#i like the idea of big mama being a couple centuries old | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jmbringitonworld · 2 years ago

Text

Unexpected Benefits of Becoming a Swamp Witch (1)

AO3 link for those who prefer to read fics there.

I've said in the past that I have absolutely no intention of ever pairing Sans with anyone but Frisk, and I firmly stand by that. BUT, Llamagoddess's Sans, Red and Skull are so different from canon Sans, and her many AUs are so far removed from classic Undertale, that I've always seen them as OCs, from unique worlds that have little to nothing to do with Undertale. And Skull in particular is my favourite. Big, scary boi who's somft for his little waifu? Loving cuddle bug who adores his precious mate to the point of obsession? Giant teddy bear who wants nothing more than to hold his beloved close to his soul forever and ever, and stars help anyone who tries to get in his way? Yes please!!

Also, for all those who've read my fic Good Girl Needs Kiss, well here's that reader MC's infamous mother! It won't have any bearing on the plot, though, and is honestly just my own personal headcanons for that reader MC's parents, but there will be some fun little easter eggs here and there, along with some shared worldbuilding. I've actually got a couple of different ideas for who that witch!reader's father is, so I left him ambiguous, but mama witch has always been fully fleshed-out in my head, and I've finally decided to write about one of my favourite versions of GGNK!Reader's parents, using one of my favourite AUs from Llamagoddess. (Fair warning, MamaWitch!Reader is… kinda bitchy? And I've never written a MC who isn't nice and kind before. It was… interesting)

Again, you can treat this as its own, completely separate story if you want. Totally up to you.

Skull and Forest God AU belong to @llamagoddessofficial

______________________________________________

Chapter 1: Making a Choice

There were three forests for me to choose from. Well, technically there were two forests and a wetland which used to be a forest, but the latter was guarded by an ancient and powerful Forest God, and had plenty of ambient magic for me to tap into, so it was functionally similar to the other forests and would suit my needs just as well. Now, the question was: which of these would be my new home?

I’d been pondering the matter for a few days now, and had yet to decide. All three seemed like viable options, so I would need to carefully examine each one, to determine which of them would be the most suitable home for me. To that end, I’d sent out my two familiars to go investigate each of the forests thoroughly, while I took to the air on my enchanted broomstick, flying over each of the woods, and observing them from above.

I needed to be absolutely sure that I was happy with my final choice, because I wanted this home to be my permanent one. I was tired of having to constantly move, each time I’d get overwhelmed by suitors and harassed by enamoured clients.

This was all Mother’s fault.

I shook off my familiar annoyance, returning my attention to the dense forest canopy beneath me, as I soared over the trees on my broom. Making sure to stay above the treeline, and out of range of the local Forest God’s magic, I peered closely at the landscape whizzing past me down below.

Acres upon acres of tall, leafy, centuries-old trees met my eye, the very vision of a healthy forest. While I couldn’t see below the thick foliage, I could nevertheless hear the wildlife – insects and mammals scurrying, scuttling, and running around, the birds singing and calling to each other, some occasionally flying past me as they travelled from tree to tree.

All signs pointed to this forest being healthy and full of life, clearly well-maintained by its guardian deity. And most importantly for me, well-protected. Exactly what I was looking for. I felt confident that no trespasser with ill intent would be able to reach me, should I decide to settle here. Forest Gods were incredibly protective of their territories, and those inhabiting them, after all. I would finally get some peace.

The forest adjacent to this one was much the same, save for the trees at the very heart being petrified, the air saturated with some of the oldest magic I’d ever come across. An interesting place, for sure, and one well worth studying, should I decide to live there. And should its protector deity grant me safe passage. Most Forest Gods were unwilling to allow mortals to wander too close to their nests, but maybe I’d be able to bargain with this one? It was something to consider, at least.

The final “forest” was far different from the other two. I held a handkerchief over my nose as I flew above miles and miles of dark mud and peat, the horrid stench of death and rot permeating the entire area and practically assaulting my nostrils. It was certainly an unpleasant place, to say the least. I shuddered to imagine just how full of hatred and pain the resident God must be, for his territory to have ended up in such an abysmal state. There had to be a tragic story behind all this, and the dead husks of charred trees, barely visible through the ever-present thick fog, gave me an idea as to what it might be.

Against my will, I felt a pang of sympathy for the poor deity and his ruined home, before forcefully banishing such feelings. I had a mission to see through, and I couldn’t let myself get distracted by useless sentimentality. Life was harsh and cruel, for everyone, and mercy was for the foolish. I couldn’t afford to care about anyone but myself.

I was almost tempted to abandon my observation of the wetland, and give it up as a lost cause, when the land began to change. Dead bog eventually gave way to wet marsh, with cleaner water and richer soil, allowing for life to finally grow. A smile crept onto my face, as I saw plants covering the ground, and animals moving about the undergrowth. A flock of birds even joined me in the air after a while and called out to me, so I followed them deeper into the wetlands.

Finally, I reached the centre of the Wetland God’s domain – a swamp. The water was obviously very deep, but also clean, and full of aquatic life. Including alligators, I noted with interest. There were many fascinating potions I could brew with alligator teeth. Not to mention all of the incredibly rare and valuable swamp plants and herbs which grew in abundance here. My eyes practically sparkled, as I gazed around the misty swamp, my interest renewed.

There were also a great many trees, as expected of a Forest God’s domain – truly massive trees, their trunks thick and their branches wide, housing innumerable birds, mammals, reptiles, and insects. Something like hope sparked in my chest, but I was probably just imagining it. Still, it was very encouraging to see that the heart of this wetland was overflowing with life and magic, in spite of the desolate wasteland which surrounded it. A Forest God’s home should always be full of life.

As I was hovering beside the largest tree in the swamp, my eyes happened to spot a big, circular, red light shining in the mist. It almost resembled a giant eye, looking directly at me and seeming to stare straight into my soul. As if noticing my gaze, the eerie eye widened, its red light becoming brighter, and I felt the magic in the air shift. I took that as my cue to leave. I’d seen enough, anyway. No point lingering here and risk incurring the wrath of the Wetland God.

But as I flew away, a loud, mournful cry rang out behind me, echoing through the air and shaking the leaves on the trees below. Startled, I urged my broom to fly faster, and the cry eventually faded away into the distance. However, the haunting sound still lingered in my mind, along with that glowing, red eyelight.

Was that the Wetland God?

~~~

The following day, I arrived at the nearby town. It was fairly average in both size and appearance, but was nonetheless bustling with activity, and travellers and residents alike were milling around, going about their busy lives. I drew my cloak tighter around myself, and quickly made my way to the nearest inn.

Upon reaching my destination, I was greeted by a young woman, probably the innkeeper’s daughter, judging by the family photo hanging on the wall behind her. Her face lit up when I removed my travelling cloak, revealing myself to her, and she gave me a wide, vapid smile she probably thought was charming, and asked me if I was looking to rent a room. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes at her stupid question, because why else would I be here, I gave her a beguiling smile and seductively leaned in closer to her as I answered her.

“Why yes, I am. Would a sweet thing like you happen to have a room for a weary traveller such as myself? I’ve walked such a long way to get here, and I could really use a rest in a nice, comfy bed. I’d be so grateful to you if you could spare me a room, beautiful,” I’d lowered my voice to a smooth, silky drawl, and my honeyed words clearly had the effect I’d intended, given the way her eyes were glued to my lips, and how her breathing quickened.

She swallowed, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks, and smiled shyly at me. She then practically fell over herself to offer me one of the nicest rooms they had, at a generous discount. I held back a derisive snort. It was pathetic, really, how easily swayed she was by my supernaturally good looks and enchanting voice. This was nothing new, of course, but it still sickened me each time it happened. It was then just a simple matter of making tedious small talk with her for bit, before I finally steered the conversation towards the topic I’d been most interested in: the three magical forests.

For such an insipid creature, she was at the very least decently knowledgeable about the surrounding forests, and gave me all the information she had on them and their Gods. Much of it I’d already seen for myself, but it was useful to have confirmation from someone who’d actually lived in the area her whole life. She also confirmed my suspicions about the Wetland.

I didn’t have to feign genuine interest, as I listened to her tale of the God of the Black Wetland. Apparently, centuries ago, the Wetland used to be a beautiful forest, whose deity was relatively peaceful. But a group of humans from the nearby village wanted to clear it and weren’t happy with how he drove loggers away, so they took it upon themselves to burn the whole forest to the ground in one go. And they succeeded. In his rage, the Forest God killed the humans and flooded the entire area, including the village, transforming the landscape into an ugly, black bog.

From then on, he was known as the God of the Black Wetland, and had become a terrifying force of nature, who dragged anyone foolish enough to wander off the path, and into his domain, to a horrible, muddy and watery grave. The girl’s expression turned serious, as she warned me to avoid the Black Bog, and that if I absolutely had to go through there, that I should stick to the path at all costs. And should the fog begin to thicken, and I heard a bell ringing, then I needed to stay low, hold my breath, and pray that he didn’t see me.

I tried to look suitably fearful as I thanked her for her advice, while internally, I thought that anyone who was stupid enough to trespass on the territory of a Forest God whose home had been destroyed, deserved their fate. There was not a witch alive who would dare enter a God’s domain, without first being granted permission to do so. It was only common courtesy, after all. To disrespect a Forest God, was to invite calamity upon oneself, as my mother had once told me.

When I had gleaned all that I could from the girl, I thanked her with practised politeness, ignoring her flirting with the ease of habit, and made my way to my room. Upon reaching it, I went inside, locked the door behind me, and gave the place a casual glance. It was decently spacious, with a neatly-made bed, a desk, and a few shelves lining the walls. There was a window on one wall, which I went to open, casting a quick spell on the sill, to ensure that no one but myself and my familiars could enter through it.

That done, I tossed my bag on the desk, and collapsed onto the bed with a tired sigh. The bag landed with an inordinately loud * thump *, and the flap fell open, spilling several of my magical tools and arcane instruments across the desk, including a human skull. The skull rolled across the wooden surface, until it came to a stop by the edge, its dark, empty eye sockets staring right at me.

I glared at the skull. “This is all your fault, Mother.”

The skull didn’t answer me, of course. Not that I expected it to. I still had yet to perform the ancient ritual to bind Mother’s spirit to her skull, so that she could communicate with me from the afterlife. I just wasn’t ready to talk to her yet. I wasn’t sure I ever would be. I had a very... complicated relationship with her, after all.

My mother had been an incredibly powerful witch, supposedly the greatest mage of her generation. Her outstanding talents had won her the respect and admiration of her peers, few in number though they were, but had earned her the fear and hatred of the general populace. Not surprising, though, considering ordinary humans feared magic. Enough to have sealed away all of monsterkind underground, long ago. If mages, such as my mother, were not so useful to the common folk, perhaps we would’ve met the same fate as well. Perhaps one day we still might.

It was that very fear which had led my mother to cast numerous powerful enchantments on me, while I was still in her womb. All with the singular goal of making me as beautiful and desirable as possible. Mother had believed that if I were especially attractive, I would win the hearts of the non-magicals, and they would never turn on me or shun me as they had her.

And she’d succeeded. I was, by all accounts, visually stunning, with looks that turned heads wherever I went. Men and women from all around flocked to see me, showering me with gifts and compliments, in the hopes of earning my favour. There was not a single person who had anything but the most effervescent praise for my beauty.

And I hated it.

Because while I had indeed managed to catch the eye of every person I met, I despised such meaningless attention with a burning passion. Humans were nothing but shallow, despicable beings, and I very quickly grew to loathe their cloying desires and worthless, empty affections. None of these mindless fools truly cared about me, not a one bothered to see past my outward appearance, and look for the real me, inside.

And yet still they hounded me, harassed me, haunted me, begging for my attention like baying dogs. They kept insisting on throwing themselves at me, no matter how many times I threw them back out. It was tiresome. Tedious. I’d finally had enough of it, and decided to find a new home, in the territory of a protective Forest God, like many witches tended to do. Hopefully that would be enough to keep all of the nuisances away.

Perhaps I could’ve chosen to conceal my features, or disguised myself, maybe even tried to alter my appearance to something more ordinary. But I refused to hide or change myself. Why should I? I may not have chosen this body or this face, but they were nonetheless mine , and I would not hide them away just because of how other people reacted to them.

Besides, my mother had gone to a great deal of effort to give me these looks. And while I despised them, and resented her for what she’d done to me... I understood, at least on an intellectual level, why she’d done so. It would be unforgivably ungrateful of me to throw away all of her hard work. I was many things, but I wasn’t ungrateful. Not to my mother, the woman who’d given birth to me, raised me by herself, and taught me all she knew.

Therefore, instead of hiding my beauty, I chose to make use of it instead. If I were forced to suffer the consequences of my appearance, then I was determined to reap the benefits of it as well. And there certainly were many of those. People were such shallow, superficial creatures, after all. So easy to manipulate. It was child’s play, really.

But I wasn’t content to simply take advantage of my mother’s achievement. No, I had far grander ambitions than that.

Instead, I resolved to cultivate my own magical talents, and become a witch even greater than Mother, so that my powers and abilities would be my most notable trait, and all that anyone would talk about, rather than my physical appearance. I’d devoted myself to mastering witchcraft, and was proud to say that I was quite the accomplished mage and alchemist. I don’t know if I ever managed to surpass my mother, though. She died some years ago, all alone in her quiet little cottage in the woods.

I went back to my childhood home to give her a proper funeral, burying her in our ancestors’ sacred burial grounds, and taking her skull with me, as was tradition. I gathered all of her belongings, keeping those I found useful, disposing of or selling those I did not. A pitiful end for someone so infamous and talented.

Quietly, I rose from the bed and went over to the desk. With gentle hands, I picked up my mother’s skull and placed it on top of a nearby shelf, where those empty sockets could stare out at the entire room. My fingers lingered on the skull, tracing the edges of its mouth. Mother rarely ever smiled. I wondered if she’d ever known happiness, even once in her entire life...

I shook my head, dismissing such pointless thoughts. It was my own happiness I should focus on now. Which meant finding a suitable home. And to do that, I would need to find out more about all three forests. I looked towards the window. The sun was high in the sky; there was plenty of time to ask around and get the opinions of the locals who knew the forests the best. With that plan in mind, I left the room, locking the door behind me, and placing another spell on it to ward off intruders.

~~~

For the next several hours, I walked through the town, questioning people here and there, and listening in on the local gossip. It was mostly about some unwary travellers getting lost in the Black Bog a couple of weeks ago. They’d still not found the bodies, and no one was willing to go further into the bog to look for them, for fear of encountering the God of the Wetlands. Cowards, the lot of them. But I supposed that I couldn’t really blame them. I wouldn’t risk my life either, to go looking for fools too stupid to live.

As I passed by the local tavern, I heard raucous laughter coming from inside. But that wasn’t what caught my attention. I lifted an eyebrow as I sensed ancient, wild magic coming from within the tavern, the kind of magic that definitely didn’t belong in the middle of a human settlement. The kind of magic I’d sensed just the other day. Curious, I opened the door and peeked inside.

The tavern was surprisingly busy for this time of day, and there was a large crowd by the bar, louder and rowdier than they had any right to be before sundown. I hovered by the door, hesitant to go in any further with so many noisy people inside. I hated crowds- well, I hated people , really, but crowds were a special kind of dreadful I tried my best to avoid. I pulled the cowl of my cloak lower on my head, as I discreetly looked around for the source of the forest magic.

My eyes soon met a pair of bright, red ones. I blinked, taken aback. The red eyes were set in a handsome, seemingly human face, but I wasn’t fooled by the illusion. Any witch worth her salt would be able to sense the aura of a Forest God from a mile away, and I’d already flown over the forest belonging to this one just yesterday. I recognised him for what he was instantly.

The disguised deity looked equally surprised to see me. His red eyes widened, with what I could almost assume was recognition, before they roved across my form, something disturbingly familiar flashing in them, as they traced along my face. I couldn’t hold back my sneer, revulsion bubbling up within me like molten magma. He was... interested in me! Not in exactly the same way humans were, perhaps, but close enough to make me want to hex him.

It was with no small amount of distaste that I noticed how he was the centre of attention, with all eyes turned towards him, and everyone smiling and laughing at his crude jokes, all of the patrons hanging onto his every word. Several pretty ladies were even pressed up against him, giggling like they hadn’t a thought in their heads but to share his bed, and the arms curled around them only seemed to encourage their pathetic simpering.

Bitter disappointment welled up within me. I had thought that Forest Gods were above such abhorrent behaviour. It seemed I was wrong. They were just as susceptible to human weaknesses and mortal failings, as any other miserable worm on this planet.

