's putting herself in. She is like a child, without conscience or limits”
“We all know that, but you called her stupid. That's very different."
“I don't want her to end up killing herself,” he said, and Inej caught a hint of sincere concern tinging her friend's voice. Kaz hated seeing himself like this, but there was something about her that made him trust her with that part of him. “Y/N acts with her heart, that's the problem. And I worry that she doesn't know how to control it. I don't want anyone to hurt her and she just doesn't cooperate” he sounded desperate, helpless, and then Inej realized how many things were being ignored by the team about the boss's decisions, apparently cruel, but quite considered in the background. It was like… acting badly for the right reasons. Or something like that.
“Well, if you really do this to safeguard her welfare, you should tell her. Because I don't think you're giving him the right message with your actions” Inej told him. Then she decided that she wasn't going to pry into the matter anymore from that point on, wishing that the conversation had been enough to make the black-haired man see reason.
He thought about it for a second and wished he could ask her more, but then he noticed that, as always, she had already vanished into the night.
Kaz tried very hard to focus on the robbery and stop thinking about you or what it would be wise to say to you, but he was having some trouble. In the next hour, to everyone's surprise in general, things went perfectly; there was no guard, just a driver who didn't resist, and they were coming back with some juicy loot. Almost too easy to be true.
Kaz didn't give much thought to the nature of the success they'd just had and they all just set off, their group spirits much better now that things were looking up.
It would be foolish to deny that Kaz had been thinking about how quickly you would have managed to carry out the robbery and also had missed the joking duo that you formed with Jesper, who now had barely looked at the blue-eyed man.
On the way he got a bit withdrawn and was mentally torturing himself about what was the right thing to do when he got home. After thinking it through, he concluded that he should take Inej’s advice and talk to you to fix things. Brekker wasn't used to apologizing, but at least he could explain things to you the way he had with the girl, so that you would understand better and hopefully forgive him for the idiotic behavior he had been displaying for the past few weeks. Although he was still upset, it was worth putting that aside to try.
After going to the club to save the cash they went back to The Slat and when he stood in front of your door he never thought to feel more nervous in life, while he started to ask himself if that was a good idea. Maybe he should just let time wash away your bad face and carry on as before... but he was also aware that that wouldn't happen.
He hesitated for a long time about whether to knock on your door or not, but after a few minutes he finally did and was frustrated when no one answered, despite a strip of light coming through the door grate.
"Y/N, I know you’re there" he tried, but there was no response. Kaz ran a gloved hand through his hair and exhaled in frustration. "Fine, don't talk to me if you want, but that's not going to stop me from coming to tell you what I came to say," he muttered determinedly. Even trying to communicate assertively, he couldn't help but sound rude. “I didn't mean to yell at you like that when we got back from the heist, I just didn't know what else to do. And today I asked you to stay here because it could be dangerous and I'm trying to take care of you because apparently you don't give a damn about your own life, not because I hate you or because I'm upset with you. It's just that…” he was having a hard time talking, so he had to take a deep breath to collect himself a little “I worry about you. And I want you to be okay. Safe"
Kaz was silent, waiting for you to say something, but again there was nothing. He felt so foolish and embarrassed that he even thought his eyes were going to glaze over with helplessness. He was trying his best to go there, but you didn't seem to care, and honestly, he didn't blame you.
His gaze lowered to the floor, the pressing sensation of rejection flooding his chest, and only then did he notice the glow emanating from a section of the floor. With difficulty he knelt to take the substance with his fingers and his glove was stained with a fine powder that gave off an iridescent glow, which until that moment he had not realized he was scattered over various sections of the corridor. And next to that dust, there was a bloodstain.
Kaz didn't even wait for a second to lunge at your bedroom door and yank it open, which he hadn't done before out of respect for your privacy, only to realize that everything in there was turned upside down. There were remains of a smashed nightstand, books scattered on the floor, the bed in disarray, and sporadic stains of blood that he prayed weren't yours. The window was wide open and the white curtain billowed violently in the night air.
Someone had broken into your room and it wasn't hard to put the pieces together to find out what they had broken into. Someone had kidnapped you.
His eyes traveled all over the place looking for something that would give him clues and he decided to start rummaging through the books hoping to find a note, the amount for your ransom, whatever. When he read ‘We're even, Brekker’ written on yellowed paper and signed with the seal of a snake, he felt that his balance was missing.
That's why the robbery of the carriage had been so easy, because they had wanted it that way. Their plan was always to enter The Slat. You were there, alone, and they kidnapped you because Kaz had allowed it. Because in his eagerness to protect you, he had delivered you directly to the enemy.
It was all his fault.
"Jesper!" he screamed, on first impulse. He didn't know if it was difficult for him to get up from the floor due to dizziness or because of the limp “Inej! Wylan! Whoever!" he continued, wanting to get the attention of anyone who could help him. He was in a panic and he was also furious. He would be capable of torturing the men who had kidnapped you in the most horrible ways ever seen, as soon as he found out who they were.
All the people present in the building followed the sound of the boss's wailing and when they observed the state of your room a collective sigh of surprise filled the silence.
"Where is Y/N?"
“I don't know,” Kaz hissed, sounding desperate. That didn't even matter to him anymore "They took her, they set us up"
“We have to find her,” Matthias muttered, and he wanted to hit him for saying something so obvious. But he had to calm down, for everyone's sake.
"There's blood and this in the hallway," said the black-haired man, showing everyone the dust that still glittered on his glove.
"It's a trail," Wylan exclaimed, his features lighting up like when he had an idea. He stepped forward to analyze the sample and then nodded. “I gave this to her, it's a bioluminescent powder we were experimenting with. In theory, when…" he walked around the room as if looking for something until he found a box of matches that you had lying around "it comes into contact with the fire, it emits a blue flame" he explained, going into the corridor and demonstrating the information practically.
There was hope, if they hadn't taken you too far your friends might track you down and rescue you. You had been scared enough to leave a clue because you knew they would look for you.
In that moment Kaz felt so guilty that he had ever even suggested that he doubted your abilities.
“You have to follow it. We have to find where they took her right now” he ordered and, of course, no one argued. Everyone went ahead to get the necessary things to look for you and Kaz leaned against the wall for a moment, breathing slowly in an attempt to contain one of those panic attacks he sometimes felt, not imagining that this would only be the beginning of an awful night. 
And the worst wasn’t over yet.
The crows moved faster and more efficiently than ever before, and within minutes Wylan had figured out how to follow the trail. Sometimes there were long lines through the streets that were lit with a single match, but other times they had to look for them more carefully and that consumed time that Kaz considered vital. Although he wasn't saying anything the others could tell that he was quite upset by the situation, so they did their best. Also, you were part of the group, so they too were extremely worried.
By the time they reached Fifth Harbor, Kaz was already burning all the way down his leg, but that didn't matter to him. They were all out of breath, but that didn't matter. And the trail ended right at the pier, but that didn't matter because they saw in the distance a boat with two robust men, one of them holding a lamp and the other struggling with a girl tied by her hands and legs who was screaming in despair.
It was you and you were yelling Kaz's name.
They rushed to find a boat tied to the dock big enough for the six of them and when, luckily, they found it they jumped on it. Matthias and Jesper were in charge of rowing and the movement did not go unnoticed by the men who had you captured, nor by you.
A feeling of relief swept through you as you realized that the silhouettes approaching you were your friends and you felt that all was not lost. Kaz thought that they had arrived just in time and that calmed him down for a second, but he didn't count on the fact that the man would lift you off the ground and, with a sharp gesture that surprised everyone, he would throw you straight into the sea.
Your cry was drowned out by the roar of the water and the black-haired man's breath caught, while everything around him was spinning again. Until then he realized the position he was in: in the middle of the immensity of the sea, in danger of drowning. It was then that the memories of his brother's body came back to him like needles sticking in and he felt like he might vomit.
Kaz didn't know how to swim and even if he had known how to at some point in his life it was now impossible due to his limping leg. But he wasn't going to let you die. He can’t.
In the midst of the attack, he was dimly aware of what was happening. You were now within safe distance of the other boat which allowed Inej to throw a knife at one of the men and Jesper took it upon himself to put a bullet into the other. In hindsight, Kaz would have wished they had stayed alive so he could take it upon himself to give them a slow and painful death. There was no point in letting the men who had kidnapped you die so mercifully.
The water was dark and they couldn't see anything, but still Matthias was the one who ventured below the surface to find your body, hoping that when he did it wouldn't be too late.
Nina kept her hands up to monitor the beating of both your hearts and the rest stood without saying anything, looking expectantly out at the water that rolled in small waves. Only Kaz's erratic breathing broke the silence of the environment.
A few seconds passed, and when there was no sign of him or you, concern gripped the group. Now there wasn’t only the fear that you wouldn't get out of the water, but also that Matthias wouldn't and thus lose two members of the group. Nina winced when she heard one of the heartbeats slowed down considerably, though she didn't comment on it to the others.
When he finally surfaced everyone was relieved to see that he wasn't alone, even if your body was just an unconscious bundle that he was pulling with difficulty.
They still put you in the canoe and you had your limbs tied with rope, so Inej was in charge of cutting them with a knife, while the others crowded around you to try to see how you were.
“She's not breathing,” Matthias gasped. Nina knelt to try to expel the water from your lungs, but for some reason your body was resisting. If she didn't get the water out of your lungs, the lack of oxygen would permanently affect your brain.
"This isn't working," she snorted after several hand movements.
It was only then that Kaz dared to look at you. You were pale, wet, and a trickle of blood was coming from your forehead and you had some bruises. He never thought that he would feel the same pain that he seized when he traveled to the coast with the lifeless body of his brother.
Wake up, he wanted to tell you, but his voice wouldn't come out. You have to wake up.
Nina kept trying and until he finally saw you jump up to vomit up the salt water, he too felt like he could breathe again.
When you finally finished inhaling the air around you everyone bombarded you with questions to check your well-being and you just nodded to them all, a little dazed and scared. Nina took it upon herself to help with the cut and bruises, while the men took up the oars again to reach the dock.
Kaz was the last to get off the boat and he was also the last to enter The Slat, as if he needed to check that the rest of you had done it, since he didn't want to leave anyone behind again. Never.
“Let me accompany you,” he said. It was the first thing he had said to you after the incident and you were so exhausted that you didn't offer any resistance. When you walked up the stairs and into your room, you thought Kaz would leave without another word, but instead he stood in front of the door.
You looked at him with a neutral expression, trying to understand what he was trying to do.
