#i would trade every present in the world if my family could at least just UNDERSTAND my emotional brain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maddys-nerd-blog · 10 months ago

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Hi! It’s been a while!

I’m sorry I haven’t shared anything in a while. Things have been really stressful and I’ve been pretty down for the past few weeks, but I finally got this done in the meantime. Writing has been the best distraction from all the strain I’ve got in my life at the moment.

This is something I wanted to write for a while, so I hope you like this!! It’s a Christmas one shot for my Familia AU! I figured out how to use the link thingy too so I’ll link the song Katie sings in this one at the end too!!

Happy holidays and Happy New Year!! ☺️

Familia: Forever

Feliz Navidad, mi Familia!

Holidays were supposed to be fun. At least, that was what Katie used to think. This was long before the inter-dimensional travel or the crazy realm hopping bullshit she’d been roped into. In her world, this time of year was one to take as a relative breather. A chance to look forward to cheesy movies, sugary candy that was sure to grant you cavities, the change in weather was just cold enough to wear comfy sweaters, or buy everything you could get your hands on until your wallet crumbled to dust. Minus the stress the tumultuous spending habits one picked up once December arrived, the Christmas season was certainly a festive occasion.

Katie remembered when her niece was little, when she was young enough to still believe in Santa, she and Grace would stay up for hours the night of Christmas Eve to deck the apartment in wondrous decor, dusting baby powder across the floor and using Katie’s combat boots to create impressions on the rug for the immersion of Saint Nick having visited, along with a half eaten plate of white chocolate chip cookies— Grace’s favorite. It was worth the effort to watch the girl race into the living room with stars in her eyes and a bright smile as she stared at a decently sized pile of wrapped presents awaiting her.

It was something she wouldn’t trade for the world.

But those were just memories. Fleeting, gone in an instant due to high amounts of stress. It hurt to recall those happier moments amidst the chaotic whirlwind she found herself in now— separated from her family, possibly forever at this point, sporting a robotic arm, becoming a wanted fugitive in three different dimensions, and a surrogate mother to five unruly boys that needed guidance in a universe where every single person wanted to either capture or kill them.

Needless to say, Katie had enough to put up with. And with the holidays fast approaching, all she could think of was one thing—

What am I going to do?

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

December 24.

That was the date on the calendar. Katie couldn’t help but glare at the number from afar, black coffee piping hot in her hands through the thick ceramic mug she cradled close. The longer she stared at it, the more the reality sank in. It seemed to taunt her. Nothing could change the fact that there was only a few days left until Christmas.

Taking a slow sip of her caffeinated beverage the detective leaned back against the countertop. Breathing deep, she sighed heavily through her nostrils as they flared, taking in the heat of the coffee, savoring its bitter taste. Don’t think about it, Katie tried to scold herself. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, just pretend it’s another day. It was better to make believe things were business as usual than accepting the depressing reality of her current situation.

Three years.

Three. Years.

This would mark three years she hadn’t seen her family. Three Christmases spent running, hiding, fighting to survive. Three entire years of not being surrounded by the people she loved.

That was a decent amount of time spent not knowing if her sister or niece were still waiting for her to come home. This wasn’t New York— not hers, never hers— but the faint memories of the two lingered through streets that felt vaguely familiar. Ghosts of their presence followed where ever she traveled, and here was no different. Wandering through Central Park alone at night she could almost hear the sound of Lilium’s laughter ringing in the trees, or Grace’s voice echoing in the dark, calling for her to come home.

It ached. It hurt.

It was empty.

Thin, spindly arms found themselves wrapping around her middle from behind. What otherwise would have startled the woman made her breathe easier as she was gently pulled backward to better fit into his embrace. Quietly, the voice asked, “You doin’ okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded. Without dropping her mug she brought a hand up to reach behind her, cupping the face of the man who’d stayed by her side through all this mess. How he’d been willing to put up with her for this long was something she would never understand, but she was grateful all the same. “I’m fine. Just… not feeling too great.”

Danny looked over her shoulder, muted gold eyes boring into the depths of her soul with a ragged understanding that years of being a hardened criminal had provided. Ears pricking, he asked, “Want me t’ get you anything?”

“Unless you have a magic phone that can help me call my sister to let her know I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere, then not really,” she snorted dryly. “Just homesickness. I’ll be fine.”

Danny frowned. “How long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long has it been? Y’know. Since ya saw them.”

“… long enough to know I miss them.”

The yōkai tightened his arms around her waist. “Sorry, hon. Wish there was a way we could get ya home.”

She shrugged lamely. “Does it matter anymore?” She turned enough in his hold to face him— aging wrinkles under his eyes gave way to a softer expression of compassion. “I’ve got other things to focus on. I have five boys to take care of. I can’t let myself get distracted.”

“That ain’t exactly a healthy way t’ deal with things,” Danny lifted a hand to touch her cheek. His claws scraped across her skin delicately, making her shudder. “Let yourself be upset. It’s okay.”

She paused, soaking in his touch, leaning her face into his palm with a sigh. Doubt began to settle upon weary shoulders, her lips pursed into a frown. “Is it though?”

Danny actually looked baffled by this notion, staring at her with bewildered eyes. “What do you mean ‘is it’? You’re allowed t’ have emotions ya know.”

“But I gotta be the reliable one. I’m the one making the money to support all of us. You guys need me to be dependable. If I’m not one hundred percent, then I’ll let you guys down.”

“Ya gotta nip that in th’ bud, doll. That’s a toxic mindset.” The yōkai decided to use his hand to push her bangs out of her brow to better gaze into her eyes. His tail wrapped around her waist in place of his arms, drawing her closer to him. “I’m more than capable t’ take th’ load offa your shoulders. I can get work— honest work— in th’ Hidden City. Ya don’t gotta carry it on your back alone.” Danny grinned with a smile full of warmth. “That’s what I’m here for now.”

Katie, still struggling to withhold her emotions, leaned her head forward until her forehead came to rest on his collar. She could smell the lingering scent of his favorite cologne, ocean breeze and cigar smoke clinging to his frame. She could breathe it in until her lungs were sore. “I’d be selfish for putting that on you when you’ve already got shit to deal with.”

“Then be selfish.” Danny held her closer, the mug in her hands crushed between them. “I can handle it. The last thing I need is for you t’ get sick offa this stress.”

CRASH! Somewhere in the living room the sound of glass shattered, along with a cry of ‘it wasn’t me!’ Coming right after as Raph could be heard in the background scolding someone.

Katie cringed, mourning the loss of the tender moment. “When I’m not breaking fights up, THEN I’ll let myself cry.” She chugged her coffee with one quick swig, unfazed as it burned the root of her mouth and seared her tongue before untangling from the yōkai’s embrace to hurry into the room. Upon stepping into the doorway, Katie dropped her jaw at the unbelievable scene taking place.

One: the carpet was stained with ink. Sharpie markers had been broken in half, spilling the contents upon a giant scrap of cardboard and floor amongst a cluster of things strewn around the ground. Casey and Donnie sat in the middle of it, smeared in bright red and blue across their hands, looking like deer caught in headlights.

Two: Leo standing over the broken remains of a lamp, trying in vain to hide the pieces under the ruined rug, his feet covered from the ankle down in dark blue ink, tracking a trail from the spot where Casey and Donnie currently stayed. Behind him a festive Christmas paper popper lay torn in twain, confetti all over the place.

Three: Raph was giving Leo an earful, not too keen on having half his plastron coated with neon pink sharpie ink. Poor Mondo stood with his face coated in purple and green, desperately trying to scrub it out of his eyes as he yelped and cried out on pain.

“Leo, are you crazy!?”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Kat’s gonna kill you! Look at the floor!”

“I told you this was a stupid idea! Why do you never listen to me?!”

“Instead of yelling at me, how about helping me scrub this out?!”

“DUDES MY EYES ARE MELTING! I’M GOING BLIND!”

“Wait he can’t really go blind, right?”

“ARE YOU REALLY SAYING THAT?!”

… it wasn’t even ten in the morning, and the boys had already managed to find themselves in chaos.

