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caffeinewitchcraft · 2 years

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Going to the Hill

Summary: It's normal to visit a lover's home. The problem is that your lover is Fae and her home is Underhill. (A second person, dark romance. TW mentions of abuse and injury)

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The only thing saving you is that you lied ten years ago.

“Hyacinth,” Magna whines, “hurry up!” Her hand is extended back towards you, half of her body already past the treeline. Her black eyes are bright as she stares at something so deep in the forest you have no chance of picking it out. “We’ll be late!”

You take her hand. It’s cool to the touch, like touching the window in the little hours of the morning while you’re still wrapped in your sheets. If she’s bothered by your slow pace, she doesn’t show it. Like always, she keeps to your speed, neither pulling nor pushing.

It’s the little things like that that make you love her. She never makes you feel lesser than or slower than like so many people have. She waits without making it look like she’s waiting. She smiles at you without malice or sympathy or pity. Like most of her kind, she doesn’t know how to joke, but she makes you laugh anyway.

So even though you know you are signing your death warrant, you follow her deeper and deeper into forest.

You gratefully accept her help over a fallen log. She doesn’t seem to notice that she’s doing it, easily turning to offer you support as you force your knees to lift and bend. She talks the entire time, even when you drop what must be half your weight against her shoulder when your foot catches on the log. Her voice doesn’t even tremble, easily lifting your entire weight to put you back on more even ground.

“—didn’t tell anyone you’re coming to the Hill, but that’s better so I can keep you all to myself—”

Magna has never tried to hide the fact that she’s other. You’ve never outright asked her and she’s never outright told you, but it’s hard to hide when she does things like lift you with her slender arms or call her house “the Hill.” Sometimes you see her watching you when she slips up, eyes black like the night sky. When you don’t react, she nods and keeps talking. When you do react, she leaves.

You’ve learned to take a lot of things in stride just to avoid her leaving.

Like, for example, accepting an invitation to Magna’s home.

“I still think I should have brought something,” you say when she takes a breath. The things you gathered are still sitting on the counter in your apartment. While you can understand the gift cards not being appropriate (“You’re not giving them gifts, right?”) you think that the bottle of wine would’ve been acceptable. “It feels weird to meet your…family with empty hands.”

If she notices the pause before the word family, she doesn’t say anything about it. “Your hands are never empty to me,” she says cryptically. She throws a blinding smile over her shoulder. Are her teeth a little sharper? She winks. “They’ll see how much I love you. That’ll be enough.”

You allow her to direct you off the main path and onto an animal track. She takes up her chatter again, voice happy and lilting, as if to distract you from the way the foliage slithers out from under your feet. It’s hard to see the ground with the dwindling light, but even your eyes can see how rocky the terrain is getting. You don’t struggle at all with Magna’s hand tight around yours.

“—there are silver ceilings, so much better than the cathedral you talk about, you’ll see! You’re going to never want to leave when you see how beautiful the city is. I’m positive you’ll love it—"

Contrary to your family’s belief, you weren’t born magic-blind. You can smell the power in Magna’s words, the sweeping compulsion and prickling calming charm. Her voice is like a siren’s song, stealing the lethargy from your body and easing the panic beginning to claw at your mind. You aren’t scared, not really. But the scent of power is rising the further into the woods you get and a little voice is telling you to run.

Or, you muse, staring at the way her pale hand contrasts against the mottled scars on yours, or at least don’t go willingly.

As if she can hear your thoughts, Magna’s voice deepens until you can feel it rattling your bones. The compulsion she’s weaving tingles under your skin. Calm, calm, calm, stay, stay, stay—

“You know,” you say, “I don’t regret being born a witch.”

Magna’s hand spasms around yours. It is the first time you’ve called yourself the w word since leaving your family behind. You’ve avoided using it, considering what witches have done to the both of you, but the time for avoidance is over.

The two of you, you decide, are going to talk.

“You should never regret being born,” she says lightly. She slows down as the hole in front of her fills with dirt by itself. When the ground smooths, she still helps you across it just in case. “I’m very happy you were born.”

You nod your thanks. Another reason why you’ve known her for ten years and this is only happening now; you have never said thank you. “I don’t regret being born a witch.”

“Why not?” The spell is obvious not that her voice isn’t happy and chirping. You can feel the weight of it against your threat as her tone darkens. “They hurt you because of it.”

You resist the urge to touch the web of scars curling along your jaw. “Actually, they hurt me because they thought I wasn’t born a witch.” A handful of years ago, you would have been bristling at the reminder of what your family did to you. But the years spent under Magna’s unrelenting kindness have been as good as a balm to your soul. You say, “I think I survived it because I met you.”

Magna stops. She doesn’t turn to face you nor does her hand tighten around yours, but you can feel her aura ripple as your words hit her. “You give me too much credit.”

You hum. “No, I don’t.”

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You’re twelve and you aren’t going to make it to your next birthday.

Your family’s estate is empty at this time of night. You limp through the halls like a wraith, arms held carefully away from your body. The bandages on them are still pristine and you don’t want to risk soiling them by opening any of the cuts. The doctor your family allows you to see won’t be back until next week.

The carpet muffles the sound of your footsteps as you drift past your siblings’ rooms and their ajoining work rooms. It’s after 3am and the only light in the entire house comes from the full moon shining through the windows. You wonder why none of your siblings like being awake at this time of night. Couldn’t they feel the soft power of the moon all around? Didn’t they want to drink in the soothing howls of the stars?

On nights like these, you don’t mind not having a room quite so much. It means that the entire world is your room, the moon shining just for you.

You frown. Well, it’s shining just for you now. You aren’t going to be alive on the next full moon. You overheard your family’s plan for you while sneaking through the kitchen for leftovers.

“The power that thing gives is no longer needed,” your father told your mother. “Especially now that our youngest has fully matured. It’s time to end it.”

Your mother hummed. You could hear the ice melting in her glass. “We will need to sever the blood ties beforehand. Though not a witch, she has enough magic for a death curse.”

You hope down the stairs as best you can on your uninjured leg. You’d listened silently, invisible, as your parents talked calmly about the ritual to destroy your soul. You wonder what they would have done if they’d caught you eavesdropping. Kill you?

They’re already going to do that.

You can’t run. The injuries aren’t healing like they used to. Your second eldest brother boiled the blood in your leg to practice his curse work. Could that be why it’s not better yet? Is it a curse? Or just unlucky? Whatever the case, it prevents you from running away. Your family’s estate is large and in the center of a large plain. They’ll catch you long before you make it to the valley’s edge, much less before you make it over the mountains.

You stop on your way to the kitchen. You’d been going to get something to eat, your appetite only just now returning after hearing the news of your impending death, but what’s the point? Your death at their hands won’t be painless. You might as well just starve now.

“Not like this.”

The whisper is so faint you think it’s in your head at first. But then you hear the clink of metal against metal and the slow drag of chains coming from a long way off. You freeze, head cocked to one side. The dragging sound comes again and you track it to the air vent in the floor.

A muffled sob comes from below.

There’s someone in the basement. You know that’s where your family keeps their experiments. Witches from other covens captured in battle, cryptids, and mutated animals. You’ve heard them screaming before but have never been allowed down to see any of them.

You have never heard any of them speak.

You aren’t allowed to, but you stagger to the basement door. It is a quick work of magic to make the locks drop to the ground and to convince the heavy steal door to open. You aren’t allowed, but what is the worst thing that can happen? Maybe this guest will kill you before your family has the chance to.

You lean against the stone wall as you carefully make your way down the stairs. The sound of sniffling seems loud in the quiet of the underground. It’s dark down here, only a sliver of the moon’s light coming through a few small windows near the ceiling.

In the dim light, you can make out three cells. One is empty, door partially ajar. The other is stained black with what looks like old blood. And the third, door light tight, has a girl in it.

“Oh,” you say.

The girl’s head whips up. Her eyes are as black as the shadows, no sclera at all, and her hair is a tangled riot of curls. There is something other about her that you can smell even through the magic-suppressants of the basement.

“Help me,” she says in a trembling voice. Her eyes are human and you wonder if you were only imagining the black from before. “They-they kidnapped me.” Her gaze lights on your bandages as you step further into the light. “I can help you too.”

There’s something different in how she says that last part. Her voice doesn’t tremble. It sounds like a promise. Or a deal.

“There are magic-suppressors down here,” you say. You hesitate five feet from her cell door. You’re going to be killed if you’re found down here. But also… Why should you both die? “I’ll have to find the key. It’ll be upstairs. I’ll do it.”

“Yes,” the girl says. “Yes, help me and I’ll help you.”

You smile without humor. “You can’t help me.” It’s a lovely dream, but you know your family. It’ll be nice to help this other kid before they flay you alive. “I’ll free you anyway.” You turn to go find the key.

“I can’t…Wait!” The girl is sitting up on her knees now, hands hovering over the bars of her cell. “I can help you. Just tell me what you want!”

It strikes you suddenly that you don’t want anything. You press a hand to your chest. How long has it been since you’ve wanted anything? You’ve only ever accepted things. Pain and ridicule and hurt. “I,” you say, “will go find the key.”

There’s the sound of scrambling. You turn to find the girl on her feet, eyes wild. “If you don’t want anything from me then…then tell me your name!”

You blink at her. What a strange person, first demanding to give you something and then demanding something from you! “My name?”

The girl nods frantically. “Yes, your name. You can call me Magna.”

The way she says that is wrong too. You can call me Magna. You can’t tell how it’s wrong through, so you shrug. “I’m Hyacinth.”

“Hyacinth,” she says behind you. Then, almost to herself, “Hyacinth.”

“I’ll go get the key, Magna,” you say. There’s a darkness in the way she says your name. Part of you shivers at the sound of it, but it’s also…comforting.

“Yes,” Magna says. “I’ll be waiting.”

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“You saved my life,” you say. She’s not walking so you take the initiative, sliding around her so now you are the one leading her deeper into the forest. You squint through the dark. Do you see a light up ahead? “I don’t think I ever told you that.”

“No,” she says quietly. “You didn’t.” She follows you with careful steps. You can feel her eyes on your back, waiting to see if you’ll need support. “You didn’t tell me why you went to the basement that night either.”

You smile where she can’t see. She’s always been as quick of mind as she is quick of tongue. “I heard you. I heard you say you didn’t want to die.”

“But why did you come down?” she asks. Her free hand ghosts against your elbow when it looks like you’re going to trip. “You knew about the others your family took. Why me? Why then?”

“Because they were going to kill me,” you tell her. There’s definitely light up ahead, a soothing blue glow that almost looks like moonlight. “I didn’t think two of us needed to die.”

Magna’s rage is quick to surface. Her skin heats in your hand and then cools just as rapidly before it can burn you. “You didn’t tell me that,” she says through gritted teeth.

You shrug. “You asked me what I wanted. I knew my days were numbered. All I wanted was for you to be free in my place.”

Magna swears. “I would have—if I’d known--!” She takes a deep breath. “They are lucky I did not make them suffer.”

It had been a surprise when Magna, free of her restraints, slaughtered your family in only a few minutes. She’d left you to live in the family’s mansion, alive and free for the first time in your life.

It had been a bigger surprise when she came back.

You hum. “I was glad to have them gone.” The light is growing brighter. It does look like moonlight, but you are a witch of the night sky. You know what moonbeams look like. “I was never family to them. I was a burden. An experiment. I grew up my whole life living like a caged beast, free for them to use.” Your eyes slide back to see her pale face in the fake-moonlight. “I don’t ever want to be trapped again.”

Unease flashes through her eyes, there and gone in a flash. “I…know.”

“I’ve thought about it,” you say. Your legs don’t feel so stiff anymore. You hop over a vine before Magna can move it out of the way. “What would I do if my family came back? Kill them, definitely. But what would I do if they locked me up? Caged me once again?” Your voice is very quiet as the light ahead grows brighter and brighter. “I would do anything to avoid that.”

“Stop.” Magna tugs your hand until you obey her, freezing before you can take another step. She won’t meet your eyes. “Stop, Hyacinth. Just for a…just for a moment.” The magic in the air stutters.

You grin as warmth unfurls in your chest. You expected this reaction, but it’s good to see it nonetheless. It means you aren’t about to make a mistake. “What is it? Is there something wrong?” Because you are cruel, you pull her hand to your chest. “Didn’t you say we were going to be late?”

She jerks and her beautiful black eyes find yours. She searches you for a long moment. “You know?”

You step into her space, a taunting smile on your lips. “Know what? We are going to your home, aren’t we?”

“You know what I am,” she says. Her free hand curls into a fist and uncurls. The shadows on the trees darken and twist. “You know where I’m leading you.”

You’re sure she can feel the steady beat of your heart. You widen your eyes. “That can’t be true. You’ve laid so many spells on me over the years to hide the truth, haven’t you? How could I have ever seen through them?”

“But you have,” she says. She is still as a statue, as firm as the forest around her. She stopped running from you years ago. Does she even know how hard you worked to ease her fears? Her brow furrows. “You know. You’ve known.”

You nod, dropping the fake innocence. “I have. Your spells have never worked on me.”

The magic she’s been weaving disappears. The smiling, chirping Magna is nowhere to be seen and you’re left with the Other. “So you’ve been pretending.” She shakes her head and still doesn’t pull away. “Putting aside why my magic doesn’t work on you, I don’t understand. Why let me lead you here?”

“Before I tell you that,” you say, “perhaps you should be asking me a different question.” Your eyes flash and you imagine Magna can see the moon in them. “Why have I stopped pretending now?”

She’s on edge, watching you like she might watch a predator. “Because you know where I’m taking you and the consequences of walking there of your own free will,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She cocks her head to the side. “Is that the answer?” Something like hope flutters through her aura. “You won’t let me trap you and you know you can’t leave if you walk in freely. Do you want me to force you across? So you can leave?”

You reach out to thread your fingers through her hair, your other hand still holding her hand to your chest. “Not quite.” You look at her, the complete trust in the way she turns her face into your hand, seeking your heat. Even now as you throw her plans into disarray, she trusts you. It is time to reward that trust. You take a deep breath. “I have a confession.” And your words catch in your throat.

This is it. There will be no turning back from this point forward. Ha. There’s been no turning back for for a long time. Not since Magna wandered into your home again, arms full of berries as a silent thanks for your rescue.

“What confession?” Magna prompts.

“My name is Lily,” you say without fanfare. Your thumb strokes the soft skin behind her ear. “My real name is Lily.”

Magna gasps as the power of your true name hits her. Her eyes flare with stars and the hand pressed to your chest curls, nails digging into your skin. “But you—your name—” Her eyes find yours again. “You lied to me back then.”

She sounds impressed.

“And now I’ve told you the truth,” you say. You reel her in until you can press your forehead against hers. She comes willingly. You can feel her breath against your lips. “I want you to know that, when I walk into Underhill, I’m doing it for you. Because I love you. Because you have every part of me that’s ever mattered.”

“Oh,” she says. She’s trembling now. “Oh.” She takes her head from yours so that she can grip your hips. “You love me.”

“I do.”

“That,” she breathes, “is really good news. I was worried for how long you’d hate me once you realized where I’d led you. You can hold quite the grudge.”

You laugh. “Good thing you don’t need to worry about it then.” You pull back so you can meet her eyes. “I’m willing. I’m ready.”

She grins, the beauty of it blinding you for a moment. “My family is going to love you,” she promises. She takes your hand again and leads you past the last few trees into a clearing. A mushroom ring glows like the moon in the center. “Though, of course, not as much as I do.”

You grin and don’t feel your old scars at all as you step into Underhill with Magna’s hand in yours.

------------------End---------------------

Thank you for reading! I am always obsessed with the sort of intense love where both partners walk into it with eyes wide open, so I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of that in a dark fantasy way!

If you’d like to see stories like this a week earlier, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X) where next week’s story is already up! I’m really excited about it because it takes place in this (x) universe which was so fun to write before!

Next week’s story’s summary: Summary: You are a Villager. You aren't the Hero, but when danger comes to your town, you're ready.

#my writing #dark romance #second person #mentions of abuse #blood #violence #lgbt #lesbians #lgbtq

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pleasantanathema · 4 years

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Santa Daddy | Jean Kirstein x Reader

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Daddy kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, mutual pining, friends to lovers (or, rather, idiots to lovers), lots of holiday fluff

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift to @whats-her-quirk 🎄💕 June, thank you so much for being a wonderful friend; I was truly lucky and privileged to get you as my Elf for Secret Santa! I hope this fluffy (and dirty) little fic with our best boi Jean brings you some holiday cheer!

There were only a few things in the world that made you happier than watching Jean Kirstein smile. Like most of your friends, you’d met him through work, but there was always something so special, almost magical, about seeing his darling smile and hearing his boisterous laugh. And you rarely passed up on a chance to see delight spread across his handsome face, which is why you couldn’t say no when he asked you to join him on a get-a-away with your friends for the holidays.

The inquiry came after you mentioned how you wouldn’t be able to make it home for the holidays due to a winter storm blowing in. It would be the second season in a row that the weather kept you from visiting home.

You could still hear his voice in your head, “alone? For Christmas?”

He’d then insisted you join him and his friends at Sasha’s family cabin. It was tradition for them, a gathering of misfits finding communion together out in the wilderness for a few days before the new year. You had taken trips with your friends before to amusement parks, festivals, even to the beach at Armin’s request, but something about being invited to an intimate setting to celebrate holiday traditions had you anxious.

So, there you were, swaddled in blankets, listening to Eren bicker with Mikasa while Sasha and Connie bustled in the kitchen to make eggnog and treats. Armin had declined to join, citing that he’d seen too many horror movies about young adults alone in cabins to feel comfortable making the trip.

And, true to form, Jean was running late. He was always late, his mind constantly moving a mile a minute unless he consigned himself to much needed rest and relaxation. Though, this time, you felt a little lonely while waiting for him on the couch, like there was a small part of you missing as you watched the snow fall outside.

“So, none of you guys go home for the holidays?” You looked over toward the modest, plastic tree that Sasha had thrown down from her attic to bring a little holiday cheer to the living room, a few poorly wrapped presents and bags nestled under the branches.

“Well,” Eren cleared his throat, “we are orphans.” He pulled at Mikasa’s scarf for emphasis.

“Oh fuck, yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t worry about, he just always brings it up to get sympathy gifts.” Mikasa sighed, jerking the red cloth from his hands and scowling. Eren only laughed, brushing a stray hair from his face that had come loose from the bun at his nape.

You sunk a little deeper into the cushions, eyes glancing out the window in hopes you’d see headlights flash in the driveway.

“Do you think Jean’s okay? He should’ve been here a while ago and the storm is getting closer.”

“Jean, Jean, Jean,” Sasha trotted into the room, balancing a mountain of sweet-smelling cookies on a plate, “you’re always worried about him.”

“Someone should be, guy’s an idiot.” Eren chimed in, green eyes shining from the low flames rolling in the fireplace. He and Mikasa were sitting in the floor, a game of checkers spread out before them, with more stolen pieces resting near the cunning Ackerman’s side of the board.

Eren wasn’t wrong, but over the years you’d known your group of friends, you’d noticed just how much the man in question had grown. In his early twenties, Jean had been quite the bumbling fool, having literally met you by bumping into your shoulder while leaving work, only to look at you and mumble “god you’re beautiful,” before issuing a quick apology as he rubbed at his neck sheepishly. You’d never mentioned the moment again, though your stomach still churned with a slight thrill every time you thought about it.

But over the years he’d managed to turn that puerility into something much more charming. He was more refined, almost infuriatingly suave, easily gaining attention from anyone and everyone. And though you sometimes hated to admit it, he’d captured your thoughts as well.

You kept your budding crush on Jean Kirstein close to your chest, not admitting it to any of your close friends. You always figured he was out of your league, seeing that he had a new, more beautiful girlfriend just about every other month. But, despite your simmering feelings, you still allowed yourself to get closer and closer to him over the years—some might say he’s your best friend, but you might call him your most treasured vexation.

Another hour or so went by, your time spent nibbling at cookies and reminiscing with everyone about another year passed.

Then the door finally opened, cold air gusting into the small living room as Jean stomped his damp boots on the entry mat.

“Have you guys opened presents yet?”

You glanced over the back of the couch, heart tugging in your chest as you noticed snow dusted in his long hair and a sizeable red and white polka dot package in his hands.

“No because Christmas is tomorrow, or did you forget that too?” Connie said it with crumbs in his mouth, feet kicked up on the coffee table.

Jean laughed, running a hand through his hair before wrapping the gift in his arms like it was something valuable.

“I know, I know, and sorry I’m late, had something important to go get.” He smiled, bright and cheery, hazel eyes bouncing between his friends and the carefully guarded box, “I ask because…uh, this needs to be opened kind of soon.”

“Is it perishable?” Sasha perked up, already ready to go make room in the fridge if something delectable was waiting as a gift.

“I mean…you could say that? It may or may not be alive.” He was laughing, that kind of infectious laughter that had everyone in the room grinning whether they wanted to or not.

Jean didn’t set the present down to even take off his shoes, instead tracking snow in with him and plopping onto the couch with flurries still on shoulders. He nudged your knee with his, pushing the present toward you. You pressed your lips together, hands getting sweaty as you pieced the puzzle together.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah,” his grin was pulling at his cheeks, eyes so sincere and happy and it almost startled you, “it’s for you.”

The top of the box moved, the green bow popping on top of the polka dots.

You moved the gift into your lap, pulling off the top to find perky ears and green eyes peering up at you—a kitten, grey and striped, with long, white whiskers and a pink bow around its neck greeted you with muted curiosity. You just stared at it for a moment, and it stared back, like you were both wondering just how it got into your lap.

“I just,” Jean was getting nervous, carding his fingers through his hair again as he waited for your reaction, “I wanted to make sure you’d never spend another holiday alone, you know?”