"You were very intelligent" he began to say "When you left the trail"
"Thank you," you said quietly. Your throat was a bit sore from the water you had swallowed.
"How it happened?" he asked. The trip had made you recover a bit and you were calmer than before, so you didn't mind telling him things.
“They were supposed to be looking for your office, but they saw my light on and thought it would be a better idea to go after the helpless damsel. They got in through the window and… voila,” you said bitterly, gesturing with one hand at the mess around you. “They held me here and tied me to a chair, but the knots were so painful I got free in a few minutes. They interrogated me to ask about things of value or obtain some information, but I didn't say anything. My fighting could irritate them, but I think I really pissed them off when I smashed a vase over the head of one and plunged a knife into the other's leg. Maybe that's why they decided to throw me into the sea”
Kaz was a bit dismayed at how calmly you said things and he wondered if you really didn't care or were just pretending. Although he wanted to say the same things to you that he had said to your empty room a few hours ago, the truth was that remembering it made him feel ashamed. It had been a sincere apology, but he didn't think he could say it twice.
"I'm sorry I put you in danger," he said, stepping forward for more privacy. He watched your reaction to what he said and what he did, hoping that if you were still upset you would show it. But the near-death experience seemed to soften both of you.
"Why apologize? you didn't send those guys. It was just some… being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have happened to anyone."
“I know, but maybe if I hadn't asked you to stay here, they wouldn't have hurt you” he admitted and although you wanted to recriminate him for that, you decided to remain silent, feeling curious as to how far he could go with that talk "And if you don't… if you hadn't been smart right now you wouldn't be here”
"But I am" you answered with determination "And that's what hurts me, Kaz, that you doubt me" you expressed. You weren't going to forget so easily what had made you walk away in the first place and you thought it was the right time for him to know what you thought about it “I made a mistake, it's true and I take responsibility for that. But you didn't have to treat me like this."
"I know that too," he hastened to say, "I don't doubt you, I never have."
“It is not noticeable. Today you pushed me aside and you told us that trust is always the most important thing. And although I was stupid, I consider that this behavior is not worthy of making you stop trusting me just like that. You know I didn't do it to screw you over, I just wanted to save her."
“It's not about that woman, I don't care about her. You know that I too would have prevented her from getting hurt if the situation arose."
“Then what is it about? Is it only the mistake of the century if I make it?”
“This is about you, Y/N” Kaz said, pointing at you with his open palm and starting to sound desperate “I got so mad because you were the one who ended up in the hands of the enemy. I hate that you act like that because I care about you too much to allow myself to lose you”
You didn't expect that and he didn't expect to say it either. It was even more embarrassing than what he had refused to tell you in the first place.
He said that he didn't want to lose you and you thought about the meaning of that expression: did he not want to lose what you brought to the team or did he not want to lose your person?
"These weeks I thought you only hated me because I made you lose money"
"Oh, I do hate you a little for that," he said, taking a surprise "Not for the money itself, but for what that money implied" there was no point in keeping secrets, if Kaz had already started to sink then he preferred to do it completely and with dignity “The club is going through some difficulties, Y/N. I sold those things so I could keep it going. Because while our criminal jobs give us some kruge, you know that the main source of income for that group is the Crow Club. Also…” he felt his breath shake and had to take a moment to calm down “I've been thinking about something these past few months. A long time ago you said that you had always wanted to go to university, do you remember?” he asked you and you nodded your head “Jesper had the opportunity, but he is a lost cause, because he prefers this kind of life to having an office job or a quiet home and I respect that. But not you, you ended up here because you had no other options” Kaz was silent, hoping that if you had something to say you would say it now, but then he continued, “And I thought if I gave you some money you would have that opportunity. That way I could get you away from all these Dregs and you'd live the way you wanted. That's why that robbery was important”
You were totally stunned.
You never expected Kaz to have that opinion of you or even care about you to the degree that he had just confessed to you. He had listened to you, had seen beyond the apparent happiness of living in The Barrel to find your true dreams, so forgotten within yourself that you no longer thought you could reveal them to anyone else.
You mistakenly believed that the only thing that mattered to Kaz Brekker was dying suffocated by piles of money, but you had just realized that the true engine of life of the black-haired man was the love he had for that peculiar family that you made up.
“You… you know that's not necessary, right? You don’t have to do it"
"But I wanted"
The gap was less since Kaz had walked towards you and you decided, venturing a bit, to take another step towards him.
"Why didn't you tell us that the club has financial problems?" you asked softly, because you thought there could be no other way to talk to him in a situation like this.
"Because it wasn't important"
"Yes, it is, Kaz" you walked in his direction again. At that distance, if you raised your hand a little, he could reach to take hers "That's the point, you decide to swallow all the problems without talking to anyone and then we have no idea what ails you or why this or that is so important. Jesus, if you had told me that money was so vital, I would have put my life into opening that vault as quickly as possible” it was at that moment that you really regretted what you had done and thought that, if possible, you would have returned in time to listen to him and not just your instincts.
"It does not matter anymore. I can't spend my life telling you all the bad things that happen around here."
“You should do it, Kaz. We are a group and we can't just enjoy the rewards without knowing the sacrifice, stop burdening yourself with that alone” he warned seriously “You take care of all of us, but then who takes care of you?”
His reaction was the same as you had a moment ago: stupefaction. Kaz didn't know at what point in his life he had to become that, but he thought that perhaps Jordie's death was decisive for him to have to fulfill the role of the person he had just lost. To be for others what no one had been for him, so they would not suffer what he had suffered. It was quite an altruistic act if he thought better of it.
But after so many years it was exhausting and he wished he could just fall into someone else's arms to rest, figuratively speaking. And there you were right in front of him, probably the person he loved the most, with an expression that reflected a willingness to listen to what he had to say.
So Kaz thought that, maybe for once, it was okay for him to be vulnerable.
“I had an older brother” he murmured, after a long while and you were a bit confused by the sudden change of subject, but you nodded your head so he knew you were listening “He died during the plague epidemic. And miss him so much"
You knew little, if anything, of the personal life of the man in front of you, so you didn't know how to react to the disclosure of that fact. You imagined a little Kaz, scared and sad because his brother was gone. You didn't think for a second about the horrible things he had to go through and that he, with some luck, would dare to tell you later.
But even with this paltry piece of information you couldn't help but feel enormous compassion. He was human, like everyone else, and he was afraid that death would come to take another person important to him. Now you understood better.
"What was his name?" you asked in a whisper, as gently as possible. Kaz was silent for a moment, reflecting no sentiment, then swallowed.
"Jordie"
You weren't going to ask him any more questions after that, you just looked into his eyes and you knew that this was his way of telling you that he trusted you to keep that shred of his past.
"Well, I think Jordie would be happy to know that now there are six of us who love you as he did" was what you replied. You didn't know if it was the answer he expected, but at least it was the one that had come from your heart. When he looked at you, you swore that his eyes were teary, although later you convinced yourself that it had only been an effect of the light.
"I hope we're fine now" he murmured, regaining his composure, referring to the problems that had existed between you after that discussion.
"Calm down, everything is fine. I know you can't live without me."
"Actually, I've had enough of Jesper seeing me with those murder-eyes."
"Then you noticed," you joked. You were completely exhausted and at that moment you were even more conscious, as if you were going to pass out the next second “Everything is fine” you repeated “I just hope this doesn't happen again. I… will try to be less impulsive. And you have to tell me if something's wrong and we'll figure it out, okay?"
Kaz hummed back and you put on a tight-lipped smile. Then you looked around you to analyze the chaos that had been left by the fight with those men, feeling exhausted just thinking that you would have to pick up the pieces of wood, the books, or clean the stains, and he realized what you were thinking by the look on your face.
“I'll send someone to clean all this up tomorrow, I promise. For now, you just… lie down”
"For the first time, I'm not going to argue with you," you laughed bitterly. Then a yawn invaded you and you felt your eyelids tremendously heavy, which he perceived. Kaz didn't want to leave there, even if you were on the verge of exhaustion, however, he didn't know what excuse to use to stay “Good night, Kaz. You should rest too"
"Yeah, um... I'll do it"
“Good”
There was silence for a few seconds. 
"Have you really forgiven me?" he asked, looking to make sure you weren't upset anymore. You smiled and, amid your delirium from exhaustion, you stood on your toes to kiss him on the cheek. He paled and held his breath, but you didn't notice.
“As much as you have forgiven me for screwing up the mission. Now go and sleep"
Perhaps it was the shock of receiving something like this from you that caused Kaz to practically run out of your room, without even saying goodbye, staying in the hallway for a moment to process things. The speed of the contact hadn't given him time to panic, but that didn't stop him from feeling the pumping of his heart hammering like crazy under his chest and hot cheeks under the memory of your lips on them.
When he locked himself in his room he tried to calm down, when he was taking off his clothes to put on his pajamas he tried again, washing his hands and face, going through paperwork before going to sleep, lying down on the bed, closing the eyes... but nothing worked.
And eventually he fell asleep with the ghost of your kiss haunting him through dreams.
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askthe-r-m-au · 6 months ago
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Oh golly gee willakerz! It's that time again!!
I can't write for shi-
Also finally this is the part where Voz is introduced so I can answer some things about his existence-
[The Ring-Misstress | Chapter 3: The project]
There was about 1 more day until the big launch of The Amazing Digital Circus computer game. The recently promoted Co-Ringmaster had lay awake in her bed the night before. All this combined with the constant looming need of an exit was a whole lotta pressure. It's probably the exact opposite on Caine's end...
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Within the circus walls, outside of bounds was Caine. He, too, had been up all night (but for a few more reasons). They had much less time than he thought they would. He may have to continue adding the finishing touches throughout the week. Hopefully, it shouldn't be too much trouble. I mean, he does have Pomni to help him and- POMNI! HE'D NEARLY FORGOTTEN TO WAKE HER UP!
The ringmaster quickly pulled out his WackyWatch.
☆Ah, it's only been 5 minutes...☆
☆5 MINUTES!?!☆
Gadzooks, he'd better hurry if they wanted time to prepare for tomorrow.
Making his way towards her door, he couldn't help but realize. After the other day, he'd felt awfully strange. Maybe it was the unfamiliarity of Bubble not being there. He'd never thought that he could ever let a virus in under his watchful eyes. How long had Bubble been like that? Had he just gotten infected by something sometime before or something else? Something about his absence made him uneasy...
Buuuuut now was not a good time to think about all that! He couldn't spend time thinking about such silly things when they had such important matters!! He had such to to and- Okayy... get ahold of yourself, Caine! What is wrong with you today??