The disgrace of a Forest God shot me a roguish wink, which I returned with the most hateful glare I was capable of, endeavouring to put every ounce of disgust I felt for him into the look, and causing his grin to falter. Without hesitation, I turned my back to him and strode out of the tavern. I heard a deep, masculine voice call out to me, but I slammed the door on it, shutting out that nonsense forever.

~~~

When I returned to my room, I immediately took out the sheet of paper containing the information I’d gathered on the three forests, and furiously crossed out everything pertaining to the forest governed by the shameful wretch I’d seen in the tavern. I would never live in his domain, I vowed to myself.

Luckily, I still had two other forests to choose from. I desperately prayed that their Gods were more respectable than this one. But I would need to know more about them to ascertain that. Hopefully, my familiars had been able to properly explore both of the forests, and would be able to help me figure out which one would be the best choice for my new home.

As if on cue, a brown owl glided soundlessly through the open window, and landed on top of Mother’s skull, followed shortly by a black cat, padding her way through the shadows towards me, before stretching out her lithe body across my bed.

“Artemis,” the cat blinked her eyes slowly at me in greeting, “Hermes,” the owl bowed his head respectfully to me, “I’ve ruled out the forest of the Red God as a possibility. Forget about that one. So, what have you two found out about the other two?”

Artemis tossed her head back and yowled at me. All that time... wasted! Should’ve let me know... sooner... her voice echoed through my head.

I rolled my eyes, well used to her whining. Missy was such a diva. If I didn’t love her so much, I would’ve dispelled the enchantment allowing us to communicate telepathically, long ago.

Hermes, on the other hand, merely bowed his head to me once more, acknowledging my orders, before launching into his report. The Green Forest is full of life. Trees. Mushrooms. Moss. Prey. Not prey. Predators. Fae. Spirits. Magic. Lots of magic.

Artemis flicked her tail. Lots of... interesting smells... plenty of food... so many good places... to nap...

I snorted, shaking my head lightly. Of course Missy would only focus on the things she would enjoy. At least Hermes was more helpful.

“And what of its resident Forest God?” I asked them.

Hermes’s reply came swiftly. Always moving. Always roaming. Always protecting. Only still at the heart. Stone trees. Old magic. Soft moss. Cold. Quiet. Clear.

Hmm... So he too enjoyed his peace and quiet? Looks like we might actually be able to get along. I felt the spark of hope ignite in my chest at the thought.

Artemis stretched out her front paws, kneading the bed covers beneath her. He put colourful bottles... in the trees... they cast pretty shadows... for me to chase...

I hummed to myself, going over what they’d told me in my head and adding it to the information I’d already collected. So far, this forest seemed promising. But I couldn’t be too hasty with my decision. Besides, there was also the other one to consider.

I turned to my two familiars. “And what about the Black Wetlands?”

Surprisingly, Artemis was the first to answer me, as she let out an angry hiss, her tail flicking to and fro in agitation. Smells bad... So wet! *Hiss* The mud gets stuck... in my fur... on my paws... hate it...

I gave her a sympathetic look, going over to her to run my fingers through her silky, pitch-black fur in a comforting caress. She pressed her head into my hand and began purring.

Hermes clicked his beak in annoyance, but made no further protest. Instead, he drew himself up imperiously, and puffed out his chest feathers. On the edge there’s only Black bog. Burnt trees. Foul water. Dead. All dead. But closer to the heart there’s more life. More green. Less black. The heart is swamp. Tall trees. Deep water. Many animals. Lots of life. Lots of magic.

I nodded to myself. I’d observed much the same myself.

Artemis sneezed. Didn’t see... couldn’t get past... the nasty mud.. .

I smiled at her in reassurance. “That’s all right, Missy, I know you tried your best. I’m very proud of you.”

When Hermes clicked his beak again, I turned my smile towards him. “And thank you for your diligence, Hermes! I’m so glad I can always count on you.”

The tan owl puffed out his feathers again, preening at my praise. Always, Mistress .

Artemis gave him an unimpressed look, her ears twitching. Thankfully, she turned away from him without comment. I let out a quiet sigh of relief, glad that an argument hadn’t broken out between them. Again.

Wanting to get the conversation back on track, I cleared my throat. “So then, what’s the Forest- uh, the Wetland God like?”

Hermes tilted his head to the side. Angry.

He then tilted his head to the other side. Very angry .

I frowned. “I don’t blame him. His entire forest was burnt to the ground by humans centuries ago, after all. He pretty much lost everything. I’d be absolutely livid myself, if I were him.”

Artemis curled up once more on the bed, tucking her paws underneath her and wrapping her tail around herself. He’s not just angry... and vengeful... and full of hate... Birds came to me... and told me... he’s lonely... very lonely...

Her words made me recall the loud, mournful wail I’d heard that morning. That probably was him, then, calling out to me. I’d initially thought it was a warning, to chase away intruders, but now I suspected it might’ve been the opposite. Was the Wetland God actually... upset that I’d left? Was he, maybe, calling out for me, asking me to come back? It seemed ludicrous, honestly. He was an ancient and powerful Forest God, whose mind and heart were unknowable to mortals, whereas I was a mere human, albeit a magical one. And yet, now that I really thought about it, I realised that he’d actually sounded sad... really sad...

My thoughts were interrupted by Hermes’s voice ringing in my head. Which forest will you choose, Mistress?

“Hmm... Good question.” My brows furrowed as I paced back and forth across the small, rented room, my head bowed in deep thought as I mulled over both my options.

The Green Forest was the obvious choice. A lush, vibrant forest, teeming with life, and guarded by a fairly peaceful deity, who mostly kept to himself. The ideal home for a solitary witch seeking to hone her craft. Definitely more appealing than a misty swamp, surrounded by sickly, smelly bog, and patrolled by an unstable, vengeful Old God.

My decision should’ve been clear. And yet...

… he’s lonely... very lonely...

Missy’s words wouldn’t leave my mind, despite my best efforts to chase them away. What should it matter to me if some Wetland God was lonely? His problems were not mine, his pain was not mine, his loneliness was not mine.

… he’s lonely... very lonely...

Without conscious thought, my eyes found the hollow sockets of my mother’s skull. She’d been lonely as well, for most of her life. And she’d died lonely, too. Had she ever cried out for someone, anyone, to help her, only for nobody to come? Had she ever cried out for me?... Had the Wetland God?

… he’s lonely... very lonely...

I went to my satchel, still splayed open across the desk, and took out a small, glass orb. It wasn’t anything special, had no magical properties whatsoever, and was nothing more than a cheap, simple ball made out of coloured glass, pretty, but ultimately useless. Something I was determined to never be. The only reason I even had this orb, was because it had once belonged to my mother.

She’d had many such trinkets, scattered throughout her house, but this one was her favourite. As a child, I’d often caught her gazing into the orb, lost in thought. I’d asked her why she did so, despite the orb having no practical use, and she’d told me that looking at it helped her to focus, as she pondered whatever problem occupied her mind at the time. I’d once jokingly called it her “Orb of Pondering”, and she’d given me one of her rare smiles. I guess it wasn’t so useless after all.

I now gazed into the orb myself, as I pondered my own current predicament. Which shouldn’t have even been a predicament in the first place. The choice should’ve been an easy one to make. The answer should’ve been plain for all to see. I should’ve just picked the Green Forest and been done with this deliberation. I would have an easier, simpler life there. My familiars would be happier there. It was beautiful. Untainted. Perfect.

… he’s lonely... very lonely...

With a resigned sigh, I lowered Mother’s orb and turned towards my familiars, still patiently awaiting my final decision. Plastering my brightest smile on my face, I forced as much enthusiasm into my voice as I could, as I told them, “You know, I think becoming a swamp witch sounds like a lot of fun!”

Predictably, Artemis was none too happy with my answer, and yowled out her displeasure for all the world to hear. Hermes, however, merely bowed his head obediently, accepting my decision without complaint.

As I tried my best to appease my feline familiar with chin scratches, I silently wondered if I had made the right choice. I hoped that I would not come to regret it.

~~~

The next morning, I woke up bright and early to carry out my preparations for obtaining the Wetland God’s permission to reside in his domain. For starters, I wrote up a letter explaining my request, making sure to keep my tone and words as respectful and humble as possible, and providing many reassurances of good behaviour, all while avoiding making any outright promises. You could never be too careful with Old Gods. I then imbued the letter with my magic and my intent, so that the ancient deity would be able to sense my sincerity for himself, as well as get a feel for my character before we officially met.

Once I was satisfied that the letter was properly saturated in my magic, I handed it to Hermes, informing him of its contents, just in case the Wetland God was unable or unwilling to read it, and instructed the owl to deliver it directly to its intended recipient as swiftly as possible, and to return only once he’d received a definitive answer. Hermes dutifully bowed his head, took the letter very delicately in his beak, and flew off into the sky.

Afterwards, it was only too easy to charm the inn’s cook into letting me borrow his kitchen for a few hours. He’d tried to remain close to me, invading my personal space under the guise of “helping” me, but a threatening hiss and swipe of her paw from Artemis were enough to get the filth away from me. The black cat remained curled around my shoulders, fixing her large, golden eyes on the nuisance and occasionally flexing her sharp claws at him, to keep him a safe distance away from me as I worked.

I wasn’t sure what offerings the Wetland God would enjoy, but most Forest Gods were not averse to homecooked food, and most Fae had quite the sweet tooth, with a particular fondness for honey, so I decided to bake him a large honey cake, with buttercream icing and a honey drizzle. It was something my mother had often baked for the Forest God whose territory she resided in, and she’d taught me the recipe as a child. It was one of my happier memories with her.

The rich, sugary smell which soon filled the kitchen brought on a wave of nostalgia. Instead of quashing the feelings, as I normally did, I allowed myself to reminisce for a while. My childhood home was always filled with the most interesting aromas, whether it was food, potions, or magical residue from the spells Mother cast. She really was quite the talented witch. I’d learned so much from her.

When the cake was done, I wrapped it up neatly, placing an enchantment on it to keep it warm and fresh, and carefully packed it away in my carry bag. That done, I changed into formal sorcerer’s robes, and spent some time preening in front of the mirror, to ensure that I looked as presentable as possible. I wanted to make a good first impression, after all, and while it was unlikely that my human appearance would be able to sway a Forest God’s opinion, it didn’t hurt to look my best. Besides, old habits died hard.

Finally, all that was left to do was to pack up all of my belongings. Hermes returned as I was putting away Mother’s skull, and informed me that the Wetland God had accepted my request. Instantly. Gladly. Very gladly. In fact, he seemed positively giddy about me coming to live in his domain. Well, that was... a surprise. But a welcome one, to be sure. Better than the alternative, anyway. I guess he really must’ve been very lonely, for him to be so excited for some company. It gave me hope that the two of us might be able to have an amicable relationship.

My lips subconsciously tugged up into a smile, as I pet Hermes’s tan feathers, my mind on the Wetland God. I’d never had a friend before. My familiars didn’t count, they were bonded to me and my magic for the rest of our shared lives – they were practically an extension of myself. I looked forward to getting to know my new ‘landlord’. Quietly, privately, in the depths of my heart, I hoped that he would grow to like me. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was lonely...

When everything was packed up and put away, Artemis draped herself around my shoulders once more, her tail curling lightly around my neck, like a black, fluffy necklace. Hermes perched himself on the crooked tip of my tall, pointed, witch’s hat, his head constantly swivelling around to survey his surroundings, ever watchful, ever alert. I gave the room a once-over, checking that I’d gathered everything, and made my exit.

I didn’t check out of the inn just yet, however. I needed a safe place to return to, on the off chance that things turned sour with the Wetland God. You could never be too careful, after all, and it always paid to have contingency plans for every possibility. Better to be safe than sorry.