You carefully picked up the little cat, watching how it stretched and yawned as you pulled it from the carefully lain blanket inside its temporary home.

You smiled, pulling the warm little bundle to your chest.

“Um, Jean, this cat has six toes on her paws,” you said, pressing your thumb gently against one of the extra appendages in question.

“Six toes?!” Sasha was jumping up from her seat, bounding over to kneel in front of you and pluck one of the kitten’s paws into her fingers. The cat quickly pulled its paw back, little black toe beans curling to its chest.

“Yeah, it’s what drew me to her. She’s extra special…” you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, a little musing of “just like you,” but any hushed murmur was overshadowed by the ohs and ahs of your friends gathering around to look at the adorable little creature.

The kitten had been lulled to sleep by the car ride from the shelter to the cabin, content to just curl up in your arms as inquisitive fingers prodded at her little kitten mittens and the silky, white tufts in her ears. Even Mikasa was enraptured by the tiny animal, taking the time to retie the little pink ribbon around her neck to make a bigger, prettier bow.

You noticed how your friends were whispering, cheeky grins pressed against eager ears as they looked between you, the precious kitten, and Jean on the couch. You were starting to feel like you were missing something, or maybe that you were at the end of a joke you hadn’t caught on to yet.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Jean after the fuss died down, everyone returning to their seats and back to their previous fixations.

You’d mentioned perhaps wanting a cat a few weeks ago; it was just a silly, off-hand comment you made over coffee about how you’d once read that people with cats live longer because they pick up on the nine-lives of their feline partner. You didn’t believe it to be true, but you’d mused about the idea of having a cute kitten of your own to snuggle up with on lonely nights.

“I know it’s sudden and a lot of responsibility, so if you don’t want her—”

“No,” you cut Jean off, bundling the kitten a little closer in your arms, your heart singing as you felt her start to purr, “no, I want her, she’s perfect.”

Jean finally started to get settled himself, standing up and shrugging off his jacket. He was in a tight turtleneck, coal black threads stretched to their limit across his broad chest and shoulders, hugging his trim waist. You were careful not to stare for too long as he stretched his arms above his head to shake off the weariness of his drive through the snow.

He always looked like he stepped out of a fashion catalogue, fresh and so put together that sometimes you were tempted to snap his photo when he wasn’t looking; he just looked that good all the time. He loved to wear designer clothes and keep up with the latest menswear trends, and tonight was no different, that beautiful black turtleneck (that was covered in grey fur) undoubtedly belonging to a designer whose name you probably couldn’t pronounce.

“What are you gonna name her?”

He sat a little closer this time on the couch, a brawny arm outstretched behind you as he leaned over to scratch at the kitten’s chin.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, gazing down at the serene, sleepy face in your arms, “I’ll have to get to know her first.”

“Well, I’ve been calling her Frankie.”

“Frankie?” You smiled through your confusion, the name sounding oddly right.

“She was pretty wild in the car and kept meowing when Frank Sinatra was on the radio.”

“I see,” you laid the kitten down into your lap, sweeping your fingers through her fur and watching as she curled up into a tighter little circle, “well, I’ll consider it.”

You felt warm, heavy fingers brush against the back of your neck, Jean absentmindedly painting figure eights into your prickling skin. Heat flushed to your face as you realized just how close your bodies had become—his thigh was pressed against your own, dark jeans tight and hot, the scruff of his cheeks brushing against your own as he toyed with the sleeping cat’s tail.

There were voices all around you, the muffled sounds of your friends relaxing together falling almost on deaf ears. Your whole world felt like it just revolved around this couch, like nothing else mattered beyond the simple touches to your skin and the drowsy kitten beneath your hands. He never wanted you to spend another holiday alone, you replayed his words, the sweet sentiment finally settling into your spirit.

_______________

You could tell everyone was starting to get a bit sleepy, a few hours spent drinking spiked eggnog and chasing the new kitten around with a feather toy having left you especially exhausted. Your head was a little swimmy as you bid everyone goodnight, the grey tabby cat following closely on your heels to your bedroom where Jean had already brought in a litter box and a bed for her to sleep in. Jean, underneath all the designer bravado and smiles, was perhaps the most thoughtful person you knew.

But despite the heaviness in your head, you couldn’t seem to sleep. You tossed and turned in the bed, occasionally picking up your phone to scroll through it or just watch the time tick by. You had a lot of thoughts mulling around in your mind, most of them revolving around the man sleeping just right across the hall.

Never in a million years did you expect Jean to walk in with a beautiful, perfect kitten as a gift. The little thing was back to sleeping again, this time curled around one of your feet, each exhale a little purr against your toes.

You’d carried the weight of this crush around for too many years. You rubbed your palms against your eyes, sighing as you came to terms with your feelings for Jean for what felt like the thousandth time. Your pining was starting to take its toll, too, what with the sleeping giant so close yet so far away.

And you still felt like you were missing something.

Throughout the night, your friends had seemingly been playing coy, teasing Jean about getting you such a big, sentimental gift. Maybe they had all caught wind of your suppressed feelings and were poking at Jean for even daring to indulge you. Now you were just getting frustrated with your thoughts, sighing as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to sleep.

But then you heard a little sound, the soft buzz of your phone against the wood of the night stand.

Jean: You awake?

Your heart skipped a little in your chest as you saw his name flash upon your screen. You texted him nearly every day, yet he never failed to send a little jolt of adrenaline down your spine.

You: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

Jean: Me either. Cabin is too fucking cold.

You: I have a kitty asleep on my feet, definitely helps beat the chill.

Jean: A warm kitty sounds nice right now.

Only a few seconds passed before the next message appeared.

Jean: Wanna come keep me company?

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment, your mind not even thinking about the words in front of you. Instead, you were picturing Jean in his bed, hair tussled with his own phone in his hand as he texted you, light spilling over his bare chest in the dark. You wondered what he was thinking—maybe he just wanted you to bring the cat over to see him for a bit, or maybe his mind was wandering in the same place yours was, which was picturing him naked beneath his sheets.

You set the phone down, momentarily starting to panic.

You hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that Jean might be asking you to come get in his fucking bed with him. Thank god you took a leisurely shower earlier—and you still smelled good, you checked.

You stood up from the bed, watching the kitten stretch and quickly fall back asleep on top of the blankets. You bent down to slip on your pajama pants, but then found yourself debating if you should just leave the flimsy material behind.

If this was what you were hoping it was, walking in without pants would send the “I got the hint, I’m here to fuck,” message loud and clear.

But if this was just “hey pal come keep me company, I’m bored,” walking into his room in nothing but a shirt and panties could be quite awkward.

You decided to hedge your bets, stuffing your pajama bottoms back into your bag as that lingering liquid courage from the eggnog set in. If worse came to worse, you could always say you forgot to pack them.

You carefully closed the door behind you, making sure the cat didn’t follow.

Then, it was literally just a few steps to Jean’s room. Conveniently, his door was cracked. Did he get up and leave it open for you? Did he always sleep with his door cracked? Or had he planned all along to ask you to come over?

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. Those inessential thoughts needed to be quieted.

The door creaked as you slid past it, the old hinges signaling your arrival and making Jean’s attention whip towards you. His phone was still in his hand, like was watching your messages and too-eagerly anticipating your reply.

“Hey,” you whispered into the darkness, wincing as the door kept groaning as you pushed it shut behind you. You leaned against it for a moment, too nervous to just waltz up to his bed and fall in. You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to break the silence.

“Aren’t you cold?” He whispered back, shifting in the bed.

His figure was illuminated by the pale, grey light from window, the snow clouds still keeping the moon suppressed in the sky. Like you’d imagined, he was shirtless, all those hard-earned muscles on display from where he was propped up on his elbows, sheets low against his waist.

“I thought you were cold, Mr. No Shirt.”

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“I’m not wearing pants,” you parroted back.

You watched the smile spread across his face, that darling, infuriatingly pretty smile that made you a little too happy in this moment.

He pulled his sheets back in invitation, revealing that he, too, was not wearing pants, only clad in blue boxer briefs that were sinfully tight around his upper thighs, etchings of Calvin Klein pressed against his lower stomach.

His hands were on you before you even settled onto the mattress, warm and greedy and pulling you flush against his body. All those worried thoughts you had before vanished under his touch, the message you had been missing suddenly loud and clear: you weren’t the only one hiding your feelings. All those veiled emotions came alive beneath wandering hands, your fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as his found the flesh of your thighs.

“Was this what you were thinking about when you invited me here?”

You breathed in the smell of his warm skin as you settled against him, notes of his cologne still lingering against his body.

“This is what I think about all the time,” he confessed, nudging his thigh between your legs.

You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your mouth as the muscles of his thigh pressed against your aching core.

“Me too,” you were pulling his face down to yours, thumbs against his cheeks as you pressed your lips to his.

A satisfied sound rang from both of your throats, lips melding and slanting against one another hungrily.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” His words were lost within the kiss, being swallowed down as you kept drinking him in.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You echoed back, gasping as his hands slid underneath your shirt and began to wander across your belly, reaching up toward your ribcage.

You both knew the answer to that: you were idiots, too scared to admit feelings even though they were clearly on display for everyone around you. But now the question didn’t matter, all the answers you wanted about to be shared between your anxious bodies with starved kisses and touches.

You shamelessly pressed yourself a little harder against his thigh, sighing as your pussy found relief against his leg. He groaned at your action, moving his thigh back and forth a little bit to see how you would react. When you whimpered, your own thighs squeezing around his, he smirked, repeating the motion of sweeping his thick, sturdy thigh back and forth between your legs.

“You like that?” His head was tilting down, teeth nipping at your jaw and down your neck as your head fell back against the pillow.

“Y-yes, feels so good.”

His hands were still traveling, wandering across your heated skin like he wanted to map your curves into his memory. He groaned against your throat when he discovered you’d also forgotten to wear anything under your t-shirt, his thumbs lazily brushing the undersides of your breasts.

You felt like you were burning beneath his sheets, like he was painting fire against your skin with every touch. His large hands engulfed your breasts, carefully kneading and rolling your soft flesh in his palms. He was eager to kiss you again, to slip his tongue past your parted lips and get addicted to your taste.

Jean pinched and pulled at your hardening nipples, greedily taking your little mewls into his mouth. He touched you like he already knew you, pulling at your body like you were the perfect little sex doll on strings for him to play with; rocking you on his thigh, tugging at your nipples, tongue dancing in your mouth, his hair tickling your cheeks, his cock hard and hot against his stomach.

Your panties were getting more and more wet by the second, the soaked material sinking into your folds as you rubbed yourself against the downy hairs and rounded, solid muscle of his upper thigh. His boxer briefs were bunching closer to his hips, pre-cum already staining against the fabric where his cock was imprinted into the threads. You slipped your hand down his impressive chest, fingers dipping into the elastic of his briefs.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned against your lips, pulling back to suck in a breath as your fingertips brushed against the head of his cock, “fuck you’re so hot riding my thigh like that, so fucking wet.”

“You did say you wanted a warm kitty.”

Your words had him pinching harder at your nipples, making you gasp as he chuckled.

“Mhm I can’t wait to play with your kitty, make you mine,” he punctuated his sentence by bouncing his leg up, sending electric pulses of pleasure racing over your nerves.

You responded by pulling his cock from its confines, wrapping your fingers around it and tugging at the silken skin. God he was thick, barely fitting in your palm as you moved your wrist up and down. You suddenly felt so small against him, realizing that he was dwarfing you just by lying next to you in the bed. His long, thick fingers could spread across the entirety of your chest, the thigh sliding against your pussy was enormous, but it felt like it belonged there; you could get used to riding him like this.

You both fell into a frenzied, delirious rhythm, your bodies bucking and panting as you found bliss against each other.

His hands slid down your body, leaving your tender breasts and searching for a new home. He found your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked you back and forth against his thigh himself, using the strength in his forearms to have your pussy pressed down against him in the most perfect way to have you seeing stars and whining his name.

“Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum just from riding me?”

“Fuck, yeah, yes, please, make me cum like this.”

Your hand had gone slack against his cock, your mind almost unable to concentrate under the waves of pleasure building and coiling inside you.

It felt too good to have his rapacious hands on your hips, grip mean and tight as he basically fucked you against his thigh. You wanted to scream, your other hand clawing at the back of his neck for stability.

“Baby,” he breathed, peppering a few kisses along your cheek, “could…could you call me daddy when you cum?”

There was a hesitancy in his voice, like he was ashamed to ask such a thing.

Your lower belly clenched, heat racing across all your nerve endings like he’d just poured sin straight out of his mouth.

You nodded your head for him, uncontrollable moans and gasps getting in the way of your own words. The thought of calling him daddy, that sent something wicked down to your pussy, had your fingers squeezing and tugging at his cock again and your eyes falling shut.

It felt like your sanity was breaking, like reality was splintering and this wasn’t real—you were dreaming again, weren’t you? But then you felt his cock twitch in your hand, felt your swollen clit brush against your panties and his thigh, and you were thrusted back into the actuality of your situation. You were with Jean, he was groaning in your ear, and you were about to cum all over him.

“D—da…,” you were choking, so overwhelmed with a final cresting of bliss that you almost felt like sobbing.

But he just clutched you more tightly, pressed you harder against him, whispering your name in encouragement to let yourself go for him.

Then, you lost all of your sensibilities, euphoria washing over your body as you snapped and came undone with a little whine of, “daddy,” against his lips. You slowed the rocking of your hips, your heart beating out of your chest, your pussy pulsing and clenching as you rode out the last remnants of your orgasm.

“Holy fucking shit that’s so hot, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, one of his hands smoothing against your cheek.

“Wha—,” you smiled, shaking your head as you caught your breath, “what are you doing with a daddy kink, Jean?”

He mimicked your smile, hands moving to slide your ruined panties down your legs and removed the rest of your clothing as he repositioned your bodies. You let him move you around like a ragdoll, so delirious in your afterglow that you barely even registered how he was hooking your legs onto his shoulders.

“Do you not like calling me daddy?” There was a seriousness laced into his tone that told you he’d drop it if it made you uncomfortable.

“I like it,” you fisted one of your hands in his hair, bringing his lips to yours for a slow, messy kiss, “just didn’t expect it.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.”

You felt the head of his cock nudge between your wet folds, his hands back on your hips where they belonged. Your head fell back against the pillow as he started to push inside of you, stretching your walls and making your toes go almost numb from the pleasure. You felt like you were splitting apart, like a fissure was forming down the middle of your body, stemming from where he was spearing into you.

With your legs on his broad shoulders, he was pushing you into the mattress, his hands urging your hips to relax and let him sink into your warm heat.

“Ohhhh fuckkkk daddy,” you couldn’t help but to whine, all your senses suddenly overwhelmed again. You were drowning in him, falling deeper and deeper into the throes of heaven with every inch of his fat cock slipping inside of you.

“God you’re so tight,” he presses his forehead to yours, keen eyes watching how your lips were falling apart and your eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, “that’s right, daddy’s going to take such good care of you.”

It felt like all your history with him was being wiped away, like this moment wasn’t about two friends fulfilling all their years of mutual pining, but instead about a new relationship blooming between two bodies full of lust and desire. This was about Jean fucking you senseless, about him taking control and finally having what’s belonged to him for longer than he probably even realized. You wanted to lose yourself to him, lose yourself to his appetite and just let him devour you.

All the air left your lungs when bottomed out inside of you, your walls clenching and sucking him in. He stayed still for a moment, nearly lost himself at the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock.

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned, dragging his cock out of you slowly before pressing in again, your cunt greedily sucking him back in.

“I always have been,” you teased, one hand lost in his hair while the other slid down the expanse of his back. You bucked your hips in his hands, coaxing him to keep moving.

“Oh fuck. Good girl.”

His praise made you feel drunk, liquid heat rushing to your ears and between your legs.

He began to snap his hips, repeatedly burying his cock into your depths, the angle of your body making him hit that fleshy patch inside of you. You cried out at the feeling of being so stuffed, your walls burning from the intrusion but that coil inside your belly tightening again, hotter and more intense than before.

“Mhmmm, such a good girl, I promise,” you pressed your lips to his in reassurance, letting your breathy moans fall into his mouth as he started to get a little rougher. His pace was steady, solid, a hard motion of his cock thrusting in and out of you, each push and pull full of purpose and passion. Every plunge was making your lower stomach spasm, making pleasure burst across your body so forcefully that you felt that urge to cry again.

“Wanted to fuck you for so long,” his face was tucked underneath your chin, mouth trailing across your throat between his words. A particularly hard suck against your neck had your back arching, breasts flattening against his chest and your nails clinging to him.

Jean sat back on his knees, big hands smoothing down your thighs as he looked to where your bodies were conjoined, watching how your pussy enveloped his cock with every thrust of his hips, sweet skin encasing all of his length. He looked enraptured by the sight, groaning and hissing every time he pressed inside of you.

Then his eyes were flashing up to your face, softening as he took note of your blissed-out state, your face flushed and your lip between your teeth.

“So pretty,” he mused, a palm ghosting up to your chest to toy with one of your tits as he found a new rhythm.

You were ensnared by the scene before you as well, eyes wide with delight as you admired the man before you. Jean felt unhinged, electric between your legs, like he’d finally let go and was pouring all his clandestine secrets into your willing body. His chestnut hair was swept over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and across his body rolling, rounded and thick like he was marble come to life. And his face was smooth, pretty, concentrated, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body.

Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

“Daddy,” you called out to him, having to bite back a grin as you observed how quickly you earned his attention, “you feel s-so good,” your hand was traveling down your chest, trailing over his fingers on your breast before snaking down to your clit, “p-please let me cum again.”

You had an inkling that he would take over for you.

His thick, long fingers hovered over your own, carefully aiding in swirling over your aching clit. You hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly.

Jean’s other hand slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, legs tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted. His thumb was almost impatient on your clit, now circling so quickly that your body was shaking, lower stomach clenching and unclenching repeatedly like you were lost in a reckless tide.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last with you squeezing me like that, baby.”

Your mouth watered at the thought of him finding that ultimate pleasure inside of you. Your ears became tuned to the chorus of resonances between your legs, the sweet, wet sounds of skin against skin, of slick at the base of a fat cock, of Jean grunting your name like a lost prayer.

The final chord of your sanity was threatening to snap, you could feel it again, like he was pulling the strings of your body too tightly and you were going to splinter and break with just the right swipe of his thumb.

“I-inside,” you mewled, unable to keep your eyes open any longer as your thighs began to quake, “daddy—oh fuck, fuck—cum inside me, please,”

God you were so fucking close to falling off the edge, and he could feel it, using his grip to bring you even harder and faster down onto your cock to get you careening and falling again.

Your push into oblivion came when you heard him pleading, almost whining, above you, sweat dripping down his skin as his syllables flowed together, “please, please, please, fuck, cum for daddy, cum for me, please.”

You could both feel it, how you creamed around his cock, pussy sucking him in so deliciously tight that it caused him to lose all control. His fingers dug a little too deep, his cock throbbing and pumping deep inside of you with his release. It was like the world went quiet, like a blanket of snow fell onto your bodies and hushed your sounds and cooled your skin. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, like he was meant to be there. Your body relaxed, feeling like you were sinking into the mattress and he was the only thing keeping you from being lost.

When he finally pulled his spent cock from inside you, he wasn’t gone long. His hands were back on you again, pulling you in for simple, affectionate kisses and rubbing tenderly at the places he’d perhaps explored too roughly.

“Jean…” you cut yourself off with a yawn, fatigued limbs winding into his own.

His thigh found its home between your legs again, both of you groaning with a mixture of lust and disgust as you felt his cum drip into a mess between your thighs.

“Whatever it is can wait until morning, we need to sleep.”

“Oh fuck, it’s Christmas.”

He nuzzled your cheek, lips searching for yours.

“Mhmm, Merry Christmas, baby.”

You laughed, laying your head against his chest.

_______________

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but it felt like you spent a small eternity in Jean’s bed before your eyes opened again. When you awoke, he was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with the kitten in his arms. She was ready to play, striped tail swishing as he dangled a toy mouse just out of her reach.

“What time is it?” You stretched, suddenly all too aware that you were still very naked beneath the sheets.

“It’s only eight, everyone else is still asleep aside from Mikasa who actually went for a run in the fucking snow.”

Jean smiled, hair tucked behind his ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you realized just how madly in love with him you were. You always aimed to make him smile, to hear him laugh, but to see him gazing at you in the morning sun with pure adoration shining in his hazel eyes had you practically melting into the bed.

“I meant what I said last night, you know,” he said, turning the kitten loose to run across the bed.

“You said a lot of things last night, daddy,” you teased, watching his cheeks turn a pretty pink at the mention of that name.

“I meant about you never spending another holiday alone. Because, you know, I’d like to…” he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was genuinely nervous.

You sat up, running a hand down his arm before kissing at his shoulder, momentarily getting lost in the smell and feel of him.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

No one was surprised that the two of you, and the kitten, spent every single holiday together thereafter, mostly naked, and always smiling.

#jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #aot jean #aot jean kirstein #snk jean #snk jean kirstein #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #snk #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot #jean aot #jean kirstein fanfic

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gemma-collins-ily · 3 years

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OMG I LOVED your latest Kaz fic titled "Crossing of His Fingers and Ankles"!!! If you would, would you kinda do a part 2 of them making the (attempting to) watching the sunrise together a once a month activity and the other crows catching them asleep on the couch together and teasing them?

Form of Love

a/n - awwww, this is a little shorter but I really love it as of now! The cutenesssssss! Thank you so much for the compliment, and the request of course! I really enjoyed writing it xoxo ❣️💝

Warnings: nothing???

Tagged: @mrs-brekker15 (released early for you xoxo hope you feel better!)

This is the part two of Crossing of His Fingers and Ankles!

It would always end the same way.

Kaz half-heartedly cursed you internally for the sole reason that he used to be able to get through an entire night with only cold, long since brewed coffee and his will to work.