He took a quick breath and reached his hand to the door (witch was very shaky when did that happen???).
Okay... you can do this...
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☆GOOD MORNING, POMNI!!☆
Pomni jumped from her bed, startled at the fact that Caine actually used the door for once. Not that she minded.
♧Oh- uh- morning, Caine... wh-♧
The ringmaster cut her off impatiently.
☆COME NOW MY DEAR FRIEND! WE HAVE LOTS TO DO TODAY!! WE HAVE A VERY BIG DAY TOMORROW!! NO TIME TO WASTE!☆
♧Huh? Hold on, what're you-♧
She looked up at Caine and back down at herself, recalling the last few days' events.
♧Oh... alright, one sec.♧
☆Great!! Meet me out here. I have something I wanna show you!!☆
She grabbed her hat and cane, sitting on a small shelf next to her bed, and headed out to where Caine said he'd be.
♧Alright... what's up?♧
☆I'm glad you asked!! See, I've been working on this for a while now, and I thought it'd be great if we could work together to finish up on my most recent project!!☆
He snapped his fingers, and in front of Pomni stood a little model. Closely resembling her old jester outfit, but more green instead of red, except for the additional party hat. Which was also lined with teeth?? Eh, it makes sense if Caine designed it.
Other than that, he looked... rather adorable. The little guy opened his eyes, taking in his new surroundings as Caine began to speak.
☆This little Fella is Voz. Or a V.irtual O.ffspring Z.imulation!☆
♧Wait, doesn't that start with a- nevermind...♧
☆I know, I know, it just rolled off the tongue more. Aaaaanyway, this little guy will be able to get along with the other players, as well as help the rest of us with minor tasks! Or, yaknow, just do other kid stuff.☆
♧Such as..?♧
☆A- well, let's ask him!! Cmon, little buddy, say hello!☆
Voz took a big gasp of air before attempting to speak. Except his words came out all glitchy and distorted. You could hardly make out what he was saying.
[H- h- ɛl·l -o¿ -lo-?]
Voz covered his mouth, and another tiny gasp escaped. Pomni looked at Caine in confusion.
☆Heheh... so maybe he can't speak... b-but that's where YOU come in!! Your job is to help program him, you can start by giving him a voice!☆
Pomni looked down at Voz then back up at Caine.
♧Well how? I don't even know what he's supposed to sound like.♧
☆Well... what do YOU think he sounds like??☆
Pomni thought for a second. She thought long and hard. She hardly remembered anything about children herself. She turned to look at Voz one more time.
[...hello?]
Out came the voice of a little boy, around 6 or 7.
He gasped and covered his mouth again. But this time in surprise rather than shame.
Pomni's eyes lit up. It actually worked.
♧Hey-♧
Caine flew in right beside Pomni, nearly shoving into her.
☆Welcome to the circus, little fella!! I'm your creator Caine, and this is your Co-creator, Pomni!☆
Caine gestured towards himself, and then his Co-host.
Voz Looked at the two standing together. First Caine, then Pomni. Caine, then Pomni. Caine, Pomni. He softly spoke up once again.
[...Papa? Mama?]
The pair looked awkwardly at each other then back at the child infront of them.
☆Oh my stars how could I forget? These things adapt to the first thing they see.☆
♧Huh??♧
☆I'm pretty sure that's a kid thing, just go with it.☆
She looked back down at Voz, who stared back, anticipating an answer.
♧I... yaknow what? Sure. Just- you can call us that.♧
He looked up at his "Parents" with huge eyes. His smile almost stretched all across his face. He didn't need to say anything for the two to know he meant "thank you".
♧Heh, you're very welcome-♧
Before she could finish, Voz ran up to the both of them and hugged their legs.
Pomni and Caine accepted his embrace. Looking down at their new project, all that dead from before? Was gone.
Maybe this wouldn't be so hectic after all.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
RAH OMAIGOSH IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO GET BACK INTO WRITING THIS-
I procrastinated alot-
Expect chapter 4 in like...
20 years
Anyway yall know the drill, ask them stuff, ask ME stuff, and... uh-
Bye-bye
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ominous-auburn-orbs · 1 year ago
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@just-observing-here Here's the fic you suggested! Hope I followed the prompt right
Jax had pushed it too far. Gangle couldn't take it any longer. The performers saw how a glitching mass of black and brightly coloured eyes had tried to consume her. They were just barely able to calm her down enough to return her to normal. Even Jax had left her alone after that.
Throughout the whole process, Caine had just stood by. He could've helped. He knew he should've. But he had felt paralysed. Fear, he reminded himself. It was called fear. It was a sudden wake-up call for him that any of the performers could abstract at any time, and he would never be able to get them back. Was it his fault they were abstracting? He never wanted them to. He'd gotten attached to this group. He always did. How could he save them? Could he save them at all?
His hand glitched, causing his cane to fall through it. That had started happening since these thoughts had begun. He picked up the cane, but it just fell again. A bit frustrated now, he clicked his fingers to make it disappear, but instead it just shrank. Guess he'll have to deal with that later.
Before long, Caine's thoughts were spiralling again. His chest was getting tighter. He couldn't save them. He couldn't save them. He couldn't-
His body filled with a sharp and painful tingling, causing him to lose control of his floating. The collision with the ground brought him back once more. The loud thud it created also alerted a nearby Kinger, whose responding scream caused both worry and relief. Kinger could help him. But what if Kinger was scared of his glitching? What if it spread like abstraction?
Just as Caine was picking himself up from the floor, Kinger rounded the corner.
"I heard something, are you okay?"
"I'm perfectly fine, my dear! There's nothing you need to stress over! Nothing at all!" His arm disconnected for a moment, floating beside him before moving back. Kinger definitely saw it.
"W-what was that? Is that meant to be happening?" Now Kinger was concerned. No way out of it now, Caine had had to learn that the hard way before. Odd how he seemed so forgetful and unaware, yet unable to drop something he truly cared about or noticed.
"Well, no, but I'm sure it'll just fix itself!" Kinger ignored him, reaching for his arms and inspecting him, but struggling to keep hold as Caine kept clipping through.
"Did you catch this from Gangle?" The chess piece continued to run his hands along where the glitch showed, pulling a nervous and flustered chuckle from Caine. "Hmm, probably not, or I'd have caught it by now, too. You were pretty far from Gangle anyway..."
Kinger continued to mutter to himself, trying to find a pattern in the glitches. Caine just stared at him. What would he do when he lost him? Caine wasn't ready for that. Kinger could never abstract. He'd lasted this long, but it's not like he could last forever.
Kinger jumped back when Caine went through a strong full-body glitch, bringing him to his knees.
"Caine!" Kinger's hands supported the ringmaster, keeping him from falling any further, but his now ever changing shape made that easier said than done. "Just- just try taking some deep breaths! That usually helps me."
"Kinger- I don't have lungs," he laughed. How could he laugh? Kinger shouldn't be protecting him, it should be the other way around. The chess piece had no idea how much danger he was in.
"O-oh, uh- then what's causing these glitches? Was it Gangle? We fixed her and her comedy mask up, if you were worrying about that. Even gave her a nose, too! I thought an extra feature might make her feel better." Caine was laughing again, the glitches calming. So it was based on his feelings. "I know I'd feel pretty good if I was given a mouth, let alone a nose, even if it was just drawn on! Bet you'd like it if I had a mouth, huh?"
The ringmaster burst out laughing, startled by the comment. Well, he supposed Kinger wasn't wrong.
"Hey, the glitches stopped!" Kinger pressed his face to Caine's teeth in a makeshift kiss. "Who knew I was such a comedic genius?"
Caine just kept giggling, pulling Kinger closer. "I could've guessed."
Kinger joined in on the laughter as well, until he was sure Caine was fine again. "So, any idea as to what that was about?"
A melancholy feeling started creeping across the back of Caine's mind, but it went away when he looked into Kinger's eyes again. "Is it okay if I tell you later?"
"Of course, honey. Whatever helps." Caine's face reddened at the pet name.
"H-honey??" The whirring sound of computer fans emitted from him. Kinger kissed him again, the smile clear on his face despite his lack of a mouth. Maybe everything would be fine after all.
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drabblingman · 2 years ago
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Mephistopheles shut their diary in one hand with a "snap", and rushed off as fast as he could. His steps mixed with the rapid clacking of his cane, and his old injury screamed at him, but that didn't matter right now.
He had to find them. To set the record straight.
But what exactly was the truth? Wasn't his whole reason for snooping because he disliked them? Hadn't he been trying to unearth dirt on them? To write a scathing piece in the R.A.D. Times on? To sully their reputation, and prove they weren't as honest as they appeared to be?
Stupid.
They always told him the truth. He had tried time and again to catch them in a lie, but he never could. They never lied. Even when they knew what they said could be misconstrued, or twisted against them, they always spoke the truth. Their truth.
Why would their diary be any different?
He was so stupid.
It was one of the things he liked about them. But if he disliked them, why would he like something, anything about them?
Why would it hurt that they thought he hated them?
He liked a lot of things about them. Their honesty. Their quick, yet cutting, wit. Their ability to get in and out of the most frustrating and precarious of situations, always with a new story to tell. Their humor. Their laugh.
He liked them, damnit, so why did they think he hated them? Why did he think he hated them?
He gritted his teeth, and clutched their diary tighter in his free hand.
God above and Demon Lord below, he was so stupid.
He turned a corner, and found them exactly where he knew they would be. He had, after all, had to plan for the optimal time to go looking through their most personal of belongings, and it'd be a rookie mistake to not know where your target was at the time of infiltration.
The human exchange student was alone, after class, at a table outside of the school. They were packing up after working on their homework for exactly 58 minutes, so they could make the late bus that left exactly an hour after school. Something he had planned meticulously for.
Too bad all of that planning had gone out the window. (Which was, ironically, how he had planned to make his daring escape.)
He approached them as they were placing their books in their bag, not yet noticing him.
"How dare you write such accusations!" is probably not the best thing to shout at someone while holding their diary.
Which is why Mephistopheles preferred the written word. Preferably, articles. Then, he could go back and forth and rewrite anything that came out too harshly or just plain wrong. Here? Oh no. He couldn't backspace a single letter from what he said here.
They looked up, bewildered.
And then he saw it. The dawning realization that in his left hand he held their diary, replaced quickly by the shock and betrayal that he had alluded to having read it.
It was like they had frozen in front of him, yet he was the one who felt cold from his own thoughtless actions.