Resisting the urge to grab her smokes, Katie swallowed her frustration back down in order to reign in the madness unfolding. “What in the name of God are you boys doing!?”

Almost immediately four heads snapped towards her direction, minus Mondo who still tried to get the inky gunk out of his eyes. And just as swiftly, Donnie and Casey pointed to Leo with an accusing finger. “He did it!”

The red eared slider, highly offended, threw his hands up with a dramatic motion. “Jerks! I can’t believe you ratted me out!”

Mondo’s hands pried themselves away from his face, squinting, only to yelp painfully as the ink spread further into the tear ducts. He flailed his arms and stumbled, knocking himself into the wall with a thud. “Mom, help!”

She hurried to his aid, placing a steadying hand upon the gecko’s shoulder to keep him still lest he knock himself out. Turning her gaze unto Leo, Katie turned her voice stern. “Okay, spill! What’s going on?!”

“Nothing!” Leo tried to act casual, folding his arms behind his shell as he leaned against the couch with a shaky grin, gaze shifting quickly back and forth between the broken lamp and the markers. “Just, uh… playing Monopoly!”

Deadpanning, Katie raised a brow with an unamused frown. “Really. Monopoly. I didn’t know buying Broadway meant snapping open three sharpies and handing over two hundred to move forward.” Unfazed, she pressed on. “Why is the room a mess?”

“It’s nothing, really!” Leo tried to assure her, waving his hand at the floor. “Just an accident while we were making some posters for—“ his eyes widened, as though he realized he said something he wasn’t supposed to, and he averted his gaze from Raph— who looked ready to pummel him where he stood.

“For what?” Katie asked.

“… the Hidden City?” Leo slowly responded. Raph hissed under his breath, “Hypocrite.”

That made her blink. Looking to Raph she questioned, “Why does he want to hang up posters in the Hidden City?”

Raph wouldn’t budge. When Casey opened his mouth to reply, Donnie jammed his elbow into the other boy’s ribs, shutting him up as he interrupted. “To buy groceries!”

Katie continued, not buying it. “Really. Grocery shopping?”

Leo looked sheepish. “Uuuuuh… yes?”

Mondo flailed his arms around again, whimpering as he grew panicked. “I still can’t see!”

Katie, still fighting to stay sane, chose not to start this argument. “Okay,” she easily picked the gecko, him being lightweight enough to carry in her arms. “Leo, since this was your idea, you’re cleaning this mess. I gotta go get this out of Jason’s face before he actually goes blind.”

“What?!” Leo gaped. “But what about going shop—“ he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Raph clamped his mouth shut, gesturing for him to be quiet. That made her suspicious.

“… is there something I should know about?” She inquired, narrowing her eyes to give the ‘Stern Mom’ look.

“Nope!” “Not really.” “Absolutely not!” Came the instant replies of three not-so-subtle boys who were fighting to look innocent. Raph was doing a better job than Casey and Donnie, but Leo’s poker face needed work. It was obvious they were trying to hide something…

“Kat,” Danny suddenly entered the room like an apparition— perfect timing if she had anything to say about this— “Why don’t ya help Jason and I’ll help the boys clean this mess up?”

This was getting stranger by the minute. Why was everyone acting so shifty? It wasn’t like them to keep secrets like this, but Raph? Danny? Why were they behaving like this? Katie hummed suspiciously, pouting, hefting the still-whimpering Mondo in her arms to help him. “… alright. Make sure you get that stain out. If you can’t, just chuck it.”

“Can do,” Danny gave her a two-fingered salute as she made her exit. The way he spoke suggested things were casual.

But it still didn’t make her any less suspicious. What’s going on with them?

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

The moment Katie was out of range— and earshot, once he’d picked up the sound of the restroom door being closed— Danny’s smile fell, quickly replaced by a panicked hiss as he whipped around to face the teens. “Who told?!”

All present pointed to Leo. The red eared slider flailed his arms, fed up. “I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out!”

“Just slipped out?!” Raph repeated, eyes popping open wide with shock. “You almost gave us up! I told you to keep our plan on the down low and what do you do?!”

“She still doesn’t know!” Leo defended. “I didn’t say anything important! It’s not like I said ‘Guess what? We’re gonna give you a Christmas celebration this year!’”

“What’s the point of a surprise if you spoil it?” Casey brushed some of the ink off his palms, leaving bright yellow stains across his previously black jeans. “That’s, like, not even worth it.”

“Jesus,” Danny pinched the ridge of his snout with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. His tail curled around his ankles, refraining from striking the floor. “Okay. Okay, fine, so she’s still in the dark. As long as she doesn’t know, we’re fine.”

“Why shouldn’t she know?“ Donnie chimed in. “I mean, it’s almost Christmas, so why not just let her in on the plan?”

“Cuz this is FOR her,” Danny reiterated. “This is her third Christmas separated from her family. And I’m sure th’ rest of you have been homesick during th’ holidays long enough. After all th’ bullshit we’ve put up with, I think a demonstration of our appreciation is in order t’ get her in a better headspace.”

Casey shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, leaning against the couch. “So what’re are we doing again? Have we even picked an idea?”

“None of us are in agreement,” Danny sighed. “We ain’t doing a circus—“

“No fun!” Leo protested, but he went ignored.

“We don’t got th’ cash for a fancy dinner or a night at Yankee stadium, and we can’t drive into th’ Bronx if we’re being tracked by Draxum.” The rat yōkai’s tail swished around his feet in silent frustration. “So unless we got another plan in th’ back burner, we’re gonna have to do something here.”

Donnie picked up the ruined artwork on the sign, frowning at the garbled wording beneath the dark ink. “It was starting to look cool, too. It took me hours to get that design to look right! Why did you break the markers?”

“I saw a video online that showed me how to make a gradient using the ink of you broke them the right way!”

“And you just… did it?”

“Clearly I did it wrong! Can we stop rubbing it in?!”

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

“Alright, mijo, let’s look at the damage.” Katie shined a small pen light in Mondo’s eyes, moving it side to side while keeping track of his pupils. He sat on the lip of the tub, tail curled around to sit in his lap, his face scrunched into an expression of pain as she gingerly pried an eyelid open with precise fingers. “Can you see the light moving?”

The gecko squinted, wincing, but he nodded. The gold of his orbs were dark red, the veins in his eyeballs visible from the burning, but his pupils followed the movement. “Yeah. It stings though…”

Humming, Katie released his eyelid gently, clicking the light off. “Good news! You’re not blind, clearly, but there’s irritation and it’s probably gonna look real blurry for a couple hours, but there should be something in here I can use to fix that,” she reached inside the restroom cabinet at her side, combing through the selection of medicines she’d obtained. Mystical ointments and brightly colored liquids bobbed around within uniquely shaped bottles and glass jars labeled with words Katie couldn’t translate yet. She swore some of this stuff was just glittery sugar water disguised to look like healing tonics.

Finally, she’d located a small tin that looked like the type of medical salves she’d glossed over in the drug store. Snatching it up Katie popped open the lid to scoop some of the white cream into her fingers. “Try holding still for a minute, hon. If you need to talk about something to distract yourself, just do it.”

Mondo nodded, holding tight to the end of his tail. “Gotcha,” he replied with worry.

Katie knelt to his level, beginning to apply the cream around his eyes as the gecko flinched, fingers starting to dig into his tail scales. Sensing his discomfort she decided to speak, “Hey, what are you asking for this Christmas?”

Mondo paused, flinching a little as the irritation in his eyes flared up. “I think… I asked for a new board.”

“Oh yeah?” Katie smiled a little. “Any type of board, or just a regular one from the shops?”

“It’s a limited edition kind,” Mondo’s smile was infectious as he started to ramble about the skateboard. “I think Tony Hawk had one just like it! It’s like all decked out with these retro decals that aren’t on the market anymore, they painted it this gnarly neon blue—“ mindlessly chattering about his dream skateboard helped to keep his mind off the burns from his eyes, thankfully. It continued on like this for the next five minutes, the boy happily recalling all the things he’d written down on his list— new sneakers, a boombox for his cassette tapes, spray paint— all the things a kid his age was interested in.