Now, it was all he could do to stay awake for a few hours into the night at most.

But he could never truly be mad at you: partially because his predicament was both benefiting him and ruining his business all at once. See, now he could get a proper night's rest and the bags under his eyes were gradually fading, it was true, but he managed to complete far less paperwork, no longer powering through till dawn.

This would be no problem if he weren't so stubborn in deciding that he specifically had to do all that paperwork on his own. There were others in the Dregs who would jump at the chance, needing something, anything, to fill their days, but Kaz simply hoarded his workload to himself.

Every month, you would figuratively drag him to the sofa, and if he were to blatantly refuse, you would only smile knowingly. Long ago was it acknowledged that you could persuade Kaz to do almost anything, to your mass benefit, and his mass disadvantage.

You only needed to be there, words unspoken yet present in your mind and he would be won over before you even opened your mouth to speak.

Yes, you only watched the sunrise together once a month, but you would spend every free night you had with Kaz, scanning over documents and each of you holding them before your face, pretending to catch the light to read fine print, when really, you were sneaking regular glances at the other over the papers.

He appreciated you giving up your time for him, and often thought you should use it for anything else, but in the end, he wouldn't ever stop your evenings together voluntarily.

It could be selfish, but your excuse was that he was still working, to which he would raise an amused brow. You did work together, although he'd eventually have his gaze on you for minutes at a time, it being too tempting to resist.

You did the same of course, admiring the strong tea shade of his irises and the slope of his nose, or his fingers moving nimbly amongst the papers.

When he'd catch you directly looking at his glove clad hands, he'd swiftly whip out a pack of cards and preform a magic trick, never ceasing to adore the twinkle in your eye that showed how marvelous you thought it to be.

After a while, he could bear to do the classic trick of palming a coin and pretending it had appeared from behind your ear. That sparkle of amazement made it worth it for him. It always would.

You were the only one he would willingly give kruge to, no matter how big the amount. Kaz desired to gift you the world, believing you deserved it and you constantly reminded him he had already given you all you wanted.

Kaz would always smile genuinely and warmly at those words, that crooked smile, the one that slanted minorly to the left and the one you loved. More than everything.

Now, he could barely stay awake long enough for your scheduled sunrise observing. When the first light made itself known, you would plonk down onto the couch, Kaz following a moment later, and you would revel in the sun drifting across your skin, plus the colours painting the skies.

Ketterdam was truly beautiful. You only needed to know how to see it, and when.

Kaz never actually looked at the sunrise for long, instead choosing to stare at you, enjoying the look of bliss on your face.

He may break the usual promises he made, and you futilely agreed to, knowing Kaz would allow you to slumber anyway, but he would never stop curling up on opposite ends of the couch with you.

That was the one promise he would always keep.

Inej was the first one to discover you together, vulnerable as you slept away, Kaz too.

She was ever the early riser and had knocked softly against his oak door, hoping to drop off the knowledge she had gathered on the streets and leave early, not needed until the heist meeting later that day.

When he had not answered, she had rapped her knuckles against the wood a little more sharply, then pushed open the door a crack.

She couldn't believe it when she observed you and her boss limp on the sofa, your head facing his way, and his lolling in your direction because you had been looking at each other, slow blinks hindering your view until you had drifted off.

He had forced his eyes to stay open just a little longer, if only so he could appreciate you for a small increment of time more.

Her eyes had widened comically and she instantly knew what she had to do. She shut the door carefully behind her, and tiptoed to each of the Crow's rooms individually.

Jesper groaned and held his pillow over his head, attempting to block out the noise.

"Jes, get up, you need to see this."

For Nina, she needed a slightly stronger approach. She needed to get them up quickly, she wasn't certain when you would wake. So, the Heartrender was woken by a nice cup of water to the face.

She spluttered as she came to her senses and Inej hushed her before she could shriek in shock.

"Meet in front of Kaz's office. There's something you've got to see." She hissed.

Once Matthias and Wylan were awake and up, they met up and Inej put a finger to her lips as she opened the door.

Nina spotted you immediately and awwed breathily, Jesper and the others following her gaze before simultaneously gasping.

Nina heard your heartbeat quicken and ushered them out, your eyebrows furrowing as you woke to fragmented whispers from what seemed to be down the hallway.

You decided Kaz should sleep in so snuck out of the room and to yours, dressing before jogging down the stairs to breakfast.

When you entered, the chatter abruptly stopped and your head cocked to the side, curious as to if you were being left out of anything.

Suddenly, a snicker was heard and you snapped your eyes to Jesper, who continued to chuckle before speaking.

"Having a good time with the Boss, were we?"

You groaned audibly as you realised they must have witnessed your moment together, ran a hand over your face and sat on a chair, muttering to yourself all the while.

"Kaz will not like this..."

"Not like what?"

He sounded concerned, it flimsily masked and laughter broke out again as you blushed, embarrassed.

"It's too early for this, guys."

"Hmm, you could always take a nap in Kaz's office?" Was Nina's teasing response, no hesitation in her tone.

Kaz's face hardened into the one he used during business, and when he spoke, his voice was cold as stone, "None of you will speak of this."

"Ever." He reiterated, making sure they understood.

As soon as he left, the snickering restarted and now you too joined in, finding the soft Kaz from the evening before and early morning hours of that day so contrasting to the one you had just seen.

The Crows would consistently burst into his office in the mornings after that incident, and Kaz became more alert, although never able to stop himself from falling asleep under the sun.

Usually, he would manage and as soon as they left, he would drop the facade and his head would gradually drop toward his chest, then he would shake out his limbs in an attempt to stay conscious.

You would wake as it happened and would either call his name quietly, or prance downstairs to grab him a coffee. It would rarely be black, instead you added just a tad of milk to sweeten the liquid.

Your shared advantage with Kaz was that they did not know you fell onto the sofa together monthly, and had only caught you together a few times.

At every opportunity they had in the Slat, they would poke fun and jest jokingly about you and Kaz.

Jesper would wink at you suggestively and you'd only drop your head into the table, Inej sometimes placing her hand between before your forehead smacked down.

She teased you a lot less than the others did, so glad for Kaz after knowing of some of his hardship, but would still join in with her own little quips now and then.

Even Nina and Matthias knew not to bring up the situation in public or in the Crow Club. You could be used against Kaz, and he would never want that, believing it could be one of the only things to break him.

Almost daily, you would end up asleep, head and neck supported by a cushion on top of the table.

And almost daily, Kaz would find his heart melting at the sight of you feeling comfortable enough to sleep and be at your most vulnerable with him.

It was a form of love only you shared, and it was beautiful in its own way.

Most importantly, almost daily, Kaz found himself promising you to wake you, all while beginning the crossing of his fingers.

And ankles. Just in case.

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fic #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse imagine #kaz brekker #kazzle dazzle

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deliciousdetectivestranger · 3 years

Text

Summary: When Clave-in-Exile and Downworld answer Seelie Court's request to meet, Ash Morgenstern is declared as King of Seelie but he is challenged by Kit Herondale who announces his legacy. As the boys duel for the crown, secrets start coming to light. But will all these secrets be welcomed?

Known Secrets are Revealed

The mundanes of New York could tell something unnatural was happening in the city. Everyone was keeping track of the thick tension which had settled the city as the fog surrounded England during the Industrial Revolution, anytime now it would happen.

What they didn’t know was that it had begun a long time ago. For weeks New York was being shrouded deeply by the Warlock, Nephilim, and Fae wards. A few hours ago, the parley of Seelie Court had arrived in Central Park with the Seelie Queen herself at the centre. They had been greeted by the Clave-in-Exile, Werewolves, Vampires, Warlocks, Unseelie Court, and Wild Hunt. Confusion had spread through the lower ranks of both sides at such a huge and varied receiving party. It wasn’t as if a war was in talks or were the Nephilim still ruminating over the parley conducted by Horace Dearborn and Oban of Unseelie Court had resulted in the majority of Nephilim leaving their beloved Idris to Cohort.

Even though Alec Lightwood-Bane was now the Consul his ability to put up with bullshit was still low. He had refused the talk, talk, talk, and do no work attitude of the Clave. This was a difficult beginning for them. He was not going to make it impossible by allowing his shadowhunters to whine, refusing to do what was expected, and just being unhelpful to spite others. With Diego Rocio Rosales as the Inquisitor, his load had lessened a lot.

When the Seelie Court had requested the parley Nephilim and the Downworlders had instantly gone on high alert. After all, it was Seelie Court that had aided Sebastian Morgenstern and his Endarkened and they had never apologised. These days the Shadow World trusted the Unseelie Court which had been kept hidden and the tales of its cruelty reaching young ears but had transformed greatly under the rule of Kieran Kingson. The Unseelie Court participating in the change with immense enthusiasm as they too had been exhausted from living their lives like that.

Of Course, the beautiful but treacherous Seelie Court had shown their cards one by one but to their eternal frustration their opponents were completely nonchalant about it, some even appeared bored, something which their dramatic souls just couldn’t bear. The knowledge that Seelie Court and the cohort were in cahoots was a surprise. Though for years now they had been aware that the CohortChort had been watching them, all thanks to the spying done by the ghost of Livia Blackthorn in March 2013. Though the only people who truly knew from where the information had come up were Livia, her twin brother Tiberius Blackthorn (then a centurion in training), Christopher Herondale (the Lost Herondale), and Magnus Bane (the High Warlock of Brooklyn). Magnus had declared that they couldn’t tell the truth as it will endanger Livvy along with Kit and Ty, who had tried and failed to do the necromancy, but one day in the future Livvy would get the credit she deserved while Kit and Ty would be punished for the punishment they had in store.

Janus and Ash Morgenstern were also not a shock. Janus when he had tried to spy on the AU version of himself and his friends had also kissed Clary Fairchild. She had later teased her fiancée of his odd behaviour earlier the evening but had received a negative. Suspicious the couple had discussed this with their friends and had wondered if someone was taking their obsession towards Clary and Jace towards a higher disgusting and concerning level ore this was an atrocious prank. But they were unable to draw out his motives until Maia Roberts had complained that one of her werewolves had been missing for days and they hadn’t been able to find her. Thanks to Magnus’ magic they had found her dead body and of a fae boy who had been identified to be of Unseelie Court. It had worried them greatly but not much as Alec who had recognised the couple from an outing with his family. When Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn had visited the New York Institute as the last stop for their Travel Year, they had concluded that this Jace was Jace Herondale but from Thule. He had been Sebastian Morgenstern’s right hand, someone who after seeing and participating in the unending massacre of his world had lost his sanity and was a danger to them. And if Jace of Thule was here then Ash Morgenstern might be here as well.

What had shocked them was the betrayal of Lily Chen and her Vampires. After the Seelie Queen had removed the oblivion placed on her she had remembered her promise to Janus of Information in return for Raphael Santiago of Thule. Lily with a heavy heart and guilty conscience had aided the Seelie Court.

The Seelie Queen indicated towards her son and said, “By my blood, he is the heir to Seelie, by his father, Sebastian Morgenstern’s blood, he is a shadowhunter, by Lilith, the Mother of Warlocks’ Blood, he has been blessed by the Fallen Angels, and by the Unseelie King Arawn’s experiments, he holds many gifts. I am here to announce his rulership and to should anyone present know of any reason that Ash should not be the King, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

“We should hire her to conduct our wedding ceremony,” Simon Lewis Lovelace muttered.

Isabelle Lightwood nodded her assent. “With fair folk arranging our wedding it will be bold, beautiful, and dangerous.”

“Not unlike both of you.” Cristina Mendoza Rosales pointed out. The couple shared a smile, ignoring the exasperated looks sent by their friends.

Drusilla Blackthorn hearing this exchange added her own two cents, “You guys should make themes for each program. The wedding ceremony will be of shadowhunter style of course but have the reception in Star Wars theme” Jace groaned. “And how about the rehearsal in the horror theme. You’ll start a new trend.”

“Why horror theme? To depict the horrors of marriage?” Thais Pedroso questioned her friend and received a stink eye for her sarcasm and lack of support to Dru’s schemes. Emma and Jace could sympathise with her for having parabatais who never appreciated their grand plans.

Alec ignoring the childish squabbling taking place behind him spoke out, “I gather that you want your son to be the King but what of Ash? What does he want?”

Silence fell in the park. No one had expected this. Ash Morgenstern was the son of Sebastian Morgenstern and Seelie Queen, grandson of Valentine Morgenstern, would of course be a discriminating, bloodthirsty, power-hungry character. But at Alec’s question, they all had to agree that they were being biased. Once upon a time, Downworld had stood against Nephilim and also to the different factions of Downworlders, Shadowhunters too had butchered them kept their remains as trophies in their houses, even today their Vampire alleys had turned out to be traitors so, no they couldn’t say that they knew anything about Ash Morgenstern.

Ash eyed Alec, a golden metal band hid his forehead, his face blank but his Fairchild green eyes were of a predator honed by the years of captivity in Unseelie Court, surviving in Thule from his own AU father and of the politics in Seelie Court where honeyed tongues had poison and beautiful faces hid grotesque personalities.

“I request you, Consul, to not try to create a rift in between my mother and me. If there had to be a rift it would have appeared years ago. I have heard a lot about you from the rumours and from Janus who had you as a parabatai but knows nothing about you. You are a stranger and why should I believe a stranger’s word over those who are dear to me?”

“Well, I’ll thank the angel that you’ve thoroughly understood the basic instructions given to children.” Kit Herondale said. “At least we won’t have a Snow-White situation on our hand.”

Titters could be heard as the tension slightly lowered.

“Watch it, boy!” Janus growled. “Your sanity ought to be questioned for making merry of such important occasion.”

The Seelie Queen frowned as she stared at Kit. She didn't see any kind of resemblance between him and Jace Herondale then why did he look so familiar?

Kit rolled his eyes. The blasé persona achieved after spending years at Shadow Market, the tumultuous times in which his Nephilim heritage had revealed and of course the Herondale he was made a striking combination, hiding a brilliantly sharp mind which could see through every single of actions of his enemies.

“You were born sometime before 2009. You should be in 3rd grade now not going on and declaring yourself as King. Have you even completed today’s homework? You are spoiling your son too much, your majesty. He will turn out like Draco Malfoy like this.”

Laughter was clear this time. Ash’s lip curled at the comment. Someone *cough*Simon*cough* even did an improvised ‘My mother will hear about this.’

“He is right.” Ty Blackthorn spoke up. “His age by Fair Folk standard and by ours presents an anomaly. You can’t expect us to see this as anything more than a farce.”

Kit beamed at him before recalling himself. Ty didn’t even spare him a glance.

Livvy who was floating in the middle of both of them fell to her knees and held her hands above her. Glancing at the sky she beseeched, “Grant me the serenity, Raziel . . . this is turning worse by the moment.”

At that, both boys glared at her.

“Ty, the question is not about age but maturity.” Ty’s boyfriend Anush Joshi said.

“Yeah. But we do need to come up with something for this. What if tomorrow Ash calls us to announce he is making his child the ruler? Fae do age rather strangely. Surely there must be something to do.” Mark Blackthorn crowed.

Hong Yeon Woo of Seoul Institute raised replied, “Due to the unique age calculating system used in my country, Koreans consider a year in the womb as counting towards their age, so every one is one year old at birth. Everyone gets one year added to their Korean age on New Year's Day. But internationally it’s bothersome.”

“In Romania, many old families consider their members one year older each time their birthdays come up.” Casimir Munteanu of Craiova Institute answered.

“See? We need to do something about this. Truly mundanes always have answers to any kind of situations.” Mark gleefully said. “And we shouldn’t hesitate to take their lead. We already have Nephilim currency with our Consul on it.”

Alec groaned. Those had been truly trying times.

“In case the nonsense is finished, Consul either swear your allegiance or we shall have to drench this park from Summer to Autumn,” Janus called out.

The threat didn’t go unheard. Clary and Julian felt sick at this horrible implication to their painting. Kit exchanged a look with Tessa and Jem. They both were concerned but Tessa gave Kit a determined nod and Jem squeezed his shoulder supportively. There was no doubt in them for him only love and trust.

Before Alec could say anything, Kit interrupted. “We won’t swear our allegiance.” His joking demeanour had vanished. “For I do have a reason why Ash shouldn’t be King.”

Everyone looked at him curiously. The Seelie Queen got a sinking feeling as she once again looked at Kit.

“To join their Courts together Seelie Queen and Unseelie King made a truce that the child born through their union would inherit both the Courts. They had a girl named Auraline, the First Heir. The king who wanted a son was displeased but still kept her away from the Queen who was incensed to be parted from her daughter. Then there was a prophecy that the First Heir upon reaching their full power all the Faerie would fall under shadow. The King was enraged and the Queen was terrified. The war between the Courts grew even more fierce as the people thought that the First Heir was cursed. Auraline who had never even asked for the powers or the prophecy scared for her life escaped to the mortal world which she found beautiful. The Unseelie King however did send Riders of Mannan after her. She visited the Shadow Market where Downworlders and Mundanes unaware of her birth never called her cursed. Decades later she fell in love with a magician at Shadow Market known as Roland the Astonishing. He too had a secret of his own. As they both confessed how they were wished dead for crimes, not of their own they decided to run away together. Auraline through her Faerie powers made sure that Roland lived longer than most mortals. They had a child together and then finally even Auraline’s powers couldn’t keep death away from Roland. When Roland died, Auraline chose to be with him.”

One could hear the leaves rustle from the breeze as the parley intently heard Kit. The Seelie Queen was expressionless but internally her heart ached at the injustice done to her daughter. Jace and Clary wondered why Kit knew First Heir’s story in such detail. Mother Hawthorn connected the dots and as she looked at Kit, all she could remember were the rumours of when he had been found in LA’s Shadow Market where he had been kept hidden and not long after had left with the couple who had visited her years ago. He hadn’t been seen since then. He too had been forced into hiding just like Auraline. She was just glad that the love between Kit and the couple was real. It was what Auraline had deserved and thankfully Kit had received.

Kit continued, “Auraline’s child had a child. And so it went. There is still a First Heir in the world.”

In unison, the parley gasped.

“Tobias Herondale and Eva Blackthorn’s child, Ephriam was secretly taken to safety by Catarina Loss before the unfair justice of Tobias’ crime was carried out by the Clave. The line from Ephriam is known as the Lost Herondale. His grandson was Roland Loss. For those who don’t get it, he was also known as Roland the Astonishing.”

Kit’s last comment undoubtedly made things clear to all. And panic started to replace the tension. ‘What now?’ was the biggest question in everyone’s mind.

“The First Heir Line and the Lost Herondale have intertwined ages ago. Hunted by the Riders of Mannan, unwanted by their people, shunned by the Courts and the Nephilim, they found their refuge in the Shadow Markets.”

Hypatia Vex, Juliette the Queen of Bueno Aires Shadow Market, Mother Hawthorn along with other Shadow Market denizens couldn’t help but smile.

“I am Christopher Jonathan Herondale. I am the Lost Herondale and the First Heir of Faerie.”

At once shouting began from both sides of the parley. Confusion, fury ran rampant. One thing was in agreement that they all had been blindsided.

Kit looked unconcerned though his hand was on his double-aged straight sword. Tessa and Jem shifted into a battle stance. Emma and Julian slowly inched towards Kit. Magnus, Catarina, and Ragnor added wards in front of Kit. Kieran made a motion and the Unseelie guards split in two one surrounding Kieran and the other unsurely moved towards Kit. Cristina and Mark though didn’t move from beside Kieran. Livvy hovered above Kit but not before shooting him a betrayed look, which her younger sister was sporting too. Helen and Aline standing beside moved to shield them.

Out of the corner of his eye Kit saw that Ty was unsurprised. “I have been wondering how you made the Riders’ horses disappear that day in the Brocelind Forest.” He answered at Kit’s questioning look. Livvy and Dru shifted their glares to him.

"You did hit one of the riders with your slingshot." Kit spoke as he remembered.

Alec, Jace, Clary, Isabelle, and Simon couldn’t decide which one of them was more shocked, especially considering Magnus was unsurprised. Jaime Rocio Rosales standing beside his brother couldn’t deny that Kit was really and truly intriguing. That day in the LA institute’s library he had given Eternidad to Cristina, Mark, and Kieran, he was curious about the boy who was distinctly not a Blackthorn yet he fit in them just like Kieran. It was later when he had visited Diego in New York, he had learned who that boy was.

A growl interrupted the noise. It was Janus. He barked to Kit, “Where is the proof? How do we know you aren’t lying?”

Jace cut in, “How do we know you and Ash aren’t some faerie illusions forcing us to do your bidding”.

As Janus glowered at him, all Jace could think was how close he had come to share this man’s fate. He grabbed Clary’s hand, his palms sweaty but she only smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

Ash’s voice brokered their attention. “Then Christopher, why don’t you and I duel for the crown?”

“Well Asher, I find it difficult to finish my daily chores, there is no way I am going to shoulder the burden of ruling a realm.”

Anush goggled at him, Jaime choked, Julian nodded prompting an amused smile from Emma, Livvy and Dru facepalmed, Ty, smiled a little, Jace was ready to make a smartass comment was silenced by Alec and Clary.

“We will duel Christopher. Duel to death for the crown.” Ash snarled. His eyes narrowed at Kit.

The parley wondered what would be the outcome. They couldn’t decide between Ash and Kit both scions of important Fae ancestry but shadowhunter blood ran through their veins as well. The Seelie Queen was trying to gather her wits. She was not fond of Nephilim and definitely not of Herondales but she couldn’t ignore how Kit bore such a strong resemblance to her Auraline. Absently she wondered if the magic they had done on Auraline had passed down to Kit as well.

Kit tilted his head and after thinking for a moment sighed and nodded. Panic and excitement ran through the parley. The Seelie Queen and the Downworlders and shadowhunters who knew Kit started speaking at once. Only Jem and Tessa were quiet. They squeezed his shoulder and then stared directly at Ash.