Had he mentioned how stupid he was? Because he really was quite stupid.
"Why do you have that?" They asked him, their voice low and serious.
"I-! Well-!" He spluttered, unable to think of a perfectly valid excuse for breaking in to their house, their room, and their locked and magically-enchanted diary.
"You know me! I'm an investigator! And I must investigate you!"
They stared at him, then at their diary, still clutched firmly in his hand.
"Give it back."
Mephistopheles blinked at their outstretched hand, processing, for a moment too long, what they had requested of him.
They made a grabbing motion.
"Oh-" he finally realized, quickly dropping their diary back into their palm.
They packed it in their bag with the rest of their books, silently, as Mephistopheles watched.
"We- we really must talk!" He managed at last, stumbling on his words.
Their head snapped up, and the glare they threw his way he would've sworn gave him physical damage. Even Lucifer, king of the death glare, would have quaked in his stupid fancy shoes.
"What's. There. To. Talk. About?" They asked him, enunciating each word carefully.
"About what you wrote-"
"-You mean my private thoughts?" They cut him off. "You mean my private thoughts that you violated? That you read without my permission? That I wrote so I wouldn't have them running around my head? So that I wouldn't speak them out loud? Those?"
He winced.
This was not going well.
And he was probably digging his own grave.
Which he assumed they would then dance on.
And then they'd probably raise him from the dead, just to kill him and dance on it again.
But still...
He had to know.
No matter what, he had to know.
"...Do you really think I hate you...?"
They stared at him, as if he was completely stupid. (A sentiment he was really truly beginning to agree with.)
"Why would I lie to my diary? Of course I do. What other proof do I need after this stunt you just pulled?"
Ouch. That one stung a little.
Ok, a lot.
"Then, what about the other things you wrote about me?"
They held his gaze for a moment, before looking down at the table, quiet.
"...What does it matter?" They asked bitterly, sadness tinging the edges of their words as they avoided eye contact with him.
He approached the table from the other side, placing his white-gloved hands on it's filthy surface, leaning forward to try to catch their gaze.
"It matters a lot." He said gently, reaching out cautiously to their face to comfort then, or at the very least get them to look up at him once again.
"At least, to me it does." He withdrew, suddenly anxious his touch was unwelcome. "Because I don't hate you. In fact, I've come to enjoy your company."
The human's face shot up once more, their eyes wide, searching his own meticulously for any trace of sarcasm or untruthfulness.
"What?"
He felt his heart thud in his chest when their eyes locked with his. He hadn't even meant to say that last part, it had just come out of his mouth without thought, but now, he was forced to address it. He was forced to confront his feelings about them. Or, rather, his feelings for them.
Why hadn't he noticed it before? Had it happened too slowly for him to perceive the changes? Had all of their late night "investigations" into Lucifer and even later night editing sessions together caused them to rub off on him? All of the teasing they did of each other? The back-and-forth quips they exchanged as if they were playing tennis? The compliments veiled as insults? The insults veiled as compliments? Had they completely flipped his opinion of them without him even knowing?
Or had it happened all at once, when he had read confession note after confession note in their diary, crossed out and marked up and edited, not unlike how he wrote his articles, and felt his chest swell with each word? Each little thing they claimed to admire in him? Each piece of evidence that showed how much effort they had put into trying to make everything perfect? Had he been swayed in that instant, convinced, finally, that they weren't always nearby just to be a thorn in his side?
They stared at him expectantly.
"I- I..."
He suddenly couldn't find the words.
Well, that was a first. He almost laughed out loud at the ludicrousness of it. Him. At a loss for words. The very idea had never crossed his mind before. Sure, he had sometimes had to look up different ways to get his point across more eloquently, his thesaurus was sometimes his best friend, but he had never been so completely devoid of words before.
He pursed his lips, dumbfounded.
"Mephistopheles...?"
They managed to shake him out of his reverie, their voice gentle, and quieter than he had ever heard it before.
Their voice. He really liked their voice. When had that happened? They had just said his name. His full name, with their clumsy, human voice. He was supposed to hate human voices. They tended to trip over his name. But this one didn't. Why didn't they? Had they practiced? They must have. But why would they? Why had it mattered to them? After everything he had put them through, why did they even bother giving him the time of day, much less recite his name over and over to themself until they got it right?
His hands, seemingly of their own accord, drifted to their face once more.
The human, a flustered expression plastered to thdid own face, could only splutter as he brought his forehead to theirs.
"What I mean..." Mephistopheles stated, so close now to them he felt he his heart might burst, "...is this."
The last thing he saw before closing his eyes and locking his lips with theirs, was a look of pure wonder.
He burned it into his memory forever.
It was like he was desperate; the second he had given in and kissed them, he couldn't get enough. But the way they was responding to him, it seemed as if they felt the same. Their hands had hooked around his neck, pulling him as close to themself as they could with a table in between the two of them.
They tasted so sweet. Like the berries they ate throughout the day that he would poke fun at them for, seemingly the only healthy things they'd eat with regularity amidst the snacks and junk foods they enjoyed.
Their hands were exploring now, fingers combing through his undershave. But his were no different. Running up and down their neck before slowly making his way back to their face.
He wanted to stay in this moment forever, but alas, he knew they couldn't. After all, they both sadly needed to breathe.
As they parted, he realized he was the last out of the two of them to open his eyes.
They were staring at him, panting, stars in their eyes. It was enough to make his own breath hitch.
"What... Was that...?" They asked, breathlessly.
"That..." He stopped, panic creeping in. What was that, indeed? It was unlike him to suddenly lose himself like that.
He scrambled internally for a reply, some kind of excuse, a way to claim temporary insanity, anything except the truth...!
The truth.
It suddenly smacked him.
The truth, the one thing he knew he could always count on from them. His MC. His wonderfully human MC.
He loved them.
No matter how hard he tried to bury it away from himself, there was no hiding from the truth. He should have known that.
He loved them.
"...That was my own confession." He finally managed, looking down in embarrassment.
"I read page after page of yours... Which I know was wrong...!" He added hastily, "but after reading all of those kind words, and then... Reading how much you thought I hated you, I..."
He locked eyes with them again, scared of how they would react, but determined to vocalize his feelings.
"I don't hate you. MC, I adore you. I've come to realize I am absolutely smitten with you. I was just too stupid to figure it out until now."
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everythingwasnormalhere · 2 months ago
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could you give me blind Craig headcannons for my story? Thanks ^_^
all these are assuming he loses his sight later on, aka hes not blind since birth, so tell me if im wrong lol (also partial blindness hcs bc its very underrepresented though a lot more common smh,, but like, can make him totally blind if you want lol you do you)
mandatory disclaimer im not blind nor i know that many blind people so this might be Very wrong lmao (feel free to correct me yall 😭) (also if u arent blind either i recommend u to ask blind ppl and/or blogs like @/cripplecharacters for advice with this)
big on the ignore it till you make it<3
nooo hes not going blind wdym his vision is awesomeee (this guy cant see shit)
probably hid it for as long as he could bc internalized ableism + pettiness = bad decisions
also this overwhelmed the shit out of him, meltdowns often bc autism aint good yall
didn't get the diagnosis till he was almost not leaving home bc he could barely manage there without seeing, outside was a big fat nope
when he did get it, he already could assume what was happening, but the diagnosis made it real- cue the panic attacks<3
he clyde and tweek decorated his white cane with space stickers to make it fun :) (will always be a sucker for characters decorating their mobility aids im not sorry)
spends his nights looking at the stars, trying to memorize them before he cannot see them at all. the thought of losing them forever terrifies him
insecurity oh my god. his friends have to reassure him they won't leave him after he can't see every other day. little guy acts all confident and craps but oh boy he's actually Not 😭
jimmy teaching him cpunk he's just that awesome<3
"how does he deal with ableism?" well he curls up and sobs actually :) /hj
ppl grabbing his cane would send him in a panic at the beginning
THEY'RE NOT HELPING FFS
went from frozen and almost in tears to cursing them out though; he's vocal about his feelings like that<3
when he's with friends they're typically the ones who proceed to curse them out first btw lmao (possibly trip them too. oopsie 🥰)
holding hands with tweek. yes using the cane is easy but tweek is easier. craig would genuinely trust him with his life yall
he's very used to holding tweek's hand since before too, so not much of a change really :)
learnt how ppl's walking sounds very early on
cartman cannot be normal abt disabilities ever so he probably "pranked" craig a lot early on
he got so much shit from everyone for that though so not anymore
craig and butters bond over it :3 with butters' eye injury and all
(their experiences are not the same but taking into account butters is who has most experience with vision problems in all south park, its the best craig can get atp)
got pissed at like 20 screenreaders until he found one that worked for him
will listen to space documentaries, close his eyes, and imagine everything they say. makes him very happy :)
gets a guide dog later on im not sorry service puppies are the best ever
not gonna learn braille his ass is too lazy lmfao
...these arent a shitton of hcs wdymmmmmmm (sorry for text wall it will happen again)
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noa-de-cajou · 3 months ago
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Day 23 : A mystery / Being old together / Take a drink / judgement
_____
“... So.”
“... Yep.”
“Here we are.”
“We sure are here.”
“It wasn’t easy, to try and find some time to talk face-to-face. You’re always surrounded by other people.”
I smile and pick up the piping hot cup of tea on the table.
“So it's gonna be my fault?”
“I'm merely stating facts, Ether, that's all.”
Ha! Reminds me of someone I knew.
“So. You're married to an empress now. An a half angel, half demon queen. And a werewolf. That’s certainly something.”
“Sure is! I got really lucky. But what about you, miss Director? How’d you even manage all of this?”
“I got some help. From Dal and Demetria, mainly.”
“Demetria… Like Demetria Camarra-Pharos? Oh shit, talk about a trip down memory lane. I was getting weird ass vibes from her back when we were classmates.”
“And you were right. When she learned she was going to become blind eventually, she decided to just lose her sight as soon as she could and managed to get artificial aura vision somehow.”
“What the hell.”
“I know. But she was an excellent diplomat. And I mean excellent. So I got her help despite the “weird vibes” as you’d call it.”
“Was it, uh, worth it?”
“Honestly, I'm not sure. She never specified how she got the intel she gave me, kept bumping into every furniture despite her cane, I always got complaints from everyone in the School about her behavior, she was loud, wouldn't respect my privacy, asked the most intrusive questions, and I had to clean up after her all the time. To the very end. This idiot died attempting a lichification ritual. She gave us so much trouble with all the blood, it was horrendous.”
Hm. I smile, a little.