It was only after she completed getting his eyes treated with the ointment that the gecko squinted through the cream on his face, beaming. “What about you, Mom?”

Katie paused momentarily, screwing the lid to the ointment closed. “I didn’t have anything in mind,” she lamely shrugged.

Mondo, being as intuitive as ever, knew she was hiding the truth. “Come on! There’s gotta be something you want!”

Katie still remained hesitant. “What I want… it’s a thing I can’t have.” She put the jar away, repressing the bubbling turmoil that brewed inside her chest.

This made Mondo curious. “What do you mean?”

Katie paused. Closing the cupboard, she folded her hands before her to avoid fidgeting. “… it’s… my family.”

Mondo’s expression changed from confused to sympathetic. Even squinting through the mess of cream around his eyes he could see the immense grief that rested on her shoulders. He could tell she missed them, that their absence had driven something painful and deep into her core. He knew what it was like, wishing the people you cared for were there when you were thousands of miles away from everything you knew. “I don’t think I ever asked what they were like.” He sat up a little straighter, hands folded on his lap this time. “Can you tell me?”

Katie’s lips quirked into a fond smile; one full of warmth and gratitude. Easing herself to sit beside the gecko, she pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled through her photos, selecting one from a folder she’d labeled ‘Familia.’ It was of Lilium’s twelfth birthday; the last time she saw her sister and niece. They’d decked the house in bright pinks and oranges, glittery streamers dangling on the ceiling, having gone all out for her. It had been themed after fairytales— she’d dressed herself up as a princess, complete with a Renaissance hairstyle. Grace had dawned a lovely gown made from fine turquoise fabrics. Mother and daughter were grinning for the photo, sitting in the living room as sunlight cascaded through the sheer curtains and illuminated their smiles as if to immortalize them. It was one of the only photos of them she had left.

Lilium would be fifteen now. Grace would have recently turned thirty-five.

“This is them.” She showed Mondo the photo. “Grace and Lily. She’d be around your age,” she pointed to the cheerful girl. “I think you two would get along really well. Grace would spoil you rotten,” chuckling softly Katie stared at the face of the woman who had been there for her through thick and thin, through the worst of her breakups, the terrible binges of her drinking habits where she’d seen the darker part of her demons, something only Danny caught a rare glimpse of. “We’d always go to the park on Sunday and have ice cream. Every week we would pick a random movie on the TV commercials to see and laugh about it.”

Katie’s smile faltered as her reminiscing turned into melancholy. “Lilium has an incredible singing voice for her age. Real Lea Salonga-like. She dreams of starring in a big movie musical someday. All she talks about is Broadway and the latest show she wants to audition for. And Gracie always knew what to do when you were depressed. She’d whip up your favorite meal and let you vent for hours if you needed it. Sure she was a little timid, but… she always seemed to know how to make a shitty day better.”

Mondo frowned with remorse. “You miss them?”

“More than anything,” Katie murmured in response.

Mondo pulled his tail back into his lap, guilt creeping into his chest. “… for what it’s worth, I think they’d be proud of you. I mean, you kicked serious bad guy butt, you traveled across dimensions, and helped us out! You took care of me even when my folks didn’t!” He laughed a little if only to shake off the underlying truth of his biological parents rejecting him.

Katie cracked the smallest of smiles. Reaching up she scratched the top of his head like she always would to calm him down, quietly pulling him close to sit at her side. “Thanks, mijo. You’re a good kid, you know that?”

“Yeah!” Mondo boasted playfully. “I’m pretty great!”

That caused Katie to laugh, the somber emotions she’d been feeling subsiding a little to allow herself to breathe. It granted a moment of reprieve long enough to keep hers wits about her and not lose herself to depression. But ever the attentive son, Mondo noticed the grief that clung to his mother. His hands fidgeted with his tail once more to think of how he could fix the pain his caretaker harbored…

And an idea sprang up in his mind.

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

“… that’s my plan! Sounds good, right?”

“Honestly that’s ten times better then what I’ve got.”

“It better not be another freakin’ circus.”

“I keep telling you, it would be an amazing gift!”

“You think we can pull it off?”

“… I mean, at this rate, we’ve got nothing. I say let’s do it.”

“Awwwww man! Missed opportunity!”

“Can it, Blue. Jason, you sure this’ll work?”

“Yeah! She’s gonna go bonkers for this, I know it!”

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

Katie couldn’t sleep.

It was an old habit, she knew. From years of Lily bursting into the guest bedroom, bright eyed and excited in the early hours of Christmas morning, pulling her arm and squealing that Santa had visited and left behind presents. And as the old saying went, old habits die hard. She stared at the ceiling with exhausted eyes counting the cracks that spiderwebbed along the chipping plaster, phone sitting on the dresser beside her bed, almost wishing it would ring to alert her to a call from her sister. She prayed she could at least receive a text from her, but for the past three years there was nothing.

Emerald eyes fell upon the clock near her phone. Four-fifty in the morning.

She’d been up for hours…

The hideout was silent, questionably so. All day long the boys were on their best behavior after the ink incident— no pranks, no stress, no fights, not even one broken bone or shattered vase. They were oddly helpful and eager to finish the chores when asked, which was NOT normal in the slightest, and once night fell they’d all but ushered her off to bed. “I’ll deal with th’ kids. Get some beauty sleep,” Danny had coaxed with a playful wink. “Lord knows you could use it.”

It was a tempting offer she couldn’t refuse.

But still, sleep evaded her.

So much for getting rest.

Her conversation with Mondo had gotten her thinking, once more, of her family and friends back home. How were they now? She wondered. Did Lilium like high school? Was she making friends? Had Grace found love at last? Did the Chief finally decide to retire? So many unanswered questions she would never get to know because they were gone, far off in another world that was lost to her now. So many birthdays, so many anniversaries, so many celebrations, too many things she’d missed because she’d been reckless. All of it, gone.

Almost daring herself to do so, Katie grabbed her phone from the dresser. The brightness of the screen illuminated her face, slicing through the darkness. Unlocking it, she opened her texts to scroll down to the last messages she’d received the day she’d gone on this rocky road.

Fourteen missed calls from her sister. Three from the Chief. Nine from her partners. Twelve from Lily…

Sis ✨;

Thursday October 12, 2017 at 2:35pm

Hope you have a great day at work! Lily’s asking for Monica’s tonight for dinner, want to join?

Sis✨;

Thursday October 12, 2017 at 7:12pm

I saved you some food from tonight! I got your favorite; fettuccini and shrimp! Just let me know when you get out of work so I can heat it up!

Sis✨;

Friday October 13, 2017 at 10:33am

Are you alright?

Sis✨;

Friday October 13, 2017 at 3:02pm

Kathrine please call me. This isn’t like you.

Sis✨;

Saturday October 14, 2017 at 12:46pm

Henderson said you haven’t shown up to your shift in days.

Are you okay? Lily’s been worried about you, as am I. Please call me.

Sis✨;

Saturday October 14, 2017 at 3:24pm

Kathrine please. If you don’t call me I’m going to have to use my spells. I just want to know if you’re safe.

I know you’re busy, but I’m worried about you. I pray you’re alright.

Munchkin🎼;

Saturday October 14, 2017 at 12:30pm

I miss you Auntie…

Katie finally put the phone down, no longer able to stomach the messages. An awful burn stung her eyes. Those were the final texts she would ever get from her family.

There were so many thoughts running through her head. Some of them were pointless, mundane. But the majority were filled with anguish. She knew better than to verbalize that in front of the kids— keep it closed off, shutter it tight, push it aside and pretend it’s not there. The well-being of those boys were more important than her mental health. But the more she ignored it, the harder the headaches struck. They turned into cloying migraines that pounded and rattled her brain with a powerful vengeance, reminding her of the awful truth of her situation; I’m never going home and I’m never going to see Grace or Lily again.

It was a bitter pill to choke on, but she knew it was one she had to swallow.