Both blonde boys moved towards each other effectively silencing the parley. They drew out their swords and circled each other. Finally, Kit stepped at him.

“He shouldn’t have made the first move.” Jace concernedly said.

Janus chuckled at Kit’s impatience and inexperience.

But as Ash moved to block it was clear that Kit had feinted throwing him off guard and moving closer to the Seelie prince. Kit’s blade was about to slice Ash’s side but using faerie speed Ash swiftly moved. Kit circled Ash so he was always at his back, the latter after few moments stopped turning.

“Christopher’s fighting style is unique,” Anush noted. Ty observed Kit and wondered if he was mixing Mundane, Shadowhunter, and Downworlder styles.

When Kit lunged at Ash who readily parried him and moved so he could end the distance in them and draw him in a space where he could control Kit. Ash started moving faster, his moves rougher, all his blows landing heavily on Kit.

It was clear to viewers that though Kit fought unusually he did lack Ash’s training and experience as well as his savagery not to mention stamina.

Bored and smiling a smile sported by his grandfather and parents Ash moved to land a fatal blow on a panting Kit but he sidestepped just like Ash had done earlier. Ash couldn’t stop himself in midmotion and Kit moved closer, when he hit Ash’s hand with his sword’s hilt. Ash winced and that time was enough for Kit to twist his hand, remove the blade from it. Reeling him in Kit sild Ash’s sword at the back of Seelie prince’s neck and then pointed his sword at his throat.

Once again silence reigned as Kit panted and Ash stared at him wide-eyed. They could hear Janus cursing, Emma and Jace whooping, and Simon cheering, “That’s our Aragorn.”

Kit raised an eyebrow at Ash who had no way to move without getting his head chopped off. But Ash was not just a shadowhunter he bore many more powers which Seelie Queen had advertised when she had introduced him. So, he raised his hands and blasted Kit with a huge fire of darkness.

Screams erupted as Kit slammed against a tree and fell on his stomach unmoving. Before anyone could move to help him, Janus barked orders and Seelie forces surrounded Ash and Kit, but they did look reluctant. While they didn’t like Kit for the First Heir prophecy, taking orders from Janus who didn't have a speck of Fae blood in him irked them.

Ash leisurely walked towards Kit and picked up both swords. As he reached Kit, he prodded Kit with his foot further infuriating Kit’s friends and allies. But Kit made no move to get up. Ash’s brow furrowed and taunted Kit, “What happened? Ran out of your tricks? This was a duel for the crown of Seelie, it was never going to be of just our swordsmanship prowess. Powers are also to be tested but you didn’t use them. Either you can’t use them or the shadowhunter blood ran true and the First Heir doesn’t have powers. Well, which one is it?”.

There was no answer. Ash got on his and hit Kit with his sword’s hilt on his shoulder. He turned towards Janus moved towards them. Just then Ash heard a moan and turned towards the sound. Hidden by the Seelie guards who had their backs to the boys, Ash leaned over Kit so no one in the parley could see when Kit’s blue eyes opened and he grabbed Ash’s wrist tightly, a smirk on his lips.

Everyone looked away when a blinding white flash lit Central Park. When they finally regained their sights, terror filled them as they realised that Ash and Kit had disappeared.

Hello everyone, I hope you'll enjoy this. Please don't hesitate to leave feedback and constructive criticism. If anyone wants to be added to the taglist or removed from it, inform me.

taglist: @immortal-enemies @khaleesiofalicante @radisv @dark-artifices-only @beclynn-herondale @herondaletessa @chibi-tsukiko @ask-the-shadow-world @allysbookshit @themimsyborogove @kit-and-ty-fic-recs @hardlymatters @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @shadowhunting-hooligans @pjo-tsc-trc-otherthingstoo @the-blackdale @kitandtyarelife @merry-thieves

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chaerrie-on-top · 4 years

Text

The Stars Aligned For Us

Shy, social outcast Kim Dahyun wishes for a best friend to somehow magically appear in her life (spoiler alert: her wish comes true).

sana x dahyun (+ other twice pairings)

fluffy and angsty

sfw

Chapter 1

It's a gloomy evening in Seoul, and Dahyun has decided to spend the day curled up on the couch of her tiny apartment. She had been watching movies and dramas since she got home from class around three hours ago, waiting for the rain to pass over. The rain had stopped maybe twenty minutes ago, but Dahyun wasn't quite ready to depart from the warm, cozy couch. Scooping up another handful of popcorn, Dahyun shovels it into her mouth while giggling at the funny scene playing on the TV in front of her. She hears the front door leading into the apartment jiggle, and quickly searches for the remote to pause the drama as she doesn't want to bother her roommate. Her heart speeds up and her sweaty palms pat the blanket and cushions of the couch as she blindly feels for the remote. Dahyun's roommate, Chaeyoung, rounds the corner of the hallway leading to the living room, the girl a bit wet from the rain.

"Hey," Chaeyoung smiles, kicks her shoes off and leaves them at the shoe cubby at the end of the hallway. She reaches up and gathers her long, shiny black hair in her hands. Chaeyoung makes a sound of annoyance as she ties it into a low ponytail: her previously styled hair now disheveled from the rain.

"Hi." Dahyun replies. "H-How was class?" Dahyun almost rolls her eyes at herself, frustrated with how even the smallest interaction makes her flustered. She wipes her sweaty palms on the knit blanket draped over her body, her empty hands making her realize she never found the remote.

Chaeyoung shrugs, makes her way across the room and into the kitchen joint to the living room. "It was okay: kinda boring. Would've been better without the rain." Dahyun's head is spinning with anxiety, so she just musters out a noise of acknowledgment. She saves herself the embarrassment of stumbling over her words. Chaeyoung grabs a glass of water and some seaweed chips before announcing her plans to go study. Dahyun nods in, again, acknowledgment and watches Chaeyoung disappear into her bedroom. Dahyun lets out a sigh; the interaction is over but she's still dizzy.

Dahyun's phone, which had been sitting on the coffee table, suddenly starts ringing. Startled, Dahyun slaps on hand over her heart while the other reaches forward and snatches the phone up. "Ah, hello?"

"Hello, Dahyun-ah you sound flustered," its Dahyun's mother on the other end.

"I was talking to my roommate. I didn't expect my phone to ring so suddenly."

"Oh, okay. Finally you're talking to someone. Are you still eating lunch alone?"

Dahyun sighs, her lips pulling down into a frown. She feels a heavy burden settle on her shoulders as her mom starts her daily lecture. "No, mom."

"Why not? What have I been telling you?" Dahyun's mom starts. Her tone is firm, but has an underlying sense of care towards her daughter. "You want to be alone. Hm? You don't want any friends?"

"No, I do..."

"Then why aren't you making any?"

Dahyun's shoulders feel heavy and she sinks back into the couch. Her stomach twists, heart sinking. "I don't know. Mommy, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, Dahyun-ah. I want you to enjoy college. Study hard, but it shouldn't be the only thing you do. Make time for friends, too, okay?" Her mom reasons.

Dahyun nods to herself, "Okay. I'm gonna go on a walk: its been raining all day and I'm tired of being pent inside. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Alright, go eat dinner Dahyun-ah. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Bye."

***

About fifteen minutes later and Dahyun finds herself at a local park only down the street from her apartment complex. As expected, the gloomy weather leaves the park empty. Walking straight through the park, Dahyun follows the hiking trail the runs alongside it, leading deep into the forest at the edge of the park. Dahyun knows the park and trail like the back of her hand, as Dahyun had been brought her a lot in her childhood by her grandparents. The thing was; Dahyun's hometown was about an hour or so away from the college she was currently studying at. However, her grandparents only lived about fifteen minutes from the college, so she was quite familiar with the area as she grew up her every summer. Dahyun thought to herself about how she would have to call them soon, perhaps tomorrow after classes were done.

Suddenly, a small black cat runs in front of Dahyun. A friendly creature it was, it comes right up to her and paws at her feet. "Oh," Dahyun gasps, bends down to scratch the feline on its chin. "Are you lost?" the little things collar jingles, and Dahyun reaches towards it. "Ah, your name is Mercury? Hello, Mercury. Let me see who your owner is..."

Miss Celestia, it reads, followed by an address... The address traced back to a shopping center only a five minute walk away, instead of a home address. Dahyun furrows her eyebrows at the strange name. Was it American, maybe? "How am I supposed to return an American her cat if I can't speak English?" she wonders to herself. Regardless, she scoops little Mercury into her arms and heads for the entrance to the park.

Mercury doesn't put up a fight, instead seems to purr and bury it's little face into Dahyun's chest as she is carried. Dahyun runs her hand through the soft, silky black fur. As Dahyun turns out of the park and onto the street, she spots an older woman further down the street. The woman is shaking a small box of kitty treats, and calling out for mercury. Dahyun calls out to her and picks up her pace, meeting the woman half way.

Strangely, Dahyun finds that the woman is in fact Korean; and not American. "Ah," she exclaims. "You found my little Mercury. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome; it's no problem, " Dahyun smiles kindly. She makes a move to hand Mercury over, but the lady reaches out a frail hand and gently touches Dahyun's arm. Dahyun freezes, a small shiver running through her body as she looks back at the little old lady.

"Dear, do you mind doing me one more favor?" She asks, her brown eyes glinting under the sunlight that has finally started to peek out from behind the clouds.

Dahyun shakes her head, "I don't mind. What would you like me to do?"

"Can you carry Mercury back to my shop for me? It's right down this road; it isn't far at all." The woman points down the street, her little hand shaking a bit. "Mercury is stubborn, she won't stay put if I hold her. She seems to like you, darling. "

Dahyun smiles, she thinks the elderly lady is as cute as a button. "Sure, Miss Celestia."

The woman, a bit taken aback at first, looks at her for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. Her little eyes turn into crescents as she looks up at the young girl. Miss Celestia leads the way, making small talk as she tells Dahyun about how Mischievous Mercury escaped the shop. "Ah, she sounds troubling," Dahyun says once the story is finished. Mercury, almost like she knows, lets out a meow.

"Hmm, sometimes she is," Miss Celestia tells her as the two near her shop. "However, I found her after my husband passed. I believe she is a gift from the gods." Miss Celestia kisses the cat's little head, before opening the door into the shop. Dahyun looks up at the sign hanging by the door, reading Celestia's Tarot Shop.Dahyun follows her inside, where she finally sets Mercury down. The cat meows, pretty green eyes casting upwards to look at Dahyun.

"I'm so grateful that you found my Mercury. I don't know what I'd do without her," Miss Celestia comes over and gently takes Dahyun's hands into hers. "Thank you, Dahyun."

Dahyun smiles back at her, the realization that this lady somehow knows her name starts to hit her as the lady turns and rushes over to a tiny table situated towards the middle of the room. "Come, sit. I would like to return the favor."

Shocked, Dahyun follows. She sits across from Miss Celestia, silently watching as the woman whispers to herself. Dahyun looks around the room, inspects the crystals and gems and candles that sit neatly along decorative tables and shelves. Back on the table Dahyun is sitting at, she notices a thick book, stack of tarot cards, and a little pink crystal. Miss Celestia holds her hands out, smiling kindly at Dahyun. "Give me your hands, please, dear."

Hesitantly, Dahyun brings her hands up and onto the table, slowly bringing them to the elderly lady. Soft, wrinkled hands encase themselves around Dahyun. "Because of your kindness, I will grant you a wish." She reaches over with one hand and picks up the pink crystal. "I have enchanted this Amethyst crystal to grant any wish you have," Miss Celestia gently places it into Dahyun's hands. "I sense that you want love and friendship in your life, so I present you this crystal. It will bring them to you."

Dahyun runs her thumb over the smooth surface of the Amethyst, eyes wide and staring at the elderly lady in surprise. Miss Celestia closes her eyes, squeezes Dahyun's hands gently. "Do not stress, dear. You are one of a kind and people will gravitate to you as you are. Carry light and kindness in your heart, and love will come to you." She opens her eyes. "Go on, make your wish."

With one hand still holding Miss Celestia's and the other grasping the crystal, Dahyun brings her free hand to her chest and holds it tight.

School has been difficult and I've been lonely and depressed. I wish for someone to come into my life and stay by my side; a best friend.

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

#twice #twice sana #twice dahyun #twice saida #minatozaki sana #kim dahyun #twice au #sana fanfic #dahyun fanfic #saida fanfic

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simpingforthisonedeer · 4 years

Link

Chapter 8: Tempestuous I

SFW version here

Summary: Aika watches Julius become King; Julius goes to make his annual visit to the Swallowtail and shenanigans happen.

Notes: This chapter was actually supposed to be a lil over 10k words um 😳😳😳 but I cut it 60/40 so I'll post the next chapter next week for sure bc it's already finished. I made a lot of changes like taking away the assasination attempt that was supposed to happen this chapter. Also, there's one offhanded line that is NSFW but that's all for the chapter.

One of you have already read all 10k but don’t say anything okay? ;)))

@talpup here you go hehehe

@kray-dragon you said you wanted to read 👉👈

Aika felt light despite the exhaustion weighing her down as the excited murmur of the crowd surrounded her. It has been two days since the battle and Diamond Kingdom’s surrender, but she would give them a few months before starting a ruckus again. Nevertheless, the peace and relief that it brought to Clover Kingdom had the gathered crowd in high spirits, especially since they knew that Julius was the one who delivered the final blow.

The Grey Deers were especially rowdy near the front, no doubt ecstatic that their former Captain was now Wizard King. The ceremony was already done in private and this occasion was just to introduce the new Wizard King to the public so he may be welcomed.

She stood atop Clover castle’s outer walls with her associates as she spectated, while also keeping an eye out for any trouble.

Music played loudly to her right and the crowd grew excited as the seven new captains walked on stage.

Fuegoleon Vermillion for the Crimson Lions, Nozel Silva for the Silver Eagles, Jack the Ripper for the Green Mantises, Dorothy Unsworth for the Coral Peacocks, Charlotte Roselei for the Blue Roses, Gueldre Poizot for the Purple Orcas, and Jien Du for the Grey Deers.

It was truly a remarkable sight from a historical point of view because all the captains were replaced and all of them were around the same age, meaning that this trend would continue for a few more generations.

The crowd grew quiet in anticipation after all the Captains settled into their respective places on the stage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” A disembodied voice exclaimed. “Put your hands together for our new Wizard King,” A handsome man wearing a voluminous cloak of deep red, shouldering a white, furred cape, adorned with medals and a cross emerged from the depths of Clover Castle.

“Julius Novachrono!”

The crowd exploded with approval as their cheers, screams and applause filled the air. The sudden noise startled Aika but thankfully, she barely had any mana after the battle so none accidentally escaped. She couldn’t see him clearly from where she was standing but she certainly noticed how he squared his shoulders as he cast his gaze across the sea of people.

Their voices seemed to soar high into the heavens and she couldn’t help but smile at the scene. Jayce was hollering his heart out next to her, screaming how he was Julius’ number one fan. He had been standing close to the former Captain when he eviscerated the enemy two days ago and had been starstruck ever since.

Ellie clapped politely as Evan let out a whistle or two. Aika would have clapped as well but she was leaning heavily against the edge of the wall, barely even able to stand up straight. She had already suffered the indignity of asking Jayce and Evan to help her walk as if she was some frail, old grandma. She would not also cause a commotion by trying to stand and then fall.

“And finally, please welcome your honorable king,” the announcer stumbled on the last few words. “Augustus Kira Clover the 13th!”

The applause was much more muted and they barely let out a cheer or two. Augustus looked outraged at the gathered crowd and opened his mouth to make his displeasure known but Julius quickly cleared his voice before their “honorable” king could and began his first speech as the Wizard King. Aika listened keenly, secretly reveling in his familiar voice. He spoke at length about hope, faith and love and ended his speech with a hopeful message that had everyone grinning and cheering once again.

Aika leaned back far enough so she could clap this time because she was blown away by the absolute natural way he commanded the stage and the crowd. He was made for this.

Then, the Grey Deers who were standing guard at the front split the sea of people so Julius could go step down to greet and interact with the citizens themselves. The crowd allowed the Magic Knights to create a human barrier for one moment as the new Wizard King planted his feet on level ground, before chaos ensued. People pried the barrier apart and the knights were powerless to use magic in such a cramped space.

Aika tensed for a moment, thinking there was going to be an attack but let out a surprised laugh when she realized the situation. Women threw themselves at Julius, nearly tearing his robes apart and Aika nearly fell backwards with laughter at the sight of him trying to dodge their kisses.

Evan, Jayce and Ellie shared a nervous look as they got ready to catch her if she was actually going to fall. They have never seen their boss so exuberant when she was sober in all the 6 years that they have known her. Aika caught their looks and quickly pursed her lips, an uncontrollable grin still spread across her face.

“Cheer up, you three. I can actually laugh now,” she said teasingly.

“We’ve noticed,” Evan murmured, sending a careful look at Jayce, silently begging him to think before he spoke.

“Yeah, you seem to be in a better mood. Are you and the Wizard King really fu—” Ellie smacked him upside the head before he could finish.

Too late.

Aika’s cheery disposition quickly dissipated.

“No, Jayce,” she said, her voice cold. “As far as everyone is concerned, nothing ever happened at all, understood?”

The crowd standing around on the wall with them started moving for the exits to make their way to the festivities in the plaza. Ellie looped her arm with Aika’s and Evan took her other arm so they could help her walk. She threw a disappointed look at Jayce and sighed. He flushed in embarrassment and rubbed his head apologetically.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where to, Miss?” Ellie asked as her grimoire fluttered open, throwing a deadpan look at Jayce.

“To my home in Hage, please,” she sighed again as she looked back at Julius among the crowd as he tried to fend them off. Aika turned away before the first pangs of jealousy and longing could hit her. It was just a silly crush.

A portal opened in front of them at her behest and they quickly stepped through it before the crowd could jostle them around. With Ellie’s spatial magic, she assisted Aika with errands, delivered messages, helped her travel around the world and sometimes even provided support in battle.

Aika sighed contentedly at the transition from the loud crowd to the peaceful noises of nature in the countryside. She felt old at this thought.

They quickly ushered her into the house and helped her sit in her armchair. She stretched out in her seat and groaned at the sore feeling sufusing through her limbs. Her backpack, which she nearly never took off, poked her uncomfortably in the back but she put up with it anyway.

Aika opened her eyes slightly and her three protégés were looking at her with various levels of concern. She let out an amused huff as she waved them off.

“This is normal. You three should be used to this by now.”

“I mean, you warned us,” Ellie began as she lightly scratched her white, coily hair. “But we have never seen you perform a spell that big so we didn’t know what to expect.”

“I suppose that is true,” Aika hummed before wincing as pain unexpectedly coursed through her body. Jayce urgently strode into the kitchen at this.

“I was initially doubtful if you could handle my spell, Miss,” Evan admitted as he looked down at his hands. “I was completely ready to let the spell loose even at the expense of our allies if it meant we could weaken or even defeat the enemy.”

“Evan.” He looked up at Aika’s unexpectedly strong tone. “I would never put you in a position where you have to make such difficult decisions.” She smiled reassuringly. “I have only asked you to perform the spell because I knew I could handle it. If there is anything that you can depend on in me, it’s that I know my limits. Please have more faith in me.”

He blinked slowly at her heartfelt words, before he smiled boyishly.

“But you’re still pretty weak from it,” he retorted uncharacteristically.

“It was worth it, was it not?” she quipped back, happy that her little speech didn’t sour his mood too much.

Jayce came back from the kitchen with a slightly wet towel and handed it to Aika with a concerned look.

“Here.”

“Jayce…” She shook her head at this gesture with a small smile. It was his way of apologizing for his words earlier. “It is alright. You don’t have to worry too much.”

“Heh,” he carded his fingers through his hair. “If you say so, boss.”

“I have a new assignment for you guys,” Aika quickly began when she noticed Ellie’s mischievous smile. If she started teasing him, an argument was sure to erupt.

They turned to her attentively.

“I have noticed residues of forbidden magic in the abandoned cottage near the church here. It isn’t anything urgent and I’d like for you three to enjoy the festivities in the capital, so take the day off and in a day or two, I’d like for you three to report on your findings, alright?” Aika would have joined them but she was too weak to move in her state so she’ll take a well-deserved break for today. She eyed the gift bag by the entryway. She put together a few gifts for Julius, hoping to give to him today as a sort of welcome but she lacked the energy to move so it would have to be at another date.

She needed to get a lot of work done. She had to clean out both this house and the Wizard King’s study, where she spent most of the time working, so Julius could use it instead. Master Raymond wasn’t the reading type so he leased it to her for free and she enjoyed that space and she had a feeling Julius would too. Speaking of the headquarters,

“Don’t forget that you also have your day jobs at the headquarters, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!” They saluted her eagerly.

Aika nodded proudly. She was slowly introducing them to working in environments immersed in forbidden magic so they could take on bigger field assignments in the future. They were still young, only in their early twenties, so she should be careful about how such magic would affect their mental development, seeing as it completely fucked up hers. She would like to think she was fine, but she really wasn’t.

They bid her goodbye with their bright smiles, exuding youth in every way Aika wished she could feel at the moment. Though she stopped aging properly at twenty-five, maybe twenty-six years, weg magic was exhausting and she felt like she had been living longer than she should. It was probably because she hadn’t properly slept in over a decade and a half.

Aika laid the cold towel across her nape with a sigh, though the sensory overload from the pain made everything, including the texture of the towel, seem unpleasant. She shrugged one strap off of her shoulder so she could push the backpack aside and the rune on her forehead began to itch lightly—

Wait a minute, she sat up straight.

There was a Swallowtail filled with her magic in the woods behind the church. Wait. There were also mini-Swallowtails in her backpack right now. She could recover her magic faster this way. In her excitement, Aika nearly forgot she couldn’t use the Swallowtails inside her loft because they power various magic stones for heat, light, water, ventilation, preservation and some miscellaneous experiments.