Once I’d found a clear spot, I took out my broom, sat myself on it, and kicked off the ground, shooting through the sky like a comet. With the wind rushing past me, and my robes billowing behind me, I left the town and made my way towards my new home and the beginning of my new life.

~~~

I landed on the very edge of the bog. Getting off my broom, I kept it firmly in one hand, ready to get back on it and fly away at the first hint of danger. I took a deep breath and instantly regretted it, as a rotten stench assailed my nose. Coughing and spluttering, I retrieved my handkerchief and covered my nose as best as I could, trying to breathe through my mouth. Around my neck, Artemis grumbled irritably, her furry lips pulled back in a grimace at the foul smell in the air.

Not wanting to spend any longer here than necessary, I stepped foot inside the bog.

The place was even creepier from the ground than it was from the sky. Dark, viscous mud covered the ground, save for the patches of slimy, black water dotted here and there, with only the gnarled, dead trees managing to rise up from the sludge. Mosquitos seemed to be the only creatures living in the bog, their constant buzzing the only sound I could hear, apart from the squelching of my boots as I trudged through the mud. It was also difficult to see anything past the thick fog blanketing the entire area.

The whole place was like something straight out of a nightmare. It was a rather daunting experience, honestly. But I knew that it got better. I just needed to press on and stay determined.

And so, I kept walking, keeping to the well-trodden path and the narrow wooden walkways, all while keeping my eyes and ears open for any sign of the Wetland God. Occasionally, I flared out my magic, just to let any extramundane entities who might be nearby know that I was here. After a short while of doing so, I felt an answering burst of ancient, otherworldly magic, far, far in the distance, coming from the centre of the wetlands. I paused. Then it came again, slightly closer.

The God of the Black Wetland knew I was here. And he was coming towards me. Hopefully to give me a friendly greeting, and not to chase me away. Or worse.

I stayed still, drawing my cloak tighter around myself to ward off the chill in the air, and cast my eyes around warily, as I waited for the deity to arrive with bated breath. I didn’t have to wait long.

Soon, the fog began to thicken, until I could barely see past my own nose, and distantly, faintly, I could hear the gentle chiming of bells, steadily getting louder. I stood up straighter, my heart racing in anticipation, and gripped my broom tighter. Both of my familiars were equally on high alert, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

Suddenly, the shadows began to shift, something moving through the fog, something truly massive. I held my breath, my heart pounding in my ears, as the figure finally came into view, the fog parting around him.

It was, without doubt, a Forest God, although one unlike any I’d ever seen before. While the others I’d known had all had bodies more or less closely resembling various animals, this one had a gigantic, stocky body, with a solid, downward sloping spine with jagged vertebrae, and long, thick, straight legs like tree trunks, clearly designed for wading through mud and water. Its head was a huge dog skull, sporting enormous moose antlers, wider than I was tall.

What really caught my attention, though, was the large, red eye glowing in the skull’s left eye socket. It was the same eyelight I’d seen the other day, in the swamp. That red eyelight was now fixed unwaveringly on me.

I swallowed, gathered my courage and addressed the ancient and powerful deity staring right at me. “Greetings, oh Wetland God. I am the one who sent you the letter this morning – the witch seeking to make her home in your swamp, with your permission. It is an honour to meet you, Old One.”

That crimson stare intensified. “ i know you... ” I gave a start as a deep, rumbling voice issued forth from the Old God, harsh, halting, and seeming almost rusty from disuse. “ i saw you... before... but you left.. .” The red eyelight shook, shrinking, before expanding once more, to take up the entire socket. “ i was so... so happy... when i got your letter... i recognised... your magic... your scent... ” The red light got brighter, lighting up the entire area like a blazing fire. “ you will stay with me... your owl said... that you’ll stay with me... you WILL stay with me... right?... forever... right?... ”

I nodded hesitantly. “That’s the idea, yes. I hope to make this place my home. My forever home, if you will.”

The Wetland God made a low, bellowing sound, followed by a couple of sharp trills, his colossal body swaying slightly. Bygone magic filled the air, buzzing against my skin, and making the hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck stand on end. Small strands of green began sprouting up from the mud, and the murky water started to clear. A few tiny blossoms even popped up along the deity’s legs and antlers.

While I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of such a reaction, I took it as a good sign. I was at least confident that the God wasn’t displeased with my presence here. If anything, the magic saturating the air was tinged with what felt distinctly like excitement. Definitely a good sign.

I cleared my throat. “I take it that I am welcome here, then. If so, would you be so kind as to let me know where I am permitted to make my home?”

In response, the towering being lowered his head to the ground in front of me. “ i will... take you home... ”

I blinked, not certain if I’d heard him right, or if I was misunderstanding his intention. “Do you mean for me to... climb onto your head?”

“ yes... ” came his reply, not even a hint of hesitation in his voice. Unlike mine, which was filled with uncertainty, as I nodded to him, “As you... wish.”

I was far from comfortable getting so close to such an incredibly old and powerful deity, but I wasn’t about to refuse a direct order from him. With slow and tentative movements, I climbed on top of his massive skull and sat myself in between those wide and solid antlers.

When he was sure that I was securely sat on his head, the Wetland God very gently lifted his skull, seeming to take great care to not jostle me about, as he straightened up and carefully strode off through the bog. His gait was surprisingly steady, despite the deep mud he was wading through, and my ride was pleasantly smooth.

It was quite the novel experience. I’d never heard of a Forest God allowing a mere mortal to actually ride on them, like some common beast of burden. It was a great honour, honestly, and I made sure to savour every second of it. I’d likely never get another opportunity like this again, so I had to make the most of this one while it lasted.

Leaning forward slightly, I placed a hand on the surface of the skull, taking a brief moment to appreciate the cool and smooth bone-like texture of the God’s head, before addressing him. “Mighty Wetland God, I wish to thank you for allowing me to live in your domain. I will endeavour to never make you regret your decision. And I sincerely hope that the two of us will get along well.”

His crimson eyelight seemed to fuzz around the edges, and I watched in amazement as a soft, pink hue spread across his muzzle. Was... was he blushing ? He couldn’t be, surely. That was impossible... Right?

“ i would never regret... you living with me... ” he sounded completely sure of himself. I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering where such confidence came from. “ and i promise... to make you happy... here... with me... ” I sucked in a sharp breath at his vow, feeling completely bewildered as to why a Forest God would make such a promise, and to a mortal, some human he’d only just met. What, by the stars , was this deity thinking?

I cleared my throat, trying to calm my racing thoughts and keep a cool head. “I’m, uh, incredibly flattered by your... kindness. Thank you, My Lord.”

“ ... skull... ”

My brows furrowed at the seemingly random word. “Skull?”

His definitely-not-a-blush darkened slightly, spreading further across his snout. “ yes... ” he told me, his voice deep and heavy, yet quiet and almost shy. “ that’s my... my name... ”

I exhaled heavily, something like awe flowing through me. I could hardly believe my ears. Had a Forest God really just given me his name? That was... that was... unexpected , to put it mildly. Old Gods did not give out their names lightly – it was a privilege, one which you had to earn. So for this one to simply volunteer his name, without my even having to ask it of him...

I stared at the top of his skull in disbelief. Why? Why would he do such a thing? I wasn’t anyone important. Not to an Old God, at least. So then, why would he give me his name so freely? What had I done to deserve such an honour?

As I puzzled over these questions, the scenery began to change, from bog to marsh. I frowned in confusion. Wasn’t the bog far wider than this? Why had we already reached the marsh? This was too soon. We should still have been wading through several more miles of barren wasteland.

And then my eyes fell upon an even more startling sight.

What had only recently been waterlogged soil, was now practically a flower garden. Thousands of tiny, colourful, low-lying marsh flowers spread out as far as the eye could see, interspersed with twisting, winding, glittering waterways.

As I watched in stunned silence, I noticed more and more flowers blossoming. I could also sense just how steeped in Life Magic the earth was, encouraging the growth of plants and causing flowers to bloom every second. Even the wildlife was benefitting from the ancient magics, as more and more birds flocked to the marsh, and more fish and amphibians swam in the crystal-clear waters.

Life was well and truly returning to the wetlands.

I was astonished at such a dramatic transformation, in such a short amount of time. “Skull... This is incredible... What happened here since I last saw it?”

Skull came to a stop, allowing me to admire the natural beauty surrounding us. Several birds flew closer, clearly with the intent of landing on the Wetland God’s antlers, but Hermes spread his wings wide and screeched threateningly at them, and they flew away in a hurry.

“ i wanted to... make our home nicer... for you... you deserve... a nice home... ” I wanted to gape at him, but managed to restrain myself. Then his voice lowered, a hint of shame leaking into it “ i’m sorry... you saw it... so ugly... so sick... i’m trying hard... to make it better... for you... ”

I was speechless for a while, as my brain struggled to process what I’d heard. Had Skull been terraforming his domain since he received my letter? Or maybe even, ever since he first saw me? That... that was... “Wow. I-I don’t know what to say... Thank you, Skull. You did an amazing job. The place looks beautiful. And very lively.”

Skull made a pleased sound, the ambient magic fairly thrumming with its Wetland God’s joy, and several more tiny flowers bloomed on the deity’s horns. Skull then resumed his walk, taking us further into the heart of his territory, until we eventually reached the very centre.

The swamp at the heart of the wetlands hadn’t changed since I was last here. Not surprising, considering it was likely a lot older than the rest of the wetlands, and would therefore take more time to change. But it was still an impressive sight.

Alligators swam alongside us, eyeing me curiously, and Skull rumbled something to them in a language I couldn’t understand. Whatever it was, it seemed to have made them happy, given their own, excited rumblings. More birds flew closer, and were again scared off by Hermes.

I rolled my eyes in fond exasperation at how territorial my owl familiar was of me. I was his home and his family, and he would allow no other bird near me. Artemis, meanwhile, remained curled around my neck and shoulders, glaring at the alien landscape, and grumbling about the humidity and the bizarre odours.

The sun was starting to set, tinting the enveloping mists in soft hues of pink and orange. Fireflies had also begun to appear, gradually filling the air with their tiny lights. I could hear the croaking of frogs, the buzzing of insects, and the singing of birds, all blending together with the sloshing of water, in a mesmerising harmony of sounds. I couldn’t help but sit back and listen to the song of the swamp.

It was all wonderfully atmospheric. Romantic, even. I snorted lightly, dismissing the ridiculous thought. Romance had no place in my life.

We finally came to a stop in front of what had to be the biggest tree in the whole swamp, standing at the very centre of the entire Wetland. It really was a giant among trees, taller and wider than any other I’d ever seen, stretching so high into the sky, I couldn’t see the top. A hollow had formed inside it, rising above the water level, and wide enough that I suspected even Skull might be able to fit inside, if he curled himself up.

There was a lip of wood at the entrance of the hollow, and it was to there that I hopped, when Skull lowered his head, a clear indication that I should disembark.

Inside the hollow, I found it lined with piles of pillows and blankets, and heaps of little trinkets. The entire alcove smelled of fur and incense, and even faintly of beeswax. It looked... cosy. Surprisingly cosy, and homey. Did someone live here?

I turned towards Skull, who was stood just outside the hollow, staring at me intently. “What is this place? Where did all this stuff come from?”

The corners of Skull’s jaws raised up in something resembling a smile. “ my nest... ” my eyebrows fairly flew into my hairline at that shocking revelation. I could never have guessed that the Wetland God would take me to his nest . But Skull wasn’t done blindsiding me yet. “ now OUR nest... i tried to make it better... for you... i added softer... and prettier blankets... and pillows... all for you... my lovely wife... ”

I choked on my spit at that last word. “W-Wife?!” my voice rang out in a strangled yell. My mind came crashing to a halt, because seriously... I must have misheard him. Surely he hadn’t meant to call me his wife .

But Skull only smiled wider, blushing once more, and nodded his massive head. “ yes... my wife... my lovely, little wife... my darling mate... ”

I thought my heart was about to stop. I could barely breath, as thoughts rushed through my head at breakneck speed, my brain desperately trying to come up with some kind of explanation for Skull’s inconceivable behaviour. Just how had he come to believe that I was his wife ? Had I done something, anything which could’ve led the Wetland God to think me his mate? I wracked my mind for any kind of plausible reason for this huge misunderstanding, but could find none.

“ so small... so soft... so pretty... such a sweet smell... such strong magic... ”

Had Hermes in any way intimated such a thing to Skull when they’d spoken? As soon as the thought came, I dismissed it. No, my loyal owl familiar would’ve followed my instructions to the letter. He was dutiful to a fault, and would never go against my orders, or do anything that wasn’t strictly in my best interests. And he rarely, if ever, acted on his own initiative, more content to await my commands. He would never have so much as implied, to the Wetland God, that I was interested in being anything more than a simple resident of his domain.

A noise rumbled from deep within Skull’s chest, one that sounded disturbingly like a purr. “ i’m so happy... you came... i’m so happy... you accepted me... i’m so... so happy... ”

And he sounded it, too. I glanced up at him, taking in his undeniably joyful countenance. He definitely looked happy, too. I bit my lip. This... this was a disaster. This unstable Forest God, whose home I was to live in, was woefully mistaken as to the nature of our relationship. As such, I would need to correct his misconception, immediately.

I braced myself and opened my mouth-

“ i knew... from the moment... our eyes met... that you were... the one... ” Skull’s voice rumbled like boulders tumbling down a mountain, and yet there was something... soft in the way he spoke to me. Something tender, and warm. Something I’d never heard from anyone else before.

“ the one... i’d been waiting for... all my life... ” The blood-red glow of his eyelight softened, the pupil at its centre becoming heart-shaped, as Skull’s gaze remained fixed on me, never wavering for even a second. It was a look I’d never seen before. One full of awe and adoration. Skull looked at me as if I was the most precious thing in his world. “ i was... so lonely... but not anymore... not now that... i have you... ”

He sighed, a warm gust of wind which rustled my robes and tousled my hair. “ i’m so happy... that you’re here... with me... ” He let out a sharp trill, ending in a deep purr. “ i promise... to make you... happy too... i want you... to love me... as much as... i love you... my mate... ”

I stared at Skull’s loving face, his gaze so full of affection, for me. My mouth was still open, ready to deny being his mate and clear up this whole mess. “I-I... can’t wait...!” was what came out instead. I winced, mentally kicking myself for saying something so stupid.

Skull’s expression brightened. His purring intensifying, he leaned his head close and pressed the end of his snout against me. “ my wife... my mate... so warm... so soft... i love you... so much... ”

And instead of doing anything even remotely sensible, such as telling this deranged deity that I was most certainly not his wife, I just lifted my hands up to his head, and ran my hands all along his hard muzzle, petting his skull as if he were an overgrown puppy.

As Skull continued to purr, making low, muffled sounds of contentment, the magic around him hummed and shuddered, causing tiny flowers to bloom all around us. I shivered, as the Wetland God’s ancient magic brushed up against me, like a cat demanding attention, and released my own magic into the air, allowing it to mingle with his. Skull purred louder, the vibrations sinking into my very bones. Admittedly, it was actually quite a pleasant sensation.

I sighed. Oh well... This wasn’t an entirely terrible situation. It could’ve been a lot worse, all things considered. Besides, Skull would probably snap out of whatever bout of insanity was currently consuming him, and return to his senses in no time.

His infatuation with me was only temporary, and would soon fade away.

…Right?

__________________________________________

This wasn't supposed to be this long. It was supposed to be a oneshot. But I just cannot seem to write a reader-insert without constantly adding more and more and more, until it balloons into several far-too-long chapters. But this will be a twoshot (with a short epilogue)! It WILL!! I REFUSE to let this drag on for more than two chapters! I have other things to do! Other WIPs that demand my attention! So there will be ONE more chapter, almost entirely comprised of fluff, with Skull being a soft boi, reader discovering her inner soft gurl, and her two familiars being literally soft. And then a short epilogue (which will basically just be a fun bonus for those who've read "Good Girl Needs Kiss").

See you guys for the second (and definitely last!) part.

Chapter 2

#JMB writes #skull x reader #forest god au #forest god skull #reader is a witch #reader is... not nice #skull is baby #skull deserves all the hugs and all the kisses #witch familiars #reader's kryptonite is affection #something Skull gives LOTS of #reader has a personality #and some backstory #this is what happens when you decide to write a story starring a background character from another story #author has NO self-control

12 notes · View notes

cupcakemolotov · 3 years ago

Text

Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough.

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services.

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone.

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone.

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?”

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly.

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed.

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it.

She trusted him.

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy.

Enzo did not match lightly.

His magic liked the match.

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her.

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce.

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.”

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty.

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother.

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabbles #yeah #this sort of an interesting kind of crack

33 notes · View notes

madsdefencesquad · 3 years ago

Text

The semi-companion piece to Kevin's one and it's all about Mads, of course. Dedicated to Kevison Nation (every single fudging one of you) and to @flythesail and @penny259 (your comments have me weeping haha 😚). Also on ao3.

A little into Madison Pearson by x (with additions) Summer 2026

I first met Madison Pearson a year ago at George Clooney’s 65th birthday celebrations in Perthshire, Scotland in a fashion closer to that of long-travelled friends who haven’t seen each other in years than that of complete strangers who just so happened to enjoy the same foodie indulgence (bacon-wrapped dates, anyone?). Despite the grandeur of the guests present at the lavish affair – politicians, laureates, philanthropists and A-list celebrities (including her own husband actor Kevin Pearson) – Madison Pearson had the kind of invigorating energy that just drew absolutely anyone in.

Perhaps it was the enchanting mix of contained excitement and understated class she exuded that will warm you upon beholding up close, or perhaps it was the charm of a more loquacious woman of California mixed with the rare intelligence of a world-traveller. Either way, despite the taxing social waltz her husband took her throughout the night bumping elbows with the elites, Madison was one of those people who truly left a lasting impression.

Squeezed next to her in the back of a cab, Madison is head-to-toe in Temperley London x Axel Arigato (vintage-inspired nautical jumpsuit and platform suedes) en route to a baking class where her five-year-old twins Nick and Franny are waiting for her to join them along with their father.

“I was supposed to get changed,” she says, lamenting on her attire worn for a meeting with some West Chester development executives that’s perhaps too luxurious for an afternoon of mixing flour and butter and sugar. “But you have to make at least a bit of an impression, right?”

Madison has been the powerhouse head honcho of the Pearson family business, Big Three Homes, since its establishment three years prior. With a solid background in business management and a surefooted ability to navigate the mores of an ever-changing property development landscape, it was no question that Madison would rise up to the challenge of breaking into the market with a business model founded on family, philanthropy and sustainability.

Despite growing up largely independent without people close enough to call family, Madison has also found the means to speak about her experiences in an effort to encourage and give hope to the younger generation of girls and young women who may be going through an ongoing battle between themselves and their self-worth.

“I never felt enough,” she says of the origins of her battle with her eating disorder that began when she was still in middle school. “I look at Franny and she’s so small and carefree and I want to give her everything I never had, but I know that even that won’t be enough unless she herself realises how worthy she is of all the good and all the love that she deserves.”

We pull up outside the baking studio and she brightens at spotting her husband and twins’ silhouettes behind the frosted glass windows. Nick and Franny almost topple over their stools as they rush to overwhelm their mother while their father scrambles to keep his heart rate down—a close call with their foreheads hitting the edge of the marble benches as they got down will just about do it.

Even with her petite frame, Madison carries the twins like she’s just holding a bag of groceries. Unsurprisingly, both Nick and Franny are as enamoured of their mother as she is of them and are on the verge of complaining when put down just as Kevin, grinning ear to ear, envelops Madison in his huge arms—to be fair, he’s always been quite remarkably chiselled but the Tom Ford sweater and those tailored jeans (chosen by his wife “of course” as Kevin credits) is a different level altogether. He leans down to give her a kiss.

Back in Perthshire a year ago at the Clooney extravaganza, I caught up with the married couple the day after the festivities over a traditional Scottish breakfast as we overlooked the highlands of the Gleneagles.

Perhaps unlike the Clooneys, who were still entertaining their guests from all over world, the Pearsons were much more relaxed within their own family bubble. Having just celebrated Kevin’s twin sister’s wedding three days prior with close family and friends, the pair was grateful to spend some quality time with each other and their twins without the need to be anything but present.

From my perch, Kevin and Madison were the kind of couple that were very much “old souls”. They held an affection for each other that is rooted from sincere fondness and adoration for each other—they converse like deep friends and trade wits like secret lovers. And despite the media attention of the adorable moments shared online (often by the social-savvy actor), Madison is uncompromising when it comes to the privacy of their children.

While the twins dipped in and out of the table pilfering scones or taking over their mother’s green juice, neither one of their parents were the least bit bothered by the constant attention they need to provide such a rumbunctious pair.