Going back home was a pipe dream, forever out of the realm of possibility. Katie lost that hope ages ago, when she’d gone to space with Fugitoid.

Katie’s vision blurred. Breathing shakily, she rolled onto her side, clutching her comforter tight against her aching chest. She couldn’t complain. She couldn’t. She chose this life. She chose to follow Karai all those years ago into that vortex. She chose to pick a fight with crazy people. The Chief was right about her; she never learned when to quit.

Katie gripped her blanket tighter, shutting her eyes. Breathe, moron. Christmas has to go well for the kids. Do NOT worry them.

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

Breathe in…

Breathe—

CRASH!

… out?

Katie shot up, startled. Did she hear that right? Did something break?

Hushed, rapid whispers she couldn’t pick up shot back and forth. She recognized Danny’s voice amongst the mishmash of voices beyond her door. There goes any chance of sleep…

Kicking the thick comforter off, Katie climbed out of bed, snagging one of the fuzzy robes from the edge of her bed frame and pulling it on to stave off the cold. Upon reaching the door she twisted the knob ever so carefully to avoid making a sound, she opened it just a sliver to catch the panicked conversation. While hushed, she heard pieces of it.

“What’d you do?!”

“Don’t look at me!”

“Shut up shut up! She’ll wake up!”

“You broke th’ freakin’ lamp, dumbass! She’s gonna hear!”

Opening the door enough for her to slip out, Katie clutched her robe around her chest as she headed for the living room, where most of the commotion resided. She silently carried herself down the dark corridor to avoid being detected. The voices of her boys and Danny were no longer muffled by the distance as she reached the entryway of the threshold—what piqued her curiosity immediately was, dancing along the ceiling spilling out onto the ground were colorful lights; red, green, blue, pink, yellow. They spun in a slow, lazy circle against the darkness.

“Nononono don’t do that, you’ll cut yourself—!”

“Dude, be careful with that!”

“Can we all calm down for a damn minute and get this done?!”

Katie peeked around the lip of the entrance, taking the chance to look inside…

… it wasn’t what she expected.

It looked as though Christmas vomited all over the place. The entire room was decked out with festive decorations; handmade, cutout snowflakes were dangling on strings along the ceiling, all of which were designed to look like marigolds. Plastic figurines of Saint Nick and his reindeer pulling his sleigh guarded a tray full of crispy sugar cookies messily traced with blue and white frosting to look like snowmen. Tinsel was hung up in long loops on the walls, silver and gold woven into thin braids. Stockings were pinned on the mantel, all of them in varying sizes and styles, the names of their matches embroidered in thick white thread from oldest to youngest— Danny, Kat, Raph, Casey, Leo, Mondo, Donnie. The couch wasn’t spared either, red and white plaid Christmas pillows fluffed to perfection.

But it was the eight foot tall pine tree currently standing in the corner of the room, where everyone was gathered, that caught her eye. It was massive— easily towering over everyone. Pine needles were scattered all over the rug. It was rotating on a stand that helped to keep it from wobbling. Ornaments had been hung upon the branches, strings of colorful Christmas lights wrapped all around the tree. It amused her to spot handmade decorations also hung on the thick branches. Tinsel had been discarded in a bundled up ball, tangled, bunched into knots. One of the lamps had been knocked to the floor again, the porcelain broken in shards.

Danny was struggling to keep his sanity. He was wearing a hilariously ugly violet sweater with pompoms on the sleeves, a piece of cheese on the front with the words ‘Have a Cheesy New Year’ embroidered in massive white letters. On his head he wore a pair of reindeer antlers. Donnie was placing boxes of hastily wrapped presents under the tree, wearing a dark green sweater with some kind of anime character on the front. Helping him, Leo hefted giant shopping bags onto the couch with a grunt, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anything. His own baby blue Christmas sweater was geared more for fashion, white stripes wrapping around his arms and collar. She nearly burst into giggles when she realized he was wearing a bright red nose on his snout.

Casey wasn’t dressed up, in fact he looked the most casual in a black long sleeved shirt with black and green plaid lounge pants, but he was busying himself with cleaning the mess currently sitting on the floor. Raph attempted to grab the fallen ornaments that had been knocked off, growing agitated when the silly elf had he wore kept slipping down his brow to cover his eyes.

What really got her was Mondo, dressed up like Santa Clause, fake beard included. He was perched atop a small step ladder holding the tree topper— a dopey looking Christmas angel with beady eyes and floppy wings, watching everything unfold with a wince.

Finally stepping into the room to take all of it in, Katie giggled. “What is this?”

The heads of the culprits shot up to meet her gaze, caught red handed. Danny’s tail flicked around his ankles nervously, an unconfident smile on his snout as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Aaah…! Kat! Hey! Doll, what’re ya doin’ up?”

“Heard something break,” Katie, nonchalantly, reached up to touch one of the snowflakes with delicate fingers, taking in all the detail with a fond expression. Her eyes sparkled in awe. “Just wanted to make sure we weren’t being burgled.”

“In the sewer?” Leo raised a ridge, deadpanning, until Donnie smacked him in the leg.

Mondo took this change in stride. Beaming, he hopped off the ladder and tossed the angel to Raph, the white pompom hanging off his Santa hat jingling. “Mom! Merry Christmas! Surprise!” He waved his arms wildly to gesture towards the tree. “Do you like it?!”

“Surprise?” Katie blinked.

“Well, duh,” Casey nodded. “It’s a Christmas surprise!”

“What for?”

“For you!” Mondo grabbed her hand, tugging her inside to lead her to the loveseat. “Since you’re up, we can do it now!”

Laughing as she was seated, Katie found herself asking, “Do what?”

“Give you your gifts!” Mondo happily replied. He looked to the others, pointing to the boxes and bags. “Come on! It’s technically Christmas morning!”

Everyone exchanged skeptical glances. Whether it be from their shared exhaustion or doubt, nobody made the motion to move until Raph shrugged, smirked, and nodded. “He ain’t wrong,” he agreed. “We’ve been up for hours anyways.”

Katie’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, hours?”

Ignoring her bewilderment Danny shoved one of the boxes into her lap as a suitable distraction. “Never mind that Doll, here, open these.”

“Hold up! If she’s going to open anyones’ gift first,” Leo pushed a massive blue shopping bag with the Macys logo on the sides at her feet. “It’s mine!”

“What? That’s bogus!” Casey shot back at the prankster. “I wanna give mine first!”

“Guys, really, knock it off. What are we, five?” Raph rolled his eyes at the childish display. “If one of us is gonna go b’fore th’ rest of us,” he nudged Mondo forward with an encouraging nod. “It’s Jace.”

Donnie smiled in agreement, giving the gecko a thumbs up. Bolstered by his friends Mondo scurried over to retrieve a package obviously wrapped by him— bright red paper with lightening bolts, crinkled and messy, taped to hell and back, with a shoddily tied bright blue bow in the middle. He offered the box forward with a giant smile, tail thumping against the floor in glee.

Accepting the gift, Katie looked at her son with a tired grin. “Mijo. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” Mondo nodded. “But I thought you’d like something that came from all of us.”

Katie couldn’t stop herself from looking taken by surprise. “What…?” She raised her gaze to Danny to search for an explanation, but the rat was sitting on the stepladder, a similarly fond expression written across a face usually wrought with stress and anger. Yellow eyes glistened, his grin gentle, kind, almost loving. “Listen t’ th’ kid,” he said. “I think yer really gonna like this.”

So, taking this in mind, Katie obliged. She gingerly pulled the paper apart, undid the bow, took the lid off the box to look at what had been given to her…

And her heart began to pang with emotion.

Perched in her lap was a scrapbook. Black leather, golden stud clasps punched into the corners… and in metallic gray sharpie marker in bold lettering was written, ‘Best Adopted Mom.’

Katie opened the book. She was greeted with photos of herself and her boys, from the happiest parts of their journey. Each one of these pictures showed them all smiling bright for the camera, either taken by surprise or charging the cameraman— probably Casey or Leo.