Aika leaned back and groaned.

This meant that she must get to the big Swallowtail herself. She could ask Ellie for help but none of them except maybe Julius and herself know about the Swallowtail and they most certainly don’t know about her Time Magic. Most people thought Aika was a weak water mage who was physically strong, used forbidden magic to make up for her shortcomings, and could use a sword well.

She needed to keep her real attribute a secret because states with more sinister plans have hunted her in the past. So much so that they even threatened to destroy their own allies. That part of history was rewritten by Arthur. He stopped a war and changed everyone’s memories and in exchange, he got Holly.

She buried the memories once more as she locked her joints and stood up carefully. No point in dwelling on things she couldn’t change.

There was an old broom in the closet that she could use to get to the Swallowtail. She walked carefully, leaning on the furniture along the way. Aika stifled any groans and put her weight on the wall next to the closet door and opened it. She paused.

There were bloodstains everywhere.

It must have been from when Arthur was stabbed and bound in here.

Aika sighed as she added another task on her to-do list and picked up the broom next to creaky hinges of the closet door. She gently eased herself onto it and smiled in relief. It would be easier to move this way.

She quickly shot out of the house, relishing in the speed in contrast to her turtle-like pace the whole day and took the straightest path to the Swallowtail.

Julius extricated himself from the last of the women as Marx made a way for him to escape the crowd. He was hoping to maybe talk to them, maybe leave a more personal impression on them, but today was not his day apparently.

“Sir, are you alright?” Marx asked as they quickly strode into a side entrance to the castle. Julius chuckled lightly as he rubbed his lipstick-smeared cheek.

“Yes, of course, Marx. Just a little...violated.”

Marx smiled as he let out a huff. “I will be very honest with you, sir. I didn’t think that was going to work.”

“Well, perhaps I should organize a town hall so it would be more regulated.”

“I will see if your schedule allows it in the near future, sir.”

He smiled in gratitude as Marx shook his head.

“Alright, well, I got a message that the preparations for the banquet are nearly done and it would begin in an hour—”

“Marx, would you take care of that?” Julius interjected suddenly.

“Sir?”

“An hour is perfect. I have an important errand I must attend to and it won’t take me long…” He finished quietly, knowing he wouldn’t believe him.

“An errand today?” Marx asked, his voice raising up a notch. “An errand on one of the most important days of your life?”

His annual trip to the Swallowtail so he could deposit his magic just happened to fall on the day he became Wizard King. And a few minutes alone might also do him some good. The weight of what he had just accepted still hasn’t properly set in.

“Um, yes?”

“Julius!”

“It will only take me a few minutes!” He put his hands together pleadingly. “Please?”

Marx let out a heavy sigh as rubbed his temples. He just hoped he wouldn’t be as irresponsible as to miss the banquet entirely.

“Alright, fine. But you better not be looking at magic when I come looking for you!”

Julius grinned in reply.

“Of course! Thank you, Marx!”

In a blink, he quickly phased out and landed in the forest clearing where the ancient magic item was. The sudden change in environment and the heavy weight of the robes grounded him to his current situation.

It was utterly surreal. He was Wizard King.

Julius let out a hysterical laugh as he rested his head against the Swallowtail.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as his fingers clawed at the cool, metal surface. He could finally help Clover Kingdom for the better. There were so many things he could do, so many things he could change.

Starting off with the Magic Knights. Incentivize and reward good behavior, send more knights to patrols realms where they aren’t accustomed to so they learn to like and protect people below their class, even involve himself in policy as Aika had suggested and think about education. The next generation are the future after all.

His mind was racing with ideas but he took calming breaths before he completely lost his cool. He still had a banquet to attend and nobles to pander to.

He looked intently at the giant, six-pointed star on the Swallowtail as he gathered his thoughts. He should finish his business soon. The sooner he put his mana in, the sooner he could recover it. He slowly started pouring his mana into the ball. He also needed to make sure he had enough left to teleport back.

Julius turned as he felt a presence moving towards him at high speeds. He stopped as he squinted at the figure on a broom, their form silhouetted by the Sun behind them.

His vision grew blurry momentarily as he prepared to transform. It would be a strange and suspicious sight to see the new Wizard King in the Boonies. But before he could do anything, the mysterious person landed in the clearing at an unnatural speed.

Julius’ eyes widened when he realized who it was.

“Aika?”

When Aika landed near the Swallowtail, she couldn’t believe who it was. She scrambled off of her broom and used it like a staff to lean on.

She could clearly see all of Julius now, no longer a bright, robed figure in the distance.

And my god was he a sight to behold.

His medals shone in the sun and his red, velvet cloak made him look like the king he was. When her eyes met his, they glinted gold for a moment and she had to remind herself to breathe.

Though, the effect was slightly dampened by the fact that he was covered in lipstick marks.

“Aika?” he asked disbelievingly. She brought three fingers to her chest in a salute as she tamped down any tremors, whether it was because of her fatigue or emotions.

“Your Highness,” she intoned as she bowed her head. That’s it. He was only the Wizard King to her. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Oh,” he exhaled in amusement. “There’s no need for that. We are way past that. Please,” he said reassuringly. “Call me ‘Julius.’”

Aika’s face gingerly lit up into a grin. The expression felt strange on her face but she couldn’t help it. She was simply glad that they weren’t going to be awkward. She clutched her broom tighter before she could fall as she spoke.

“Well then, congratulations on becoming Wizard King, Julius,” she walked sluggishly towards the Swallowtail, still facing him. “How do you feel?”

His jaw fell slightly, momentarily surprised by her nonchalance. Most people’s attitude changed in the few moments he walked in his Wizard King attire. Even Marx, whom he was most familiar with, grew more serious. But he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He seemed to be “just Julius” to her no matter how he was. His chest tightened at the thought. It was a strange sensation.

Julius rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin as he relaxed. There was no need for him to be officious with her after all had been said and done.

“Well, the feeling hasn’t quite set it,” he began. “But, I do suddenly feel the urge to do something, change something,” he confessed, his eyes shining with determination. After their night of shared vulnerability, no matter how sourly it had ended, it felt natural to be himself with her.

He couldn’t help but grin when she looked away with a secretive smile. He knew he still had a chance. He simply needed to go slow this time.

“That’s good. I’m eager to see what kind of revolution you would raise.”

Julius had plans to make connections at the banquet and he had already had a draft of an awards system somewhere in his head. But for now, it was only them in this clearing. He could be himself. He pressed a finger to his lips and leaned forward as if to share a secret.

“Shh, don’t tell anyone though,” he said playfully. “It’s a secret.”

Aika giggled despite herself.

“I suppose you are going to change the kingdom before the nobles even realize.”

“Exactly! You—” He quickly caught her as she stumbled. “Get it…” he finished quietly, concern strewn across his face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Julius asked as he looked over her. She was beginning to sweat as she took shallow breaths. “Are you alright?”

Aika exhaled sharply when pain shot up her back.

“I’m fine,” she lied, waving him off as her jaw clenched. It didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“No, you are not,” he hissed.

“Fine, I’m not,” she snapped back. “Just help me get close to the Swallowtail.” She stiffened when he wrapped an arm around her waist. Julius noticed and silently apologized as he guided her delicately.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

She sighed as she pressed herself against the magic device. There is no harm in telling him and he would need to know just in case he ever needed for her to do a forbidden spell or a ritual.

“I’m still weak from the spell on Saturday.” She brought the mana in the device carefully up to the surface and she felt her strength returning to her, bit-by-bit.

“Spell?” His brows furrowed. “What spell?”

“Remember the giant, blue fireball?” His eyes widened. She quickly clarified before he could think it was her who summoned fire. “Evan was the one who conjured up the fireball, not me. But he can’t control the spell so I had to use weg magic to take control of the spell and guide it towards the enemy while holding them in place.”

Julius looked at her with virtual stars in his eyes.

“So that Mana Zone spell was yours? And you guided that Sun in the sky?”

Aika grew bashful at the admiration in his tone.

“Ah, well, I had a lot of practice for Mana Zone and it wasn’t that big. I’ve seen bigger fireball spells,” she murmured as she bit her lip.

“Bigger—” He took a double take as the twinkle in his eyes shone brighter. “Where!? I want to see a bigger fireball!”

She laughed at the cute expression on his face.

“I’ll show you sometime,” she promised as she continued to fill up her mana reserves. Aika was silently glad her plan worked. She was no longer sore all over, no doubt the life essence of her mana healing her, and she could stand unsupported.

Julius looked curiously between her hand and the Swallowtail.

“But why do you seem to be in pain? Fatigue is common for mana exhaustion but I have never heard of pain,” he remarked as he laid his own hand next to her, slowly sending out his magic into it. It was what he originally came here for after all.

She sighed heavily. Just thinking about it exhausted her.

“It is one of the side effects of using large amounts of corrupted magic. It is quite harmful to a human body.” Aika explained the long list of effects and how incapacitated it leaves her. “It’s quite painful but it’s incredibly useful so it has its pros and cons.”

She felt flattered by the worry on his face.

“Are there any long-term effects?”

“No, not that—” Well, there was the negative mana affecting everyone around her but it was only because of one ritual years ago. Using more negative magic hadn’t exasperated it thankfully. “Not that I’m aware of, no.”

Julius touched his chin thoughtfully as she continued.

“But please don’t hesitate to ask me to do any spells or rituals for the sake of the kingdom,” she laughed wryly. “I am the only person who could do them after all.”

“Ah, no, no. If it affects you this badly, I would never even think of asking you,” he assured her with a shining smile.

Aika fought off a grin. That...was really kind of him. Her Uncle was quick to jump on the offer and she was glad to be of use to help this kingdom but the concern…Her heart beat quickly at the thought.

No!

She mentally shook her head. He should be more concerned about the kingdom not her! What if she could help where no one could?

“Please don’t think of me, think of the kingdom. If I could help, then I would. Whether you accept my help or not is an entirely different matter.”

Due to being particularly sensitive to magic at the moment because of the newly acquired mana, she felt a stab of Julius’ magic hit her.

“And besides, I like using it,” she whispered, the real truth unexpectedly slipping out.

What. Did he just—

She quickly masked her shock and met his gaze. He surprisingly didn’t seem disgusted or judgemental at her confession. He just seemed lost in thought as he stared back at her.

“I see,” he simply uttered, his tone giving away nothing.

Usually, any other person’s first instinct would be to get mad at forcing the truth out of them, but Aika, who was quite adept at using backhanded tactics, was very impressed and curious. How on Earth could he use such magic? It seemed like a part of his natural attribute. He truly had a limitless magic potential. He could use Time Magic but that didn’t stop him from using some form of spatial and transformation magic, but also a hidden magic spell perhaps that could induce the truth out of somebody. And here she was, thinking he was a straight-laced, goody two-shoes Wizard King.

But, no real King is truly virtuous.

She cleared her throat before a giddy smile could slip through. It would have been exhausting to work with someone with a strict moral compass. Though, she shouldn’t be surprised after seeing him on the battlefield. He was terrifying.

“Well, I suppose you did help us gain a massive advantage with your help on the battlefield the other day. If you hadn’t wiped out the Diamond army, taking on both Spade and Diamond would have been disastrous for our troops.”

Aika hummed in agreement and decided to say nothing. Being complimented by anyone other than her Uncle was strange. No one could recognize her efforts because the Amulet of Ignorance ensured it and she preferred it that way.

A question struck her when she realized where they were.

“Julius?”

He looked at her questioningly.

“Why are you here in the first place? Don’t you have a banquet to attend?”

He grinned widely as he lifted his palm off of the Swallowtail.

“The banquet is in about half an hour and I’ve come to make my annual trip to deposit some magic in the Swallowtail. You know, for emergencies such as yours,” he winked slyly.

Aika nodded in understanding, rolling her eyes at his jibe. She had also left some of her magic in there for emergencies.

“Well, you should clean up before going to the banquet then,” she said, looking pointedly at the ridiculous lipstick dotting his face. She threw her leg over the broom, ready to leave.

“Wait!” He quickly stopped her, an arm reaching out. “Could I drop you off at your place? You might still be tired.”

“Yes,” she blurted out. She was going to be her own ruin. Why was she doing this to herself?

“Great!” He placed a hand on her shoulder and they immediately found themselves in Aika’s living room.

“May I use the bathroom to wash my face?” Julius asked innocently. Oh, he was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he?

“That lipstick won’t come off with water. Most lipsticks used by women in the Noble Realm are magicked to stick on whatever surface they are applied on and the kind they used was the type of lipstick used to ‘mark people,’” she explained as she walked away. “I’ll go get some wipes for you.” He also seemed determined to stick around and he wasn’t even hiding it. Aika sighed internally. She needed to keep him at an arm's length. Even she cannot resist temptation.

Lost in her thoughts, she walked back to where Julius was, carrying a few wet wipes specifically made to wipe off makeup. Before she could realize what she was doing, she placed a wipe on his cheek as she angled his face to the side with her other hand.

The moment her bare hand touched his chin, Aika began to panic, though none showed on her face. In her mind, she began swearing in all the languages she knew, putting even the most seasoned sailors to shame. She was so used to tending to people that she completely forgot her determination to avoid these kinds of situations at all costs so her crush could go away, but, nooo.

And once she did something, she always stuck through. There was no backing out now.

Aika began wiping his face without hesitation but that didn’t stop her from berating herself.

Oh my fucking god. You are a fool, a whole clown, Aika. You should just quit your life, change your name and join your ex-fiance’s circus as a clown. It would fit you very well. Start practicing your honking now, you numbnut.

Wait, did he react? Wait, I don’t want to know. Oh, shit. I definitely want to know. No, you don’t. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook.

She looked.

Julius was staring right into her very soul from underneath his lashes.

She quickly averted her eyes, a blush rising to her face as her heart seemed determined to break free from her ribcage. She regulated her breaths and willed them to be normal. Thankfully, she had a lot of practice.

But then, he ducked his head so she could have better access and innocuously pressed his cheek into her palm. To top it all off, he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

That’s it. Aika was dying. She was having a heart attack. She wanted to scream so badly. She could feel the room spin around her.

Why? Why did you lean in? Have you no shame? A woman wipes your face and you start making bedroom eyes at her? Oh my god ohmygodohmygod.

How she wished she had her amulet now. If she wore it for a while, everyone except a select few would forget she even existed.

Aika stared at his serene smile, his eyes still closed.

A frown crawled up her face. She started wiping faster, cradling his cheek with her hand while she wiped the few spots on his neck.

She refused to corrupt someone as sweet as him.

“What’s that face for?” Julius piped up, startling her. “Jealous?” he smirked.

Wow, you are completely shameless. Wait— Jealous?

“Oh, sure.” Aika rolled her eyes. “I’m jealous of the women who virtually attacked the Wizard King like a bunch of harpys, marking him with magic lipstick,” She leaned closer to his ear. “While I had his head between my legs.”

He turned away, blushing as he covered his mouth. Finally , he seemed flustered. He did not expect her to retort when she herself was panicking. Aika stepped away as she smirked, satisfied that there was no more lipstick nor that overconfident expression on his face.

“I’ll swing by your office tomorrow to drop some stuff off,” Aika called out as she walked away into the kitchen. Julius shook his head as he gathered himself and followed her. A blush still present on his face, he leaned against the doorframe as he watched Aika move around the kitchen. The very same kitchen where he was turned down.

“What stuff?”

He asked quietly as he buried the memories. Hopefully it wasn’t any kind of paperwork.

“Some stuff to help you as Wizard King and some other things I thought you might like.”

That peaked his interest.

“Oh? What kind of things?”

“Julius,” Aika turned to him, exasperated. “Don’t you have a banquet to get to?”

“You want to get rid of me already?” He asked cheekily, very reminiscent of that day.

“No, but I’m sure you would enjoy a good surprise as much as the next person and I really think you should go.” Her face softened. “Don’t you think it’s strange enough that you stuck around this long?” she asked quietly.

He fiddled with the edge of his sleeve.

“Maybe,” he looked up at her. “But it’s only so I could just be myself before I have to go deal with nobles,” he smiled wryly. “I find politics rather boring, you see. I‘m putting it off as much as possible.”

“Diplomacy is what gets things done in your position,” Aika imparted as she turned back around to arrange the dishes in the cabinet. Her aunt and uncle will move in tonight so she has to get everything in order.

If Julius finds politics boring, then he may not be as effective. She quickly needed to rid him of that mindset. It would be hard to implement changes if he wasn’t persuasive or have any positive connections with the higher-ups.

“If you find it boring, I suggest you talk about your ideas and plans and observe who are open and who are not. You are quite impassioned about the things you like but I also suggest you keep the topics relevant,” she added lightly as she threw a smile over her shoulder. “Your ideas may also come off naive to the wrong people and could turn away many supporters but you have to stand your ground. Putting a neutral front may seem appealing but it’s only useful for maintaining the status quo,” she asserted as she looked Julius in the eye. “Not for a silent revolution.”

He gaped at her. Master Raymond made it sound as if her unsolicited advice was useless. He actually planned to stay neutral as she predicted but like she said, it wouldn’t get things done. How was she experienced in such things?

“I-I’ll try,” he finally got out. “Were you a ruler in your past life or something?” He asked jokingly. Aika laughed as she turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. She leaned back against the counter with a smirk as she asked,

“Julius, who do you think I am?”

He was slightly thrown off by the question.

“Uh, Aika Tolliver, Time Mage, Spymaster, and advisor to the 27th Wizard King?”

“Also the CEO of an international company,” she added.

Julius took a double take.

“What?!”

She palmed her face.

“So, Master Raymond didn’t tell you?”

“No?”

“God,” she groaned. “I’ll explain more later but I may not hold any political dominion but we are both C-Level executives and some of our tasks are quite similar even if our institutions are different. I am able to give you solid advice on such matters without being an actual ruler.” Aika fiddled with her pocket watch. “You should go.” She said as she guided him through the door and back into the living room. “It’s almost time for the banquet!”

He stumbled as he processed her words. Julius quickly laid a hand on her shoulder to stop her as he looked at her, dazed.

“Wait, so why do you insist on working for the Wizard King?”

Aika tamped down her irritation. There was no reason to get upset. He hasn’t fully transitioned into his duties and information he should be aware of about his staff.

She took a calming breath.

“Because, there are multiple prophecies that state that this continent would spell the end of the world. Everyone around the world know something is going to happen on this continent,” she said coolly. “No one outside are acquainted with the inner workings nor do they like this region. There are contingencies to contain the ‘end of the world’ but no efforts to actually stop it. Me being me, decided to volunteer to be the hero and you ,” she pointed a finger at Julius “are going to help whether you like it or not, understood?”

He blinked as a smile crawled up his face which quickly grew into a grin. That sounded quite exciting! Maybe his tenure as Wizard King may not be entirely boring with a mission like that!

“Y-Yes ma’am!” He let out a chuckle. “I hope you realize I’m only going to pester you with more questions when I see you next time.”

Maybe I do want you to come back and pester me, A voice in her head piped up intrusively.

“Yes, I’m aware,” she said rolling her eyes. “Now go!”

Julius saluted her with a mischievous grin and vanished.

Aika stood staring at the empty space where he was before pressing her head against the wall next to her with a deep sigh.

Why did he have to be at the Swallowtail right when I needed to? Why the fuck did I touch his face? And did he have to be obvious with his advances so much? What did he mean “just be himself?” She clenched her fist. The only way she could avoid overthinking was to throw herself into work.

She composed herself and held her head high. There was no time to dwell on such things. She examined her living room as she brought her to-do list to the front of her mind. She had a lot of things to clean, organize and pack.

Aika rolled up her sleeves and tied her hair back.

Time to get to work.

Notes: aiaiai that was a handful Julius figures out why Aika is avoiding him next chapter and you guys get one letter to figure out what he is LMAOOOOOO

#julius novachrono #oc: Aika Tolliver #marx francois #julius novachrono x oc #julius novachrono x reader #black clover #black clover fanfiction #demons run fic stuff #chapter 8

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merakimousumi · 4 years

Text

Re-introduce yourself

Our introduction is extremely structured and the flow has always a format irrespective of Nationality , culture or race.

As a child you are taught to say your name . Every time someone visits home or you are meeting someone, the excitement is to share your name. Yay ... joyous moment. Soon another step would be added once you are getting prepared for the schooling, your name, parents name and the place you live. Phew!! you must have been asked millions of times to master it . The game has just begun. Every-time another dimension will be added . Your school , standard, in case you are captain in sports , drama , magazine etc etc. Then by the age of 18 years, you will start mentioning your percentage of marks , your parents background, the certificates you hold . By the time you are being interviewed for your career, you are a bunch of certifications and degrees and nothing else.

Remember your first visiting card , that had your name, designation with that Company logo . Even in social functions you carry it and distribute them like toffees .

In case, you choose to become self employed you will put up website, your office board with your name, educational qualifications, credentials and the skills that you have and you would offer !!

Oh , if someone who choose to be a family person like my mother or my aunts then observe how they introduce themselves. I am so and so wife , my husband is so and so . Soon will get graduated to be the mother then she will add that she is mother of xyz kids .

No worries, I have done all . Here I am not going to ask to read Robert Adams , Ramanan Maharshi or Nisargadatta Maharaj . In very ordinary way let me prick you to get the momentary taste of the teachings of these beings.

I was in Singapore, it must be some eight years back or little more. After long day at work wanted to carry my dinner from the nearby Indian food joint which served nice vegetarian meals. I ordered and was waiting in the lobby there. Those days my phone addiction was not there , was looking around to the hustle and bustle of the night life of the place. It was my first visit alone in that city , the curiosity level was higher. The man sitting across seems to be waiting like me for his food pick up. When the eyes met , he bowed gently and smiled. I reciprocated, out of courtesy. My order came, he made a wave to me and I waved back . Simple over.