“They’re so funny,” Kevin said, a careful eye on little Nick who was staring at the whipped cream on his tiny finger like he was contemplating on wiping it on his dad’s face.

I do recall having a good laugh when I accompanied the family on a tour of a nearby 17th century castle and little Franny, a copy-and-paste of her mother, pointed at a wood-cut table decoration of what looked to be intertwined lovers and confidently yelled, “That’s mommy and daddy!”

The fierce mama bear of the Pearson household of four (Madison sometimes calls her husband “kid number three, but don’t tell him that or he’ll get ideas of trying for another!”), remarks that forging her own path away from her husband’s spotlight had been remarkably easy, and she gives much of the credit to the rest of the Pearson clan who all treasure family more than anything.

Even with the notoriety of her brother-in-law, rising political star Randall Pearson, who currently serves in the Philadelphia municipality and is on track for a career in congress, Madison says that quality time to rest and recuperate is a must.

“[My sisters-in-law] and I have a girls weekend every other month when we can where we literally book ourselves a gorgeous Airbnb and just glamp down. I’m talking sleep-ins, endless mimosas, spa sessions… you name it! It’s the kind of getaway that [our husbands] get really jealous for.”

And upon being reminded, Kevin, now sporting Franny’s tiny chef’s hat, shakes his head at his wife conspicuously as if in reprimand that he most definitely should be included in the gals’ next glamping session despite him being, well, not a gal.

While Nick proudly counts five of about a thousand sprinkles that are scattered on his side of the bench, Madison congratulates him with a warmth and pride that is infectious enough to make you think that she’s proud of you too. And despite her husband’s very obvious possessiveness over her—you could count only one occasion where the actor is not at arm’s length from her—when Madison focuses her attention on you, it’s not difficult to believe that this powerhouse woman could truly do absolutely anything.

“She is that and more,” Kevin says about his wife. “Sometimes I can’t believe that this is my life. Our life! Like, she’s mywife, and these two are our kids. It’s just wild! I’m grateful, just grateful.”

Despite the doubts and fear that had been Madison’s constant companions for most of her life and especially going into adulthood, there is a fierce resilience in her that she could only credit her dear grandmother Frances—her own daughter having been named after her.

“She always believed in me,” she recalls, an eye on the twins squatting by the oven watching their creations rise. Despite the deep grief and loss that are quite intimately shared by the married couple, Madison says that it has only made them more resolute in loving their children and each other as best as they possible can every day.

“You just don’t know when it’s your time,” she says. “So, Kev and I make sure that there are no ‘next times’ when it comes to our family.”

When I had asked Madison about Big Three Homes back in Scotland, she squealed at the origin story of its founding, which started with Kevin’s late father Jack Pearson having asked his wife Rebecca to start the business together as partners.

Although Jack’s tragic and unexpected passing put an indefinite hold to this dream, its fulfilment through his son Kevin and through Madison is a testament to the kind of legacy that Jack Pearson had begun through his kids.

“I mean, it started off as more of a passion project for Kev,” Madison says. “But we knew it was always going to be something really special. Especially because his first project was the house that Jack had wanted to build for his mom. And when Kevin had this wonderful idea of bringing the family together to start the business and he asked me to be a part of it, how could I have said no!”

Kevin makes a point to say though that even if the idea of Big Three Homes originally came from his parents, its fulfilment is as much a part of his and Madison’s own story as it is his parents’. And choosing to have Madison work alongside him wasn’t just the best choice (given how much of a boss she is), but it was the only choice he ever wanted or considered.

“I know this is cliché, but I can’t stand not being with her,” Kevin says. “I made a point of this when our twins were born, and I meant it!”

Madison and the family split their time between California and Pennsylvania both for Kevin’s work and for the business, but nowadays, it’s more of an 80-20 split in favour of the east coast.

When asked about a career path carved away from her hometown in California, Madison says fondly, “It surprises a lot of people when I say this but I’m actually an east coast girl.”

This fun fact translates quite well in Madison’s day to day. She could turn any conversation into an erudite discussion, and she will utterly beguile you with her knowledge of books and literature—her constant companions when she can sneak away to her own personal Taj Mahal, a stunning Japanese garden in the backyard of their Pennsylvania home which Kevin built especially for her.

As the Pearsons continue to make a splash in the world of construction, politics, arts and entertainment—a rare mix indeed for a family in the spotlight—Madison is determined to continue writing a story with her husband and her children that she never had growing up.

With the twins happily destroying their creations by the mouthfuls, Madison promises that another visit is a must and perhaps this time, she can show us a collection of Kevin’s baby photos coupled with her own personal commentary to boot.

And who would say no to that.

#kevison #kadison #kevin and madison #still not over that kadison tag but loving it coz yes to more madison yeeeeee #I tried to not let Kevin get away with being gushy but he keeps taking over!!#lezbereal he's in too deep we get it boyy #I need to do a combined one because Uncle Nicky and some of the fam has to feature am I roighttttt #anywhoo hope y'all enjoy this <3 #this is us #tiu #kevison fanfics #kevison fanfic #tiu spoilers #I know most of the deets won't be canon after season 6 but whatever I do what I want #kevin pearson #madison this is us #madison pearson

19 notes · View notes

seasonal-shifts-au-fanartfunart · 5 years ago

Text

Father Christmas-Father Winter

We interrupt our regularly scheduled asks for a Christmas fic because A) inspiration from one of @marvelfangeek09‘s comments: #also i know youre joking but i have NO DOUBT that patton dressed up as santa and magicked a bunch of presents into peoples houses and B) I literally got kinda excited about the Tiniest little inch of snow on the ground this morning. and I’m gonna call this my summery.

Words: 1590~

Warnings: Look. Everything Winter!Patton related tends to get a bit melancholy at the end, I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I promise, this was supposed to just be cute and fluffy. Tell me if there’s anything I need to note.

Patton knew Good ‘Ol Saint Nick. He even still had the little cloak the man had given him. It was obviously too small for him to wear now, but, he still kept it in his room. (He knew exactly where it was too, it was folded neatly in a keepsake chest that he’d decorated to mimic a wrapped present with a little bow). Either way- Patton knew Saint Nicolas, so he didn’t mind that the little presents got attributed to him now. Besides, if he let everybody know it was him, the whole thing wouldn’t be half as rewarding or fun.

He did, however, miss when kids asked for things he could like... actually make.

“What even IS that,” He whispered, staring at the letter. “Ok, ok- um, maybe she’ll like... maybe a rocking horse? ah- no that’d be too big, I don’t think the parents would forget that- A doll is always a safe bet-”

“Santa?”

Patton stiffened. This is what he gets for talking to himself. Patton turned, smiling at the little girl as he leaned down to her level. “Hello little miss- uh-” he spared a glance to the letter, “Miss Jemima, is it? Whatever are you doing up?”

She tilted her head, “You’re younger than I thought.”

Patton smiled, nose crinkling as he restrained a laugh, “No kiddo, I’m just older than I look. I’m a good several thousand years old you know.”

The girl grasped his cheeks and pushed his cheeks up so it made crinkles around his eyes. She nodded decisively, “Ok.”

Patton laughed and pulled his face out of the child’s hands, “It’s very late, Miss Jemima, I’d think you’d be asleep.”

“The bells woke me up.” Jemima said, eyes fixed on the small set of bells that adorned the red outfit Patton wore (despite the fact that red was more Roman’s color than his).

She gasped, “Where’s the reindeer?”

Patton’s eyes widened. As much as he liked to indulge the imaginations of the world, he was not about to use all his energy to take flying reindeer of all things around a global trip. He just blipped across the world like he did normally. But- He pointed to the roof, and ever so slightly dropped the intimidate temperature so the wood in the roof of the house creaked. Close enough to the sound of the shuffle of hooves above them.

The look of wonder in the child’s eyes was worth it. She hopped, exclaiming ‘oh!’ a few times, and raced into another room before running back in with a couple of carrots and a few cookies. “For the reindeer! And for you!”

Patton shook his head, “Oh, oh, I don’t- I don’t need anything, kiddo, I’ve got all I need-”

Jemima frowned, “But-” She raised her collection towards him, practically pouting.

Patton sighed, shoulders falling, “Ok, ok. Just one cookie though, ok?”

“Are you suuure?”

Patton bobbed a little before shaking his head, “I am feeling a little dangerous-” She tilted her head and Patton extended a hand, “Alright, I’ll take a second cookie.”

The girl dumped the carrots into his hands and then topped the pile with two cookies. Patton laughed. “Thank you very much, little miss.”

In a gentle motion, he sent the collection back home- hopefully Logan or Roman could figure out a way to use the carrots-, after snatching one of the cookies from the pile.

He glanced down at the girl’s letter as she looked at him with wonder in her eyes. He glanced back up, “Now, um, I don’t have what you asked for, and I apologize for that, but, is there something else you’d really like?”

Jemima shook her head. She looked down at her feet before gasping, “Wait, can you make it snow?”

Patton startled, blinking. “Can I- what?”

“I wanna be able to play in the snow! That way it can be a ‘White Christmas’! I haven’t had one before! Can you make it snow?”

Patton glanced out the window. He could change up the usual weather plan, just this once... Patton smiled, “I can most certainly do that, kiddo. Anything else, at all?”

She shook her head.

Patton nodded, “Alrighty then, one White Christmas for one Miss Jemima.” He opened his palm a sparkle of frost coating the glove as he summoned a small snowflake. Jemima clasped her hands around the flake, melting on her palm as she opened her hand to look. Patton giggled.

“Look outside.” Patton directed.

Jemima raced to the window, as she looked out to the sky, the gentle flutter of snow curling through the sky.

He took a bite of his gifted (now incidentally frozen) cookie as he stood up, watching the girl’s amazement. He glanced down at his feet, and nodded to himself, and stepped backwards into the doorway back home.

“Thank you S-” Jemima turned, looking up to find her Santa Claus missing. Jemima glanced down at the floor, a light layer of slowly melting frost that curled from around a pair of boot-prints. The only proof he’d been there at all.

Roman probably shouldn’t be in Patton’s Room. Snowdrops seemed to follow him as he walked through the snowy room, and he half wondered if his presence would somehow hurt Patton.

Roman rubbed his arms. He just needed to find something... He’d be in and out and- Ok. He just... missed Patton. He can admit that. The idea was simple. Patton kept so many things, especially from the humans he’d befriend, and it helped him when he could no longer see them so, maybe something of Patton’s would help him.

That said, he was usually only in Patton’s room with Patton. It felt a little weird to be here alone. He eventually found the main portion of his room, Patton’s bed was blanketed (ha, pun.) with a layer of snow, untouched. Roman glanced down to the foot of the bed to see a small wooden chest. He’d seen Patton take out extra blankets from that before. Patton wouldn’t mind if he borrowed a blanket. He’d bring it back later.... after his own room stopped being cold. How did Patton ever sleep in this cold of a room?

Roman brushed the layer of snow off the chest, and let out a soft laugh as he discovered it looked a bit like a Christmas present. Roman undid the latch and lifted the lid, glancing over the contents.

Roman tugged out the largest of the blankets inside, pressing the soft fabric against his face. The blanket smelled almost overwhelmingly of pine and spruce, likely from being in the wooden chest so long, coco, and a faint hint of some spice- maybe cinnamon? Whatever it was, it was familiar. And vaguely comforting. Roman let out a soft breath and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. Yes, Patton wouldn’t mind if he took it for now. He’d give it back when Patton came home. (Because Patton would come home. He just would....right?)

Roman moved to put the chest’s lid back, but- Was that the old cloak Patton wore during the 4th Century?

Roman dusted off the garment, most of the color seemed to have faded, having once been a pretty red. Patton always looked pretty good in red, in his opinion. (Although, he also just liked that color a lot, so maybe he was biased.) It was so much smaller than he remembered. Heavens, how old were they all during the 4th Century? Patton had to be maybe 10 in human terms? He ran his fingers over the cloak and glanced at what it had rested above-

“Oh.” Roman rested the old cloak atop one of the other blankets in the chest, looking over one of many letters, neatly folded. He pulled out one of them.

“Dear Santa Claws,

How are you? I hope you’re good!! I didn’t get to say thank you for the snow last year! Me and my friends made bunches of snowmen, and Papa took me out to go sledding! If you can, I think it’d be really nice to see more snow this year too. One of my friends said they don’t get Santa, they have a bunch of candles though. Do you do something else for them? Oh, and, Mama said that I probably didn’t get what I wanted last year because you didn’t know what it was! Sorry! This year I think just a fluffy puppy stuffy would be good!! With the spots! And if you can’t get one, I don’t mind! I think more snow would be just great. Or... maybe a bell, if you have extra? They were really pretty. Thank you! I’m gonna set out more cookies and food for the reindeer this year, I hope that’s ok. Oh! And what’s their names?! Give them hugs for me!

Thank you!

Jemima”

The letter was signed with a little heart at the end of the child’s name. Roman glanced over the other letters and laughed, “Oh, of course you’re Santa.”

Roman frowned, folding the letter and replacing it. He covered them again with the cloak and he shuffled through the rest of the chest. He eventually uncovered a red outfit, more fit to an older Patton.

Roman tugged on the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He leaned his cheek against the blanket, “When did you stop being Santa, too?” Roman whispered.

Roman glanced over his shoulder towards the door from Patton’s Room. He let out a huff, “Dear Christmas Roses... Well... I do look good in red.”

#This is totally unedited but IDC #Season!Sides #Winter!Patton #Spring!Roman #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #fanfic #writing #Seasonal Shifts au

200 notes · View notes

archiveofidentityconstellations · 4 years ago

Text

The Gift

The calls faded as her pursuers trickled down the path towards the steam, underbrush creaking like stone giants. Tuuli pressed her hands over her lips, smothering her giggles. They thought she was going to play in the water; she knew that they thought that, and how clever she was to trick them! It would work a couple of times, but then she would have to find a new hiding spot. The eleven year old stood, hopping over roots and branches. They weren’t supposed to go too far in the forest, but everyone knew that that didn’t apply to Tuuli. The elders never scolded her, and her mother only did it for show. “Let there be no dirt upon my apron for the gods to see,” she often quoted.

A bird cawed over her shoulder, flinging itself into the sun. Tuuli peered up at its black wings. A song of blackbirds was on the tip of her tongue. It felt almost like breckenberries in the sun, and she pressed a laugh down her throat. It wouldn’t do to be found giggling now. That’s what the others always got wrong, and that’s why they were never allowed where Tuuli could go. One must be quiet in the forest.

They were trained, of course, in the ways of the forest and the mountains. The villagers navigated both worlds, and maintained the secrets of the paths through both. The Jestapi Tribe couldn’t trade with the lowland people, and the lowland people couldn’t trade with the Jestapis without villages like Tuuli’s. Nebo often sang about how they were a bridge to a higher ground, and how bridges were spaces meant for other beings, like the gods. He tried to make a song for Tuuli once, but Mama hushed him up. She told her youngest brother to let her daughter alone, that she wasn’t a bridge or even a woman yet, so let the child be. Nebo was as lighthearted as his voice could be, so he didn’t take offense. Not that he could; Mama could be a fearsome beast when confronted with her brothers. Papa joked that it was her bear-like attitude that made him realize how good a wife she’d be. But Mama was never cross with her children. Protective, yes, but not in the ninny way like those golden-lashed fiends of Fuidin. Mama just knew about the world and made sure they were prepared for it.

Tuuli climbed upon a rock, gray beneath her ankles. The air was crisp, a sure indication of the overarching mountains. She twirled on it, appreciating the way her apron flared out. When she was older she was going to have loads of dresses that flared out like the sunset, just wait and see. Papa had bought the apron for her, despite Mama’s quizzical look about it. Tuuli had heard them talking about it that night.

“She’s not a woman yet, Albrecht,” came Mama’s low whisper.

“But she will be in four years,” Papa pointed out, pipe smoke trickling into the starry air.

There was silence after that, and Tuuli knew that her mother was sitting up straight, taking her time to impart wisdom.

“Four years,” said Mama gravely, after a long moment, dark eyes glinting in the firelight, “is a very long time.”

That was probably true, but it didn’t matter. Tuuli had the full-skirted apron, and she was going to enjoy it to the fullest. Not that any of the boys noticed. And why would they? All the children were still looking for her by the stream. She pranced down the rock, once again amused by her trickery. Oh, they were going to be so mad when they found out that she wasn’t there, and what’s more, that they couldn’t go as deep into the forest to find her. She had won that game quite nicely. Maybe they wouldn’t think so, but they were always harping about fairness. Served them right to be tricked; they should get used to the idea of someone else winning. Not that Tuuli lost often, mind. Tuuli’s tricks were well known to the village, and Mama said she despaired of her “bad girl” while grinning.

“Dirt on my apron,” she always sighed fondly, “Let the gods take pity on me.”

Tuuli scrunched up her nose, looking up at the cloudless sky. She continued walking. The gods wouldn’t care about dirty aprons or disobedient children anyhow, they had better things to worry about.

The sky suddenly went dark, and Tuuli almost stumbled on a craggy ridge of rock formation. She scrambled for purchase in the air, finding her balance instantly.

How strange. A storm so soon in the season wasn’t uncommon, but to have happened so quickly...

She shrugged, turning around back into the forest and making her way back home. The trees would protect her best they could, but she would still get wet. She really preferred staying in during a storm anyhow, listening to Nebo’s songs or elder Viilsa’s histories. Despite, she thought, ducking under a branch, the fact that she had no teeth. Viilsa had a relative closer to the lowlands, a strange woman of herbs and uncommon knowledge and words. Once Tuuli had asked how old she was, and Viilsa had said that women of that type lived longer in moments than they did in centuries. Tuuli didn’t know what to make of that, but she would like to visit her one day.

The wind picked up, smashing branches together. Tuuli skipped in exhilaration. Oh, it would be a big storm, an exciting one that rumbled the earth. The entire forest rustled, whispering things to each other in smooth tones. She had never been near the ocean, but she imagined it sounded something like this. The earth howled and she threw her head back, closing her eyes. Beneath her eyelids the world swam, sounds and lights and scents melding together to create an altogether different space than before. She felt as if she had slipped from reality and into a dream, wherein she could float in the air.

A crack to her left caused her to twist upright, eyes shooting open. A man stood there.

“Hello,” Tuuli greeted. The wind brushed against her cheek, whipping her black hair out of her braids. “Are you lost? Do you need help?”

He shook his head, stepping closer to her. The thought that he might be a bandit or mountain pillager crossed her mind, but she banished it soon after. He wasn’t wild looking like them. He was still wild looking, of course, with tangled brown locks and pale gray eyes, but not in the way of thieves and murderers.

“Hello,” he greeted back. He raised his hand in welcome, and the roar of the wind died away. Tuuli frowned. She had liked the wind. But she supposed she could hear him better now, and direct him on his way. “I’m afraid that you are lost, piklo.”

His nose was long, and his mouth was hawkishly wide. “No I’m not,” she negated. It didn’t feel strange that he was calling her little one. “I know my way back. It’s going to rain.”

“It’s not,” he said. But he didn’t add onto it.

“Would you like to come back with me?” she asked, extending Traveler’s Grace. He tipped his head and hair fell into his eyes, but he followed her when she set off.

“You come into the forest everyday,” he mentioned.

Tuuli wanted to balance on one leg and jump over the lace-like roots, but she was aware of her guest so she didn’t. “That’s right.”

“You are eleven, not too far off from learning the rituals of worship.”

“Viilsa wants to teach me early, for practice, but Mama wishes me to stay with the other children. She says it’s easier to do things together, and if I learn by myself I might get a cloud on my nose.”

He laughed, a deep sound that skipped from happy to a growl and back. It was a strange sound, but it seemed familiar. Tuuli wiggled her shoulders anyways. “Your mother is right, but this time Viilsa is the more wise. I desire you to learn the rituals. Would you do that?”

“Why?”

Tuuli had turned around. His pale eyes were slitted, pupils just peeking out underneath his eyelashes. She knew she had arched eyes as well, but his were different. It occurred to Tuuli that this man didn’t need Traveler’s Grace.

Instantly fear engulfed her, and she stared at this creature that was more likely a trick than reality. Within the next moment she squared her shoulders and lowered her chin. No ghost would scare her off, and especially not in this forest. She knew just what to do. They wanted respect, a small memorial in death that their silent years had lost them.

He looked at her, brow suddenly quirked in amusement as if he knew her thoughts.

“‘It is always good to know things,’” he quoted her own words back at her.

She felt her eyebrows fly up. “You know of me, monseru?”

He looked even more amused at her title of respect, meant for great men (and merchants, when you wanted something for a little more cheap). “I have watched you.”

She spun on her heel, arms out. “And what do you do when you watch me, monseru?”

“I make sure you are safe,” he answered, falling in step behind her. The treetops were crashing together, but Tuuli couldn’t hear them. All she heard was the man’s footsteps behind her. “I listen to your words and I grant your requests.”

“Do you think of me often, monseru?”

“Everyday.”

She stopped, turning to look over her shoulder at that grave tone. He stood, and Tuuli felt that she was seeing a shadow figure on a veil. If only she could reach out and lift the veil...

“No, you don’t,” she said with a grin.

He took a step forward. “Oh?”

“I’ve wanted a necklace for the longest time,” she explained, “like that ninny from Fuidin, all sparkly and jingly. And I still don’t have one, so you must not listen to me as much as you say you do.”

His wide, dark lips curved up. “I see. And what if I told you other things, like I have protected you from every mishap in your small life?”

“I haven’t a scar from falling,” she said proudly.

“You almost fell earlier, by the rocks. You did not,” he pointed out.

“That was the wind,” she argued.

He met her eyes. “Yes.”

Lightning flashed.

Tuuli knew she should be afraid. But something in her heart was settled in the chaos and adrenaline, finally content like a sleepy forest cat after a meal.

She peered at him, considerate. So he was probably not a ghost. He had looked different with the lightning. Maybe this time she wouldn’t blink, and she would see what he was hiding.

“Alright, domni,” she said impishly. She danced away, aware of his steady steps behind her. They sounded hollow.

“Domni?” he laughed.

She shrugged. “You’ve looked after me,” she said airily. “You are like an uncle, or a silly papa.”