Coney Island. Yankee stadium. The diner. Raph learning how to drive the old pickup truck, Leo pointing and laughing hysterically at the other turtle. Casey in the ice rink teaching Mondo how to play hockey, Donnie holding onto the wall for dear life. Game nights, where by the end of it hell broke loose. The yōkai carnival. Halloween. The Day of the Dead gala— which, how the hell did they take the photo of her and Danny from that far at such a distance?— the beach. The arcade. There were sections of the book with color coordinated chapters to represent each of the boys— dark red for Raph. Sky blue for Leo. Electric purple for Donnie. Gold for Mondo. Black for Casey.

The photos ranged from mundane, to funny, to impressive shots of either duo in combat, to celebratory snippets cut out of newspapers or magazines. Fun stickers were pasted on the sides to give the paper more décor, doodies adorned every page, funny puns and quotes covered every inch of the book.

It wasn’t until she’d reached the final page that her heart backflipped.

The last page of the book contained two photos glued to a piece of pale pink paper: one was a group photo of herself and all the boys covered in bruises and battered, sitting at a table in Hueso’s restaurant, enjoying a pizza for the first time in months and looking completely at ease in the midst of a crowd of yōkai. They were beaming for the camera, a celebration of their newfound family in the aftermath of all they’d endured.

The second…

A photo of Grace and Lilium, the same one she’d shown Jason hours earlier. Underneath these pictures was a note.

‘To the best mom I’ve ever had! I’m sorry you can’t go home, but you’ve got us now! We can be your new family if you want! Thanks for always being here for us, for helping us, and for never giving up on any of us.

We love you, Mom!

Signed—

Leonardo

Raphael

Donatello

Casey

Jason.’

Katie remained still in her seat, the scrapbook cradled in her hands like it was a precious heirloom. She failed to realize she was shaking slightly. She didn’t notice how her vision started to blur again, only this time she truly couldn’t see anything past a misty haze of colors.

The silence that followed started to worry the others. Concerned, Mondo stepped forward, taking his Santa hat off and wringing it in his hands. “Mom…?”

The barriers shattered.

The walls came down.

Finally, for the first time in years, Katie burst into tears. It hurt. It stung like a bastard. Hot, furious waterfalls streamed along her skin in thick trails. Clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs as they overcame the detective, she allowed herself to release the bottled up emotions she’d kept under lock and key. Naturally everyone gathered to her side in moments, both baffled and confused while she wept over the book, messy tears dripping off her chin and jawline to plop onto the laminated pages.

A fuzzy, filling feeling flowed throughout her core, washing her hardened interior to melt away, giving in to an incredible emotion she hadn’t felt in years.

Love. To be loved by the people who had accepted all of her. To be loved by those who saw past the ugly pieces and kept her regardless. To be a parent to a group of amazing kids who, in turn, gave her purpose. To be loved by a man who only saw her— not the hybrid, not the magpie, nor the mixed breed… just Kathrine.

Is this what it felt like to be a mother?

Was this how Grace felt?

“Mom?!”

“Holy crap, are you okay?”

“What’s wrong?!”

“Guys, back up, give her air—“

“Did we do something bad—“

“I knew we shouldn’t have—“

“How?” Katie asked through sobs, quieting the boys. When no one responded she asked again with a shaking sigh, “How?”

“How what?” Leo frowned.

She scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeves, emerald orbs turning dark red in an attempt to wipe the tears away. “H-How did I… get so lucky?” Raising her head she met their gaze with a watery smile filled with joy and happiness, pink coloring her cheeks. “To find such great kids?“

Mondo blinked slowly, hat still twisted in his hands. “Do you… like the book?”

“Like it?” She asked, looking stunned, as if the question was outlandish. “Like it?”

Mondo gulped, the hat twisted thin between his hands. “Is it that bad? I didn’t think the pictures were that blurr—EEEP!”

Katie wrapped her arms around the gecko to pull him into a strong embrace, clutching the smaller of the mutants close. Against the tears that still made her eyes sore, the woman smiled, looking completely at ease in the presence of those around them. “Mijo,” she sniffled. “This is the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Mondo’s face lit up with glee, returning the hug readily, tail slapping rapidly against the floor in excitement. “Radical!”

There was a lack of movement from everyone else. Katie lifted her head, meeting the eyes of her boys with a watery chuckle. “What, you think there’s a favorite in this household?” She extended an arm towards Donnie, a silent invitation to join. “Get in here!”

Donnie instantly took the offer, jumping into her arms with a similarly giant smile, his glasses going askew on his snout. Casey followed suit, finding a space at Katie’s left side. Leo was just as eager to join the fold, practically leaping forward, starved for paternal affection. Raph, though slower to accept the overt display of emotion as the older ‘loner’ brother, inched his way over to his comrades, crouching beside the bunch to place a hand atop the lip of Leo’s shell, trying not to show the fond grin on his beak.

It was a sweet image; a surrogate mother hugging the sons who chose her, internally blessed to have them in her life.

Danny, awkwardly, stood out from the huddle. The rat yōkai used his clawed index finger to pull on his turtleneck collar, shifting on one foot to the other, tail curled at his ankles. Katie noticed, untangling one arm from the cluster of mutants to reach for him.

His eyes widened. Danny, wordlessly, pointed to himself to ask, ‘you sure?’

Katie just nodded. Her fingers wriggled to motion for him to come.

His tail twitched. He swallowed, suddenly anxious. Slowly, he crossed the short distance across the carpet, the Christmas lights still spinning and dancing in rings along the walls. Kneeling, Danny timidly lifted a hand to reach for her, every fiber in his body telling him he didn’t belong here, he didn’t deserve this, he wasn’t worthy, he wasn’t allowed to share in this moment—

But Katie took his hand. She threaded her fingers through his own, clasping it tight. Her brilliant emerald orbs shined like gemstones in the colorful hues of the lights behind them, a beautiful smile gracing her strained features. For the first time he detected no sign of stress, no wear and tear, no grief…

It was just Katie.

And there was no other magnificent sight Danny wanted to bask in.

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

An hour later, everyone commenced with the festivities proper. After drying her tears Katie had rushed to the closet to bring the rest of the presents she’d hidden from the boys— “I KNEW I should have checked that one,” Casey lamented with a snap of his fingers. Soon the sound of wrapping paper ripping and boxes being torn apart echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and the sewer pipes overhead. Cheers and gasps of awe were soon to follow as everyone began to show off their gifts.

Mondo’s wish for a new skateboard came true as he hugged it chest, eyes scouring over the details of the designs and admiring the classic 90’s paint job. New converse sneakers, a box packed with vintage comics, an old school GameCube console and games to go with it sat dutifully in his corner.

Casey had yet to go through the pristine selection of metal baseball bats or hockey sticks that were set up in a leather carrying case along with the repaired rollerblades, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off the grey varsity jacket baring the name of his favorite hockey player currently clutched in his hands.

Raph didn’t react the most outwardly, but the pleased grunt he gave meant more than words. He totted a new set of boxer’s gloves, a black windbreaker, fingerless leather gloves custom made to fit for three fingers, a thick textbook on the history of motorcycles, knitting needles and yarn, as well as a rubix cube to help cope with his temper.

Donnie’s pile had a consistent theme; retro Pokémon games for his Gameboy, anime t-shirts, a BTS hoodie, refurbished laptop, plenty of Kpop CDs, Japanese snacks of varying kinds from chocolates to gummies, and a Gundam model kit to put together.

Leo hadn’t stopped squealing as he went through his selections, dramatically fainting over the sight. On top of receiving new clothes that would make David Bowie envious, the slider admired a set of neon nail polish to try out. He slipped on a pair of aviator sunglasses with dark red lenses as he tore into one more bag that had yet to be opened, and the sound he made caused his neighbor— Casey— to wince at the volume.

“NO. YOU. DIDN’T.” He pulled free a bright pink onesie with a hoodie and a horn on the top, a matching plushie tumbling out of it. Stars shined in his eyes under the sunglasses. “YOU GOT ME A UNICORN ONESIE?!”

“I mean,” Katie laughed as the slider hugged it to his chest, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he squealed. “You asked for one forever!”