Next morning at the breakfast table in my hotel , suddenly someone knocks my table and I look up to see the familiar face of the last night . He smiled and asked if he can join the table, again out of courtesy I nodded. I prefer not to speak with anyone in the morning as ritual, my way of energy management for the upcoming day. Nonetheless here is a day where breaking the norm is all you have . He seem to me from south east Asia so was not sure of his age, their skin and overall structure camouflage the age process well . Still went ahead and predicted, must be in his late fifties or more. Soon he mentioned he is from Malaysia and is here on a conference. I quickly pasted my trademark smile on my face and nodded. When he asked what bought me in Singapore, I had to make an effort to say a word. I uttered ‘Work’ . He immediately mentioned by Company’s name, that was a surprise for me. Quickly noticed from my laptop bag hanged my ID card the logo peeping out. I smiled again. He mentioned how he has travelled worldwide and learnt so many things from different cultures. I heard all of them , nodding my head and occasionally saying few words ( read mumble). When his breakfast was over he was a fast eater or I was slow , he handed me his card. It just had his name, contact number and email. A golden shining card and in black ink those three things appeared . No logo , no designation, no company. This was different!! I must have been looking at the card with some astonishing manner that Mr Kheo ( Yes that was his name) came closer to my ears and said , I am not even those written words on the card. I was a while ago a person who spent a great time with you . Next moment I shall be one with someone else. My identity cannot be contained in a small piece . He winked , waved and was gone!!

I had no clue whatsoever he said and shocked with what happened at that moment. Yet I never got over the statement. Every time since then whenever there was an introduction, I always remembered Mr Kheo , because his introduction bought a discomfort yet I saw something, unexplainable joy in his eyes.

The thought that kept appearing within me , is it possible of being stripped of all the accomplishments and identities which he would have invested and acquired in lifetime, he was completely okay not to highlight. In the world when we are all looking to grab every bit of spotlight, he wants to be invisible. Did not make sense to me. He spoke perfect sense in his narrative in the breakfast, his articulation was impressive, well choosen words and sentences of expression, he was no ordinary. Yet and Yet !!

Much later in my years or rather recently the fragment of the introduction was becoming clearer in my life. Books , teachers explained the I AM. Who Am I !!

Here is a point , after reading hearing how do I implement . Unless I understand deeper within all those are simply intellectual. Who Am I ? The name appeared, my position, my relationship, my freaking everything appeared. I had to start from scratch. I started my introduction rather re-introduction and I could not , it was a struggle. Here Stubbornness nature comes handy, I do not easily give up.

It was like when you have invested a lot of time in making a something and you thought that its great, suddenly you realise all was a mistake, you keep doing the same mistake thinking that it will miraculously change to magic and success. It is not easy to erase it, too much ego is attached. My identity.....

I wrote my introduction the one which was taught, started writing my name , names of parents, my educational qualifications, my jobs that I did so far , positions I held , Cities I lived , the relationship I have and had , the houses that I own , the finance that I built so on , I made a list .

Then I took every line and questioned Am I that ? Paused, looked within, on the surface I was , waited soon it dissolved. I strike the moment I felt I was not . Every time I was striking I noticed the tremor in my hand and fingers, even there was a refusal. Striking my qualifications was tough followed by my relationships. I sensed my investment there . After few period all was canceled, I felt empty, naked as if someone has just robbed me of everything that I had ever gathered in my life so far. Tears rolled down , uncontrollably crying like a child gripped with the fear was being invisible. So much effort has been made to make myself visible and here I am erasing it all .

Mr Kheo and I stood at same space in that moment. I closed my eyes , experienced what could be the oneness the great teacher spoke about or is it much deeper, I am not sure yet I knew the joy within me. Who Am I ? I see the I and the I sees me. I am one .

Being empty is also being full. Empty of fear full of joy , the gift that we are all born with sometime lost in transit.

Even today when asked to introduce myself, I begin by saying my name is so and so and to earn my living I extend my service to xyz Company, I play the role of a daughter, sister, mother and friend along being colleague to many . Once you have understanding of that I AM , the framing of your sentences changes forever. In my corporate life I do sometimes have to follow the framework, yet I know my awareness is enough to make it impersonal. Once one has been in that rabbit hole, life is never be the same.

I know Mr Kheo would never know that what he offered on that breakfast table and here I am, forever grateful. A regret I carry that I was not careful of keeping that card that eventually transformed me, I could have written him my story too. The only was to give back is to share here and if anyone can find themselves, that would be my offering.

Today, start by reintroducing yourself.

#new to blogging #writer introspection #excerpt from a story i'll never write #write your feelings #gratitute #follow my blog #self care #writeundertheinfluence #lifeisbeautiful #introduces #who am i #robert adams #sri nisargadatta maharaj #maharishi #alan watts

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charcherry-weekly · 3 years

Text

Charcherry Weekly - Issue 48

Heya, Mage of Light Nick Card here. There’s been a lot of dragon activity lately! I can barely keep up with it all, but I’ll try!

Return of the Rogue

Rogue of Heart Charles returned home from the hospital a few days ago and immediately went to challenge bronze dragon Lil’ B to reclaim their home. Somehow he managed to defeat Lil’ B in a wrestling match, though reportedly there was a lot of flailing and missteps. Apparently Netnavi Enker.exe had been teaching Lil’ B how to speak english in Charles’s absence, which seems to have done well for relations. Reportedly Lil’ B was surprised that Charles allowed them to continue living in their house after Charles won it back fair and square. It seems things are going well between them at points after this.

Catgirl Granted Freedom

Hotel Refugee Jezo has been released from captivity, after having been held in a cell for months, reportedly never having been put to trial for her alleged actions. Reportedly she had shot Rogue of Heart Charles at least once during the evacuation of the hotel dimension, and that was somehow enough to land her in the slammer, despite the fact that Charles goes through a lot more than that even from trusted allies and they never get incarcerated, let alone for months without any talk of release date. And like, that stuff is honestly kinda shocking personally. Who just leaves a stranger in jail for months with no trial?! like come on, we even have a courthouse, even if it’s more than likely on the other side of the world (I heard it may have been moved closer but that has yet to be confirmed) it still should get some use sometimes! It is unknown where Jezo is currently located now after her release.

Dragon Antics

There have been reports of a mischievous dragon, largely spotted in the home of Rogue of Heart Charles. Surprisingly it was not Lil’ B. this time. Reports have confirmed that it is instead a Faerie Dragon by the name of Prism. He is apparently under the distant care of Magical Fae Brae, though it remains to be seen how strong their bond is together. Prism has been spending a fair amount of time terrorizing Charles, reportedly using his breath weapon to send Charles into a daze, making noises within earshot to drive Charles to the point of escaping into space for the night, and overall being a nuisance.

After a while, Magical Witch Leta Iovei showed up to offer her expertise in tracking the faerie dragon, but not only was she met with a rock behind Charles’s door, but when she finally did speak with Charles, he immediately had suspicions against her intentions. After hearing of his own intentions to fight her, your dear newsletter writer and Page of Light Tracy showed up out front of his house to respond to the potential disturbance. When I showed up, I immediately realized there was no dangerous conflict, and settled for just throwing some minecraft bread at Charles for making me worry about an actual attack. At least there’s been a confirmation that Tracy’s still doing well after her extended absence.

Screw you, *Unstucks your mines*

This week our group has finally defeated the Black King, who took on the shape of the Enderdragon, located in The End dimension. In fact, there was not just one Enderdragon, but TWO! Personally I don’t remember seeing a second one, but I do remember talk of the second one. The team that assembled for this grand battle was Rogue of Heart (Page of Life in-game) Charles, Witch of Time (Seer of Mind in-game) Katyleen Kitten, Magical Fae (Thief of Void in-game) Brae Emit, and your dear newsletter writer Mage of Light Nick Card. Brae supplied the vast majority of the supplies for the group, making everyone a set of terrasteel armor, enchanted chronolatch weapons, loaded mana tablets, sticks that shoot magic missiles, and a few useful baubles. We showed up to The End via the end portal and had to use various methods to reach the main landmass. Thankfully I had my Elytra and a grip of bottle rockets and was able to soar up to a tower, enough to deactivate it from a simple strike. Most of the others did the actual battle, I mostly attempted to use my equipment and failed half the time, and then decided to climb a tower after my bottle rockets and elytra stopped working. Halfway up the tower they managed to end the battle once and for all. Katie managed to claim the enderdragon egg which did not appear upon the end portal pedestal. This wound up being very lucky, as our game host Denizen Euphrosyne later called the party to gather irl in the Game Room to hand over everyone’s in-game inventories as gifts, including a minecraft modus, twenty (20) booncoins (the LoDaDLC currency, not to be confused with the economically destroyed boondollar), and an unspecified but large amount of grist. The two others though had also visited the minecraft world but were not present for the final battle, Samus Kitten and mysterious person “13″ also got care packages from the denizen, though it is unknown when 13 will show up to claim theirs. Here is video footage of the final battle, edited for your viewing pleasure: https://youtu.be/RIeCMgMenNA I do wonder what will hatch from the egg, it it’ll be a baby enderdragon or something. Not to mention the awkward question of what happened to the parents. It makes me wonder if the battle was truly worth it, knowing that we would bring an orphaned wyrmling into the world, with the blood of its parents fresh upon our hands. While I understand that the game asks of its players to fight the enderdragon, part of me feels like it could have ended differently.

Its Always Sunny In the Starter System

A few days ago, a land-sized planet made its way into the Starter System, briefly blocking the light of the main sun as seen from New Charcherry. The eclipse was brief, and reportedly the land has managed to settle into an orbit of some sort. It is unknown what can be found upon it. There may need to be further investigation into this newly discovered landmass.

That should do it for this week. Be careful with your minecraft items, they may do unexpected things with more physics present!

https://letssosl.boards.net/thread/270/charcherry-weekly-issue-48

#charcherry weekly #sbarg2.5dungeoncrashers #sbargv2 #dragons #minestuck #minecraft

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shireness-says · 5 years

Text

hashtag holiday party

Summary: This isn’t Emma’s company, or her holiday party, or her idea of a good time. Is there any good to be salvaged from the worst date ever? ~3.6K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3.

A/N: A couple of weeks ago, there was a great post about the worst company Christmas party date ever on the Ask a Manager blog, and I could resist turning it into a fic! Super thanks to @snidgetsafan, my ever trusty beta. Happy holidays, everyone!

Tagging the interested parties: @ohmightydevviepuu, @profdanglaisstuff, @kmomof4, @katie-dub, @welllpthisishappening, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @thejollyroger-writer, @phiralovesloki, @winterbaby89, @scientificapricot, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @spartanguard, @teamhook, @optomisticgirl

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Emma Swan has many regrets, but chief among them right now is agreeing to this date.

Well, no. First place on her list of regrets is awarded to going to Mary Margaret’s Christmas party, where she ended up trapped in conversation with Walsh.

(Ugh, Walsh. Just the name should have been her clue to get the hell out of dodge when he’d spotted her across the room.)

Walsh isn’t her friend. Walsh wouldn’t even be considered Mary Margaret’s friend, if not for the fact that the woman is friends with absolutely everyone on the planet. He’s her and David’s neighbor, and he had been in town for the holiday, and Mary Margaret’s got a soft spot the size of Maine for lost souls - it’s how she’s ended up Emma’s best friend, after all. Emma and Walsh had interacted at a few previous gatherings, and he’d been fine. No spark to speak of on her end, but whatever, she’s okay to leave it that way. But clearly, he felt differently, because he asked her to accompany him to his company’s holiday party. In full earshot of Mary Margaret, at that, who had gotten such an excited look on her face, obviously already planning the wedding, that Emma couldn’t actually say no. The bastard had probably planned it that way.

(Shit, she doesn’t even know what he does - marketing, maybe? She barely knows the guy, and now she’s being dragged to his holiday party.)

Emma may not be excited, but she puts on a good show at least - none of this slobbing it up to make him regret asking. She can clean up good. And besides, she’ll be shutting that all down with her words later anyways if he’s stupid enough to ask for a second date - no ploys required. The red dress is cocktail appropriate yet a little bit Christmassy, especially when paired with glittery heels, even if her makeup and hair is simple. There’s a big difference between putting in no effort at all, and knowing what just isn’t worth the effort… and anything more than a bit of eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick falls firmly into the latter category.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t too, as Walsh shows up early. Eight whole minutes early, to be precise. Not the end of the world, but not ideal either. Emma sighs heavily and braces herself before going to the door; Mary Margaret would tell her to be optimistic, but Emma just knows it’s all downhill from here.

Sure enough, as soon as Emma opens the door, Walsh clumsily whips a bunch of fake flowers out of his coat sleeve. “For you, milady,” he proclaims dramatically, offering the fake foliage. “I wanted to start with a magic trick for a magical date and the beginning of a magical relationship.”

And ho boy howdy, does Emma want to call it all off right now. That was the original definition of coming on too hard. That was so far beyond the bounds of acceptable first date behavior, she doesn’t even know where to go from there.

(Far, far away, and very quickly at that.)

Mary Margaret’s voice chimes in her ear, though, talking about how it’s sweet and charming and will be a great story to tell the grandkids one day, and Emma just knows she’ll shake her head in disappointment if Emma reports back that she ended the date before it even started. It’s especially hard to face Mary Margaret’s big sad eyes, too, when Emma knows that her friend just wants her to be happy.

Besides, she’s been led to believe there will be an open bar at this thing, and she could go for a free drink. Probably free drinks, plural, if the rest of this date goes the same way.

“O...kay. Okay. That’s… okay. Thank you?” Emma finally manages to stutter out, accepting his “gift”. Can’t say she’s ever received fake flowers from a guy - and can’t say she’d want to again.

“Anything for you, Emma.” His voice is about five notches too reverential for comfort. “Can I help you with your coat?”

“That’s fine, I got it.” No need to create an illusion - no pun intended - that she welcomes his attention any more than she actually does. Plus, she’s a grown woman, and it’s easy enough to slip her coat on over her dress by herself.

If any hope had existed that this date might get better - that this might turn into the cute story to tell their future kids that Mary Margaret is probably hoping for - that hope is thoroughly squashed by the time Emma slides into her seat at the party’s venue. Walsh had circled the parking lot for fifteen minutes, refusing to accept that there was a complimentary valet service (“I just don’t understand why they’ve got whole sections of the parking lot blocked off.” “Because there’s a valet.” “It just feels like there should be more parking spots. Why isn’t there any place to park?” “Because there’s a valet.”). Then, he refuses to give up his coat at the coat check for too goddamn long because, as it turns out, he has all manner of other magic tricks hidden in the pockets and up his sleeves.

It is not nearly as charming as he obviously believes.

Truthfully, it’s a relief when she and Walsh find their table, drink tickets in hand. At least at the table, there’s other people, and she won’t be forced to only focus on Walsh’s embarrassing attempts at seduction.

“Can I get you a drink?” he offers eagerly - almost too eagerly, really, practically tripping over himself.

Still, it’s an offer for a drink. And Emma’s in no place to refuse one of those, not with how she thinks this night is shaping up to go. “That’d be great, actually,” she replies, handing over her ticket. “Just some red wine please - I’m not real picky about what kind.” Anything alcoholic will do at this point.

As Walsh trots off towards the bar, Emma turns her attention towards the rest of the table. They’re a mixed bunch of men and women who smile kindly as Emma looks about. She’s grateful for that - hopefully, Emma can use them as a distraction from whatever she’s sure Walsh will get up to.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” the pretty brunette sitting next to Emma asks. It’s the polite way of pointing out that her companion hadn’t bothered to make introductions.

“Emma Swan,” she replies, extending a hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” she smiles back. “I’m Belle French, and this,” she gestures to the man sitting next to her, “is Killian Jones.”

“Hello, lass.” He’s a looker, to say the least - dark hair, blue eyes, charming smile. Sex on legs. Emma tries momentarily, futilely, to remind herself that she shouldn’t be checking out other men while she’s on a date, but fails spectacularly. It’s been evident since the magic flowers that she and Walsh aren’t going anywhere.

“Hi,” she waves back. “So you both work for the company, then?”

“Oh no,” Killian laughs. “Belle’s actually a librarian. She’s just here with me.”

And damn, isn’t that a pity; all the good ones seem to be taken. Not that she can blame Belle - the brunette seems to be lovely, and who wouldn’t want a piece of that?

(Emma doesn’t make a habit of ogling other women’s partners, but she just might make an exception for Killian Jones.)

Emma’s about to strike up a conversation with her neighbors, hopefully learn more - so what do you do here, how did you meet, is this some sort of flexible arrangement I can get in on - but Walsh returns with her drink at that moment.

It is not in a wine glass. It is not wine. It is not what she asked for.

“I got you a mudslide,” he explains with an eager look on his face. “I know how much women love chocolate after all!”

Women love wine too, especially this one, Emma thinks, but accepts the drink gingerly to be polite. No sense wasting the drink ticket. “Thanks,” she responds dryly. “I’m, uh… I’m actually not a big fan of chocolate. But I’m sure it’ll be… fine.” At least it’s liquor, and at least it’s something she can nurse. He could have shown up with a fireball shot.

“Well if you like, we can get you another drink later with -” Walsh darts a hand toward her ear suddenly, and even as Emma jerks away out of instinct, she knows exactly what’s coming. “- this!” He declares triumphantly with a coin in hand. Another magic trick. Because the first one went so well.

It’s… great.

“Huh. That’s… uh… wow. Huh.” There are no words to muddle through this with. There is only the mortification of watching a grown-ass man trying to woo her with magic tricks. “I was just getting to know some of your coworkers, actually; why don’t you introduce me?”

The rest of the table includes Walsh’s boss, Regina, and her husband Robin, and his coworker Ashley with her fiancé Sean. They’re perfectly nice, and friendly, and interesting, and Emma could almost enjoy herself talking to them - if only Walsh would ever give the magic tricks a break. He pulls handkerchiefs out of his sleeves when she reaches for a napkin, procures everything from drink tickets to miniscule flowers from a variety of places all too close to her person for comfort, and is now pulling out a deck of cards. God only knows how many magic tricks he knows with those.

“Why don’t you save those for later?” Emma suggests when he instructs her to pick a card. Without actually making it sound like a suggestion. Alright, it’s a straight-up order. In her defense, it’s been a long night. Walsh has monopolized her attention all evening with these stupid tricks and explanations of all the things they’ll do together, not even bothering to talk to his coworkers beyond the introductions Emma insisted upon. In fact, he’s grown even more insistent about it every time she’s tried to politely redirect his attention. She’s been making an effort at least - to talk about everyone’s Christmases and the baby that Ashley and Sean are expecting and Belle’s job. But it’s hard to keep any conversation going when she’s got Walsh bugging her every other moment to show her another magic trick. She hopes that the message maybe finally has gotten through with a flat refusal to engage. “Now Belle - you were about to tell us about one of the teen programs at the library?”

Unfortunately, Walsh doesn’t take that very well. In some ways, she supposes that the message to stop all the magic tricks finally did get through his thick skull - it’s just that he then stands up from the table and stalks over to the banquet hall’s piano, sitting down with a flourish. Maintaining eye contact with Emma the whole while - oh, how she wishes she hadn’t startled when he’d stood up and stormed away, wishes she had ignored him altogether - he begins to play.

“Is that Adele?” Regina asks after a moment.

Emma groans. “I’m going to need another drink.”

———

It just doesn’t make sense - how such a charming woman as Emma Swan ended up at this holiday party as the date of Walsh Ozman. Killian just can’t understand it; he has to work with Walsh every day, and he’s never been anything less than insufferable.

“I kind of got roped into it,” Emma explains, sipping on the glass of wine she’d finally procured with her second drink ticket. “My best friend is his neighbor, and we were both at her Christmas party, and before I knew it he was asking me and Mary Margaret was giving me that face she has. She’s a matchmaker - always just wants to see everyone happy and paired off. Romance is everywhere if you just look for it and all that.” She takes a long drink, nearly draining the rest of the glass. “Big crock of shit, if this is what it brings.”

He’d like to argue with her, tell her that it’s not all hopeless (if only for the very selfish reason that he’d like to show her otherwise on a much nicer date than she’s currently suffering through)... but Walsh strikes a particularly strong chord right at that moment, rendering anything Killian might try to say in poor taste. Christmas music has been piping through the room since before any of them arrived, but that doesn’t stop Walsh in the least. God, what an obnoxious prick.

“So, how did you two meet?” Emma asks, gesturing between Killian and Belle as she takes another sip, obviously trying to take her mind off the spectacle being staged in her honor across the room.

“Killian moved into the apartment next to mine… what, three years ago now?” Belle asks, looking to him for confirmation. “Anyways, I dropped by with a tray of cookies as a little ‘welcome to the building’ gesture, and as they say, the rest is history,” she beams.

“Of course you did,” he thinks he hears Emma mutter into the remains of her wine. Curious, that. It’s almost like she thinks… “Well, I’m happy for you two. You guys are really cute.”

Killian spares a glance at Belle before hastening to reply. “Oh, no, we’re not -”

But before he can clarify the situation - that he and Belle are just friends, no romantic spark to speak of - the distinct strains of “You’re So Vain” drift over from the piano, where Walsh wears a mournful face best suited to sad puppy dog commercials. Like this whole moment isn’t already the stuff of a terrible comedy movie.

Ashley pushes her drink tickets across the table. “I think you might need something a little stronger.”

The understatement of the century.

———

Emma Swan ends up with a lot of spare drink tickets; everyone seems to recognize that she needs them a lot more than anyone else. With her spare drink tickets, Emma Swan procures a martini, a vodka cranberry, and two rum and cokes before anyone insists she switch to water. It’s certainly understandable that she’d want to drink her way through this utter disaster of a date.

Walsh still plays the piano.