“Very well,” he agreed, instantly by her elbow. “I shall be your domni.”

She startled. But his hands were suddenly on her, holding her up. The touch was cold, unbearably cold, like the icy breath of the mountains in autumn. She stared up at him.

“Very well,” Tuuli said softly. He lowered his hands. His face was starting to look different the longer she looked at it, features glimmering and shaking like a flame on a candle. “Why are you here, domni?”

He almost frowned at her. But the moment passed, and he was striding forward. She had no choice but to follow, even though his every step seemed a mile. He was always ahead, and she couldn’t get closer, no matter how many steps she took. She could no longer feel the ground beneath her feet. But then he stopped. He turned to look at her, and the wind swirled around them. She huffed, taking a step forward.

“I have something for you,” he said, voice no longer lilting or even sounding human. He withdrew something from his pocket. Tuuli looked at it.

Lightning flashed, and a necklace glinted from his hand.

“Oh!” She twirled around in excitement. “You did listen! For me, for me?”

He lowered his chin in acknowledgment. The necklace was in her hands quick as a flash, and she surveyed it with satisfaction. It was sparkly, just as sparkly as the one she wanted. And it jingled more too, for there were two little stone-like things clamped in the middle. She shook the necklace, listening to the sound and grinning.

He watched her, manner loose and easy in her enjoyment of his gift. All fear had fled from the girl, and she was entirely absorbed by the pretty piece of jewelry.

“You like it?”

“Oh yes! Oh YES!”

“You must keep it,” he instructed.

“I will!” she promised. She lifted it, listening to the way it jingled like bells on a goat. The world lit up again in that pale flash, and a large figure of eclectic form existed in the corner of her eye, but Tuuli merely jingled the necklace again.

He was behind her, now, so she looked up at him. He shared her irrepressible grin. When she went to jingle her necklace again, he instructed, “Look at me for a moment.”

Tuuli did, but not before putting the necklace in her apron pocket. It settled there heavily, a delightful weight against her thigh.

The forest was silent, she thought in a moment of clarity. Why was it silent?

But those two cold hands suddenly were upon her, fingers of ice on her shoulders.

“Will you trust me, Tuuli?” He looked at her intently. “Will you put your life into my hands?”

“If I ever get lost, sure,” she agreed easily, still ecstatic over the necklace. She wanted to wiggle out of his hold and play with it again, but his grip suddenly tightened.

“Promise.”

“Alright,” she said in irritation. “I promise to trust you.”

“It is done, then.”

And his grip melted away, almost as if he had never held her to begin with.

Tuuli blinked stupidly. The desire to play with her necklace suddenly seemed like a silly thing in comparison to this conversation. “What did you need that for?” she questioned, skipping beside him.

“Words are important,” he hummed, “even the gods need promises before they can take action.”

The thought almost made her laugh. “The gods aren’t near us,” Tuuli mocked. But the man’s expression made her draw back.

“Yes, they are,” he insisted, eyes almost white in fierceness. “You must never doubt that they are.” Then he relaxed, joking, “And if you do I shall take a switch and snap it against your bottom.”

“Nuh uh,” Tuuli countered, fear forgotten. “You can’t.”

“I can,” he told her, smile wide, “I’m your domni. You must listen to me.”

“Only if I’m lost,” she shot back stubbornly. “And I know where I’m going.” She walked forward, suddenly wishing she could feel the dirt beneath her feet.

“Tuuli.”

She stopped.

“Go home. And do not forget what I’ve told you to do.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tease him, to ask what it was he had demanded and pretend she had forgotten. But the look of him, suddenly so large in the forest, made her halt. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I will do it.”

He smiled at her, as if trying to place a human expression of comfort over far too many teeth. “Listen for me.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but a crack of thunder broke her voice. Lightning flashed and she, for a reason unknown to herself, clamped her eyes shut. She did not want to see him. She knew she could not see all of him.

(Yet.)

The howl of the wind rose, crowding the air and suffocating her breaths. Tuuli covered her face, listening to the beat of her heart hammering in her ears.

Ba-dum.

A bird’s song pealed through the forest, light and pure. Tuuli opened her eyes.

The village bustled beyond the bushes she was sitting beside, children’s voices complaining to anyone who would hear over unfairness of some sort. Tuuli shifted, planting her feet beneath her. She felt the dirt.

The girl paused, looking over her shoulder into the forest. It looked just as calm and dark and inviting as it normally did.

She almost believed it to be a strange dream, except...

Except it wasn’t.

Tuuli nodded to herself, pushing herself upright. Her limbs did not feel shaky, and her step was true. A bird cawed over her shoulder, flinging itself into the sun. She peered up at the blue sky, watching its black wings expand and float in the air. She sniffed and turned to walk into the village, hands sliding into her pocket and hearing the delightful clack of a necklace.

Terror suddenly crowded her throat. Mama had been right. Mama had been right. She was not yet a woman. Why had she given her word?

But she had given it, and she could not go back.

Feeling the necklace stones between her fingers, Tuuli rolled back her shoulders and strode into the village clearing. She had to speak with Viilsa.

**Glossary**

piklo: a term of endearment; “little one” or “dearest”

monseru: a title for a great man of vast lands, means, leadership, or money

domnv: an old Polan word for father/older man of the family. It doesn’t mean father in the way we use it as much as it means “man who takes care.” not a common word used anymore

domni: an informal version of domnv, sort of like “pops” or “daddy/daddy-o.” uncommonly used, and when used it is almost always in jest

to get a cloud on one’s nose: to become haughty or arrogant; you stick your nose up in the air so often that a cloud gets stuck on it

#Throneless #Throneless: Eua's Veil #dnd campaign backstory #this is my girl i love her she's craaaaazy

18 notes · View notes

mtvswatches · 4 years ago

Text

Wynonna Earp 3x06 If We Make It Through December

Click here for previous recaps!

Stray thoughts

1) This episode is starting way too merry and jolly to end up well, isn’t it?

2) I wish there was a shot of Wynonna saying “well, that’s not canon” because wouldn’t that be an A+ meme? Especially because what’s canon in this scene is the Menstru-Angel!

3) One of the boys is chasing after Santa, and are we gonna get a Santa demon? Because I’m here for it! Oh fuck, it’s just fucking Bulshar.

I’m still... not scared of Bulshar? Like, we keep being told how he’s the Big Bad but for the most part, he hasn’t done anything truly horrifying yet. And he doesn’t look menacing either. He’s this old chap with a questionable fashion style, is all.

4) Wynonna feels weird about their mom being back home and living with them as if she’d never left, while Waverly is excited at the prospect of spending some mother-daughter time with her. I’m with Wynonna on this one. It still feels weird.

5) Um… so, Wynonna finally tells Waverly that her dad was an actual angel, and Waverly is properly freaked out, and has to force her origin story out of her mom. But… Mama Earp just tells her a story a la The Notebook without zeroing in on the fact that this Julian guy was a freaking angel. Why is she not explaining that tidbit of information?

6) OMG I died…

7) This is the sweetest bromance ever? I loved everything about this scene! Doc telling Jeremy he should get on with some gentleman, Jeremy being offended at the suggestion he can’t pass the Bechdel test, Doc being totally clueless about all the cultural references, and the hug at the end? Ugh, they’re the cutest!

8) What type of Santa Workshop of Hell is this?

It seems like at least a dozen people or so have been kidnapped and everyone is chilling and celebrating Christmas? Priorities, I guess?

9) Oh, okay, people are freaking out. And Nedley is in shock. And Wynonna is making googly eyes at this Charlie guy in the crime scene of a missing kid. At least he saved her, which earns him a couple of points.

10) Do you think Purgatory’s first families made some type of pact with Bulshar to give up their descendants or something? I mean, there must be a reason why people belonging to these families are going missing.

11) And Waverly is paying a visit to Bobo. I’m very excited about this, I’ve always enjoyed their interactions so much.

12) OMFG, Doc had no idea that his wife had always been a vampire?? This show is the best sitcom EVER.

13) So… is Waverly really an angel? Or is Bobo calling her an angel because of his belief that a woman called Waverly saved him all that time ago and told him to protect her when they met again?

14) Ay ay ay, these two break my heart every single time!

DOC: It is bad luck to refuse a kiss underneath the mistletoe. WYNONNA: Are you waiting for one or are you offering? DOC: The offer is always there. WYNONNA: Maybe you should stick to kissing your wife. DOC: I have not been with her in a century. WYNONNA: Oh, so your knife was at her place because your dishwasher was broken? It is not my jam to be the other woman. DOC: Dammit, Wynonna, you are not the other woman. You're... another woman. WYNONNA: What does that mean? DOC: It means, she was my wife. And now you're... someone I've shared something even greater with. More than just romance. We had a baby...

DOC: Isn't it time that we stopped being scared and starting being honest with one another? WYNONNA: Honestly? I don't know what to do with you. DOC: You could admit that you love me. WYNONNA: Let's just get back to work.

Yes, yes, YES, I’m a sucker for this type of relationships. He’s always wearing his heart on his sleeve and laying it all out for her, and she’s so afraid of giving herself to someone that she can’t admit she does love him. I just hope nothing happens to Doc before she gets the chance to be honest with him…

15) Nedley is having a hard time coming to terms with his responsibility in this kid’s disappearance (although it’s obvious he couldn’t have done anything to stop it.) He’s questioning his role as a sheriff, and I know this is all leading up to Nicole taking over. He’s mentioned several times he’s tired, and the idea of passing the torch to Nicole has been festering for a while. I guess if this kid dies, that will be the last drop for Nedley.

16) What is Bulshar doing with these people?

17) So, Bulshar is offing the first families’ descendants because their ancestors betrayed him and turned him in to Ward. And… how mean is it if I’d rather little Tim died instead of Jeremy’s boy toy? Oops.

18) Okay, Charlie dude wasn’t as clueless as he seemed to be, which is always appreciated. But Doc should’ve been the one by Wynonna’s side when they broke into Bulshar’s Little Workshop, kicking ass and calling names.

19) Awww, that was sweet!

And little Tim didn’t have to die, go figure.

20) This is not a surprise, of course.

21) No no no, Doc left in the middle of Christmas dinner and Wynonna was about to go after him but her mom told her to stay, will these two ever be on the same page? Ever?!

22) That was a nice gesture…

But I’m still not on board with the Mama Earp train.

23) There it is.

That’s the meat of the matter, and it’s nice to know Wynonna at least can admit it to herself, and to her mom. She thinks she’s broken and she thinks she doesn’t deserve good things, love, happiness, whatever version of a happy ending one could get at Purgatory. I just hope when she makes up her mind, the writers don’t find some contrived plot to keep her and Doc apart.

24) Ugh.

I guess Wynonna can get in the middle of her own happiness all by herself. I’ve got nothing against Charlie, I’ve liked what I’ve seen of him so far. But I can’t see him as anything but a distraction since that’s exactly what Wynonna is going for.

25) Oh, damn, Mama Earp, you’ve no idea what you’ve done.

26) Waverly is every lesbian’s wet dream, isn’t she?

27) Um… Nope?

Nonononono

Fuck this. Why couldn’t Wynonna be honest with him? He heard the words he needed to hear from her, but it was Kate saying them. And it was so obvious she was playing him like a fiddle. He knew it, too, and I guess it was an easy choice. But what will this mean for him? What will be the rammifications of this choice? Doc Holliday, a vampire? I don’t know if l like the sound of that. I guess I’ll have to wait and see how this plays out.

28) A fun episode that advanced a lot of the season’s arc a bit, and I can’t wait where this season takes us! I still need answers about Waverly!

29) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi. Thanks!

#Wynonna Earp #Waverly Earp #Doc Holliday #Melanie Scrofano #Wynonna Earp 3x06 #WE 3x06 #we recap #recap #mine

6 notes · View notes

survivingthejungle · 6 years ago

Text

hopeless wanderer iii—vikings

You got home without so much as a bump in the road and immediately took care of dressing yourself before anyone else. “Listen to me,” you whispered harshly before leaving to the bathroom to change. “Nobody breathes until I get back.” You had been joined by Ivar, Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ubbe, of course; they were your original “tour group”. But then two others had surprised you when they asked to tag along— Bjørn, and the man himself, Ragnar. You allowed them, of course, because the more the merrier, but it also meant that getting enough clothes to make all of them blend in would be nothing short of a nightmare. “I’m gonna go see if my parents are still home.” They all nodded and you crept down the stairs to scope out the first floor only to find your mother about to walk out the front door. “Are you about to leave without telling me bye?” you asked her, nearly giving her a heart attack.

“Oh my God! (Y/N)! You scared the hell out of me,” she gasped, placing a hand on her chest. “I thought you were still asleep. Sorry, hon.” You hugged her and kissed her cheek. “Bye bye, lovey-dovey.”

“Bye, Mama. Love you.” With that she was out the door, and you and your Viking friends finally could move about freely. You knew your father wasn’t home because he typically left to work at about 5 A.M., and it was at least 8 currently. You watched through the peephole in the front door until her car left the driveway before calling upstairs. “You can come down now! My mom just left!” A band of footsteps swiftly followed—except for Ivar, who was aided by Hvit and Ubbe— and they all joined you at the bottom of the staircase.

“You live in a castle!” Hvitserk exclaimed. “I’ve never seen a house this big. Is your family royalty?”

“Oh, absolutely not. No such thing as ‘royalty’ around here,” you reminded them. “My parents just have pretty decent jobs, so we make enough money to live comfortably. This is a pretty average house compared to the rest.”

“I would like one of these houses,” Ubbe mused, looking around at everything he could see.

“Are y’all hungry?” you asked them, already walking towards the kitchen.

“Will you make us those sweets from yesterday?” Hvit asked you, pushing through his brothers to get next to you.

“No. I’ll make breakfast. Cookies are for after dinner,” you mildly scolded like a mother would a child. “If you guys want eggs I can do that. Or waffles, or bacon, or whatever. Whatever you want.”

“Next time you come back to Kattegat, (Y/N),” Ivar piped up from the floor—I really need to grab that wheelchair—, “We might not let you go.” He said it in the tone of a joke, but part of you knew he could also be serious. “You cook for us and give us clean clothes and know the future; I might make you my wife.”

Sigurd scoffed. “Yeah, and then what?” His brother shot him a hardened glare; it was obvious there was some deep, unresolved tension between them.

“Attitude. Sigurd, stop. Ivar, shut up. I’m not marrying anyone anytime soon; end of story, thank you!” You opened up the fridge door, indicating for them to take seats either at the kitchen table or the island. You grabbed a carton of eggs, milk, butter, cheese; pretty much anything you could use in breakfast foods. From the pantry you brought out waffle mix, oatmeal, and cereal, and found the waffle iron and skillet in a different drawer. After setting everything out on the counter, you turned to open the door to the basement. “‘Kay, breakfast is coming in a minute. I’ll be right back!” you called, already halfway down the steps.

It took a few moments, but you finally found where your mom’s old wheelchair had been stashed away and hauled it back upstairs. “Someone help me get this thing set up,” you suggested to no one in particular. Ragnar and Bjørn were the closest to you, so they got up to help. After stabilizing the wheels and locking the leg rests into place, you wheeled it over to Ivar and they followed, ready to get him settled. It took a minute or so, but they managed to get him seated and you got his legs propped up into place. “Do you wanna give it a test run?” you asked him. He looked at you blankly, clearly not understanding. “You can try to move it yourself, if you want. Just push the wheels.” The three of you backed away from him as he tested it out, rolling himself forward a couple feet.

“This is amazing!” he exclaimed, grinning at you. You smiled back, glad to be able to help your new friend.

“Ya think you can turn it?” You let him try to figure it out on his own, and after a couple fumbles, he managed to turn his direction to the right. “Nice!” You paused. “To make it easier though, we can just push you around for today. You can work on self-propulsion later.” Everyone nodded in understanding and you returned to your post in the kitchen, ready to get cookin’.

They fell into what you assumed was normal morning conversation for them, but you paid little attention to the words being exchanged. You were too focused on trying not to let anything burn; you were working on multiple dishes at once and couldn’t be watching them all at the same time, after all. You were only one girl. You heard the echo of your name and looked up from the eggs you had scrambling on a skillet. It was Ubbe trying for your attention.

“What are we doing today?” he asked you. “What is part of this ‘visit’ you are taking us on?”

“Oh! I’m so glad you asked!” you responded, taking the eggs off of the heat and attempting to deposit them evenly among the seven plates in front of you. “First order of business, I say we get coffee. There’s a little cafe in town—it’s my favorite—, and then we can… probably…” you trailed off, trying to think of how else you could fill the time. “Oh, my mom needed me to go grocery shopping,” you remembered, glancing at the credit card taped to a post-it note on the fridge. “So we can do that. And then we can go to the park! My friends and I are meeting there today to play soccer for a little bit. You can watch; or we can teach you if you want!”

“What… what is that?” Bjørn asked.

“Soccer?” He nodded. “It’s a sport, like a game. You— you’ll get it when you see it,” you assured him. You were also half-busy piling chocolate chip waffles onto everyone’s plates, so your explanation wasn’t necessarily adequate.

“You said your friends will be there?” Hvitserk asked you. You nodded and gave an mmh-hm. “How are you going to explain... us?”

“Oh, wow, good question,” you pondered. You racked through ideas in your head for a moment until a decent solution came to you: “Family friends. I’ll just say your family’s friends with mine because of business and stuff. And you’re visiting from Norway. Problem solved.” You walked around to everyone, handing out plates and silverware; and when you had finished doing that you brought them orange juice. Finally finished serving them—that sounded downgrading— you seated yourself on the kitchen counter and dug into your breakfast. After the first few bites, Bjørn broke the silence.

“This is delicious! What is it?” he asked, mouth stuffed and eyes wide.

“Chocolate chip waffles! Aren’t they great?” He nodded, taking another bite. You had drizzled syrup onto everyone’s just to ensure that they were extra sweet.

“Please, never stop bringing food for us,” Ragnar laughed. “This is much better than what we have in Kattegat.”

“That’s the beauty of the twenty-first century, my friend.” An idea crossed your mind. “Speaking of which…” you glanced at Ivar. “Hey, Google!” They looked at you like you had two heads. “Good morning!” The confused stares continued until the ‘assistant’ responded.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” the robotic voice responded. The stares of your friends intensified about tenfold as the robot continued to speak. “The weather today will be sunny, a high of seventy with a ten percent chance of rain. There is no traffic on the highway this morning. You have no new reminders.”

“Cool,” you said, more for yourself than for the robot’s sake. “Hey Google? What are diseases that make your bones weak?” Ivar looked at you with suspicion in his eyes; he knew you were asking because of him, but he wasn’t sure what your goal was.

“Here are some diseases with the symptom ‘weak bones’: low bone density, osteoporosis, osteogenesis imperfecta—”

“What’s osteogenesis imperfecta?” you asked, interrupting the list.

“Also called ‘brittle bone disease.’ A group of inherited disorders characterized by fragile bones that break easily.”

Ivar’s eyes widened along with the rest of his brothers and his father. “That’s me!” he told you excitedly, “That’s what I have!” He was grinning; he looked like a puppy.

“Then that’s what we’ll tell people you have, if anyone asks,” you responded. You smiled back at him. You weren’t expecting to help them make a big life discovery today, but you were glad that it had turned out that way.

—

You had a car full of ninth century Vikings in your car within the next hour, all wearing clothes that you had lent them from your dad’s closet. In the passenger seat was Hvitserk, followed by Ivar and Ubbe in the middle two seats; Sigurd, Bjørn, and Ragnar were sitting in the back three seats. You’d had to teach them all how to put on a seatbelt, and once that fiasco had been dealt with, you started the car up and connected your speaker system to the music on your phone. “Where is that coming from?” asked Sigurd,”Where are the instruments? Who’s playing this music?”

“It’s coming from my phone. I don’t really get how it works, either, but it’s going through the speakers in my car; there’s not actually anyone playing it right now.” He nodded as if he understood; it was obvious he didn’t, but he pretended to anyways.

The song in question was Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks, one of your favorite songs in the world. It was playing at medium volume, but you were in the mood to scream-sing along.

The weather had been beautiful that day. It was the middle of summer, it was warm outside, and the sun was shining. You rolled all the windows down and grabbed your sunglasses off of the hook on your sun visor, sliding them onto your head before cranking the volume up—not too loud, you didn’t know how sensitive they’d be to the noise, but a noticeable amount higher. Your eyes were trained on the road, like any good driver, but when you glanced to your side or in your rearview mirrors, you could see the awe written on their expressions because they’d never had an experience like this before. “How are you moving this?” Hvit asked you, voice slightly raised above the music and the hum of the wind.

“Gasoline!” You told him, not looking too far away from the road ahead of you. You were a fast driver. That isn’t to say you were going sixty miles above the speed limit, because you were still getting out of your neighborhood; but you were definitely going about forty in a fifteen zone. “Are we having fun?”

Ivar, clearly, was not. “This is worse than being at sea,” he groaned, looking like he was going to be carsick.

“Ooh. Sorry. I’ll slow up.” You let off the gas and slowed down, turning the music down as well and turning up the A.C. for him. “Better?”

“Yes.”

“Damnit, Ivar, why do you always ruin everything?” Sigurd was explicitly pissed off at his brother, which was not too unusual. Before the fight could escalate you shut it down.

“Hey! Shut up. If he’s feeling sick I’m not gonna just let him throw up in my car. Get over it. And stop fighting, Jesus! You two are acting like children! Be mature!” They both glared at each other, and then Sigurd glared at you through the rearview mirror. You’d had enough of their bickering, and his attitude. “Sigurd, I will turn this car around and march you all straight back to where you came from. Don’t make me regret this.”

Ragnar, Bjørn, Hvitserk, and Ubbe erupted into laughter. They’d never seen either of the boys ever put into place like that, especially not by a woman who wasn’t their mother. They couldn’t’ve been more amused.

“You will have my boys trained like dogs in no time with that attitude,” Ragnar laughed. You couldn’t help but chuckle with the rest of them. A few minutes passed by, filled by your singing along to your music while the Vikings looked around their new surroundings, fascinated. You pulled into the parking lot outside of the coffee shop.

“We’re here! My favorite place in the world. Do you guys ha— well, no I guess you wouldn’t. Who wants to try coffee today?”

“What is it?” Bjørn asked you.

“A drink. It’s made from coffee beans and it gives you energy. But it is a bit of an acquired taste, so you might not like it at first.”

“It sounds strange,” Hvit noted.