“... Is that all?”
Nenia averts her eyes away from mine. We’re both more than a century old but her mannerisms are still the same.
“... Well. Something’s different now.”
“What is?”
“I don’t know, exactly. It’s just, sometimes I hold out my hand expecting her to slap papers into it. Or I catch myself wondering why she’s talking so long to come back from her mission. And it feels… wrong, to not hear her voice shout my name anymore. It's strange. She’s been gone more than forty years and I'm still not used to it. She reminded me of some kind of snake and I got Horus some time after, without thinking about it.”
She looks at the vivarium where her snake is sleeping, curled onto itself.
“Do you miss her?” I ask.
“I… don’t know. Dal does, I think. Sometimes he just looks at her old office door with a lost face. He knows better than me what missing people feels like.”
Yeah. I bet he does.
“It doesn’t really matter now, does it? I could never understand her. Maybe I didn't try hard enough, but I had other things on my mind, and… I don’t know. The ritual was sudden. I don't know what was going through her head, to do such a thing.”
“She liked you, didn’t she?”
“I… suppose, yes.”
“Then maybe she wanted to witness the results of what you were building. Or to spend more time with you.”
Nenia looks thrown off guard. Like, fully. She grips her cup tighter and I can actually see her face twist into a weird expression. A childish anger. Maybe some kind of sadness.
“That's the stupidest reason for a ritual I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah, to you, maybe. But humans experience it differently.”
My eyes land on my wedding ring. The one on my artificial hand.
“This isn’t my first time marrying a human woman, you know. The first one died at fifty. Before her time.”
“Then why marry another? Even if the Empress lives to the maximum of a human lifespan, she'll probably die before you. You just set yourself up for more pain. Why would you go through this again?”
“Because it's worth it.”
I didn't hesitate. Not even for a second. Nenia stares at me intently, then smiles a little.
“You’ve changed, Lani.”
I wince a little. Haven’t heard that nickname in a while.
“Obviously? So did you. Like, you're taller than me now and your hair has gotten longer…”
“‘No, that's not what I mean. You look… well. If not for the ears and your age, I could swear that I have a human in front of me.”
She says that like it’s something to be sad about.
I understand, somehow.
I’ve lived too many years and too many things to be a human. Yet I tend to forget that I'm an elf, and not, like, three humans stacked upon each other.
“But I'm not human.”
“No. But you understand them.”
She chuckles and takes a sip of her tea.
“I envy you.”
… Is it really something to be envious about?
Maybe it is. Maybe Nenia would have liked to understand Demetria before she died.
But the way she says it… it’s like she doesn't even know how I do it. How to even apprehend me at all. Maybe we’ve been apart for too long.
Maybe we can't understand each other.
“This is the worst tea I've ever drank, Nia.”
“Well, you’ll brew it yourself next time, Lani, I have priorities.”
“Like what, ruling a country?”
“You're the worst consort I've ever met. Worse than my tea.”
“My wife does most of the ruling for a reason!"
Eh. I guess we’re okay like this.
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lenific · 11 months ago
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Trouble, Trouble
beastlycheese asked:
Baelfire has a crush on the new librarian
Or
Rumplestiltskin finds his new maid's diary
Beastly wishes x
---------
The first sign of trouble was the untouched bowl of ice cream in the freezer. Gold stared at it in disbelief for a full five seconds - unused to tasty leftovers during Bae's growth spurts - before his mind went for the absolutely worst scenario and he hurried across the house and upstairs to knock on his son's bedroom door.
"Just how sick are you?" he asked as soon as the door opened.
Or perhaps he shouted. Maybe. Probably. Luckily Bae had grown up listening to the care under the panicked growling.
His son blinked up at him.
The second sign of trouble was that Bae crashed into him in a tight hug.
Gold forgot to breathe for a moment, even as he grappled with his cane and the twelve-year-old glued to him. His boy was a sweet kid, hardly a scowl or a grimace crossing his face despite his father's example. But physical affection wasn't a staple in their home. A quick pat on the shoulder, sure, or a high-five when merited; but hugs and kisses had been left behind with Bae's toddlerhood.
"I'm going to assume I don't need to call Dr. Whale," Gold said in as soothing a voice as he could manage, making sure to hold onto his boy as long as he was allowing it.
Bae shook his head.
"Trouble at school?" he guessed. There had been a few bullies in Bae's life, and though he did trust Mrs. Nolan to handle the garden variety, Gold had been forced to step in on a couple of occasions. He was already wondering which family needed a reminder on how to parent a child appropriately, when Bae shook his head again.
Well, there went his hope for an easy solution.
"What's wrong, then?"
Bae squeezed harder, saying nothing.
Gold patted his son's head. He hated feeling at a loss, especially when Bae's wellbeing was at stake. He had gotten complacent, that's what was wrong. When Bae was a colicky baby, Gold had watched him like a hawk. As a stubborn little boy with more daring than common sense, Gold had trailed after him, praying for no broken bones. But lately Bae had quieted down, made friends other than high ledges and tall trees, and he seemed happier.
Gold had stopped watching closely.
And now this happened.
"Hey, Bae. Whatever it is," he promised, "I'll make it better."
Bae raised his head, flushed cheeks, tear-filled eyes, and a frankly disgusting trail of snot. "I asked her out," he mumbled.
"Wendy probably was too surprised -"
The third sign of trouble was Bae's disgruntled glare.
"Wendy?"
Gold invested every cell of his body in hiding his wince. When Bae had told him about a girl he liked, he'd allowed the secrecy over her identity because he was confident it was the Darling oldest. Little Wendy had played nurse to Bae's scrapes so many times, that Gold thought it natural that the children would get a little crush on each other at some point.
...well, he'd thought it natural once her parents good-naturedly mentioned it, and laughed at his struck look. Things like that made sense after someone pointed it out to him.
(Or kissed him silly. But this wasn't the time to think about Belle French.)
"Oh, my mistake," he said, focusing on the current situation. Namely, his upset son. "Do I know her?"
Bae shrugged. "Dunno. I've never seen you at the library."
For a few more seconds, while Gold pondered which girls frequented the library (because he did go there, and often), all was good.
Then Bae spoke:
"The new librarian is so pretty," he said dreamily, unaware of his father's expression. Then he sighed in crushed defeat. "I really shouldn't be surprised someone else already asked her on a date."
The End 12/02/24
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divine-misfortune · 2 years ago
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Mushy May, day 6. Snow days.
Rating: Teen (very brief mention of the idea of something saucy.)
Pairing: Zephyr/Ifrit
Words:  792
Summary: The stupid things Zephyr does for their golden retriever of a boyfriend.
Zephyr had never been fond of the snow. Even as a freshly summoned ghoul, before time had worn on them and their vessel. But Ifrit loved the snow like a fish loved water. It melted around him and turned to icy water in his hands. Neither of their bodies were made for the winter weather, his burning too brightly, and theirs too raw. That never stopped Ifrit though. Nothing ever really stopped him when he wanted something. 
But Zephyr was fond of Ifrit, stupidly enamored actually. And that love, that stupidity, is what made them offer to accompany an overexcited Ifrit out into the first snowfall of the year. His tail had wagged with all the enthusiasm of a golden retriever when they did, nearly knocking Mountain’s glass off the coffee table. He was so excited he was practically buzzing as he went to find Zephyr’s coat and boots for them. 
Minutes into the adventure outside, they were already regretting it, but they wouldn’t say that out loud. Not when Ifrit’s eyes were sparkling. He always seemed to be in awe of the beauty of winter, no matter how many years he’d spent topside. 
It was mostly the cold that made Zephyr miserable that time of year. Somehow it only served to stiffen their joints further, there was a time they didn’t think that was possible but they were proven wrong. When the weather started to shift, their knee took to clicking with each step, and their muscles outright protested most quick movements. The ice didn’t help. Everything was slick and precarious, nothing too sturdy for their cane to find stability on. Ifrit always let them hold onto his arm when the walkways weren’t properly salted, and in their eyes he was the sturdiest thing in the entire abbey. 
Ifrit would spend hours out there if not for the lack of daylight, and Zephyr tried to give him as much time as they could but eventually the dull and somewhat far away pain in their hip reared its ugly head. It was sharp and angry, the muscle drawn so taut they feared too much more movement might just tear them in two. 
The fire ghoul was nothing but sweet, truly. He’d gathered their aching form in his arms and carried them all the way back to the den, and despite their insistence they could manage the rest, brought them right to their bed. 
Zephyr hissed as they settled onto the foot of the bed, perhaps sitting down too fast for their own good, but the idea of standing for another second made their stomach knot. 
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize we were out there so long-”
“Help me with my boots, please.” The air ghoul interrupts him, knowing full well that Ifrit will babble himself in a spiral of apologies for the rest of the night if they don���t. “I don’t think I can untie them.” 
“Oh-! Right, yeah.” 
Ifrit knelt in front of them and they bit their lip. If they didn’t feel like there was burning glass being pushed into the spaces between their bones, they might have reached out for a fistful of his dark messy hair. Pulled at it to drag him closer, he’d have gladly warmed them that way…But the pain is prevalent and insistent. Another time. 
He picked up their boots and took their coat and made a step for the door but Zephyr grabbed his sleeve before he could get far. 
“Throw them on the floor, I’ll deal with it later…Just come lay down with me. You’re the reason I’m freezing, so you get to be the reason I’m warm for the rest of the evening.” 
“That, um,” he chuckled a little and did as he was told, discarding their things onto the floor before starting to kick off his own shoes “that’s only fair I guess.” 
It didn’t take a lot of convincing, it never did. It honestly took more convincing to get him out of their bed than in. They let him settle first before slowly maneuvering themselves under the covers. Getting into bed was probably the worst part, forcing their tensed body into a resting position wasn’t exactly easy. Heat was already rolling off Ifrit in waves when they finally managed to lay down, and he took the liberty of cuddling up to them so they didn’t have to wriggle any further. 
Zephyr let out a sigh of relief when Ifrit’s arm draped over them. He rested a hand on their offending hip and laid his head on their chest. 
“You’re the sweetest space heater, I think I might just have to keep you.” They teased and Ifrit nuzzled his cheek against them, a low purr of approval rumbling out of him. 
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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 4 months ago
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FFXIV Write: Bar
In the future, Agnes spies her husband at the bar while attending Aymeric's wedding reception. SFW.
Agnes Varlineau was not too surprised to find her husband sitting at the bar. After doing the rounds at Aymeric and Thora’s wedding, she discovered her very handsome and yummy can’t wait to get his waistcoat off later husband enjoying the open bar.