“You’re the BEST!” Leo held up the fuzzy loungewear with pride, clearly over the moon with his present and holding it aloft as if it were Simba. “I now possess the coolest Christmas gift of all time! All of you can now be jealous!”

“If you say so,” Raph chuckled. He picked up a small wrapped bundle, tossing it at the prankster. “This one’s from me.”

Leo caught it, surprised. “Did I hear that right? RAPH got ME a Christmas gift?”

“Well, if ya don’t want it, I’ll give ‘em t’ Casey—“

“HELL NO,” Leo ripped the bright green paper off the strange bundle… revealing a pair of caramel brown fluffy, dopey puppy slippers with goggly eyes and floppy ears. Leo’s mouth dropped wide open with shock, holding the footwear in his fingers for all to see, earning a few giggles from Donnie and Casey.

“Nice shoes,” the human teen chortled.

“SCREW YOU I LOVE THEM,” Leo loudly proclaimed, shoving them on to spite him.

As the kids laughed and showed each other their gifts, the adults finally sank into the comfort of the couch. Lounging in the sofa with a relieved sigh, Danny took his antlers off, looking to Katie as he spoke. “So,” he murmured with a light chuckle. “Is that everyone?”

Katie, snorting, gave him a playful swat on his shoulder. “There’s still you, dummy.” She grabbed a rectangular box that looked quite fancy, handing it to him with a knowing expression. “Feliz Navidad, mi amor.”

“Baby,” blushing a dark crimson, Danny took the present into his hands. “Ya didn’t need to—“

“Course I did. You’re family now,” she folded her arms atop the couch cushions to rest her head there, watching him with adoration. “I couldn’t just leave you out.”

Danny’s face went blank, caught off guard.

“Was that wrong of me?”

“Nah. Just… haven’t been part of something like this in years. Not since Leonard or Mickey.” He went quiet for a moment, tugging the paper off the box carefully. “Ya know something? I thought I’d never get outta that life. I thought I was stuck in that cycle forever— but if I’m honest…” he reached a free hand towards hers, taking her hand into his own with all the tenderness of a class-A gentleman. He gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad I chose you over everything.”

If it was feasible for a human to turn into a living cherry, Katie’s face would have magically transformed into one. She blustered, a feat he thought impossible, as she held his hand tighter. “You jackass,” the detective giggled. “You gotta do this to me?”

“I aim t’ please…” Danny’s free hand had pried open the box at last, pushing the lid off. He stared down into the contents of what lay before him, and he genuinely looked touched.

A three piece suit, made of refined black satin, and a crisp silk tie dyed a pleasing dark violet, sat innocently in his lap. Sitting on top of that was a gold lighter with beautiful engravings, with his name etched along the metal in elegant cursive.

“You needed a suit to go dancing in,” Katie smirked as his fingers plucked the lighter from the box, thumb brushing across the engravings. “And you ask for a lighter all the time, so…”

The rat yōkai stared at the lighter for the longest time, snapping it open with a practiced flick of his wrist. A bright purple flame of magic origin burst into being, swishing in mystified motions. It captivated him. There was a beauty to its color, mysterious and alluring, it was almost perfect.

Danny found himself smiling. Snapping the lighter closed he squeezed Katie’s hand. “You know how t’ leave me speechless.”

“I aim to please,” Katie quoted back at him, sitting upright to better lounge into the sofa. “NOW we’ve got everyone.”

“Not yet.” Danny stood, going for the tree this time, moving through a mound of shredded paper and boxes. “I still haven’t given ya my gift.” He rummaged around for a second before he grabbed onto the object, yanking it free of the mess of tinsel and branches.

She almost had to do a double take. In his hand, having been freed from its hiding place like Excalibur from the stone, was a gorgeous dreadnought acoustic guitar, but by the looks of it this was a custom model. The base of the guitar was dyed a rich reddish-black with a shadowy gradient blending the two tones on the sides, likely mahogany. Nylon strings finely tuned along the thin neck of the instrument. It was massive, bigger than the one she recalled owning years ago before Bishop decided to take a Glock to it.

Katie was left marveling. “Is that…?”

“Heard your old one got shot fulla bullet holes. Thought it was better that ya got an upgrade.” Danny handed her the mighty item. Though it was hollow, it still surprised her that the guitar managed to be slightly taller than herself.

The boys had all flocked to the couch, sitting either on the carpet or on open spots in the couch and loveseat to watch their mother handle the instrument with delicate care. Scarred, calloused fingers smoothed over the polished wood, absorbing its beauty with an awesome breath. “Dios Mio…”

“Helluva beast,” Raph complimented. “Bet it’ll make some great music.”

Flopping onto a couch cushion with his plushie clutched in his arms, Leo eyed the guitar with wonder. “Sooooooo is this the time where I can ask for lessons?”

“Hell no!” Casey barked out a laugh, falling into the loveseat. “If you try to play it, you’ll break the strings!”

“Dude, how would I break it? Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself?”

“Definitely! I’m a pro at anything! Casey Jones can master any instrument!”

“Uh-huh. Sure. I’ll believe that when carrots fly.”

Mondo hopped into the open seat at Katie’s left, tail falling to rest at his lap. “Can you play something for us?”

“Right now?” Katie couldn’t help but chuckle, tuning the strings. “Haven’t really had the time to practice my skills!”

“Come on, please?” Mondo clasped his hands together, putting on the ‘poor puppy dog eyes’ face to better try and convince her, adding the quivering lip for dramatic emphasis. “For Christmas?”

“Ooooh no, I see what you’re doing, it’s not gonna sway me.” Katie teased, but when she looked to her right eye found the soul-crushing teary eyed expressions of Leo and Donnie doing the same thing. These kid and their damn emotional ploys. “… okay, okay, fine, you win.”

Earning cheers from her boys, the detective sat upright to better adjust her grip on the dreadnought, cradling it close, fingers coming to rest upon the base of the guitar prepping for its first performance. It was as though the strings were humming in her ears, an energy beyond her understanding, yearning to be used, to be played, to be heard.

“What’re you gonna play?” Donnie asked.

“Yeah! I mean,” Leo tucked his legs beneath him, eager to listen. “Do you have a song in mind?”

… that was something she hadn’t thought of yet.

Katie spared a glimpse at her boys, looking at their smiling excitable faces. She looked to Danny, leaning against the wall near the tree, regarding her lovingly. She thought of Grace and Lilium, their laughter a distant echo in the sewers as though their aura still remained.

Yeah… she had a song in mind.

Fingers plucked at the nylon strings. A calm melody started to flow from under worn and calloused fingertips. Then, with a soulful voice, the words came free.

“Candles in the window,

Shadows painting the ceiling.

Gazing at the fire glow,

Feeling that gingerbread feeling…”

The boys were instantly captivated; their postures relaxed, lulled by the sweet melody, soothed by her voice, enjoying the company of their strange family whilst Danny’s smile softened significantly, watching on in silent pride.

“Precious moments.

Special people.

Happy faces.

I can see…”

Katie’s heart felt lighter than air. The stirring of emotions that had conquered the woman’s otherwise tense and painful heart had finally allowed for the vulnerable side to break through, to be willing to open herself up and be freed from the overwhelming amount of grief that had kept her tethered to her shortcomings. Yes, she had lost a part of herself that would likely never be returned to her. She doubted the likelihood of the family reunion she’d desperately longed for with Grace and her niece.

Yes, she’d never get to see them again… but Katie still had a family.

She had her boys. She had Danny. She had them… and they would always have her there to keep them supported.

And that was more than enough.

“Somewhere in my memory

Christmas joys all around me.

Living in my memory,

All of the music. All of the magic.

All of the family home here, with me…”

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

Tada!! Hope you liked this!! It was fun to get this done! The song Katie’s singing is a cover rendition of ‘Somewhere in my Memory’ from Home Alone! I liked this version a ton so I imagined Katie would sing like this!