“It is. But I love it. I’ll just get two drinks and you all can try it and see if you like it,” you said, opening your door and getting out of the car, keys, phone, and wallet in hand. The Vikings managed to unbuckle themselves after a few moments and followed after you. You grabbed the wheelchair out of the back for Ivar and he Ragnar got him situated. When you walked in, it was relatively calm and quiet, and you sincerely hoped not to disturb the peace— or rather, you hoped that they wouldn’t disturb the peace. A few heads turned to observe the six gigantic men trailing after a young girl, but you paid them no mind. The Vikings looked all around the building, very confused by it all. You told them you’d tell them all about it once you were seated—outside, so that no one heard you. You ordered two iced caramel lattes from the barista, paid her, and waited for your drinks to be prepared. “I ordered them cold, because it’s too hot outside to be drinking hot coffee, in my opinion. And I got it flavored so it isn’t too bitter for you all. …I hope.”

It wasn’t a busy day so your drinks were ready soon after, and you popped the straws in before handing one to whoever was closest to you, who happened to be Ivar. He looked up at you blankly before grabbing the cup from your hand. He eyed it for a moment, took a sip, and grimaced. “I don’t know if I like it or not.”

Hvitserk rolled his eyes. “Give it to me. Make your mind up.” He took a sip, considered it, then took another. “It’s...good, but very strange.” The rest of the boys all tried it, didn’t know how to feel about it, then tried it again. Your favorite comment came straight from the man himself, Ragnar:

“I want to hate it, but… I like it.”

“See what I mean? Acquired taste. Anyone wanna finish it?”

Hvitserk grabbed it. “Yeah, I’ll drink it.” You chuckled.

Back in the car, you grabbed the shopping list your mom gave you and read over it for a moment. Hvit remained in the passenger seat and looked over your arm, trying to get a look at the list as well. You showed it to him. “Can you even read this?”

He stared at it for a few seconds before shaking his head. “No. What language is that?”

“English. But—” Ivar interrupted you.

“I can speak the Saxons’ language. Give it to me, I will read,” he demanded.

“You aren’t going to be able to read this, but I guess you can try,” you relented, and handed the list back to him. He flipped it around a couple times before handing it back. “That is not English.”

“Yes it is. But, as I was about to say, it’s not the same English that you know. The language has evolved over the past thousand years, and so has the writing.” You had pulled out of the parking lot and were now on the highway to where the nearest supermarket was.

Ubbe spoke up. “Where are we headed now?”

“The store, to go grocery shopping. It’s like a market, except everything is all sold in one place, and you buy it from the store, and not from another person.”

“That seems stupid. Where does the money go?” asked Bjørn.

“The people who own the stores. And the people who work there, but they don’t get as much as they should. You’re right, it is stupid; but it’s how the Western world does things.”

The closer you got to the store, the less keen you were on bringing six ancient Vikings to your local Kroger. You’d stick out like a sore thumb with them all trailing behind them, regardless of whether or not they were dressed to blend. And you couldn’t send them off to fetch items for you, they couldn’t read and they probably wouldn’t know what to look for, anyways!

You pulled into the parking lot and found a spot, putting the worries to the back of your mind. Get over it, (Y/N), this is your life now. You gave them all a warming before anyone get out of the car. “First thing: Automatic doors. There’s a wall of glass at the front that’s gonna open when you get close to it. Don’t let it freak you out. Second thing: absolutely no eating the groceries until they’re bought. Just… follow me and don’t act weird. Try to blend in.”

#vikings #vikings imagine #ragnar lothbrok #ragnar imagine #bjorn ironside #bjorn imagine #ubbe ragnarson #ubbe imagine #hvitserk ragnarson #hvitserk imagine #sigurd snake in the eye #sigurd imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarson #ivar imagine #i! hate! tagging!

60 notes · View notes

a-bear-at-hogwarts · 5 years ago

Note

answer everything on the talk about the muse asks uwu

LEE I HOPE YOU KNOW I WOULD DIE FOR YOU thank you so much oh my g o d Literally every ask; all about Dahlia Goldman!! :>!!

🍯 for a food headcanon

Dahlia is allergic to a substance called theobromine!! Usually the biggest trouble it causes her is chocolate, as anything much stronger than a white to very milky usually has enough to cause her trouble, but it would take an astounding amount to actually kill her - same story with caffeine!! It’s linked to how her biology is affected by the Sítheach curse, giving her physical traits usually associated with bears

🥛for a drink headcanon

Dahlia cannot stand pumpkin juice - it’s not the taste or anything, but it just feels so slimy and pulpy and gross and she absolutely loathes it

🐢 for a mental health headcanon

Dahlia’s environment growing up instilled in her the belief that she can’t fully trust anyone - not her friends, not her family, nobody. Her heart is open and she grows to care for people almost too fast, but she just can’t shake the voice in the back of her mind that’s a constant reminder she doesn’t know for certain that she’s safe around these people. In large part this is due to her mother - from childhood she enforced that people hid things, and that could be highly dangerous. In addition, her father was killed by a man he had thought was his friend - in actuality he’d been a sleeper agent for the Death Eaters.

Knowing everything she does, it takes her a long time to relinquish anything that can’t be reversed.

🦄 for a physical health headcanon

Okay. The Goldman’s?? Buff as hell.

From the fact that martial combat is something Sítheach legacies are raised into so that they can defend themselves, to the specific Goldman wariness that encourages the family to maintain their physical condition, to the fact that the curse increases their mass both muscular and otherwise in order to make the transition from human to beast less straining on the body, its a rare Goldman that doesn’t look like an extra from a Viking documentary. In addition, there aren’t many who don’t have a story-map of scars across their skin from various misadventures.

⌛for a sleep headcanon

Up until year three, Dahlia was trying her very hardest to just not sleep. There were too many people around for her to risk transformation, and she just plain didn’t want to. Why should she sleep and risk all the negative that came with it?

But then Talbott appeared, and gave her an option - and she became an animagus.

It was such a huge risk, considering Sítheach legacies were completely outlawed from becoming animagi centuries ago. There would have been no trial for her if she had been found out. But for the chance to rest peacefully, to sleep through the night without the gnawing fear that she would have hurt people or destroyed the life she’d built in the magical world, for the way it muffled the Call to the quietest whisper at the edge of her consciousness - it was more than worth it to her. And she gained a confident along the way :>!!

💕 for a love headcanon

Oh What a disaster she is. On one hand, Dahlia is a master of under-the-table flirting that leaves you breathless and asking questions. If she’s interested romantically, she lets you know in actions rather than words - singing a specific song in your general area, dressing slightly differently around you, making special note and adjusting accordingly. But the second you actually do something overt in response?? An absolute mess

All of a sudden words aren’t working and she can’t look anywhere without flutters - she has no idea what to do with her hands, and often seems almost scared to touch whoever she’s interacting with even if she was holding their hand or dancing with them only a moment ago

(remind me to talk about my ideas for how she and Merula first begin to realise their feelings because it’s a thing I wanna expand on :>!!!)

💣 for a stress headcanon

Unfortunately Dahlia’s approach to stress is pretty similar to her approach to most emotions she doesn’t want - repression. Just ignore it and it’ll go away eventually!

When she can’t deal with a buzzing mind, too full of thoughts and worries, she does something until she’s exhausted - fistfights the dummies in the duelling room, runs until she can’t anymore, anything really. Just so long as it drives her out of her head.

😵 for a sickness headcanon

Oh Dahlia is almost always in the hospital wing - before she learnt episkey, she was a regular due to her constantly getting scrapes and bruises she just paid no attention to at all until the teachers forced her to get them looked at. She doesn’t get viruses or bacterial illnesses very often, but when she does it’s denial city - what do you mean I can’t go to class it’s just a runny nose and a cough I’m fine

🤲 for a religious headcanon

The Goldman’s aren’t religious per se, but there are some folk-superstitions that stick. There’s a horseshoe over their door, and lavender in the pillows - and not one of them will ever set foot in a faerie circle.

🏡 for a home headcanon

When they first bought their property, the family house was in shambles. Dahlia’s mother and father worked on it together, her mother doing the physical placing of new beams and other physical elements while her father handled the magical parts. It became sort of a patchwork tower, adding bits as they needed them - it doesn’t make sense per se, but it’s still home. And at the end of the day, it was the only place Dahlia felt secure for the longest time.

🍬 for a family headcanon

Mama Goldman is a 7′2 absolute beast of a lady who can and will kick your ass if you give her reason to. She’s known as one of the most dangerous members of the Sítheach legacy, constantly alert and never unarmed.

She’s also the dork who looked at a florists son, a big nerd who would Not Stop Rambling to the pretty and ripped lady who agreed to go get coffee with him about how muggle understanding of plant families could influence potion making and thought “Oh I can’t not marry him”

Dahlia is very much a mamma’s girl in a lot of ways

💼 for a work headcanon

In the future, Dahlia finds employment as an instructor for an elective course available to aurors in training! Hand to hand, escapism and muggle interactions are all handled in her classroom ^-^

⛈️ for a sadness headcanon

Okay so

At the beginning of the canon storyline, it’s been two years since Jacob has vanished. The likelihood of missing persons returning to their families decreases by the hour - something the Goldman’s would definitely know.

Dahlia believes Jacob is dead all the way up until he appears again. They all do. They buried an empty grave for him, they mourned, and as the years passed they moved on.

It utterly destroys Dahlia to know Jacob is alive, for two reasons; the first is that she stopped looking for him, they all did - during her investigation of the vaults all she was searching for was a body to bury. The second is that he reappears right as there’s strife amongst the family that he knows nothing about. Hell the summer before he’s found she buries her uncle.All she knows is that she couldn’t handle mourning him again.

😡 for an anger headcanon

Anger isn’t something Dahlia feels like she’s allowed. It’s too dangerous, too much of a risk for her to hold on to something like that because anger leads to adrenaline, and adrenaline leads to the change, and the change leads to bloodshed-

but oh, sometimes she just can’t help it. There’s so much anger that simmers below her constraints, bitterness at how she’s treated by ministry and adults and frustration at herself for her fear and closed-off nature. Sometimes she just can’t bottle it, and when that happens she usually takes it out of a training dummy. Better than taking it out on a person.

💩 for a ridiculous headcanon

The real reason Dahlia never actually met her DADA teacher before Rakepick was because it always took place during the time of the day she was most tired, so she would just sleep through it every time.

What? She’s got teachers permission and already knew basically everything being taught. It was fiiiiiiiiiine

🌼 for a happiness headcanon

In quiet moments alone in her room, Dahlia enjoys playing the guitar. She can play half a dozen love ballads, a handful of old folk songs, a couple popular pop songs. It’s what she does when she feels safe to lose herself.

After a couple of years of friendship with Talbott, he’s the first person she feels like she can play in front of while he’s visiting over the summer. He’s quiet as she does so, usually absorbed in whatever else it is that he’s got in his hands, most often a piece of writing. It’s a part of their mutual understanding that they don’t interrupt each other, but that they’re simply content in the company.It’s nice, after spending so long afraid of contact, to just share one of the tiniest parts of yourself that never ordinarily sees the light of day

#Asks!!#long post tw #jkbhjv . he c k thank you so much for enabling me this was so fun ;A;!!!

5 notes · View notes

justlookfrightened · 7 years ago

Text

NHL!Jack, Part 3

There's a short NSFW bit towards the beginning; if you want to skip it, stop after the second graf (ending "feeling their time was limited"). Skip the next three grafs, picking up at "When it was over ...") and know both of them enjoyed themselves immensely, and that Jack was a little surprised at how comfortable it was.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6

Part 7 or AO3

When it came time to leave Bitty’s hotel room, Jack tried very hard not to think about the fact that the next time he talked to Bitty, he’d likely be three states away. The distance would only grow when the Falconers returned to Providence.

He tried to focus on the last two hours instead. It wasn’t magical, precisely, but it was awfully good — and far less awkward than Jack had feared. They hadn’t done so much, really. In some ways, it reminded him of the first fumbling encounters with Kent, fast and sloppy blow jobs and hand jobs in nondescript hotel rooms on the road, knowing the door was locked against their teammates, but always feeling their time was limited.

With Bitty, though, it was so much better. Not only because Bitty had a small bottle of lube tucked into his bag, which made the feeling of Bitty’s hand stroking him exquisite. Then when Bitty pushed him down and settled between his knees without Jack even having to ask -- no, Bitty had done the asking, looking up at Jack from under his lashes, saying “Can I?” -- that was nearly enough to make Jack come as soon as Bitty’s mouth touched him.

Then he lasted what should have been an embarrassingly short time, but Bitty seemed to take it in stride, just spreading some lube on Jack’s hand, joining it with his, and placing both of them on his own still-hard erection.

“Like this,” Bitty whispered into Jack’s neck, showing Jack how to pull at him. In the end, he didn't last much longer than Jack.

When it was over and they’d cleaned up, Bitty pulled the covers over them and curled into Jack’s side.

“Sleep or talk?” Bitty asked.

It was all Jack could do to stay awake, but he murmured, “Don't want to waste our time together.”

“But you're tired, sweet pea,” Bitty said. “Tell you what, ask me questions and I'll just ramble along."

Jack tried to protest because Bitty had a long day of driving ahead of him, but Bitty just started talking about the mini pies he’d made when Jack turned up in Samwell. So Jack asked him how he learned to cook, and Bitty told Jack about spending days in his MooMaw’s kitchen while his Mama and coach were at work.

“Your coach?” Jack asked.

“Coach is my dad, not my coach,” Bitty said. “He's the high school football coach in town. Everyone calls him Coach.”

Jack wanted to pursue that, but it might be too much at this time of night.

“What was the music you were listening to when you were making breakfast?”

That was either a very good or very bad question, judging by the way Bitty dropped his jaw and gasped audibly.

“You didn't recognize Beyonce? Vintage Beyonce even? Wait, who do you listen to?”

Jack shrugged. He knew what was coming.

“Euh, Coldplay, Wilco, maybe some Neil Young or Tom Petty.”

“Oh my God, Jack,” Bitty said. “Anyone from this century?”

“Adele can sing,” Jack said.

Bitty allowed that Adele could, in fact, sing, but then started throwing names at him. Some were the same names that Jack heard in association with music from the younger guys in the locker room, but for all that he could say they were musicians, he had no idea which singer went with which song.

“Oh, my Lord, Jack, are you sure you don’t have actual children somewhere? Because you and Coach could bond over, I don’t know, the Traveling Wilburys or something,” Bitty said. Jack knew he was being chirped about his dad music, but the affection in it was plan on Bitty’s face and in his voice, so Jack just said, “I like them,” and started singing, “She’s My Baby.”

Bitty laughed, more with him than at him, and said, “Be prepared. I will be sending you playlists.”

“Are those like mixtapes?” Jack asked., trying to keep the proper sense of bewilderment in his voice but nearly laughing instead.

“Hush, you,” Bitty said. “I know you know what a playlist is.”

When they’d settled again, this time with Bitty’s head on Jack’s shoulder and Jack stroking the short, soft hair behind his ear, Bitty asked, “Don’t be mad at me asking, but you do know how to use Skype, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “I Skype with my parents once or twice a week.”

“If we exchange contact information, maybe we could Skype when you have time?” Bitty said. “I know how busy you are now, and if things go the way we hope, it’ll be that way for a little while yet, but maybe we could find a time that works for you? On your off days?”

Jack bent his neck to kiss the top of Bitty’s head. “Every day,” he said. “Or at least, I’ll try. Once next season starts, it might be hard, depending on our schedules.”

Bitty had nodded, a movement Jack felt rather than saw, and said, “We’ll try our best.”

Then Bitty had yawned, and they lay there together in comfortable silence until the alarm on Bitty’s phone told them it was time for Jack to go.

********************************

If it wasn’t for the time Jack spent talking to Bitty, he’d gladly have forgotten the next two days.

On Friday, the day Bitty left, Jack slept late and woke up to a text from Bitty -- it was a selfie of him and Shitty and Lardo in the breakfast room at their hotel, all holding up those make-your-own waffles that were a fixture of hotel breakfast.

The text included a links to an Instagram and a Twitter account, where Bitty had shared the picture with the caption Spending time with some of my favorite people! #FreeBreakfast #bonus

Jack followed both accounts and noted that neither post included a location tag. Bitty might have been anywhere.

A few minutes later, there was another text, this one just to Jack.

Packed up and headed out. Gonna drop Shitty and Lardo at the train station so they can go back to Boston and head for Georgia. Skype at 10 tonight? That should give me plenty of time.

Jack texted back, Sure thing, I already miss you.

The reply came before he even put the phone down.

Me too sweetpea.

What followed was a usual road off-day: high-protein breakfast, light workout, team meetings, lunch, watching tape, rest, team dinner, more tape. Marty sought him out at lunch but couldn’t pry too much because the other guys were there. He just asked how Jack’s dinner with his friend had gone.

“Friends, actually,” Jack said. “But it was good to get away from hockey for a bit.”

He wasn’t sure whether Tater noticed Marty’s raised eyebrows; he joined the conversation by saying, “I didn’t know Zimmboni had friends in Washington.”

“They were just here for a visit,” Jack said. “They left this morning.”

“Lucky you could hook up then,” Tater said, and Marty choked and blamed the water for going down the wrong pipe.

Every couple of hours, Jack would get a text from Bitty, sometimes with a photograph of an old gas station or just a quip about how he knew he was getting further south by the way the humidity was making his hair frizz.

There was a picture about 1 p.m. of a bowl of barbecue and a biscuit, and at around 7:30, there was a picture of a two-story house with a deep shaded porch and an attached garage. The grass was a brilliant green, and the soil that showed at the edges of the driveway and front walk was more russet than black. A red flag with a big black G in the center hung from a pole attached to the porch.

Home sweet home, the caption read.

Then, Mama’s gonna want to feed me and hear all about my trip. Still on to Skype at 10?

I’ll be waiting, Jack texted back.

He wondered if Bitty telling his mother all about his trip included telling her about Jack. Jack decided it probably didn’t. They hadn’t yet discussed how private they would keep their relationship; so far, only Shitty and Lardo really knew. And Marty, probably.

It would be fine with Jack if Bitty wanted to tell his parents. But it was something they should talk about.

Jack decided he wouldn’t talk about Bitty to his parents when he called them. Telling them would be perfectly safe -- he was sure of that -- but it should be something he and Bitty decided together.

Still, it made for an awkward Skype call home. Jack felt like he sounded kind of pathetic: What had he been doing outside of hockey? Nothing really. Just hanging out with the team, watching tape, sometimes taking a break to watch the History Channel (every hotel had the History Channel) or read a book, because Mama and Papa insisted that being a hockey player did not mean he should neglect his mind. If not for Bitty, that’s exactly what he would have done, but now (after two dates? Encounters?) he felt like he was leaving the best parts out. Even if he really couldn’t have talked about all the best parts. But the mini pies and the omelets and the falafel and Bitty chirping him over his musical taste -- he could have told them all of that.

Maybe that was why, when Bitty connected their Skype call and popped up in his screen, he jumped in way too quickly. He did take a moment to appreciate that Bitty was clearly in his childhood bedroom, with cream colored walls, a shelf behind him with lots of medals, and a poster of a beautiful woman (Jack assumed she was Beyonce from the way Bitty talked about her) and a poster of Patrick Chan.

Bitty himself was smiling a little too brightly, like he was tired and didn’t want to show it.

“Hey there,” Bitty said. “Good rest day?”

“Good enough,” Jack said. “The usual. I just talked to my parents.”

“What a coincidence,” Bitty said. “I just talked to mine.”

“I wanted to know if it was ok if told my parents about us,” Jack said. “I didn’t tonight, because we hadn’t discussed it, but I wanted to. It’s fine with me if you told your parents, or if you want to.”

Bitty sat up the way he did when something surprised him (and Jack loved that he already knew that) and said, “Jack, my parents don’t know.”

“About what?” Jack said.

“About me,” Bitty said. “They don’t know I’m gay.”

“But you said you’d known since you were a kid,” Jack said. “And Shitty knew, and Lardo, so I guess your college team did?”

“Yes, all of that, but just because I knew doesn’t mean I told anyone here,” Bitty said. “Jack. this is a small town in Georgia. What’s more, I’m the football coach’s kid. I can’t be gay here. It wouldn’t be good for me. Heck, it could cost Coach his job, unless he publicly disowned me or something.”

“That makes no sense,” Jack said. “How could your sexual orientation have anything to do with your dad’s job?”

“It doesn’t, but there are people who would think that they made me gay or something, or that my being gay is a punishment visited upon my parents,” Bitty said. “My dad serves at the pleasure of the school board. They don’t need a real reason to let him go. I mean, he’s the winningest coach they ever had, so I don’t think they would, but that wouldn’t matter if the team turned on him,”

“But can’t you at least tell your parents?” said Jack, recalling some of the fond memories Bitty had shared with him after the game in Washington. “Even if you don’t tell anyone else. Keeping secrets like that -- it can’t be good for you.”

Bitty shrugged and didn’t look exactly at the camera. “I’m not sure how they would take it,” he said. “I mean, if they don’t already know, they suspect, but they never bring it up, and neither do I. Anyway, I told them at dinner that I’m leaving for Houston next week. It’s not like I’m really out there, but even as a member of the Aeros, people are paying less attention to what I do than they do here. And I’m pretty sure Ricks and Pops know, or at least think I’m gay, and they don’t care.

“So then Mama and Coach all but accused me of being too big for my britches, wanting to move away. Until I said I wanted to train with the strength coach to make it more likely I’ll make the team out of camp next year. Once it was about sports, Coach was all for it.”

Jack stopped and thought about the Aeros he knew -- Pops, of course, and Gus and Monty -- and said, “The ones I know are good guys. I wouldn’t expect any of them to give you a problem. If you wanted to be out-out, like publicly, I’m not sure how the marketing people would take it.”

“What about you?” Bitty asked Jack. “Marty knows. Anyone else?”

“My parents,” said Jack. “And I was in a relationship with someone else who ended up in the league, but it was a long time ago. I’m pretty sure other guys know, or at least think I’m not straight. But I’ve been around a while. I guess I’m not saying I’m ready to be out either, but if it happened, I’d be ok. Your position is a little tougher.”

“I know,” Bitty said.