She made her way to him and placed a hand in the center of his back. Leaning towards one of his pointed ears, she whispered, “Try to eat something, love. You still need to make your speech later.”
He grunted, gesturing to the plate of canapes in front of him. Estinien turned to glance at her and smiled. “I’m alright. Just…” He tapped the stool next to his with his good leg, gesturing for her to sit. “Worried about my speech.”
“Oh?” She hummed as she sat and reached for one of his hands to hold. It always soothes him---holding my hand…and it does with me too.
“Considering the ceremony, I’m not sure if I can…” He furrowed his brow. “Get through it.”
Oh.
Oh yes, right.
Because he and Aymeric were having a “who can cry more” contest during the ceremony.
It was quite sweet to be honest.
“That’s a valid concern. However,” she gave his hand a squeeze and smiled reassuringly. “Your speech is very much like you, love---short, sweet, and to the point. And you’ve done so well when you’ve practiced it. I think you’re going to do great.”
He chuckled, his smile growing. “Thank you, my angel. With you by my side, I can do nearly anything. Including this damn speech.” Finishing his drink, he then faced her and popped a canape (ooooh a bacon-wrapped scallop) into his mouth. “These are bloody good. You should get some before they’re all gone.”
As she erupted into giggles, she stole one from his plate and ate it. “Love, this is the social event of the year in Ishgard…no wait, probably Eorzea, they’re not going to run out of food!” That would be incredibly embarrassing for the caterer. Just horrific.
That pleased him in a way that made her giggle more. He grabbed his cane, stood, and gave her a quick peck. “Then I’m getting more!” THAT WINK FROM HIM! SER! “And I’ll get you some too, sweetheart.”
Off he goes. At least he seems more relaxed than he was a few minutes ago.
Swallowing, Agnes caught the gaze of Sylvaine, who then grinned and strolled to his mother. “Are you having a good time, young Master Sylvaine?” She asked, imitating Aymeric. That never fails to make Sylv laugh.
Sylvaine Varlineau, nearing his eighteenth nameday, was tall and slender like his brothers Pip and Laurent (and like Estinien when he was younger) with Agnes’s dark red hair and brown eyes. “Yes, but how is Bapa? He looked…sad earlier.”
She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “He’ll be fine, my little love. Just nervous about his speech.”
“He should just say ‘congrats’ and sit back down. That’d be hilarious.” Sylvaine sniggered, earning him an eyeroll from his mother. “What? It would be! And the best part is that no one would be surprised because it’s Bapa.”
My darling boy, you aren’t wrong.
In fact, you’re quite correct.
However, that’s not what’s happening.
Even though it would be very funny.
Shit.
“You naughty boy!” Agnes laughed and pulled him into a brief hug.
“Who’s a naughty boy? Is it me again?” Estinien laughed, returning from his expedition for more bacon-wrapped scallops.
MISSION ACCOMPLSIHED!
Sylvaine took the plate full of bacon-wrapped scallops and other yummies. Love, you are the best! He set the plate on the bar top and sat on the stool on the other side of Estinien. “Me, because I said you should only say ‘congrats’ and sit back down.”
SYLV!!!!!!!!!!!
Estinien barked a laugh. “Don’t tempt me, son.”
Oh good gods, this may actually happen.
A bell and a half later, when it was Estinien’s turn to speak, he (much to Sylv’s disappointment) made his speech as previously planned.
It was lovely, touching, short, sweet, and to the point.
And there was significantly less crying than at the ceremony. Progress!
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exoticalmonde · 1 year ago
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Chapter XII All Eepy Under The Rainy Day
12-2 Adverse [For the level I used the AFK stratery with: Siege E1MAX, Bagpipe E2, Elysium E2lvl20, Ptilopsis E2lvl50, Vigil MAX, Puzzle E2lvl20, Heidi E2S2 and Lumen MAX]
! Everything ahead is SPOILERS !
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[Text: 'We've confirmed that a high-speed warship belonging to the Duke of Windermere was attacked by an unknown Sarkaz weapon. There were no survivors.] GREAT! WONDERFUL! What the hell would you expect me to do about that? How in the hell do you 'gather intel' all we can do is probably look at it from below as it disappears into a cloud of steam and originium specks and hope that the next thing it fires at will not be ummediately us.
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I keep forgetting that the title Duke is absolutely available for men and women, so when she comes up every time I'm like... I kind of want to be her when I get older but Ma'amn I do not appreciate the way you're talking about Allerdale. At least she has a good and honest (?) opinion on what she's fighting for, because she's at least being real about how this is progressing and what Victorians think about the 'homeland'.
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And are you telling me the Duke of Windermere is dead or... Am I supposed to give up on this model now? They talk about her like she's still alive, so I suppose she was not on that ship.
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Sir... Your model is so good. GOSH I LOVE Victoria's clothes so much. Look at the back of his tailcoat, look at the gorgeous cane he'd holding. What a distinguished man whose real agenda and opinions I do not remember thus I can't say if swooning over the model is tipping my good girl scales.
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[Text: How about a Sankta patron firearm? I just happen to have one stached away back home...]
I know the Sarkaz are famous for their battle with the Sankta, having past history and whatnot, but are you sure you can just brink a dead Sankta's weapon into the conversation and think that's going to be enough of a temptation?
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[Text: Sarkaz Soldier: Interesting... You got your hands on an angel's guardian gun huh? Timid Citizen: Oh, um, it's not mine though. It's just for safekeeping... Heavens, those angels from the Notarial Hall are going to flay me alive if they find out, but if you're interested-]
Dude, you are NOT asking if he is interested because they collect them....
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[Text: I just happened to hear, you- Err, the Sarkaz enjoy collecting them, so...]
Oh, he asked, alright...
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[Text: Listen up. I prefer my angelic toys freshly looted from a pile of corpses. Now, piss off.]
O-kay. Alright, you know what? You can... Do that. I- And that angry guy is dead now, alright. Oh, those two are down the drain as well...
To be fair, he's not wrong. Sarkaz have been living in dar for so long just because other countries are 110% sure that they will be back asking for vengeance and they are such a great of a number that it's going to be catastrophic. This is what I'm talking about when we talk about Arknights' whole 'Who is the good guy?' meter because it is BROKEN. Those who live well do it at the cost of someone else but they didn't really... do anything to get that going, it's all politics. In the meantime those who are mad are mad for a reason you can kinda nod to because it's relatable.
Terrible, really.
---
CADOR? HELLO? HE'S BABY???
YO THE GLASGOW GANG?
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I can't even begin to imagine the damage Kal'tsit would have taken. They say she was already frail, but I wince every time she raises her hand to call on Mon3tr. Don't worry Amiya we can do this. She's gonna be fine, you are gonna be fine, it was all a bad dream. The weight of the Crown of the Sarkaz is heavy but I will hold it up for you babo, I promise.
12-2 Adverse
Poor Golding being told she's probably the reason why all 3 houses got ambushed is really heartrending. She is literally me, for real, actually, and just like how I refuse to give up so did she...
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[Text: You little twat, you think being a knight gives you the right to teach me to look at the big picture? I don't give a shite about wiping out some old Sarkaz monsters. My friends are in danger. My home is in danger!]
Okay, indra coming in Indra-ing all over the place until Siege just says 'Indra, enough.' and we instantly stop Indra-ing.
So who the hell are you, Mr. 'I'm the reason Allerdale died but also all your comrades are safely evacuated as much as we could do' and what the heck is your deal??
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Trillby Asher? What do you want?
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[Text: My sincerest pleasure to meet all of you, ladies and gentlemen. I hope there yet remains room for our objectives to coexist.]
You, Sir, are a clown-
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[Text: 'Doctor', the commander of Rhodes Island... There exists very little information on you. We were under the impression that this was due to a lack of importance. We will reevaluate our internal appraisal.]
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
"We thought you are useless, but it seems that was wrong."
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[Text: Your subordinates are very strong, even after they heard the word Vampire.]
Which is weird because... what even are you? Your race is undisclosed, W refuses to call you a Sarkaz and bites your backside for having horns, but you also have Baphomet in your E2 art.
What are you????
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But also...
INES INES INES INES SHE COMES IN TO SAVE THE DAY BEING A BADASS ONCE AGAIN. And apparently she's been in cahoots with Ascalon because how was she meant to know that Ines is going to come around after annihilating all the communications- no, all the people waiting on the other side of the radios to hear whether or not they get to attack
Better question
HOW DID YOU SURVIVE THAT FALL???
---
Skin intermission, because I caved. Czerny skin is what I'm saving for next, but it's okay because the new CC and the ExeAlter comes first and I can work on that.
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12-4 Adverse
And after all of that horror I just get to listen about how Logos is just great at darts and apparently unbeatable at... *checks scribble on hand* chair sliding.
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[Text: Cador presses against the door with his body and grabs the axe peeking through the hole back with his two hands. The Man outside makes several attempts to pull the axe back in vain.
Cador: I don't care who the hell you are, but get out of my sight, or I'll have this axe in your brain!]
GET EM CADOR! What a mess, the hecking audacity to be breaking in like that.
This level... Took me like 5 tries and in the end I had to learn the hard way that maybe bringing more robots is a good idea only if I have Chiave and only if I am braced to wait like... what... 200 seconds??? It was insane. I managed though. 12-5 Adverse
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[Text: War is cruel. Suffering and death follow in its wake. It exposes out barest, truest forms to one another. It tears off all disguises.]
Oh yeah, I can absolutely see people going insane with all that is happening already, you don't need to remind us... We didn't learn our lesson with the gold tooth that Per left behind after his body got mauled...
Grannynapping happens, Clovisia used her arts and I'm so sad I didn't get to see what they were. Here and then she's not. I don't really get why the workers would try to save Catherine. I mean, yeah, the attempt is fine, since they do care about her, they want to be safe and giving up at this point is a little useless as she said... The Sarkaz will not be showing mercy anymore and I don't think there is any place safe they can go.
In any case, I appreciate the worry. even if Catherine is gonna be like 'You absolute twats.'
Ayo Originium Dust spoiler, dead Infected explode.