Killian, in turn, discovers that Emma Swan is an effusively nice drunk. She assures Ashley and Sean that they’re going to the best parents, and declares that Regina is both a queen and a boss-ass bitch in a tone that makes it clear that it’s the highest compliment. Killian thinks he even overhears Emma telling Belle that she’s “an angel nurturing the minds of tomorrow so they can make the world a better place and perpetuate the power of human kindness” as he returns with her final cocktail.

(He just might have to print off business cards with that mouthful of a title as a gag gift for Belle.)

Eventually, Walsh does tire of his dramatics and return to the table in a huff. Unfortunately, he’s very insistent that it’s time to leave. It makes sense; this party can’t have been much fun for him, despite the elaborate wallowing routine he created for himself. That means Emma has to leave too, though, and Killian will miss her bright smile and endearingly excessive compliments. There’s also the matter of how he’s not sure he trusts Walsh to take her home.

“You know what, Belle and I are about ready to call it a night too. We’ll follow you out,” he insists. Walsh’s glare only solidifies Killian’s determination to do so. “Swan, do you want to text your friend and let her know you’re on your way?”

“I should text Mary Margaret!” Emma slurs. “Have I told you she’s an angel?”

“You sure did, love.”

The coat check shouldn’t result in any great debacle; it’s the coat check after all, practically just a formality. They get their coats, they go. Unfortunately, it’s Walsh, so unfortunately, that’s not the case.

“You’re like a… like a coat guard. A coat-yguard!” Emma grins as her outerwear is handed back. With clumsy fingers, she extracts a ten dollar bill from her wallet - a little excessive, most likely, but hell, she’s feeling good - and drops it into the tip jar.

Only for Walsh to snatch it right back out.

“You don’t have to pay the tip for me,” Emma insists with a stubborn set to her brows. “I’m fine to do it.”

“Coat check is free, baby,” Walsh tells her with a patronizing tone, trying to stuff the bill into his own coat pocket. Poor taste, that, but still not nearly as poor of taste as refusing to tip.

“Yeah, that’s why you tip,” Emma insists, snatching the bill from his hand to stick it back in the jar again.

“Don’t be stupid, that’s just a scam.” Walsh even rolls his eyes as he reaches back to the jar again.

Emma slaps his hand on the way. “You know what, you douchebag -”

“Emma would you like a ride home with us instead?” Belle interrupts, reading the situation. It’s more than for the best; Killian doesn’t trust Walsh as far as he can spit.

“Oh my god, yes.” After Emma manages to wrestle back into her coat, she turns back to Walsh for one parting shot. “Now that is what a date is supposed to look like, bozo. These two? They’re hashtag relationship goals.” She even makes the symbol with her hands.

He should correct her, really, but at a certain point, it just seems best to steer Emma out of the building and into his car.

By some miracle, her building is only two blocks away from their own. Emma spends the ride in the backseat with Belle, playing with the brunette’s hair and insisting they exchange numbers.

“You’ve been a goddamn gem, Killian Jones,” she salutes in parting as Belle leads her inside.

This night has been many things, but memorable certainly tops the list. One thing is for certain: he won’t be forgetting Emma Swan anytime soon.

———

Emma wakes the next day with a pounding headache, an intense feeling of humiliation, and Belle French’s number in her phone. Surely, she’s had worse nights, but it’s hard to think of any right now.

She finally manages to work up the nerve to text Belle in mid-afternoon; she definitely owes a variety of people a variety of apologies.

Emma Swan, 4:32pm: hey, it’s Emma. thanks for taking care of my drunk ass last night, i’m sure i was a mess. sorry about that

Belle French, 4:41pm: Don’t worry about it, please! You were great, we should do something again sometime.

Emma Swan, 4:44pm: no mixing drinks, please, for the love of god

Emma Swan, 4:45pm: thank Killian for me too. lucky girl - he seems like a real keeper. unlike my date last night…

Belle French, 4:47: Will do! He’s not my boyfriend, though - we really are just neighbors. He’s like a brother to me, truly. Credit where credit is due, though - he really was a lot better than your tosser!

Emma Swan, 4:51: … oh.

Emma Swan, 4:51: do you know if he has a different girlfriend, then?

Belle French, 4:53: I know for a fact that he doesn’t. Let me send you his number.

———

She should be brave - should use that phone number to reach out and ask him to coffee or drinks or straight into a steamy make-out session.

Emma Swan does not do any of these things.

(She especially doesn’t tell Mary Margaret - it was already bad enough to have to relive exactly why she and Walsh won’t be having a second date, there’s no need to encourage her friend to transfer all her hopes to poor Killian instead.)

Instead, she runs into Killian completely by chance a week later, as he’s coming out of the post office and she’s walking to the coffee shop. She nearly plows him over, actually - far too focused on checking her email on her phone and not nearly enough on where she’s going.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he grins once they’ve straightened themselves out again.

“Yeah,” Emma laughs. “And sober this time, too!”

(Not one of her stronger lines.)

“A real plus for certain.” Well, at least he seems charmed.

They lapse into a silence for a moment before Emma finds the words to continue. “I just want to thank you, for being so great that night. And apologize for… everything I did. God, I was a mess that night.”

“You were in the middle of a disaster of a situation,” Killian smiles at her.

“Yeah, well, let’s just call it a lapse in judgement and leave it at that.” Emma winces as memories of the night flick through her brain. “God, did I really make the hashtag symbol with my hands? In public?”

“You really did,” he chuckles. “I take it Belle straightened you out on the relationship bit of relationship goals?”

Emma blushes. “Yeah, she did. Definitely not mortified about that, not at all.”

“Ah, happens to the best of us, Swan.” After another silent moment, his hand steals up to scratch at the bit of neck behind his ear. “Since that’s the case, I was just wondering - well, I’d like to ask, that is, if you’re interested -”

“Do you want to get coffee with me?” Emma interrupts. She thinks that’s where he was going, anyways; she’s just a little more efficient about it.

“I’d love to, Emma.” This time, the grin stretches fully across his face and could probably outshine a whole tree’s worth of Christmas lights.

Who knows? Something good just might have come out of that god-awful holiday party date after all.

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #my writing #hashtag holiday party #featuring the world's worst date

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maiz-of-light · 4 years

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All in the Cards: A Brief Introduction to the Tarot

Good evening, loves!

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog post on paganism, and with Beltane fast-approaching and my spiritual senses heightened, I would like to break that hiatus. I’ve already written briefly about setting up an altar space and using crystals for everyday purposes; now, I’d like to address the spirits’ most effective method of communication with humanity: the Tarot.

I started using Tarot cards about a year ago, when my finances and living situation finally allowed me to create a safe space for readings. Ever since, I have learned much about myself, my environment, and my own unique spiritual journey. The first thing I recall from beginning the process was quite the opposite of what I’ve since achieved: utter confusion. I had no clue where or how to start!

The start of my path was rocky, and although I eventually pulled through, I wish I would have had some sort of beginner’s guide to show me what to expect before beginning my journey. This post is dedicated to anyone who may now be in that same boat.

BEFORE YOU BEGIN

Please note that this is only an introduction; your journey is your own, and as such, the energy you transfer into your own deck will bear unique results and interpretations. This guide, I hope, will simply give you an idea of what to expect during your first few months as a reader.

Now, without further adieu...

The Minor Arcana

Tarot decks are not your everyday playing cards, but there are similarities. Because they are already commonly known, these are a good place to begin your study of the deck.

Every Tarot deck comprises 78 cards: the traditional 52 cards (also known as the Minor Arcana), ace through ten, Knight or Jack, Queen, and King; their Pages; and the 22 of the Major Arcana. We’ll begin by reviewing the traditional(ish) four sets of 13 and their Pages.

Wands

The Wands family, or the Deck of Wands, is represented by the element of air. As such, these cards tend to be indicative of figures and events that may require additional energy, creativity, or entrepreneurial effort. Wands cards present the most lighthearted of omens.

Astrology: Planets to consider: Uranus, Mercury, Venus; Constellations to consider: Aquarius, Gemini, Libra.

Cups

The Cups family is represented by the element of water, and deals with deep emotions and emotional connections. A reading from the Deck of Cups may symbolize a new relationship or friendship, a deepened connection, or, on the less appealing side, heartbreak or loss.

Astrology: Planets to consider: the Moon, Pluto, Neptune; Constellations to consider: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces.

Pentacles

The Pentacles Family is represented by the element of earth, and deals with material gains and carnal affairs. A card of Pentacles might advise you to pick up a new craft, or prepare for an increase of wealth, or foreshadow grave carnal worries.

Astrology: Planets to consider: Saturn, Venus, Mercury; Constellations to consider: Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo

Swords

Represented by the element of fire, the Deck of Swords is perhaps the most intense family of the Tarot. Readings may range anywhere from symbolizing or foreshadowing a sudden epiphany, to a stalemate, to a betrayal, and so on.

Astrology: Planets to consider: Mars, the Sun, Jupiter; Constellations to consider: Aries, Leo, Sagittarius.

The Major Arcana

The Major Arcana is interesting in that it originated as its own set of playing cards. Also known as the “trumps,” this deck is represented by the fifth element, most commonly referred to as Spirit. Each of the 22 cards symbolizes a figure or event with heavy spiritual significance. This deck is composed of:

the Fool

the Magician

the High Priestess

the Empress

the Emperor

the Hierophant

the Lovers

the Chariot

Strength

the Hermit

Wheel of Fortune

Justice

the Hanged Man

Death

Temperance

the Devil

the Tower

the Star

the Moon

the Sun

Judgement

the World

Types of Readings

Once you’ve familiarized yourself with the cards, you can better begin to consider the different ways to read them.

A Card a Day

Drawing one card every day is comparable to reading a horoscope, but more personal to the reader because of the direct touch. This reading is ideal for giving you a quick glance at what may be in store for you today. Try to draw your card before leaving your house for the day, if applicable.

Past, Present, Future

Three-card readings are one of the most common. The first card you draw symbolizes an element of your past, the second represents a significant element of your present as effected by the first, and the third shows you where you are headed.

A Year in Review

Twelve-card readings are a lot of fun for New Years, birthdays, or any other major holiday or annual date of significance. Begin by drawing for the current month, then move from right to left, top to bottom for the following months, until you’ve drawn one card for each month of the year.

Tips for Shuffling

The first step of any reading is, of course, properly shuffling the deck.

Begin by spreading the cards out before you, then gather them back together however they choose to fall.

Cut the deck three ways. If you’re drawing for yourself, you cut. If you’re reading for someone else, you shuffle, but have them cut. Then, you draw.

Helpful Hints for Beginners

Now that you’ve covered the bases, here are a few things I’ve picked up over the course of my journey.

Cleansing your deck

It’s always a good idea to cleanse your deck every so often to rid it of foreign energy: before the first time you use it, after doing a reading for another person, after the deck has been handled by someone else (or stepped on by a cat, as happens to me quite often), or just whenever you feel the time is right. Sage smoke is the most commonly used for cleansing, but there are many other alternatives as well.

Reading reversals

Because of their vague nature, reversals are often considered an unnecessary option, sometimes even feared as all-negative omens. That’s not the case. A reversal simply means the opposite of a card’s typical reading. For example, if you were to draw the four of Pentacles in reverse, it could mean you need to prepare for upcoming financial hardships.

Don’t become a self-fulfilling prophecy

This is a difficult thing to do sometimes, especially with the more intense card readings. Should you find yourself caught in a bad omen, it’s best not to try to avoid it. Instead, do what you can to prepare yourself emotionally, financially, or otherwise.

Note astrological / celestial figures

Tarot cards are a form of communication between us and the spirits of the earth, but that doesn’t mean the celestial influences don’t combine their energy with the cards as well. Pay attention what planetary bodies are in what signs. If you’re not in a good place to read the stars, download an app that tracks them instead. I use Time Passages.

Keep a journal

You may find your experiences more beneficial if you track each reading. Be sure to number your entries, and to include the date, time, and number of cards drawn. Begin by jotting down your initial thoughts. You may want to go back later the same day and add any other comments on your reading and how it may have translated into the day’s events.

Tarot cards in rituals

Personally, I don’t use Tarot cards in many spells, but I do occasionally use them to enhance crystal magic. For performing such rituals, your altar should include some sort of cloth or talisman; it could be a pentacle, or some other symbol. Place your Tarot card on one of the five points or sections of the talisman: North if it’s a Pentacle, South if it’s a Sword, West if it’s a Cup, East if it’s a Wand. If you draw one of the trumps, place it in the center of the talisman. Set your crystal(s) nearby and light a candle so that it shines on both the crystal(s) and the card, then speak your blessing or intention over the flame.

Myths about purchasing your first Tarot deck

There’s an old legend that warns of bad luck clinging to the deck purchased by a first-time reader, and that all first-decks ought to then be either gifted or stolen. This legend is only a myth passed down by ancient Gypsy tribes who were thought to be smuggling with money gained by dishonest means. So long as you cleanse your deck immediately after purchasing it and keep the cards stored somewhere safe, no misfortune will follow you.

~ And we conclude! ~

We’ll wrap up with a reminder that this is only a beginner’s guide! And speaking of guides, I’m sure you’ve noticed that I didn’t include the translations of each individual card. Simply put, that would take way too long. There are guidebooks available for cheap that provide good summaries of what each card could mean; or, tarot.com is a free website also providing short descriptions of each card.

I hope you found this guide helpful, loves. And if you’re having difficulty acquiring a Tarot deck of your own, don’t be afraid to look online! There are tons of unique, beautifully-illustrated card decks equipped to boost your spiritual journey.

As always, stay safe and take care,

~ Gail

#pagan #paganism #wicca #pagan wicca #tarot #tarot cards #tarot deck #tarot readings #spiritual journey #blog post #pagan blog #baby pagan

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intrepidguardian · 5 years

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How Design Miscues are Failing Portrayals of Relationships in MTG

Discourse? Discourse.

Love is a difficult topic to discuss because it can encompass so many things that aren’t “love” - you know what I mean, the kind of stuff that would get a fanfic tagged as “fluff.” My wife’s and my third anniversary is coming up, and more and more I find myself still learning about what love is. I love the study, but I know that I could fill hundreds of external hard drives with epitaphs and musings about every interaction my wife and I have had, each exemplifying a different aspect of our love and still not get the point across of just how much I love her.

(Btw I love you Ash and thank you for helping me edit this)

So how could you get an idea as complex as love across in the 25 words you’re allowed on your average Magic card? More to the point, why bother portraying love in Magic: The Gathering?

"Players won’t care until they are cards.” - Matt Cavotta, Senior Art Director for Wizards of the Coast, discussing the motivation for implementing Planeswalkers as a card type.

A few years back, and I’m sorry that I can’t find the actual post, someone asked Mark Rosewater something to the effect of “Red is supposed to be the ‘emotional color,’ yet the only emotion we tend to see out of Red is anger. WTF?”

Mark responded that R&D was working towards showing different aspects of the emotional spectrum in Red, but was hampered by the fact that Magic: The Gathering is a game about fighting and it was difficult to portray anything other than MAD RED in a game about fighting.

“No, my battlefield only has room for more Goblin Chainwhirlers.” - Solid Snake, probably.

A little while later, they apparently cracked the love code and printed Cathartic Reunion in Kaladesh, which was meant to portray Chandra finally reuniting with her mother Pia Nalaar, when both thought that the other had died years ago.

Shoutout to all my Dredge opponents that keep beating me with four-card hands thanks to this card.

Like yeah, it’s a nice moment and a nice piece of art. It’s not romantic love, but it’s familial love. You can see the love between Chandra and Pia in their embrace, and I think this might be one of the first portrayals of a hug in Magic: The Gathering [someone prove me wrong]. When you only have 25 words to explain love, the art and flavor text can pick up the slack. But mechanically, what is this saying about maternal love, or love in general? Is love just more inherent deck consistency? Is drawing cards the greatest display of love in Magic: The Gathering? Artistically and flavorfully, this card is trying to say a lot. Mechanically, this card could have easily been called “Super Rummage” or “Elicit the Dredge” and no one would be able to tell the difference. This card is trying to show what love is, but without any sort of mechanical tie-in, Cathartic Reunion just tells you what love is.

Wow, my opponent loves me A WHOLE LOT!

I would say that the best way to explain love is to show love. And I think the best way to show love is to show people who love each other interact positively with one another. Like, love is hard to explain but is easy to see. When you see two people who love each other interact, you can just tell. Maybe it’s small physical gestures or communication purely through facial expressions, but when love is there, it’s obvious. Yes, the art of Cathartic Reunion clearly shows a tender love between Chandra and Pia, but both Chandra and Pia Nalaar were given cards in Kaladesh! Show us how they interact where we are most likely to see both of them: on the battlefield!

What are these cards doing for one another when both are on the battlefield? Not a lot. Chandra’s second +1 makes enough mana to use Pia’s first activated ability one additional time.

That’s cool, I guess.

Pia has a tag-along flying creature that can block for Chandra once, so Pia is essentially two blockers for a planeswalkers.

Yeah, but Whirler Rogue can make a bunch of Thopters to block for Chandra, so what does that mean? There’s no love between Chandra and some random Vedalken just because the three-drop blocks real good.

</3

There isn’t any mechanical unity here. Chandra doesn’t care about artifacts, and Pia doesn’t care about card advantage or incidental damage. They can do some things for each other, yes, but there isn’t anything for a deck builder to go “Hmm, how can I maximize this?” It’s the mechanical equivalent of Pia and Chandra getting Amazon gift cards for each other for their birthday - a display of love, but not a particularly meaningful one.

Well, here you go. -Chandra

But maybe this isn’t fair. Pia Nalaar’s card maybe wasn’t supposed to work well with Chandra, it was supposed to convey a sense of emptiness from missing Kiran, her husband who had actually been killed. They had been shown on their own card in Magic Origins, which is powerful enough that it hovers around Modern whenever Jund or Grixis are good. Pia’s card is cheaper, but comparatively weaker, and even when you look at the art, Pia Nalaar is significantly dimmer and emptier than the card Pia and Kiran Nalaar.

“What does Kiran bring to this relationship? DO THE MATH!” -My Grandmother-in-Law, maybe

Maybe before we can show a good example of familial love in card mechanics, we need to show people in love working together on the battlefield!

So let’s grab some examples. Three couples right now in Magic that people are really talking about are Jace x Vraska, Tomik x Ral Zarek, and Chandra x Nissa. If you wanted to show some cozy couples, what’s cozier than being in a deckbox with your significant other?

Jace x Vraska

Well, these cards could maybe work together? Not a lot of decks can make two blue mana on turn three and then turn around and make black and green mana on turn six.

Mana problems aside, they kind of work well together. Jace is looking for creatures to get through combat damage and Vraska makes difficult to block creature tokens thanks to Menace. However, there’s also a cost problem here, which is that Jace wants to come down turn three and Vraska, the muscle of this relationship with all the free blockers, doesn’t come down for another three turns, so Jace has to try and hide behind a Bird that goes away if you look at it too long while Vraska’s trying to get mana together. If you can find a way to get both on the battlefield in the same deck, maybe it works, but it’s a lot of work without a lot of payoff.

Okay, what about a more recent example? Chandra and Nissa both got new cards in War of the Spark and they’re supposed to be canon, so they probably have something going on between their two cards.

Chandra x Nissa

This is a pretty symbiotic relationship - Chandra finds extra cards to cast, and Nissa makes a lot of mana to cast those extra cards and creates blockers so the player has time to do so. It’s the RG formula we see in a lot of ramp decks in this color combination - Green makes the mana, red makes the otherwise-unwieldy payoffs. But much like Chandra’s mechanical relationship with Pia, this doesn’t feel special or unique. Yeah, Chandra finds extra cards, but she also comes into play before Nissa, so there’s a turn of vulnerability where Nissa might arrive too late to actually help Chandra. And anyone could do that “find extra cards” job. See, look:

It’s like the dating game, but for really, really sad people

They all can do the same “get extra cards” thing for the player the way Chandra can, and all benefit from the blockers and extra mana that Nissa produces.. Mechanically, there is some synergy between Chandra and Nissa, but there’s nothing that speaks to the relationship between the two characters - it feels more like a convenient coincidence that these two cards work together rather than two people who finally came together when it mattered most.

Maybe what we need is a mix-up - people represented on different card types could have more design space for synergistic effects.

Tomik x Ral

So the last pairing is Tomik x Ral. I don’t know if any of you have bought a “Planeswalker Deck,” but a big selling point to those cards for beginners is that there is usually a creature in the deck that benefits from having that deck’s planeswalker in play. They’re flavorful and fun to get out ahead when when you find your planeswalker, but they’ve never been really viable for tournament play. A planeswalker like Ral being in a relationship with a non-planeswalker seems like the perfect fit for creating a competitive-level combination of creature and planeswalker and could really highlight the relationship between Tomik and Ral.

Yeah, they didn’t even try with this one. Double white on turn 2 into Red and Blue on turn 4 is already a tall order, but these two cards have entirely separate goals. Tomik, a card designed for Legacy, really wants to hate on his opponents trying to manipulate their lands.

Ral doesn’t have the word “land” on his card, and is a card designed with card advantage and maybe some combos in mind.

They’re two totally different cards designed for two totally different decks. I get that. My point is that they shouldn’t be. Wizards clearly knows how to design “planeswalkers matter” creatures, had an opportunity to do so, and instead opted to design a Legacy card to hate out cards that don’t exist in Legacy anymore.

You barely even deserve this, WotC.

That last bit was a little dense. I get it, it’s hard to read without caring a lot about flavorful mechanics, but I am trying to get my point across that Wizards had so many opportunities to make cards that could work together and mechanically create a sense of a relationship between characters and repeatedly chose not to, instead prioritizing other design goals. If I’m coming on a little strongly, it is because I know Wizards knows how to do this. In fact, Wizards had the opposite problem to the Chandra x Nissa issue, waaaay back in Battle for Zendikar.