“We’ll be as careful as you need to be,” Jack said, and felt a lump rise in his throat at what he was about to say next. “But are you sure you want to do this? I want to, but I’ll understand if you don’t. No one has to know anything happened between us.”

“Hush, you,” Bitty said, giving a small but genuine smile. “Of course I do. I don’t invite just anyone out for late-night falafel. I’m sorry I’m so serious.”

Jack smiled in relief and changed the subject.

“Why do you have a poster of Patrick Chan on your wall?”

“You don’t know Beyonce and you know Patrick Chan?” Bitty asked.

“I am from Canada,” Jack said. “I was at Sochi.”

“Of course you were,” Bitty said. “Wait -- do you actually know him?”

Jack shrugged.

“We’ve met,” he said.

*****************************************

The next day was more of the same for Jack: fuel his body, rest, bond with his team, until the game started.

This game was a disaster. The Falconers weren’t shut out, but it was a near thing. Thirdy scored a meaningless goal five minutes before the end of the game, but at 4-1 it already felt out of reach.

When it was over, Jack tapped Snowy’s helmet and said, “That wasn’t on you, man.”

It wasn’t. Maybe one of the goals was a little soft, but other times Snowy stood on his head to bail out his team. Anyway, all wins were team wins and all losses were team losses.

Since it was a matinee, the team cleaned up and boarded the bus to head directly to the airport and go home, preparing for a game Tuesday night.

Most of the veterans -- the guys Jack’s age or older -- were looking forward to their own beds, and many of them couldn’t wait to see their wives and kids. Some were looking to reconnect with their girlfriends.

Mats told them they had tonight off; after that, they’d be sequestered in a hotel until the next game, because no one needed to be getting up to handle 2 a.m. feedings or soothe restless toddlers or “indulging in other late-night activities,” Mats said, the night before the most important game of the season so far.

Jack was pretty sure he was the only one flying further from the person he wanted to see, and pretty sure he was the only one who was wishing he could spend time with his boyfriend. Was Bitty his boyfriend yet? Jack wanted him to be.

Marty sat next to him on the plane.

Using the cover of the engine noise, he leaned closer to Jack.

“How’re things with Bitty?”

“Good,” Jack said, because despite an awkward conversation the night before, they were good. He really liked Bitty, was pretty sure that he could love Bitty given half a chance. “He’s really good. We’re going to try to make something work.”

“I’m happy for you,” Marty said. “How long have you been here? Seven years? This is the first time I’ve seen your head turned. Pops says he’s a good kid.”

“About that,” Jack said. “Is it going to be ok, Pops knowing about this? I mean, I trust you, and Pops has always seemed like a good guy. But Bitty’s new in the league, and they might not want someone that seems like he’s rocking the boat.”

“Nah, you don’t have to worry about Pops,” Marty said. “He wants Bitty to be happy, and he wants Bitty to be happy there. What about his friend Ricks?”

“Bitty thinks he’s fine,” Jack said. “But he hasn’t told either of them defininitively.”

Marty shrugged.

“Maybe keep it that way for a little while? Not that I think there’s a problem, but the more people know …”

“I know,” Jack said. “But thanks. For telling me to go for it.”

“Whatever you need, kiddo,” Marty said.

“Oh -- I hope you don’t mind,” Jack said. “I gave Bitty your phone number. He said he wants to know your favorite kind of pie. But don’t expect it until we’re done playing.”

Marty laughed.

“Tell him peach,” Marty said. “And he can call me anytime.”

#omgcheckplease #omg check please #zimbits #nhl!jack #my fic

81 notes · View notes

sambart93 · 7 years ago

Text

2018.03.30 ‘KimiSaga’ Kimi yo Sakebe, Sono Saga no Aru ga Mama [Review]

Unfortunately I am a piece of shit who has fallen behind on reviews, AGAIN, so as usual, my memory won’t be the best. But, bear with me!

Official Site here Official Twitter here Online Store here Press Coverage 1, 2, 3, 4

CAST and CHARACTERS

Main:

Oguri Ryo as Byakoumaru / Byaki Seto Keita as Gedomaru Hiroya as Tsuchimigado Gentoku Natsume Aimi as Tamayorihime Akaba Mio as Umarokya Mochida Chihira as Izumi Kadono Sho as Hoemaru Takahashi Makoto as Nazo no Onna (Mysterious Woman) Ichijo Ryunosuke as Nagayama Kakun Minami Chisato as Sakura Araki Miyu as Wakasano Okiku Sugamoto Ikumi as Blind Man Ogura Erika as Shichuu Hanaoka Meika as Dabi Maruyama Raiden as Henmima Satsune

Kimi Cast:

Umeda Shouhei as Shiki Ishihara Rin as Iroha Aibara Mizuki as Shihou Hirono Ryota as Young Boy

Saga Cast:

Watai Ryuuya as Shiki Ota Saki as Shihou Umehara Saeri as Iroha Tanaka Hiroki as Young Boy

*The Kimi and Saga cast did alternative days. I only watched Saga's version.

Ensemble:

Masuda Yuuna Komae Yuka Kumaya Rion

NON-SPOILER REVIEW

Overall: As usual ASSH doesn't fail me. It was just as amazing and as enjoyable as I had expected and predicted. As always they have some shocking moments, they had moments where my heart was in my mouth; moments where my tears were coming out with no control; I enjoyed this so much. I wouldn't expect anything less from ASSH and they (alongside ODD) are becoming a very important production company to me. This was dark, this was funny, the story was compelling, the characters were all great and had so much development in such a small amount of time. They wrapped it up enough to be satisfactory but also left enough mystery and holes open for them to do a prequel, sequel, second installment etc. if they wanted to! And I definitely want a second installment. Rating: 8/10

SPOILER REVIEW

I have no idea where to start with this....

There's two running plot lines in this story; the past and the present. The past is centered around Byaki's story and what happened with him and then the future story is people learning about the Byaki's past. The future group is the Mysterious Woman, Blind Man and the Young Boy for the most part. Then everyone else is pretty much the past. I think there's about 15 years or so between the two time lines.

What I love about ASSH are their twists and the brutality in their stages. Actually I was super surprised that most people survived in this one because every ASSH I've seen so far, about 80% of the cast die xD so people suriving was that in itself a twist and a surprise! The other big surprise is with the future group.

So it turns out - By the way MAJOR spoilers coming up so ingore until 「*」 if you don't want to know the big reveals:

******

Shounen = Byaki's son Blind Man = Old Gedomaru Mysterious Woman = Tamayorihime

I am not doing it justice but when this fucking comes out, I was so freaking shocked and surprised! I was like 'WWWWWAAAHHH?!?! NO WAY!!!' I realise I've spoilt it for you but are you going to watch this dvd? Probably not, so I might as well tell you ALL and give you ALL my feels, okay?

******

Now let's work from the big scale and work in. FIRST, I really loved the set! I've been to this theatre before and it's super small. There's like 40 seats and a tiny ass stage but I was super impressed at how BIG they managed to make the set look! There were stairs and proper background and foreground sets and it looked super cool! But I felt kind of sorry for the front row people because there was literally no gap between them and the stage/cast so it's kind of a godsend no audience member got hurt to be honest...

Then we had the action scenes which were so well choreographed! AND!! I didn’t know until afterwards that Oguri Ryo did the entirity of the sword fighting choreography himself which is absolutely amazing! Huge kudos to him! He has a lot to direct and a lot of action scenes to deal with but I felt like everyone had their own style and the techniques were so great! I feel like Oguri is at his most confortable and most confident when he's doing sword fighting scenes. You can just feel that kind of sense from him when he's fighting. It's difficult to explain but he feels different when he's doing the sword scenes.

The story was great, like I said earlier, so many twists and surprising things happened! Also, they left enough questions unanswered that if they wanted to do a second installment then they could! I really want a second installment, especially for the one big question that I have, (again major spoilers):

*****

Who is hell is Shounen's mother?!

*****

Now I want to go character/actor-by-character/actor.

Oguri Ryo as Byakoumaru / Byaki

I love Oguri. I really do. He's such a good actor and he picks so amazing characters! I've enjoyed every character and performance he's ever done! Also his actual personality is always so different to his characters which just proves how great of an actor he is. I really enjoyed Byaki in this for several reasons. I love how, regardless of the fact he's being called a monster and a god, he just embraces it and pronounces himself as this thing, but that is due to the fact he has no recollection of who he is which I'm pretty sure is due to some magician meddling with his memories (more on him later).

I really liked how lost and quiet his character was. But I also love how he blamed how he looked as to why he was being treated in such a way << I realise how this sounds but you get what I mean right?! I enjoy the character, NOT the act of mistreating another human. This story, I believe, is set in an old Japan, maybe like 16th, 17th Century, maybe even later so it makes sense that people who had never seen an Albino before (which I believe is what Byaki is supposed to be or at least, represents) would treat him either like a monster or like a god.

I really liked Oguri's visual look too! He's a pale man to begin with but the added white paint made him even more pale. He also had this beautiful red eyeliner and eye makeup on which, along with red contacts, just made his expressions and face pop-out even more and looked super amazing! It was a really good look for him (actually he's somewhat redoing this look for his NEXT stage --- which I also really want to see but I shall restrain...)

His story towards the end of the play was left open enough that he could come back in a second installment too.

Seto Keita as Gedomaru

I loved this character! He was such a likeable character. He was loyal to his friend, he was a badass fighter and he has stupidly funny moments too. Especially with Sakura. He fell totally in love with her straight away and was an absolutely adorable idiot around her. But he is also self-sacrificing which was so sweet. He rejected Sakura and made her go far away so she wouldn't get caught up in the fighting and so she could live a happy and safe life even if it was without him. Which I think is totally sweet!

He also never left Byaki's side and was his pal from childhood, all the way to the end, I loved his relationship with Byaki and those two would do anything for each other! His look visually was really nice too! His visual, his comedy balance, his loyalty to Byaki, I just super loved this character!!

Hiroya as Tsuchimigado Gentoku

Here's the crazy guy!! I should've expected Hiroya to play the morally wrong, crayz guy! He is so great in these roles and he did great in this one too! His has some sort of power where he can take control of people and get them to do his bidding, which he does with the ensemble cast, he controls them and makes them attack the good guys; he also has control of Byaki for a while when Byaki is really lost in himself and weak; and THEN we get this moment where he takes control of this super powerful sword, it even has a name which is epic because we ALL know how I feel about naming swords ♡　(psst. if you didn't know, I am a Touken Ranbu lover which personifies swords and many swords in Japan have names and just... flail...) but unfortunately I've forgotten it *cries*. It was amazing seeing how the sword had a mind of it's own and you could see Hiroya struggling to control the sword and trying to get the sword to do it's bidding.

Also before the show, he kindly spoke to me and my friend and he was spekaing some English to us which was totally sweet. I've always known Hiroya to be a nice guy so it was great to took some of his time out to talk to us. Also when he realised we knew Japanese he was like 'we use old Japanese in this-- WILL YOU BE OKAY?! Will you understand?!' which is so nice of him.

Natsume Aimi as Tamayorihime

She was such a sweet girl but had such a SHITTY husband! She was beat and bruised and hurt so much by him. It was the standard DV case for this couple. She just had such a sad life and it doesn't get much better for her for quite a long time.

Without spoiling too much, thank god she has a happy ending but oh my lord did I cry a few times with what happened to her!

We had the standard, 'husband beats wife but then produsely apologises right after' scene which hurt my heart. And then something precious is taken away from her and she's thrown away which I was just balling in tears at. And then when she finally gets a happy end, I was just cry from pure happiness for her. After ALL the shit she went through, she deserved an ending like that. And just like everyone else, her end of the story is left open just enough that, if she wants to come back for part two, she can.

Akaba Mio as Umarokya and Hanaoka Meika as Dabi

Uma and his underling, Dabi, were absolutely hilarious together! They were such a great pair! His character is a damn good archer and he has powers to shoot multiple arrows at once and he can rain arrows upon people which is so cool and then while he always scolds his underling, he also has this stupid soft spot for her. Dabi was so freaking funny!! I'm pretty sure she was in charge of a lot of the adlibbing and some things she said were just nonsensical and ridiculous and even Mio couldn't hold it together sometimes, he would just crack into smiles and try so hard to hold his laughter back. There were also times where her adlibs were so fast, she'd mess up and then she'd make fun of the fact she obviously messed up which made everyone crack up even more. She had so much energy and was so high-pitched, she was so amusing and funny! I really loved their dynamic and I also love just how loyal she was to Uma even though she was crazy and she was very obviously in love with him -- she definitely acted like a fangirl around him at times with all the 'kyaaaa' screaming and cheering him on during battles. But it was cute when she ended up getting injured and he was there to help her and protect her so he obviously cared for her too! It was a great and enjoyable duo!

Kadono Sho as Hoemaru and Mochida Chihira as Izumi

Izumi and Hoemaru were part of Gedomaru's gang. It felt like they'd all been with each other for quite a while and were a tight-knot group. I unforutnately don't remember too much about Hoemaru except that the actor, Sho, had the best muscles and looked DAMN attractive! I really liked his physical and visual look xD but I remember quite a bit about Izumi; she was a very quite girl, almost ninja like in how quiet she is and she sneaks around a lot. But I also felt for her because it was obvious she was in love with Gedomaru but, I guess due to comradary or due to him liking Sakura, Gedomaru never really paid attention to her feelings. But everyone else around could tell and there's a scene towards the end where Okiku refuses to join their group because she sees how Izumi feels about Gedomaru and doesn't want to ruin it, so Okiku is like 'you should stay by his side. She'll always be there for you' so the two go off together. A part of me thinks, maybe he feels the exact same way back to an extent but, like I said, if they get involved and one of them ends up getting killed or something, the hurt would only increase and be a lot worse, so maybe they both mutually and unspokenly agreed to never get involved just so they can save each other a way of emotions? OR I am simply being WAY TOO DEEP about this!

^^^ Do you not see?! In less than 2 hours ASSH managed to produce a play that had THIS much context and THIS much meaning and THIS much thought in it?! This is why I love ASSH, their characters are so damn LAYERED and you can get so MUCH out of them and the story even when you only see it once and only in like 2 hours. Ahh ASSH.

Seriously, check them out. Just go and love them okay! They're two amazing production companies and they have given me MORE satisfactory stages than any MARV or Nelke or any of those 'big shots' in the 2.5 stage world have.

ANYWAY...

Takahashi Makoto as Nazo no Onna (Mysterious Woman)

Her reveal was so mindblowing. I loved it! Also, she has a limp and throughout the story we learn what happened to her and what caused her injured leg and just my poor heart. She was such a lovely woman though and I'm glad her ending was happy. OH! And the actress herself is super badass, she played the shamisen LIVE on stage and it was so good! I was so impressed!

Ichijo Ryunosuke as Nagayama Kakun

This guy is supposed to be a bad guy but... he's handsome and he looks cool so I was very soft towards him. He does treat Sakura like crap and he is mean to her and he does turn on her, (or she turns on him) and he IS a bad guy but I just reallt enjoyed him visually and the actor himself did a really good job with the evil moments! Seeing his switch between being this nice guy and being evil was just great acting. It was so juicy and so good!

Minami Chisato as Sakura

She was Kakun's wife (or to be wife) and she up until about half way through believed in her husband and they looked like a great pairing but then obviously soon she starts to realise that he's not all that good and after being introduced to Gedomaru, she starts falling for him and seeing how great of a genuine guy he is, even though at first she pretended to like him in order to manipulate him and because it was very obvious he liked her. But she genuinely falls for him after discovering the malicious plan her husband has with Satsune, and she just sees how much of a great guy he actually is. And it is quite sad how, even after she falls for him and begs to stay by Gedomaru's side, Gedomaru is just TOO kind and tells her to escape and get away so she can be safe and have a happy life and not be held back by him or by Kakun.

She is my girl crush in this stage... so beautiful!!

Araki Miyu as Wakasano Okiku

I don't quite remember HOW she ended up join Gedomaru and crew but she was a great addition to them. She was totally cute and like Dabi, a bit silly and ridiculous but the actress herself is very flexible and she obviously has some sort of dancing under her belt because she did a lot of beautiful movements and lots of high perfect kicks and legs and stuff. She too fell for Gedomaru but seeing just how much Izumi likes him, she gives up which is just... my heart ♡

Sugamoto Ikumi as Blind Man

He is a tricky and sneaky little guy, BUT with good intentions so don't get too suspicious of him! His reveal, just like the Mysterious Woman, was just like 'OHHHH MYYY GOOODDD' but also made sense. I really loved his relationship with Shounen -- but later on it makes sense why they get on so well and why they are a pair. I enjoyed the actor and his acting. In fact I knew he looked familiar and I've already seen him in Marker Light Blue (his character is GREAT in that) and Onigiri so I had that familiarity with him and his character in this is GREAT.

Maruyama Raiden as Henmima Satsune

This piece of shit. He was a great bad guy. Not only was he just a bad guy but he was a real piece of shit. He constantly beat his wife, he beat his wife's maid, and then had the audacity to apologise every time after wards?! He was so controlling and would get angry at Tama for everything! He was bat shit crazy and seeing him meet his demise was so satisfactory. Kudos to the actor for being such a SHIT. I wanted him dead so badly! The way he treated his wife and what he did to her, not just the beatings by the way(!), was just dispicable. Espeically the way he dies is so good but also hits you in the feels because of WHO kills him.

Also, I love how it's not simply just one bad guy in all this. We have Satsune who's the messed up King, then we have Kakun who's only motive is for control and power, and then we have Horiya's character who just wants to control others literally and how the world's strongest weapons etc. While they aren't technically all working together, it's great how we have all these shits for different purposes and meanings. It's great!

Umehara Saeri as Iroha

She was Tama's maid and she was so protective and loving towards Tama. She tried so hard to make sure it was her being hit by the King/husband rather than Tama herself and she spouted so many reasons just to please so Tama wouldn't get attacked etc. Her final scene in this was just so touching and, again, loyalty is a BIG thing in this play and you can see it in her actions for Tama ♡

Tanaka Hiroki as Young Boy

Ahhhhh my boy!!! First a compulsory picspam!!!

He was great!! As usual I fall into my normal complaint of 'he didn't get enough stage time!!!' but we all know that's me being biased xD Besides that, he was GREAT! I really loved his character. His reveal as to who his character actually was is great! I was so happy when it came out who he was!! Also his part of the story is very calm as he's just walking through the forest and stuff listening to the Mysterious Girls' story but they also 'stand' in the scenes while they're happening so that's great. He does get a moment or two to fight and show off his fighting techniques and he also had like a cartwheel here and there which made me very happy. Visually he looked great too! And totally makes sense why he looked like that (trying not to spoil too much here) xD and at the end we are still left with this HUGE question mark about him (mentioned above already) so I am hoping they're do a part two and that becomes a main part or is at least answered. I definitely want to know more about his character and his past and what he's been through and his connections. I loved his relationship with the blind man too and I'd love to see how that friendship came to be too!!

And that's all! I don't think I have anything else to add except, GIVE ME A SECOND STAGE!!!

But as always, finishing off with the

GOODS

Hopefully I have a bunch of reviews coming out fairly close between each other!

8 notes · View notes

corey-musick · 3 years ago

Text

musical web - 7-27-2021

youtube

“Maple Leaf Rag” performed by Scott Joplin

Original listening log: "Maple Leaf Rag" is a very exciting piece of ragtime music. While Joplin's left hand maintains a steady meter, his right hand is playing a syncopated melody. He makes good use of dissonant chords, creating points of tension. It almost feels a little bit like being at a carnival or something, with the tense moments being similar to being pulled up a roller coaster before cascading down as the music resolves or begins to be more consonant. Another part that amde the song exciting was how freeform it was. There were certainly moments of repetition, but Joplin consistently introduced new melodies to the song, keeping listeners on their toes as he plays.

The very first listening log I completed for the class was for Scott Joplin’s classic “Maple Leaf Rag,” written in 1899. Going back and listening to it again after all I’ve learned in this class, I can see how Joplin took aspects of music before him (such as African musical syncopated rhythms and “dance music”) and used them in a brand-new way that would last for decades after he first composed the song. The way he uses rhythm and melody - setting a steady rhythm with his left hand while playing a syncopated melody with his right - can be found in a ton of popular music that followed (and some that came before) and set the standard for ragtime music of the early 20th century such as “Hello, Ma Baby.” Joplin helped to create a new type of music that felt, to many, uniquely American.

youtube

“Cotton Eyed Joe” performed by Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys

Original listening log: As someone who has been to my fair share of middle and high school dances, I am definitely familiar with Rednex's version of "Cotton Eye Joe." This was, however, my first time hearing Bob Wills' version and I had no idea the song had such a long history. The predominant instruments I hear are the fiddle and the piano. The former is referenced in the lyrics themselves ("Hewn my fiddle and rosin my bow / Gonna make music everywhere I go / Gonna play a tune they call Cotton Eyed Joe"). It's a bit paradoxical to say you are going to play a tune called "Cotton Eyed Joe" on your fiddle in the future whenever you are doing just that in the present, but I think it adds to the fun that permeates this song. Whenever Wills is singing, the instrumentation is pretty unintrusive. The lyrics are pretty simple with a ABBCDD form where the Bs are the same and the Ds are the same. Again, I feel that this song is meant to be a fun dance song. While the lyrics are almost a little tragic (the man wasn't able to get married because of this elusive Cotton Eyed Joe), they're really not meant to be taken to seriously. Instead, the simple form and energetic, jaunty piano and fiddle accompaniment just makes me want to dance!

Wills’ version of “Cotton Eyed Joe” combines American popular swing music with folk/country tunes. Like “Maple Leaf Rag,” “Cotton Eyed Joe” is also dancing music, and it even has the same steady beat underscoring a syncopated melody that Joplin’s “Rag” has. Another interesting connection is the rhyme scheme Wills uses, one that is ABBCDD where the Bs and Ds are repeating lyrics. It calls to mind the AAB rhyme scheme blues uses where the As are repeating lyrics. As the song has its roots in big-band swing/jazz, this makes sense, but it is not a connection I have made until this moment. Even the lyrical content kind of fits in with this comparison to the blues - the lyrics are kind of sad! The man was never able to get married because of Cotton Eyed Joe and he is lamenting that in the song, albeit over a jaunty dance tune.