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---
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[Text: Of course, Victoria has never been truly at peace. The things we make are sent to the border region to fight the Sargonians ot the Leithanians and blast holes in their bodies - Not that it has anything to do with us. All we had to do was stay in the factory and turn screws on the iron blocks.] Me: "Why is Victoria fighting Laterano again?" Pinkie: "Because they have all the GUNZ." Me: "I meant Leithania actually." Pinkie: "Because they are right next to each other." Me: "THE SIMPLER EXPLANATION HAHA!" Pinkie: "Well, yeah! You're Balkan, I'd think you'd know that the best." Me: "Oh my god, I would." --- Pinkie: "I'm saying globalization isn't a thing the way I can voice chat with you all. A Leithanian can't voice chat with a Victorian. For me to contact you, Lundi, I have to send a letter to Kazimierz, wait a week, wait another week for a responce and then read your letter." Me: "If he survives." Pinkie: "And that is if the Messenger survives multiple cancer-inducing snowstorms, yes."
---
Pinkie: "Cador is definitely one of the based ones in the Glasgow gang. When Siege shows up he's like 'Oh would you like us to fight for you M'lady' and Siege is just 'Can you... not?' because she doesn't want to deal with the weight of her title like that."
Me: "That is absolutely hilarious. I like him."
...
Hope he doesn't die a terrible, horrible death.
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kiankiwi · 7 months ago
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Storytime with Elvis
(So this isn’t part of any of the AUs or really based on anything; it was just an idea that was begging to be written. Apologies if it seems a little unpolished in spots; I sort of wrote this on a whim. I sure hope you like it!)
Erin was in a panic.
At first, the morning had been going well; the Cozy Corner bookstore had opened as usual, and the usual amount of customers had been milling around the place. 
But today was a special day. 
Dr. Seuss himself was going to be making a visit to the bookstore to do a storytime of his books “Green Eggs and Ham” and “The Cat in the Hat” for a local charity to support literacy in young children. Local families had been piling in with their kids for the last hour, putting 20 dollars (or whatever they could afford) into the donation box in order to get in. The special chair had been set up and everything. Now, all they had to do was wait for him to arrive. 
The problem was, he was running late. He was supposed to arrive at 12:30, and it was almost 1 pm. Erin had been told he was a punctual man, and preferred to just get in and out, so this didn’t seem like him to be running this far behind.
Then suddenly, about 20 minutes before the storytime was set to begin, Laura (one of the bookstore’s employees) came rushing up to her boss with the phone in her hand, looking panicked. Erin was readjusting some books on a shelf, trying to keep herself busy.
“Miss Erin? We’ve got a problem.”
“What is it?”
“Um…Mr. Seuss isn’t coming.”
Erin nearly dropped the stack of books she was holding.
“Wait, what? Laura, this isn’t the time for jokes right now; I’m on edge as it is.”
“Boss, trust me, I wish I was joking. His agent just called; apparently he’s got a sore throat this morning. He thinks he’s got the flu, so he can’t make it in.”
Erin banged her fist on the nearby bookshelf; she nearly swore, but just barely managed to keep it in when she remembered there were several little kids around.
“Ugh, shi—shittake mushrooms! Why did he have to cancel right before he was supposed to come here? He couldn’t have called us yesterday?!”
Sighing, she tried to compose herself and figure out what to do.
“Okay, okay, okay. I think first, we have to tell the audience there’s been a problem and that he’s not coming. You start giving the donations back—“
Suddenly, a male voice cut in as she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Excuse me, miss?”
Erin turned around to see a dark-haired man in sunglasses and a purple suit looking at the two of them; he had a bunch of flashy-looking rings on his fingers and carried a cane in his right hand, and seemed to be accompanied by a few other men.
Flustered, Erin tried to step out of the way.
“Oh, sorry, did you guys want to get by?”
“No, it’s just…hang on a sec, I can’t see with these damn things on—“
The man took off his glasses, and Laura let out a gasp; Erin looked at him in shock as she finally recognized him.
She couldn’t believe it. Elvis Presley himself was standing in her bookstore. 
He continued, “Miss, I’m sorry, but I—I kinda came in here with my guys on a whim, and I couldn’t help overhearing. Is something wrong?”
Erin sighed; at this point, she reasoned, she had no reason to lie to him.
“Well…yes. See, you probably saw the signs outside about the storytime for charity today, and, well—“
“And the special guest ain’t showin’ up?”
“No. And right now we’re not sure what to do. I mean, I hate to disappoint everyone who showed up, but I guess the best choice is for us to just give the money back.”
Elvis scratched his chin for a minute, looking at Erin’s nametag.
“Miss…Erin? What books was he supposed to read, if you don’t mind me askin’?”
Erin looked a little surprised at the question. “Uh, just “Green Eggs and Ham” and “The Cat in the Hat”. Why?”
“Well, I was thinkin’…Maybe I could do it? That way, you don’t have to give the money back. I mean, I’ve read these books to my guys’ kids a million times; I pretty much know ‘em by heart at this point.”
Erin looked shocked. “A-Are you sure?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s no big deal. No reason to disappoint these people if ya don’t have to. Besides, I ain’t got nowhere to go for a bit.”
One of the guys behind him cut in, “Wait, boss, don’t you gotta be at the studio today?”
“Nah, not till three; besides, it ain’t gonna kill ‘em if I push it back an hour or two.”
Erin and Laura shared a glance, before shrugging. Laura spoke up.
“Uh, well, okay, if you want to, you’ve got it. I gotta say, though, we can’t really pay you much; we’ve only got about like 2 grand for—“
Elvis cut her off. “Don’t you worry about that right now; just tell me where I’m supposed to go.”
Still confused, and trying to figure out if this was really happening, both Erin and Laura led him to the curtain right behind the “stage” where the reading chair was. Laura, bewildered and nervous, came out to announce the “special guest”.
“Okay, well…um, due to an unforseen circumstance, unfortunately Dr. Seuss couldn’t make it today, but a, uh…a special guest has kindly volunteered to take his place to read today, and, um, to add to the fun, I’m…not gonna tell you who it is! Uh, so, uh, Mystery Guest, come on out!”
Erin sighed and slapped her forehead at how unprofessional the whole thing sounded, but Elvis seemed to not even notice as he walked out, causing a small stir among the moms and dads sitting in the audience; it seemed they were as surprised as the bookstore employees that the great Elvis Presley was going to be reading to them and their kids.
He gave a small bow and his usual cheeky, charming smile, before sitting down in the reading chair and picking up “Green Eggs and Ham”. He read with all the care and excitement of an experienced storyteller, even pausing to show the kids the illustrations in the book; Erin couldn’t help but laugh when he pointed out one picture and told the kids, “Now, see, he was gonna punch Sam-I-Am, but he walked away. That’s what you do when you’re mad, you don’t hit people; you just walk away with it.”
Erin smiled; she couldn’t help but think this storytime was turning out to be much better than they’d ever expected.
*****
This was so unique and cute! Thank you for writing it!!! <3 @arianatheangel-girl you’re so talented 
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tina-mairin-goldstein · 8 months ago
Note
🎭 🙈 🙌 for the emoji ask. :)
Well, hello, and thank you for the ask! I raided your blog earlier looking for a particular post (which I did not find), so I wasn't expecting to get an ask for from you. Thank you!
🎭What genre of writing comes easiest to you?
Hmm... This is hard, mostly because I'm not sure what genres I exactly write. 😅 Probably hurt/comfort (or hurt/no comfort) and angst. Does gore count? Because I can write gore pretty well when I put my mind to it.
🙈Your coworkers or classmates stumble across one of your fics, but they don't know you're the author. Do you fess up? Or keep quiet?
I think you might have meant this monkey, 🙊, as I didn't see the other one on the list, and if my eye skipped over it, I apologize for answering the wrong question. Feel free to tell me if I did.
I actually answered this one earlier, but the answer is still the same: It would depend on my relationship with them, I think, but I really do love to talk about my writing, so I might fess up.
🙌🏻What's a line or paragraph of yours that you're proud of?
Oh, so hard! At the moment, I have a knee-jerk reaction to this one, however. For the line, it's one from a fic that has quickly become quite special to me, called For Remembrance (Holes in the Floor of the Mind). It's a post-fall Hannibal story. The line is:
"I'm all my fathers' daughter." Abigail replied and he had to chuckle.
To be honest, that whole fic is now my favorite, filled with lines and paragraphs I am so proud of. So here's the one that just sticks out to me at the moment (sorry if it's a little long, I've never been asked to do a paragraph before).
"Yes, I am angry. I know it isn't fair, I know it's unreasonable. But I am so angry with you for losing your memories. For remembering fucking Bedelia better than me. I know you didn't lose your memories on purpose. I know you didn't choose what you forgot. But I am angry. I am angry, okay? I look at you and this- this rage just bubbles inside me because finally, finally, after everything, when we were holding each other on that cliff, it was all either of us had ever wanted. And now it is just gone." Will said, gripping his cane tightly. Hannibal was silent, watching him. Will remembered this expression from their unofficial sessions together. "Am I the only one you're angry with, Will?" he asked and Will turned away. He began to pace the length of the ridiculous kitchen. "No." he gritted out. That was true, too. He wasn't just angry with Hannibal. His anger with Hannibal was misguided, at least a little. He was angry with himself. Because this was his fault. He had done this to Hannibal, to himself, to both of them. He had pulled them over that cliff, and Hannibal had hit that rock as a direct result of that action. He had done this, and he could not forgive himself for it. "I did this to you. I did it. I pulled us over the cliff and into the ocean, where your head hit that rock." Will growled and shook his head. "But I guess we're even, aren't we? You fucked with my memories and now I did the same to yours. Even Steven." Hannibal was looking at him, brows drawn, and Will remembered that Hannibal didn't quite remember what he had done to him. The psychic driving. Framing him for murder. He didn't remember that. "What did I do to you, Will?" Hannibal asked earnestly and Will looked away. "Do you even remember that you're the Chesapeake Ripper?" he demanded. "I do. I know what I am, Will. Who I am is an entirely different matter. I do not remember all of it, but I do remember that I am the Chesapeake Ripper." Hannibal answered in a steady tone.
Thank you so much! I'm pretty sure we don't share any of the same fandoms, but it's always nice to get an ask.
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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year ago
Text
Golden Era
A prompt for you if you don't mind. Golden Era Merlin fic. Merlin is 30(ish) now but he's been through a lot and he didn't stop trying to do things even when he was healing from injuries. So he gets a staff and uses it as a walking stick. People notice that he stops limping on bad days. He has to explain to people that just because he stopped limping doesn't mean he can stop using the stick, that the stick is the reason he stopped limping. He's irritated by the people who are rude about him using a mobility aid when he's so young (council members and visiting nobles and knights who aren't usually in Camelot). His friends have got his back though. – anon
Read on Ao3
Warnings: random ableism from dicks who get put in their places
Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide
Word Count: 2316
Because even at the height of Camelot's golden age, there will be pricks.