Enjoy, and see ya soon!! 😊

@queen-with-the-quill @tending-the-hearth @lameboobah @wasted-and-ready @figuringitoutasigoalong @tmnt-tychou

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt au #familia: forever #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt oc #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt mutant mayhem #tmnt 2007 #tmnt mondo gecko #tmnt 2012 casey jones #tmnt raphael #mm donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt dastardly danny

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orii-blogs-stuff · 7 months ago

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Hello! Am sending a questions about your Ascendence of a Bookworm x Resturant to Another World AU.

Which was you favorite part to write so far?

Has anyone traded goods such as plants or meats from Yurgenschmidt (hope I remember how to spell that) to Nekoya yet?

How well known is the restaurant among the merchants and commoners of Yurgen?

I find it fascinating to think of what the restaurant can make with the plants and meats found in each duchy that cannot be found on Earth.

I like how you managed to show the differences of culture, what the nobles expect to experience vs their real customer service experience, and the way the people who become regulars adapt to it in their own way.

I especially like how you’ve incorporated the regular order nicknames to each person. Once I remember who is who, it’s interesting to think of how the scenarios will play out with those present.

How did you come up for the favorite meals of other characters and do you have a list of them?

Thank you for making this wonderful story. I never thought this crossover would happen but now that it did, it is amazing! Hope you have a great day!

Screams~~!!

I wasn't really expecting an ask but I'm so happy I got one~~!!

Ok so from top to bottom:

My favourite part has to be writing about the Nobles meeting Mestionora, there just this delicious sort of (idk what to call it, karma maybe?) Thing in the air where Nobles are getting treated the same way most of them would treat the commoners you know what I mean, if face of a metaphysical cosmic entity they are *nothing* and the realization of that feels like such a juicy thing to write.

Yes, Mako and his fellow chef Leo are always trying to find ways to incorporate local food from Yurgenschmidt and the other world into their resrurant menu, Rozemyne traded a few fruits and veggies for cacao and coffee beans in the beginning when Alexandria's country gate wasnt connected to the land of sand. Now Rozemyne only imports cacao and about a kilogram or natto every week.

It's a bit of an Urban legend amongst merchants, especially travelling merchants, some don't belive it, others swear they saw it, benno makes a lot of money from all the new exotic foods Rozemyne brings with her to Alexandria and traveling merchants (atleast, the ones who found it) make it a point to find and label all (or as many) Nekoya doors they can find on their way (because food is essential to traveling merchants and their families) tho it's mostly not mentioned in the story itself cuz its a bit irrelevant to the plot (aka: I can't figure out a way to incorporate it without sounding forced it)

Aww thank you~~ ya I'd also love to see what the chefs could come up with using Yurgen meats and veggies.

I haven't made a list of them. Also I put a bit of thought into the names because that's the least amount of effort I could atleast put into the characters, example:-

Shuu - he's a Vtuber, meaning many sleepless nights, meaning he needs a lot of energy boosts to go about his day such as caffeine, so I chose melon soda because melon soda seems to be pretty popular in Japan.

😭😭😭 I am legit sobbing~~!! Thank you very much!! And have a great day as well!

#my writing #ascendance of a bookworm #a restaurant in another world #join us for a bite au

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moonglowmagic · 2 years ago

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Where: Eclipse after Sexy Santa

With: Chai Rune @cantfightmoonlight

Dilan had went home and changed into warmer clothes for the most part and got the presents for both Aaliyah and Chai, despite the bar being closed after the event tonight she had certain perks and privileges that came with knowing the owner. “Hey,” Dilan remarked as her heels clicked on the empty floor, she carried the gifts over to the empty bar. Sitting the down carefully as she shook the snow out of her hair and off of her coat, she took a seat at the bar. “One of these is yours, but the other is Aaliyah’s, if you can make sure it gets to her.” Informing him as she pushed the presents towards him, but then quickly pulled them back. “Just don’t open them while I’m here okay? I’m not really a fan of the whole watching people open gifts and faking enthusiasm and that when they hate it.” Moving them off to the side, she hoped that he’d respect her request when it came to this. “I figured since I don’t know where you live and I had to drop off Aaliyah’s anyways that this would just be the easiest way to do it.” Dilan added, before taking a seat across from him. Keeping her coat around her for warmth as she crossed one leg over the other, settling in for the moment since there was still a part two to this all.

“Normally I wouldn’t do this in public, but considering it’s literally just the two of us here. Fuck it.” Dilan remarked with a shrug, before sighing. “Part two of my gift to you is well.. giving the gift of knowledge about me. Just please don’t use any of this against me.” Looking down at her hands nervously, she found herself fidgeting with her gloves. “I know that this town is a pain in the ass sometimes, but.. just please.” It was one of the only places in this world where she didn’t have to be on, instead just got to be Dilan. Plus even though she’d never admit it a part of her did love this town. Finally looking back up at him with an unsure look, she paused before continuing once more. “I know I mentioned my parents the Selvi’s and vaguely adoption but nothing about my adoption was above board. From what I’ve gathered and they told me, their child or well I guess the real Dilan Selvi was sick, very sick. Then one day she was better.. because I took her place.” Feeling herself get choked up, she wondered if this was a mistake if she was sharing too much. Only maybe two people knew about all of this and one of them was Leyla. “I think they always knew it wasn’t the same child, but what do you do when one day everything you hoped for just appears?” Taking in a sharp breath, she held up a hand to signal for him to not say anything and just to give her a moment to finish. “I’m what’s considered a changeling I guess? I couldn’t tell you a thing about my life though or who or what my name was before Dilan Selvi. There’s a part of me that isn’t sure I want to know? I mean I already have criminals for parents on both sides and well— I’m not sure I would ever like what I find considering what I know they already did. I mean trading one child out for another is fucked up, but I know at least two of us were traded.” Referring to Leyla as well, while she didn’t know exactly every bit of Leyla’s trauma with her family, it was easy to assume that it hadn’t been as smooth of a transition. Feeling tears threatening to fall and she bit the inside of her cheek to cause pain to herself instead of sadness. “The third wasn’t as lucky, or maybe they just didn’t give a shit cause she was older. Who knows, but I know Hande hates us because of it.” Looking over at him once more as she let the realization sink in that the hunter she had mentioned was her older sister. “We don’t know much about her other than she’s a hunter who hates us. I mean she literally stabbed me the first time she met me.” Giving a forced chuckle, she could still recall that night she had met her, the fact that Hande hated her and Leyla so much. “So that’s my dirty little family secrets, I’m a changeling and my sister is a hunter.” Letting a hint of sadness ring in her voice, she rested her head in her hand. “You’re one of the only people in this world who knows about either thing so I’m trusting you but also begging you to not tell a soul about this. If they found out about us..” She’d lose everything and likely be kicked out of the fae court and Lunar Cove. “I can’t risk Leyla going back out there and getting hurt.”

#( ft. chai rune. )#( threads || dilan selvi. )#( event. )#lunarcoveevent4

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plushcroft · 2 years ago

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It's 5am and I wasn't exactly a morning person. Wondering what idiotic drunkard would have the nerve to knock on my door I grabbed a nearby weapon before opening it. It was shocking to me to see who was there. It was the local heroine, the Starlight, she is usually a tough but quiet person. You usually don't see her stopping you until it's too late. Her ability to distort light made her a formidable opponent and harder to even find to other villians' annoyance. Why would she want to come over here in her inebriated condition with so many injuries? What Starlight said next was disturbing. "No villain hurt me this bad. A new hero tried to get rid of me over a territory dispute. He doesn't have a name yet he is attacking other heroes and heroines with his outbursts using his superpower being physical strength and nerve rotting gas making people unable to move before he tortures them. He killed three other heroes already and he made them suffer slow painful deaths. At least you'll actually just kill me without agony if you don't want to help me."

I was shocked this person was one of the toughest of the world's hero group. What did they do to her to make her desperate enough to go to me? "You shouldn't want to die so easily. You are not dying on my watch. Last I checked heroes don't kill each other."