youtube

“Countin’ the Blues” performed by Ma Rainey

Original listening log: I really enjoyed this piece. Having never listened to Ma Rainey, I would say this was a terrific introduction. This song is what I think of when I hear someone mention the blues. Ma Rainey's rich, sorrowful vocals really show how badly she has the blues. It almost sounds like she's groaning and struggling under the weight of her melancholy, trying to express her feelings and say what she needs to say. The lyrics themselves follow an AAB form characteristic of classic 12-bar blues. I am particularly interested in how she namedrops a couple of different blues songs in the second verse including "Beale Street Blues," "Bama Bound Blues," and "Stingaree." She is quite literally counting different blues songs by doing so. It reminds of how when some people get sad, they want to listen to sad music to help process or cope with their emotions. The instrumentation of the song perfectly communicates the melancholy tone of the song, with the cornet, clarinet, and trombone players seeming to (for lack of a better term) really take their time to play the music. Coupled with Ma Rainey's slow, steady, sad vocals, the entire song has a melancholic tone that is incredibly effective in communicating the message of the lyrics - the singer is sad from getting bad news ("mama's just now got bad news") and is expressing how she feelings.

Moving on to some actual blues, we come to the iconic Gertrude “Ma” Rainey. Much like how “Maple Leaf Rag” is classic ragtime, “Countin’ the Blues” is textbook blues music. It contains a call-and-response form when Ma Rainey sings and is “responded to” by the instrumentation, something that can be found in other blues music like Robert Johnson’s “Preachin’ Blues”. It also features an instrumental introduction, something characteristic of ragtime music. “Countin’ the Blues” and blues music in general is popular music that has its roots in African spirituals and, generally, the early African American experience.

youtube

“He Got Better Things for You” performed by Bessie Johnson’s Memphis Sanctified Singers

Original listening log: I loved this piece! Bessie Johnson's raspy, passionate delivery really communicates how she feels about the subject matter she is singing about. There is simple guitar accompaniment, but the focus really does remain on the vocals and, by extension, the lyrics. This is a great storytelling/moralizing song. I like how Johnson draws the listener in with sweet, clear vocals in the first three lines, saying how she wants to share a message with us, her "kind friends" whose souls she loves. I admit I was a little jarred when her gruff vocals began on "but half ain't never been told," but as the song went on, it made sense. She shares stories of Saint Mary and a man named Cornelius (if this is a Biblical reference, I'm Jewish and it totally went over my head), two people who listened to the word of the Christian God and now wait in heaven among the better things. Johnson wants to share her message so that all of the listeners can get to those better things.

Johnson’s “He Got Better Things for You” is the first and only explicitly religious piece of popular music I have included on this list, but the influence of Black religious music on later genres like jazz and the blues cannot be understated. The textbook points out that Johnson’s emotive, gravelly voice feels similar to the brash trumpets jazz musicians use in their songs, but I would say that is where a lot of the similarity ends. The guitar music and vocal melody are quite simple and easy to understand, which makes sense when one considers the genre. Its accessibility and sweet religious content feels similar to songs like “Simple Gifts,” spiritual hymns meant to be sung by a community of like-minded individuals.

youtube

Henry Cowell’s “The Banshee” performed by Sonya Kumiko Lee

Original listening log: "The Banshee" is a really neat piece of music. It begins very quiet and eerie as Cowell gently drags his hand across the piano strings, making it seem like something is coming and building up tension. He also occasionally plucks a few specific strings that sound like spooky windchimes or something. This and the quiet dragging of his across the strings helps connect the piece of the Irish folklore being of the banshee - the eerie, single notes give a magical feeling to the song while the quiet scraping builds tension like something (death, in this case) is coming. Whenever Cowell harshly scrapes the strings, it makes the listener jump and ultimately release a bit of the tension. Overall, while the song is purely instrumental, it is highly effective at invoking the spirit of the banshee.

Cowell’s song is a masterpiece in nonverbal storytelling, comparable to Bernard Herrmann’s “The Murder,” another song that, even without words, clearly tells the story it intends to tell. While “The Banshee” has its roots in classical music, it is bravely experimental, choosing instead to use the inside of the piano rather than the keys. Much like “Maple Leaf Rag” or “Cotton Eyed Joe,” “The Banshee” is a genre-defining song. It takes inspiration from classic forms, but it turns them into something entirely new and very exciting.

This sense of innovation found in everything from “The Banshee” to “Maple Leaf Rag” is really creatively inspiring, and I think that draws the course together well. New genres and songs are created whenever the old way of doing things just won’t cut it. Ma Rainey and other blues singers drew from African spirituals and field hollers, but retooled it in a new way to express the pain and joys of living as a Black person in America. Henry Cowell took the piano, a mainstay of many different genres, and used it in an entirely new way to tell the story of a traditional piece of Irish folklore.

Music has the power to communicate things in a way that simply speaking it will not do. By drawing influence from musical styles of the past, people are able to retain a connection to those that came before them, those who shaped their culture into what it is today. By turning that influence into something brand new, however, it puts the power in the hands of the living to influence their lives in the present-day.

0 notes

miitzwrites · 7 years ago

Text

Hey y'all, I’m back! This new drabble was requested by Raxius on FF.net

The prompt is: Sometimes, Neo Queen Serenity and Chibi-usa sneak out of palace grounds and disguise themselves to go enjoy time as mother and daughter and will sometimes bring King Endymion out when they want time as a family.

I added a bit more to the original idea, hoping you all will like it!

Also, I’m gonna be honest with you, this piece is one of my favorites, and it took me almost a week to complete, because it kinda feels personal. I lost my mom in May, and she never had the chance to read one of my stories, and I couldn’t tell her more about this hobby, and I’ve had a hard time coping with her death, so writing has been very therapeutic to me, and this prompt went straight to my heart, because i hope she’s proud of me, whenever she’s now, so I really hope you all like this.

As always, English isn’t my first language, and this piece was unbeta'ed.

And send me your prompts! I accept pretty much anything tbh.

Without further ado, enjoy!

“Small Lady, where are you?” The voice of Neo Queen Serenity resounded through the walls in one of the farthest places in the palace. Since Pluto’s death, her daughter could be found in front of the Space-Time door most often than not. Diana, the daughter of Luna and Artemis, never left her side, but the Queen could see the veil of sadness that sometimes shadowed the girl’s face.

Just as she suspected, the Queen found the Princess in front of the forbidden door, with her back to her. From her place, Neo Queen Serenity could heard the conversation between the Princess and her loyal companion.

“But you were so brave in battle, Small Lady. Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s proud of you!” The small kitten exclaimed, looking at the Princess from her place on her lap. Chibiusa, or like people called her in this time, Small Lady, petted her gray fur and nodded, not entirely convinced. “I could finally become a Sailor Scout like her, but she couldn’t see me. It is my fault, Diana.”

The tears that clouded the girl’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed by the Queen. She knew there were some hidden issues that didn’t leave her daughter alone, but the extent of them were unknown to her. Even after all these years, she was the same Usagi Tsukino, with a few more years of experience, but the same pure heart that wanted to protect everyone. And when she saw her daughter crying, it felt like a stab in the chest.

Neo Queen Serenity cleared her throat to make her presence known. Small Lady quickly wiped off her tears, and Diana jumped to her feet.

“Small Lady, did you forget your lessons?” Asked the Queen in her practiced ‘mom voice’, as Venus liked to call it. “Jupiter has been waiting for you, and you know it’s rude to make people wait for you.” Resigned, Chibiusa stood up, “I apologize, mama. It won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now hurry up, and when you finish, I would like to talk to you.” Chibiusa ran off to where her lesson took place, the garden, and Diana stayed behind her. When she was sure the girl wouldn’t hear her, she turned to the Queen and bowed her head, in a respectful gesture. “Neo Queen Serenity, please don’t be too severe with her. She just misses her friend.”

The Queen picked up the kitten and kissed her small nose, “I know, Diana, and I want to help her. I think I know how to cheer her up, but I will need your and the King’s help.”

Oooooo

“Come on in!”

Neo Queen Serenity entered the office, and closed the door. Since the new age of Crystal Tokyo began, the King Endymion was the head of the medical engineering advances team, so it wasn’t a surprise to find him with his eyes glued to the screen of his computer.

“Did you bring the file?” He asked with tiredness in his voice. “No, but I brought some cookies, your favorites,” answered the Queen with her bright, contagious smile. She might be the Queen now, but on occasions, Usagi made her infamous cookies, crispy with burned edges, and the perfect amount of chocolate chips.

The King pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a small laugh. “You only make these when you want something,” he said, taking a bite off the cookie. “What did you do, Usako?”

“Oh, Mamo-chan, is it really too hard to believe that I’m being a good wife? When was the last time I cooked for you?” She answered, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout.

“Hmm…. Two weeks ago, when you broke one of the windows in the main hall.”

“Don’t bring that up again, Mamoru-baka! I swear it was an accident.”

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so, Odango Atama”

In public, they were King Endymion and Neo Queen Serenity, sovereigns of Crystal Tokyo, the legendary Tuxedo Mask and Sailor Moon. But in private, they were Mamo-chan and Usako. Just another married couple that loved each other so much.

The King raised from his seat, sneaked his arms around her waist and kissed her pout away. “Okay, I may need a little favor,” the Queen confessed, stealing another kiss from his lips. “It’s about Chibiusa. I think it’s time for her to start her training.”

“But the girls are busy reinforcing the security system, and the Shitennou are away in a mission.” Mamoru mused, playing idly with her long hair. “And what about Sailor Moon?” Usagi asked, earning a confused look from her husband. “Usako, you haven’t transformed in centuries.” A cloud of sadness crossed her features. She might not openly admit it, but Usagi missed being a full-time Senshi. Being a Queen was rewarding, yes, but at times, it wasn’t enough. Luckily, she had her family and friends, to remind her how loved she was.

Mamoru pulled her even closer, and kissed the crown of her head as Usagi rested her head on his chest. “You think about sending Chibiusa to the past, don’t you? Your old self will be thrilled.” Usagi snickered and shook her head. “My old self could use more responsibility. Chibiusa can learn a lot from her and from the others. It’ll be beneficial for the both of them.”

“She will do great, and when she comes back, Chibiusa will be a full fledged Sailor Senshi,” the King never doubted his daughter, even when she was possessed by the malicious spirit of Wiseman, he knew she would overcome any difficulty.

“There’s also something else I want to ask you,” Usagi looked up at Mamoru, batting her eyelashes, sweetly. “I want a family day. Just you, Chibiusa and me.”

Mamoru wasn’t a stranger to her charms, and with those pleading, blue eyes, he knew there was no way he could deny her anything. “Okay, Usako, just say the day, and we’ll do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, you said? Oh Mamo-chan! I want to spend the entire day with you and Chibiusa like a normal family.”

“Considering our history, I would dare to say that we’re as normal as we can,” Mamoru muttered, and Usagi hit him in the arm, pouting again. “You know what I meant!”

“Alright, alright. Whatever you want, my love.”

Yes, he couldn’t deny her anything.

Ooooo

When the lesson finished, Chibiusa returned to her bedroom. Her lessons with Jupiter were always her favorites. She��d learn more about gardening or cooking, and was a personal pleasure of hers to watch her parents’ faces lighten up when she presented them a new dish.

When she opened the door, Diana received her with a smile. “Small Lady, your mother brought you something!” Exclaimed the kitten, as Chibiusa set her eyes on the package placed on her bed. Immediately, Chibiusa unwrapped the box, -she could see that her mother had personally wrapped it, using a wrapping paper full of bunnies and a big, pink ribbon-.

Inside the box, was a note attached that read: “To my dear daughter. May this be the beginning of a new age for you. With love, Mama.”

Excitedly, Chibiusa discovered inside of the box a painting set and new brushes. Most people didn’t know this, but Chibiusa loved to paint. Her mother wasn’t like most, though. She liked to be involved in her daughter’s interests.

“Did you like your present?” The Queen asked from the door, carrying another box with her. Chibiusa ran to her, hugging her. “Yes, mama, I love it! Thank you so much!”

Usagi felt her heart melting in that instant. She was sure that the girl would love the rest of the surprise.

“I have something else for you.” Usagi pulled out from the box a pink blouse and a baby blue skirt that she knew Chibiusa would love. The girl happily took the clothes in her hands, giving her mother a wider smile. “Are we attending another affair, mama?” Chibiusa questioned, placing the blouse and skirt carefully on her bed. “Something like that. You, your father and I will have a family day outside of the palace, tomorrow.” The Princess shoot a confused glance at her mother, and said “But you never leave the palace, last time you did .-” Before she could complete her sentence, Usagi leaned down, and took her small hands, smiling. “Just be sure to be up early. And think about what you would like to do”

With that, the Queen left the room. Diana walked to Chibiusa’s side and nudged her leg to get her attention. “Small Lady, I’d recommend a new hairstyle just for a day,” the kitten winked at the Princess, who nodded eagerly.

OoO

The morning came, and Chibiusa woke up a little after dawn. She wore the outfit that her mother had given to her the previous day, and do her hair into a ponytail instead of her usual buns.

“Mama? Papa? Are you awake?” She knocked at her parents’ door, and was greeted by her father, who had left his usual white and lavender tuxedo and mask, and instead, wore a more casual attire, with a simple pair of jeans and a white button down shirt. “Your mother should be ready in no time. Remember, she’s not a morning person.”

“Oh, shut up, Mamoru-baka!” Usagi called out from their en-suit bathroom, stepping out a moment later, wearing a lilac sundress and a baseball cap. Her hair was up into a high ponytail, just like Chibiusa’s.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two so casual,” said Chibiusa, inspecting their outfits. Maybe she hadn’t seen this version of her parents, but she remembered fondly the serious clothes that young Mamoru wore, in contrast with the bright and colorful dresses of the young Usagi.

“Have I told you that your father used to have an horrendous green jacket?”

“Usako!”

Ooooo

“Mamo-chan, I want another caramel apple.”

“But you ate two already!”

“Mamo-chan, please, don’t make me beg.”

“Okay, Usako, but it’s the last one.”

Usagi grinned at her husband, and the moved her eyes back to watch as Chibiusa entertained herself with her new painting set. The cool breeze of the autumn evening touched her skin and goosebumps raised on her skin. Mamoru returned a few minutes later, with another caramel apple for her and a cup of coffee for him. He pulled her close, embracing her with an arm around her shoulders, and kissed her temple, his gaze moving to where their daughter was.

“Thank you, Mamo-chan, this day was perfect, and Chibiusa thinks so, too.” Mamoru nodded his agreement, and a small laugh escaped his lips. “Yeah, except for the amusement park and the roller coaster, everything was great.”

“Don’t be like that, Mamo-chan! I haven’t seen you this relaxed in years. We should do this more often.”

“When Chibiusa returns from her trip, we’ll do this again.” Usagi nodded, eating her snack, and a comfortable silence set between them.

Without a doubt, this day had been the funniest in years. With their jobs, it was easy to get lost and overwhelmed, but they knew that, at the end of the day, they would have each other and Chibiusa, to find their way back home. That was one of the reasons why Usagi insisted on having everyday dinner with her family, so they could share a private moment, similar to what she did with her family when she was younger. Mamoru got accustomed to this, too, and when his days were at their worst, he counted the hours until he can have a moment of peace with his wife and daughter.

“I’m gonna miss her,” she broke the silence, snuggling against his side. “The palace will be so quiet without her.” Mamoru ran his hand down her arm, and sighed heavily. “It won’t be the same, but the girls can make you company until Chibiusa comes back home.”

Usagi shook her head, taking his hand and playing with his fingers. “I can’t distract them from their duties, and you know that as well.” Mamoru hummed, “Your girls are busy, yes, but don’t you remember? This century will need a Sailor Moon, and Sailor Moon will need her own guardians. What I mean is, it’s also time to call the Quartet.”

“How didn’t I think about this before?” Usagi responded, and her face lighted up. “If the time comes, this world will need a new protector of love and justice, and I’m positively sure that Chibiusa will do a splendid job.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Chibiusa. She carried with her the painting that she just finished. She could capture the dead of the day and the first stars that appeared on the sky, combined with the beautiful sight of the lake. “Mama, look!” The girl proudly held out her painting to her mother, and Usagi smiled at her, complementing her work. “It is beautiful Chibiusa. It’ll be a beautiful decoration for our dining room.”

“You’ll have to paint one for my office, too, Chibiusa, but that will have to wait until your return.” Chibiusa looked at her father with a puzzled expression, and her lower lip started to tremble lightly, afraid of having done something wrong. If she was honest with herself, deep inside herself, she doubted that hee parents had forgotten what happened with Wiseman and Black Lady.

Usagi hugged her daughter to her chest at her display of distress. “But I don’t wanna leave your side, mama,” Chibiusa weakly told her, and Usagi did her best not to let her emotions get to her. Mamoru, on his part, took Chibiusa’s hand, and rubbed soothing circles in her palm.

“Did you remember what you tell your mother, Chibiusa? That you wanted to work by her side and help her protect this planet?” Noticing the way his wife worried her bottom lip, Mamoru decided to intervene first, “Well, you’re now a Senshi, like Jupiter, or Venus, or Mars, or Mercury. And one day, it will be your duty to be a full time Senshi. But to do so, you must learn some things first, like fighting or how to control the Silver Crystal.”

“I don’t understand, papa,” the girl answered, and Usagi took in a deep breath to try to calm herself down. “What your father meant is that we want you to train with Sailor Moon and the Sailor Senshi from the XXI Century. If you accept this, we’ll make all the necessary arrangements to send you back to the moment you said goodbye to our younger versions. I’m certain neither of them will oppose this idea.”

“I will train with the legendary Sailor Moon and the other Senshi?” The sadness on her face was quickly replaced with a huge grin, and without a second thought, Chibiusa accepted, and hugged her mother tightly. “Yes, mama, I want to train with them. I promise you I won’t come back until I’m a full fledged Senshi.”

A sigh of relief left Mamoru’s lips, and although Usagi was still sad, the enthusiasm of her daughter compensated any negative feeling. “Alright, Ladies, time to get back home. Minako won’t be very happy with you two, eh?”

“Yeah, and wait until she tells Kunzite.” Mamoru groaned, which earned a heartfelt laugh from both Usagi and Chibiusa.

Ooooo

“Are you sure you won’t need anything else?” Asked the King as he opened the Space-Time door. “Yes, papa, I checked twice. And I will be staying with mama Ikuko and papa Kenji. I’ll be fine.”

The King crouched down to pull his daughter into a hug. “Be a good girl, please, mama and I will be waiting for you to come back.”

“Don’t worry, papa, I promise I will make you two proud.”

“But you’ve already made us proud. No matter what you do, will be right beside you.” Chibiusa nodded, and her mother took her in her arms and kissed the crown of her head. “Don’t forget that we love you so much, and please, give this letter to Usagi for me. Oh, and don’t give her a hard time, okay.”

“Yes, mama, and promise me you’ll take my place in Jupiter’s cooking classes, yes?”

“Oh don’t think about that now. I can assure, Jupiter will be very busy until your return.”

“Neo Queen Serenity, will you allow me to visit Small Lady?” Diana asked, jumping off her arms to say goodbye to her friend. “Of course, Diana, just give her some time to adjust to the change.” The Queen conceded her request, and the small kitten beamed to her. “Thank you, Neo Queen Serenity. Small Lady, I will see you soon. Give my father and mother my regards, please.”

Chibiusa smiled at her loyal friend, and with a teary smile, she turned around and walked through the gates of the Space-Time door. With the key that Pluto gave to her, clutched to her heart, Chibiusa recited the words that she had learned by memory. “Pluto, show me the path of light!”

Ooooo

After seeing Chibiusa off, Mamoru and Usagi sat in silence on their favorite bench. Usagi mused about how crazy this time had been, and prayed for a moment of peace. Lifting her gaze up from the fountain, she met Mamoru’s gaze. A blush colored her cheeks as Mamoru’s lips descended upon hers, placing a sweet kiss on hers. And, like the first time they shared a kiss in this very spot, something fell from the sky, and before either of them could react, Usagi saw how Chibiusa fell into Mamoru’s arms, and then jumped off, with her bright and lousy laugh.

“Hi! I’m back!”

#sailor moon #sailor chibi moon #neo queen serenity #king endymion #sailor moon fanfiction #mamousa #usamamo #small lady #sm prompts #also on ao3 and ff.net #my fics

11 notes · View notes

archiveofidentityconstellations · 4 years ago

Link

“She’s not a woman yet, Albrecht,” came Mama’s low whisper.

“But she will be in four years,” Papa pointed out, pipe smoke trickling into the starry air.

There was silence after that, and Tuuli knew that her mother was sitting up straight, taking her time to impart wisdom.

“Four years,” said Mama gravely, after a long moment, dark eyes glinting in the firelight, “is a very long time.”

“Dirt on my apron,” she always sighed fondly, “Let the gods take pity on me.”

Tuuli scrunched up her nose, looking up at the cloudless sky. She continued walking. The gods wouldn’t care about dirty aprons or disobedient children anyhow, they had better things to worry about.

The sky suddenly went dark, and Tuuli almost stumbled on a craggy ridge of rock formation. She scrambled for purchase in the air, finding her balance instantly.

How strange. A storm so soon in the season wasn’t uncommon, but to have happened so quickly...

She shrugged, turning around back into the forest and making her way back home. The trees would protect her best they could, but she would still get wet. She really preferred staying in during a storm anyhow, listening to Nebo’s songs or elder Viilsa’s histories. Despite, she thought, ducking under a branch, the fact that she had no teeth. Viilsa had a relative closer to the lowlands, a strange woman of herbs and uncommon knowledge and words. Once Tuuli had asked how old she was, and Viilsa had said that woman of that type lived longer in moments than they did in centuries. Tuuli didn’t know what to make of that, but she would like to visit her one day.

A crack to her left caused her to twist upright, eyes shooting open. A man stood there.

“Hello,” Tuuli greeted. The wind brushed against her cheek, whipping her black hair out of her braids. “Are you lost? Do you need help?”

His nose was long, and his mouth was hawkishly wide. “No I’m not,” she negated. It didn’t feel strange that he was calling her little one. “I know my way back. It’s going to rain.”

“It’s not,” he said. But he didn’t add onto it.