1.
"Oh, here," one of the servants says to him as he approaches the kitchen door, platter for Arthur balanced on one hand, "let me hold that for you."
Merlin goes to offer her the tray, pausing when she instead reaches for his cane. "Er, what are you doing?"
"The walking stick, let me hold it while you carry that up. I'm happy to follow!"
"Why would you hold my walking stick?"
The servant tilts her head to the side. "Would it not be easier to carry the platter with both hands?"
"Yes, but it would be easier to walk with my walking stick."
He can see the moment that realization dawns on her face and mortification quickly follows. She scrambles and stutters her way through an apology, complete with a fumbling bow. "Forgive me, My Lord, please, I—I meant no offense, I didn't mean to—"
"It's alright," Merlin says, seeing how earnest she is and indeed, how unintentional her hurt was, "it is forgotten."
"Of course, My Lord, let me get the door for you?"
"That would be most helpful, thank you—what was your name?"
"Sigyn, My Lord."
"Thank you, Sigyn." She holds the door as he makes it through, platter balanced expertly on one hand. "If you would accompany me to the King's chambers, I could use some help with that door as well?"
"Certainly, My Lord." She follows behind him, her hands folded behind her back. He can see her shooting glances at his walking stick out of the corner of her eye but she's much better at decorum than he was, so she keeps any questions to herself. She opens the door to Arthur's chambers after a swift knock. "Anything else, My Lord?"
"No, that will be all, thank you Sigyn."
She bobbles a curtsy and turns back down the stairs. Merlin shakes his head as he sets Arthur's breakfast down on the table. Arthur glances up with a frown.
"Something wrong?"
"No, no, nothing at all."
2.
He's walking past the training grounds when a blur of movement comes hurtling toward him and he has just enough time to step back before a practice lance whistles past him.
"Sorry! Sorry, M'Lord," one of the squires—probably the one who let go of the lance too early—says in a rush, stumbling past him, "I didn't see you there, it was an accident!"
"No harm done—your name?"
"Malachi, M'Lord."
"No harm done, Malachi, just be sure to keep a grip on that thing, mm?"
"Yes, M'Lord, I will, I—oh." Malachi looks down to see he's picked up Merlin's walking stick instead of the javelin. "Sorry, M'Lord, I don't know who left this lying around."
"Ah," Merlin says quickly when the squire turns to holler at the rest of them, "that's mine."
"Yours, M'Lord?"
"Yes."
"Are you injured in some way, M'Lord?"
Merlin chuckles ruefully. "Truly, where aren't I injured, I'm afraid, Malachi. Perils of the job. You understand."
Malachi laughs too, but more out of politeness and the air of someone who isn't quite sure what the joke is. "Perhaps you should—I don't mean to pry, M'Lord, but perhaps you should be with the physician still?"
"Oh, no, I'm never going back there if I can help it." He waggles his fingers. "If you just give me back my walking stick, I'll be good to go."
The squire doesn't outright refuse, but Merlin has to put a bit more steel into the following now, please, and even then he looks reluctant to let him go. It takes Gwaine's stern barking order to get the squire scampering back to the training field. Gwaine shoots him a look, one that's clearly a thinly veiled am I to trounce this prat thoroughly that he's seen so many times with Arthur. Merlin just shakes his head and motions for them to continue.
I'll be by later, he sees Gwaine mouth and he smiles.
3.
The walking stick clatters to the floor.
Merlin raises an eyebrow and turns his gaze on the three children who peer out from behind the corner of a shop, one with a twig clutched in hand.
"Why did you do that?"
"Sorry, Court Sorcerer, we didn't mean to."
"That twig doesn't look like it'd be good for much else and you were very deliberate in how you swung it," he says, not unkindly, "so, why did you do that?"
They mutter amongst themselves for a moment before the one with the twig shoves another. They stifle a wince and look up at Merlin. "It's a joke from a story, Court Sorcerer. You knock away a walking stick and someone falls over."
Merlin tilts his head. "That doesn't seem like a very funny joke to me. Does it sound like it would be funny if someone tripped you?"
"No, Court Sorcerer."
"What's going on?" Leon, ever the embodiment of patience, comes over in his billowing red cape and all the children immediately stare up at him in awe. Merlin feels some level of offense that he isn't regarded with such awe, no, he gets his walking stick knocked out of his hands, but the rest of him is just happy Leon's here. "Merlin?"
"My walking stick was knocked over as a joke and these three are kindly explaining to me why it is funny."
Leon frowns. "That doesn't sound very funny to me."
"It isn't," the other one without the twig says quickly, "sorry, M'Lord. Sorry, Court Sorcerer."
Leon kneels down. "Let's not do that again, alright? It would be unfortunate if someone got hurt when you were only trying to make a joke."
The other two nod furiously but the one with the twig points at Merlin. "But he isn't old. And he isn't hurt. Why does he need a walking stick?"
"I need a walking stick so that I don't get hurt," Merlin explains as he picks it up, "just like you wear good shoes so your feet don't get hurt."
The child looks down at the twig and throws it away. Leon nods approvingly. "Now, why don't you three run along while I help our friend back to the citadel?"
They nod and scamper off. Leon watches them go before he stands up, coming to stand at Merlin's side. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Leon. Let's go."
4.
The visiting noble takes one look at him and scoffs. "You know, if you wanted to have a Court Sorcerer, you could have one without the pomp and circumstance."
Arthur turns his head in that slow way where really he's giving the person a chance to take back their words. "Excuse me?"
The noble, deep in his cups already, gestures sloppily at Merlin. "The staff really isn't necessary. You could just dress him up if you wanted something to look at."
Merlin's grip on his walking stick tenses slightly. Arthur looks as if he's about to order the noble to be dragged off to the dungeons already when Lancelot speaks up.
"I am glad your injuries have not prevented you from joining us this evening, though if you request things brought to you, I assure you no one here will begrudge you them."
The noble squints at him. "What are you on about? Had too much to drink, have you?"
No, but clearly you have, Lancelot's face says before he smooths it into a diplomatic smile. "Your glasses, My Lord, I couldn't help but notice them. I can assure you that no one in Camelot will think poorly of you because of your eyesight."
The noble paws at his face as though remembering he wears glasses. After he finds them—which takes much longer than it should—he takes them off, squinting at them, before narrowing his eyes up at Lancelot. "Now you listen here. I can see perfectly well with these, I don't need any of your so-called generosity."
"Of course," Lancelot demurs instantly, inclining his head, "it is reasonable for us to presume that you have equipped yourself so that you may carry out your duties and wishes without interruption."
"R-right," the noble stammers, clearly caught off guard.
"After all, is that not the mark of a fine man who knows himself?" Lancelot reaches for a goblet. "To be able to understand precisely what it is he might need, and to know his circumstances so intimately that he may find it?"
"Yes, yes, of course."
"Then to you, My Lord," and Lancelot looks over at Merlin, "and to Merlin, who keeps us safe from things we could otherwise allow to pass unnoticed."
Arthur and the rest of the knights follow his toast, which the noble adds a little too late. Merlin looks over at Lancelot with a single nod of thanks.
Lancelot winks over the rim of his goblet.
5.
"It's a good thing he has magic, otherwise I'm not sure what use he would be. He was a lousy servant."
"If he's already using a cane at his age, what will we do when he gets older? We'll have to replace him entirely!"
"He's just doing it for attention, haven't you noticed? There are days where it just hangs over the crook of his arm, he's not even limping!"
"If you ask me, it's a ploy. A way to get us to lower our guards so that he can slip right under our noses. Have to watch out for these sorcerers, you know."
Arthur finds him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down at the handle of his walking stick. He closes the door quietly, coming to sit next to him, offering a warm and sturdy shoulder to lean against.
"It's alright that I use this," Merlin asks in a quiet voice, "right?"
"Yes, Merlin, it's more than alright. If you need it, you should use it."
"But I don't always need it. Sometimes walking isn't a problem."
"But you still want to use it, right, because then it makes sure that walking remains not a problem."
"I know, I know, I just—" Merlin takes a deep breath and it comes out a little shakier than either of them would like. "How am I supposed to protect you when I can't bloody walk?"
"You protect me the same way I protect you," Arthur says, turning his chin with a gentle hand, "by doing your best. You've shown that you don't need to be a great fighter or a great battle tactician to fight the magic that would come for me or for Camelot. You don't need to put your comfort aside for that. Well, any more than you already do."
"…thanks."
"Of course, Merlin," Arthur says softly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, "now, who's made you upset?"
A chuckle. "What, do you want a list?"
"Yes."
"Arthur!"
"Merlin."
+1
"Camelot will fall," growls the nameless sorcerer of the month who hasn't gotten the idea that Camelot is no longer actively pursuing magic users, aiming what looks to be a poor imitation of a sword in the direction of the patrol, "and I will use its bones to build my throne!"
Bone throne. How garish.
Arthur barks a command and the knights draw their swords, holding out his hand to steady his horse. "You don't want this fight. Camelot has no quarrel with you."
"Silence! I will not allow your pretty words to dissuade me!" He begins to raise the…thing above his head in what is probably supposed to be a threatening way. "Not when I've come so far, not when I am so close to triumph!"
The knights ready themselves for what was probably going to be a big blast of concussive magic that blows them back almost twelve yards, throwing their limp bodies against the trees like ragdolls as their swords clatter to the ground, mangled bits of shrapnel. There was probably going to be a thunderous clap as a shockwave emanated from the source of the blast, sending out a piercing ray of blue light that near blinded them. It was probably going to be very, very impressive.
Oh, wait, that's what Merlin did.
He sighs as the would-be conqueror dissolves into a dust cloud, his cloak and ruined 'sword' lying in tatters on the ground. He picks his walking stick back up from where he'd struck the ground and fastens it back to the saddle.
"You'd think they'd get a little more creative."
When no witty response comes to his quip—which was an excellent one, thank you—he turns to see all of them staring at him with a little more than stunned silence.
"What?"
"Have you just been able to do that the whole time," Gwaine asks eventually, weakly gesturing to the walking stick, "or was that…new?"
"I'm not sure I should tell you."
"I'm choosing to believe that it was the stick. That's the much less scary option."
"Less scary than underestimating me?"
"Whoa, whoa," Gwaine says, quickly wheeling his horse out of the way when Merlin teasingly aims the end of his stick in that direction, "point that thing somewhere else!"
Merlin just chuckles as they resume riding. He can't give up all of his secrets, can he?
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