“...and the Lord of the Multiverse said to Gideon, “It is not good for a planeswalker to be alone,” and so the Lord created Nissa and brought her to Gideon who jubilantly exclaimed: ‘Voice of my voice! Planeswalker of my heart! I shall call you Nissa, Voice of Zendikar! Together we shall grow plants and make Ally offspring and they shall have dominion over the entire plane of Zendikar!’ And the Lord of the Multiverse saw that it was very good...” -A very tongue-in-cheek quote by Craig Wescoe discussing Nissa, Voice of Zendikar in the upcoming Oath of the Gatewatch set.

Do you see this? Do you get it?

These two cards were made for each other.

There are a lot of similarities between these cards, and because they’re similar, they work well together in a lot of ways, all of which scream “PLAY US IN THE SAME DECK.”

1. Both Planeswalkers make tokens without losing loyalty. 2. Both Planeswalkers have an ability that gets better with more tokens, and can boost each other’s tokens. 3. Nissa curves into Gideon and can help make a safe battlefield for him. 4. Nissa coming down late is still good for Gideon, and she can even boost him with a +1/+1 counter when he’s a creature. 5. Both Planeswalkers have the same naming convention: Planeswalker, Whatever of Zendikar. We’re battling for Zendikar, of course I want Zendikar’s Ally and Zendikar’s Voice!

“But wait!” somebody wanting to say something said. “Two green mana on Turn 3 could be tough, and needing two white mana on turn 4 is even tougher!”

Well, hold on there buckaroo, because have I got the love note in a Magic card for you:

We didn’t see it, but Gideon planeswalked to a high school on Theros and had a popular girl fold this card up into a little triangle before giving it to Nissa.

This card is the perfect mechanical tie-in for a Nissa x Gideon deck. Card selection has rarely ever been afforded to white decks, and GW token decks have often struggled with getting their mana right to cast their white payoff cards without making room for superfluous mana decks, and even then that might not fix it (just ask Richard Bland about his GW Tokens deck in the Worlds 2011 finals). And as a little bonus, this card can get either Nissa or Gideon or, you know, whatever creatures you wanted, and what color combination was going to have more efficient creatures AND planeswalkers than Green and White Mechanically, these cards work so well together and they look like they’re supposed to work together.

In fact, this was the core of an incredibly powerful GW Tokens deck that won Pro Tour Shadows over Innistrad in the hands of Steve Rubin.

And when I was younger and looking at this deck for the first time, I thought Wizards would leap at the opportunity to pair these two up. Two reasonably popular planeswalkers paired up together to save a plane and worked really well together when I sleeved them up together? For a time, I was locked in - I thought Nissa x Gideon was going to be canon, and the lead-up to Kaladesh was where we’d see a little fluff between the two, or at the very least some genuine bonding between the flagship planeswalkers of the two colors most-interested in community. Instead, we got this:

Nissa: You’re being a little extra for me.

Gideon: My bad lol.

I was a little salty about that interaction (mostly because it felt like every color combination in the Gatewatch has had a good or at least interesting interaction, except green and white), but I was down with Nissa x Chandra. It seemed like they had some chemistry in the story, and I was excited to see that chemistry reflected in the cards. Instead, we got a whole lot of nothing, which is infuriating because Wizards knows how to mechanically tie-in planeswalkers.

Okay Wizards, here’s your second fifth chance...

So why is all this important? Why go into this deep dive about card mechanics trying to convey something that is decidedly not a mechanic in Magic: the Gathering?

It’s because love can be expressed in this game’s mechanics, which is really hard in a game about fighting, but also a very unique opportunity. A card can care about what another card is doing, can subtly emulate what another card is doing or how it is presenting, and other cards can tie the two together. That kind of mechanical interlinking has a real-world analogue: a genuine, deep love for another person. Wizards has clearly struggled with the problem of portraying relationships in a way that its multiple player bases will care about and want to play with. The solution to that problem is creating powerful cards that mechanically care about one other and attributing those cards and mechanics to characters that emotionally care about each other in its stories.

Wizards, you clearly know how to do that, so...

#mtg #magic the gathering #mtgcommunity #mtg discourse #discourse

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carolinesbookworld · 6 years

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Clue - Theseus Scamander

Pairing: Theseus Scamander x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: PURE FLUFF, mentions of reader having anxiety (I based this off of myself)

Masterlist

A/N: Clue is my all-time favorite game and last weekend I played it so many times with my grandparents. Here is the result.

You had a bad feeling about this game. Why on earth would you ever want to play your favorite board game with your favorite people? You knew it would only end in lots of hate from you if you didn’t win. Yet Theseus had already invited your friends over and here you all were, gathered around the kitchen table laying the game out.

Mysteries had always been your favorite, so of course the game of the night was Clue. You had taught Theseus how to play years ago, and his favorite thing was to challenge you in a one-on-one. Though it was hard, magic was a gift, giving you the ability to have a third or fourth person, so-to-speak, playing against the two of you. It added the perfect challenge that you had always wanted.

As a child, you always begged your family to play, but never had they agreed. Instead, you coerced your younger siblings to play with you. It wasn’t as fun, but it allowed you to learn the basic skills necessary for your current job as an Investigator for the Ministry of Magic.

When Theseus suggested a game night, you were all for it. What you didn’t realize was that he would be inviting Newt, who in turn invited Tina, Queenie, and Jacob. Not that you minded having more people, it just made your instinct of protectiveness spike, as Clue was a game special for you and Theseus. Not to mention, you would have less of an advantage with more people.

“Y/N.” Theseus’ voice broke you out of your thoughts. Your head jerked up to see him laying out the game boxes on the kitchen counter. “You’re pacing again.”

“Sorry,” you replied, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. He quickly made his way toward you. His thumb ran over your lips, pulling them away from your teeth.

“You know I hate when you do that,” he mumbled.

You ducked your head sheepishly. “Sorry, I can’t help it.” Your hands twitched and began to shake.

“Y/N,” he sighed, exasperated. His hands took your own, holding them tightly to still the shaking.

“Sor-”

“Don't be. I know things like this don't help your anxiety.” Your eyes flicked up to meet his blue orbs. “I love you.” You smiled softly as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It's going to be alright.”

----

The game was set up fairly quickly, you and Jacob taking charge, as the two of you were the only ones who had played it often in the past.

Jacob began explaining the rules as you dealt out the cards, setting three aside as the murderer, murder weapon, and murder room. Once the three cards had been chosen, Jacob shoved them into the envelope and placed them in the center of the board. Before anyone had so much as looked at their cards, Tina said, “Queenie, no cheating!”

“And now the game begins,” you said, glancing at Theseus. He sent you a wink, causing your lips to turn up into a smile.

As with any board game played with numerous people, the game went slowly. Playing with six people, four of whom needed to learn (or re-learn, in Theseus’s case) the rules and strategies, turned out to be a slight challenge in the beginning. You felt better as the game wore on, narrowing down the possibilities of who, what, and where sitting inside the envelope. Nearly an hour later, the group was in for a shock.

“I would like to make an accusation,” Newt announced. A low murmuring ran around the table. “I accuse: Mrs. Peacock with the knife in the study.” There was a pause before Newt jumped to attention. “Oh, I open the envelope now, don’t I?”

Theseus nodded as Jacob said, “Yeah, now you get to see what cards are in that.” Newt took the envelope and opened it, examining the cards inside.

“Well,” Jacob prompted, “How did you do?”

“Missed one. Oh, well I guess I was wrong,” Newt said. He returned the cards to the envelope.

“And now we see yours,” Jacob said, gesturing for Newt to lay down his cards. Newt did so, and everyone made noises of surprise or confusion.

“Well, I thought I knew what all of his was,” Queenie stated. “But that one there don’t match up!”

Theseus cleared his throat before saying, “Let’s just play a few more rounds.” He sent a look in your direction, and you smiled smugly, feeling victorious already.

As suggested, the game went on for a few more rounds until someone else decided to take a chance. Your apprehension bubbled over and you sat in restless anticipation as Tina stated confidently, “I accuse: Mrs. Peacock with the knife in the billiard room.” You shook your head, glaring at the envelope in the center of the board. Tina took the envelope and opened it. She fanned out the cards, smiling smugly. “Mrs. Peacock,” she placed that card on the table, “with the knife,” the weapon card dropped down next to Mrs. Peacock’s passive face, “in the billiard room.”

“I bloody hate this game!” You cried. You threw your notebook across the table, sending all the game pieces and flying. The group laughed and began to pick up the game. Instead of staying to help, you slipped out of the kitchen and into your bedroom down the hall.

Oh, how you hated that game sometimes! It was alright playing with just Theseus, because you could beat him easily. You almost forgot Tina thought in a manner very similar to yourself. It made you even more angry knowing she would gloat everytime Clue was mentioned in the future.

You pushed the bedroom window up, letting in the summer night breeze. The cool air chilled your skin, calming you in a way few other things could. A pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind as Theseus rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I hope you aren’t mad,” he mumbled. If his lips hadn’t been next to your ear, you probably wouldn’t have heard him speak at all.

You shook your head. “I’m not.” He chuckled lowly.

“You and I both know that’s not true, love.” You ignored his statement, focusing on the noise of the city around. The street your apartment block was on seemed separate from the rest of the city, the sounds of the night life just barely echoing off the buildings. Once in a great while, when you and Theseus had nights off, you dragged him up to the roof to just listen. More often than not, you ended up falling asleep, and he would have to carry you downstairs from the roof.

You finally shrugged. “I had fun with our friends. That’s what matters, isn’t it?” You felt, more than saw, Theseus’s lips curve into a smile. He pressed a loving kiss to your neck before turning your body around to face him.

“Of course, Y/N. But I know you also love winning.” Theseus shook his head fondly. “And that’s something I love about you.”

You giggled. “You’re a sap, you know that?” Theseus opened his mouth, but you cut him off before any words came out. “And don’t you dare say ‘But I’m your sap’ or so help me I will punch you in your pretty face.”

Theseus fixed his eyes on a point just beyond your head, a doubtful look on his face. “No you won’t,” he shook his head, “because you love me too much.”

“It’s not possible to love you too much,” you replied immediately.

“Now who’s the sap?” Your laugh sounded like angels singing to Theseus’s ears. His smile broadened. “It’s alright, though, because I love you more.” He leaned down and kissed you gently, cradling your face with one hand. When he pulled back, he asked, “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Might’ve mentioned it a few times,” you grinned.

“Oh, shut up.” Theseus’s playful tone immensely brightened your mood about losing. Even though you lost your favorite game, you thought you were winning at life, and that was so much better.

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homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years

Photo

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Sara!

You have been accepted for the role of non-biography character, CONFIDENCE “CONNOR” BROWN! This application was an absolute delight to read! I loved how developed you’ve made Connor and I feel like he’ll have a lot of really fun things to bring to the table. I am really excited to have an Order member who is sort of is he part of us, but yeah he’s really part of us. I am so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Sara

AGE: fourscore and seven years ago…

TIMEZONE: est

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m around every day and will try to post most days

ANYTHING ELSE: Nothing in particular, I can take care of my own squicks.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Confidence Brown (he goes by Connor)

AGE: 26

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Connor is certain he’s heard of this thing called gender, he even plays her every so often but… owning it? Having one? Oh, sorry, no. He hasn’t owned one since he was in fifth year and he realized he really didn’t have to. That did not go over well with his parents who had joined, and remain, part of a severe religious community. The whole witch thing also didn’t go over well but they made peace until makeup started coming out. Sexuality is much the same. Connor uses he/him pronouns and relishes the comparative freedom of the magical community verses the muggle in this regard.

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin–what’s that? All Slytherin’s are blood purist arseholes? Connor might not have had the easiest path at Hogwarts or elsewhere but that’s not to say he didn’t make friends (or gather the right blackmail to smooth the way) and insinuating that everyone is evil from his house would earn a laugh or a hex and maybe both.

ANY CHANGES:

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

There are two certain things about Connor Brown: he’s going to survive and he’s going to be fabulous while doing it.

Sure his mother named him Confidence well before he showed any of that but he certainly grew into the name. How could he not with the looks kids gave him on the playground? And then when he first tumbled off the Hogwarts Express and into Slytherin. That’s not to say Connor deserves pity–oh no. He’s taken everything he’s gotten and cheerfully made it into something he can not only enjoy but thrive in.

Slytherin became a (sometimes dangerous) playground of learning who to befriend and who to blackmail (and Connor, true to the house he had been sent to, was always good at that). When he was asked to leave his parent’s house, he found another–a better one.

His ego led him to believe that he would have to gift the wizarding world with Camp but one accidental step down the wrong alley and into Ganymede Gentleman’s Club (it can’t be that, can it?) showed him that the wizarding world has known what Camp is for generations.

The problem is much of Connor is bravado and showmanship. Sure he is quite talented in disguising spells, and he’s always had a deft hand at arranging muggle or magical transportation! But every dance has to come to an end some time or else a guy or gal will twist their ankle and make it end. Connor has learned never to lean too hard on anyone and that self-protection has carried him well, but it’s a two-sided blade that can easily lead to a sloppy mistake that could get him or someone in his care killed. That’s not even to speak of his pridefulness and penchant for eavesdropping… and possibly lacing a drink or two.

For recon purposes, of course, and only for the Order.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

His parents Mary and Jon Brown disowned him after catching him coming home from a party all dressed up at eighteen. Parties were bad enough, what he was dressed in was worse. He moved out that night.

Be-Joyful Brown: sister. it took a while but now they are back in contact and even meet up occasionally… in public. She is two years younger than him.

Lavender Brown: Joy’s young daughter. Connor calls her the Lavender Menace… Joy doesn’t understand given that Lavender is an infant and can’t menace anything.

OCCUPATION:

Connor happened upon the Ganymede Gentleman’s Club shortly after being jumped by muggles outside of a muggle gay club. He crashed there for three nights before the owner took pity on him and gave him a job and a closet of a flat at the top of the town-home-turned revelry and tryst site.

Jobs Connor has had at the oldest Gentleman’s Club near Diagon Alley:

Waiter—more flirt then helpful

Doorman— less bouncer, more greeter looking for codewords

Bartender—more eye candy then proficiency

Entertainment—a continuous portion of Connor’s club life, although he has moved on from it for a full time gig

Host—a sort of lower level manager who tries to de-escalate while being a flirt

Manager of the House—arguably the highest job without owning the establishment

It’s important to note that this Magical Molly Club has functioned not just as a place for gentlemen (and women) of a certain disposition to meet, put on ridiculous shows, dance and play cards–but for married pureblooded people to meet up with their lovers. There's history here–but all of it laced with someone going shhh! And that is just the type of environment Connor needs when someone sends him a message asking for him to get some poor wix out of trouble in London and out to the McKinnon farm.

The actual space is just off Diagon Alley and is more a charmed and modified townhome than anything. The important thing is that it doesn’t look like anything and there’s even a keyword to get in. Inside there is a bar, a very small stage, and a lot of small tables that can be removed to create a dance floor. There are then a maze of rooms–because what better way to keep out unwanted guests and raids then magic helping scramble who might be where?

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

It’s all fun and games until people start dying. Connor comes from a very religious family and was a muggleborn in Slytherin: he knows what like to be hated on sight for something he can’t control. He also knows what he has in him to provide (housing, transportation, gossip) and he knows what he can’t (good support in a complicated duel or medical). Also, at the very end of it: Connor wants to help but he does not want to die. That doesn’t mean he’ll squeal, but it does mean he likely has a ticket for himself squared away if there should ever be a need. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst—and that’s his feelings about the Order in a nutshell. Connor has not survived this long by pinning his cloak to fantasy.

More clearly: Connor is a low-level member of the Order. He has no interest in climbing the ladder, little interest in skirmishes. He attends a bare minimum of meetings and functions as a sort of middle-stop for those who need to escape to the McKinnon farm. He puts people up in one of the ‘for rent’ rooms at the club and then finds the best way to move them…and sometimes that’s with him and an airplane ticket. He’s not the most well known and he’s happy with that, too, because it means he might get out if everything goes tits up.

SURVIVAL:

Is Connor part of the Order? He hadn’t heard of that. Truthfully, Connon makes very certain not to carry any identification on him that would imply, however indirectly, that he was part of the Order of the Phoenix. The most he might do is flirt with one who came into Ganymede Gentleman’s Club –but he flirts with everyone, really, so is that such a surprise? It might be more of a surprise if he flirted with Rodolphus Lestrange—and he’s not going to confirm or deny that. It goes so far that he’s not above disguising himself before going to Marlene’s for a meeting. Sure Marlene knows who he is, and Caradoc–any older Order Member, really, but why advertise? Besides, he likes dressing up. He doesn’t hide to those he hides in the club on the way to the McKinnon’s, however, because he figures they’re already scared enough and trusting someone with a fake face on would be a little too much.

RELATIONSHIPS: variable depending on the characters in-game. I do have some ideas but I would need to talk to some players to confirm since a few are likely to be apped!

Caradoc —They met when Connor was a first year and in tears over something he is certain was utterly stupid. Truthfully Connor does not remember what it was and doesn’t really care. He does care about Caradoc, however, and the ways he’s changed from Hogwarts to now. He sometimes gets on Caradoc’s case about his missing smile and the way he responds to some jokes nowadays but there’s a clear limit on what he can say—after all, Connor has changed, too.

Younger Order Members—Connor both delights and hopes to avoid many of the younger order members. He’s a need-to-know sort of bloke and most of them, well, he’s not sure they do. Then again, there’s always a sort of delight in seeing the gears turn in someone’s face as they try to place him, place the Club, or any other number of things… and, okay, he wouldn’t mind seeing some of the dramatics he’s heard about the younger members doing… so long as it all turns out okay in the end.

Connor as a first year at Hogwarts was rather sensitive—that swiftly changed into the sometimes garish, often entertaining, presentation he still manages today. The problem is he’s grown less and less able to take it off or put it to the side as the daily prophet brings darker news. He’s still a good friend but friends have to learn not to guard so much and that, along with the general air of suspicion that permeates the entire community, have likely begun to curdle all but the strongest of bonds.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: Connor/Chemistry Connor/Ooops and Connor/One Night Stand Oh God No

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Connor would Iike to say his varied layers of what the hell bad times have predisposed him to being accepting of all…but the truth of the matter is Werewolves scare him. It’s not disgust. Its fear bred from, of all things, bad muggle horror movies. He was only six or seven, he snuck out of the movie he was supposed to see to see Curse of the Werewolf or something similar. So while he would swallow it and let someone in need in (what would he have done if someone hadn’t done the same to him?), there’s an honest fear response that comes from childhood. He’s also afraid of dogs, though, so he’d probably blame a whole canine sort of thing for his unease.

Connor is also a bit biased against Purebloods. Sure his friends are alright… but all that sneaking around because you’re married? It’s probably something bred from having a ultimately failed or doomed relationship with such a person but he has more then enough history to look at most Purebloods and go fuck you. This is also why he has such a cashe of secrets just-in-case.

Privilege wise: Connor has had the privilege to find safe places to land and make use of every not-so-great situation he’s found himself in. He has a solid job, he’s been able to make himself invaluable (although it’s unlikely the Pureblood who owns the Gentleman’s club would ever think about letting him own the space), and he is stable enough to help others. Thats pretty remarkable overall for a queer muggleborn born to working class parents.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I love a good AU, I love a game where you can create a little something more… and when the characters I considered got apps I tried to think: what could be useful here. I hope to muck around and make trouble for multiple characters…and introduce a little queer history into the backdrop.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): I don’t have any specific ideas right now but I imagine Ganymede Gentleman’s Club will be quite useful.

ANYTHING ELSE? N/A

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

This section is only if you are applying for a character that does not yet have a biography written (i.e. a character not listed on the character page). Essentially, any Marauders Era character can be applied for, so long as they can realistically fit into the plot and add substance to the roleplay! It may be a good idea to send a message to the main before you do this so we are all on the same page.

PAST: Connor’s parents joined a small offshoot of the Evangelical Alliance movement in the UK. Or, maybe, they were part of that community first and later it latched itself onto the Evangelical Alliance. Truthfully, Connor doesn’t remember which came first and it hardly seems important now. The important thing was, that it meant his childhood involved daily prayer, every-other-day church service, and the few children around all had names like Be-Faithful, Be-Joyful, and He-Provides. Confidence, by comparison, was a very reasonable name, although even before a witch showed up on their tiny flat’s doorstep his parents wished they had named him Humility instead. How he did not get stoned to death for being a wizard he will never know. He did start to suspect his parents had been bewitched when they couldn’t seem to look at his textbooks but not in a way that represented any sort of discomfort or pain. The second part of his childhood came with more than he could have ever imagined. The food was richer (and more plentiful, given that his mother worked only part-time in a shop and his dad worked as an assistant minister), the clothing more dramatic and in so many colors, and the magic. Slytherin was not the easiest house for a muggleborn but Connor rarely protested because there was always, always more and it was learn fast how to swim or drown.

PRESENT: It took a while. It took being sent from his parents’ home and not seeing his sister for a good three years—but Connor believes he has finally found his soft landing. Ganymede Gentleman’s Club is even more decadent than Hogwarts—and he gets to live there, and perform there, and talk to anyone who comes in the door (even if they don’t want to)! To make things better, Connor is able to get his well-powdered nose in the thick of gossip…and use his theatrics to help out others who might find their lives taking on too much water. He might not be able to do so indefinitely, the club only has a finite number of rooms ( he’s not a McKinnon!), but he can do something and he takes great pleasure in that. If that pleasure is partially in sticking his nose up at Pureblood politics, well…he’s allowed to have his heart in the right place and his unabashed glee right next to it.

FC CHOICES: Ezra Miller …and second option Keiynan Lonsdale

#homenumaccepted #marauders era #roleplay #literate rp #new rpg

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