"He got his powers using his position as a business owner. All of his contracts require employees to give up their souls. A lot of them didn't know and some that read it had their terms of service changed without their permission. It's like their consent never matter to him. People tried to warn me something felt wrong in town. A lot of the business is owned just by his father too. They traded all of their employees' souls for powers. Now they are charging people for protection and I can't even stop them. Even when I had help from other heros they died and I was the only one that survived I'm a sorry excuse for a hero!" Starlight passed out after this. I set her on a bed in a spare room afterwards.

This wasn't the first time some stupid business major tried to bribe hell for powers. I sighed this was going to get ugly. Still for her to survive this she will need to rest. I locked the room she was in just in case. The security would keep her in and others out.

The world gets boring and ugly without a proper hero. Just because other villians like to take out every potential enemy possible doesn't mean it helps. That kind of mindset makes the world cruel, ugly and downright boring that stupid might makes right mentality. That insipid, foolish, boorish mindset makes people only value the bare bones in life with no desire for a life of substance makes people to scramble for a meager existence. No beauty or innovation to make life worth living. Starlight's lack of talking the name of who hurt her must mean the name has a name tracker of supernatural origin. But the mention of the father at least narrowed it down to the blantly obvious monopoly of the Doe family. Arrogant pricks even thought they could buy off any villians and even make some heroes turn a blind eye to their business practices. Heck I even sent what remained of one of their representatives back to them in a hand basket after losing my temper on them. I didnt expect them to have access to so many people's fates. What that family did to those souls was like hunting fish in a barrel with what power they already had in the town. It's bad sportsmanship and bad business practice taking both someone's current life and afterlife away from them. Leaving people with nothing more than eternal servitude in both life and death just to get a meagar job to live in the present. Well I gathered my weapons and prepared to cause some damage. Even though the Devil himself had an IOU from some centuries ago to me. The act of taking souls back with these multitudes was going to ruffle more than a few feathers and bruise way more than egos. That fool thought having hell on their side will save them. I was planning no mercy for this and willing to show them hell has nothing compared to my wrath.

To be continued

As a Villain, one night, someone knocks on your door, you open it and there she is, the most famous invulnerable heroine of the city, completely drunk and with many bruises, as soon as you realize who she is, she passes out into you arms.

#woops i had some typos but im adding more to the story #violence #death #hell mention #afterlife mention

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anyu-blue · 2 years ago

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I've been having some vivid dreams again. Many I can explain pretty easily as many of the things I've talked about or seen across media popping in strange, but equally vivid ways.

But the lead to last night's dreams I remember has me all in knots and I'm really not sure where the idea came from, save perhaps my subconscious.

Most of the details have since disappeared, but the main point I took away from it is of what I could be/have been.

In this dream I was secure in my gender and happy to present as such. I was so comfortable and confident that when I least expected it, blessedly, I ran across a man who took interest in me and took the things I say unintentionally in stride. So in stride, in fact, they were a near perfect match for what I would tell someone saying these same things to me (as I try very hard to be a beacon of positivity to match the things my friends and family say about themselves and what they find as their negative traits). Positive, kind, unassuming, almost effortless, and uplifting.

And it wasn't the fake kind I've come to expect and see in my daily life... The comments with the hint of a 'I'm just joking around/have an ulterior motive' mixed in. Comments that SOUND good, but have no genuine feelings behind them...

Of course I gladly and eagerly accepted a date/try. And hope soared.

...

I often have dreams where my emotions are so clear and strong. Happiness being my favorite. Much clearer than in my waking world where everything must be measured so is probably repressed in some way.

I was fighting Yakuza (video game stuff) later in the dream so that was another whole bag of cats and I woke up groggy from that...

But the first part before it evolved... I just...

It was hard waking up and just... Not being comfortable like that. Not being able to accept or see myself as what I was in my dream.

My body was the same, for once, in that dream. Exactly how I look right now... Just dolled up and cute- a lovely skirt, piggy tail buns, a little makeup, flowers had something to do with it all... And still chubby and with all my health problems. Just girly. Accepting of it.

And I'm so confused.

I WANT that. I want that confidence and comfort in what and who I am. But I just don't have it. I don't know who I am or what I'm doing.

I'm literally just a hodgepodge of things I find comfortable enough... Depression, laziness, and a desire to be something I'm not and know I will never be underlying everything- every choice I make.

I know I could try to be that. Buy skirts and dresses as the extra bit of $ comes in from my job. Make the effort to be cute and bubbly like that.... But I also know that in the end... I can't force it to last. Something will dig at me and I will become sad and drop the facade. It's happened several times already. I can't even keep my hair dyed black like I prefer it. It's been years now.

I'm just... So tired. Confused. And sad.

I wish it was a choice.

I've made quite a few of my Trans friends uncomfortable when I've mentioned if I could trade them fully functioning parts I absolutely would (I've since stopped saying as such to any Trans person I come across as I now realize for some reason it makes people uncomfortable and is a taboo in the community - I deeply apologize for not understanding, and your feelings are valid all the same!!)... And I realize wishing it was that easy makes many people uncomfortable as well.

These are my feelings though.

And don't get me wrong. I sincerely enjoyed that part of the dreams that held joy for me. I'm happy I had the dream as I love dreaming and having that extra little world in my head free of charge, more or less. I especially love that that me was beautiful and happy and had all her wishes coming true. It warms my heart to have seen an experienced that in the capacity I did.

I'm sad for me because I've long mourned the loss of the dreams/goals I had as totally unrealistic. I want to have direction and stability in my life. Enough not to worry. Love. Family. Acceptance.

I want a different life than I now live. And I'm angry, annoyed, sad, and resigned to the fact that I'm too scared to make major changes I feel I can't upkeep if I try to make them. I know a chunk of it is poor upbringing and trauma- things holding on I can't seem to break free of no matter how much I want to... And another chunk is fear of the unknown... And another chunk is resistance to change inherent in people with my condition.

There are facets to autism and trauma I'm very grateful for and even love- my willingness to be a shield, my kindness, my sense of justice, my care, my contingency plans that are useful.. and there are facets I want to shake like my dependency on comfort and knowing I'm not letting anyone aside from myself down.

I want to stop letting myself down... And yet I can't seem to actually do that without letting at least one other person down.

I've decided I won't transition like I want to because I don't want any more health complications - potential or otherwise - to bother my already annoyed family with. And yet I can't decide to lean into the gender assigned to me because of the extreme discomfort it gives me. The sense of falseness and fear of attack that comes with it. I also don't want to be one of the ones I find absolutely gross (and I'm so sorry I do- it's a really old beaten-into-my-head thing from my upbringing- some people are just so beautiful, and others it's really not their fault. I feel like a gross looking person already because I'm so awkward and I don't want to make it any worse) who stick out like sore thumbs and are attacked for it anyway or regardless of where and who they are.

Idk.. the dream was good. I'm happy it was good. I'm not excited about the existential crisis and sadness it brought me today... But still. I'm glad I had it and got to experience some euphoria that way. My dreams are happy sometimes, and that makes me happy.

#personal #random #ignore me #life in general #gender #dreams #trigger warnings apply

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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true gift

A god like Naoya is about to see how his little mortal is hiding a true gift.

REQUEST. deity au + virgin sacrifice for naoya + reader with worship kink

CONTENT/WARNINGS. virginity loss, naoya isn’t nice, mentions of blood, murder, abduction, praise kink, slight degradation, fingering, overstimulation, slight breeding kink, creampie, orgasm denial, mentions of slavery, face fucking, reader is willingly consenting to pain, reader is a masochist, naoya is a sadist

NOTES. ah...it feels so natural to write naoya...also can someone send me some good erotic hentai panels, yay <3

Today is the day – the one you’ve been prepared for ever since you’ve forced to make acquaintance with the blinding darkness and smell of rust.

What time is it? Is it morning, night...maybe somewhere in the middle?

There’s no telling, not when you’ve been staring at the pitch black darkness for what seems like forever. It’s been too long, so long, that you’ve forgotten what the world looks like. It’s like one day you’re helping your family tend to the farms when rough hands grabbed at you, and you’re shoved in a cold, dark cellar before you could even say good bye.

Oddly enough, the servants – or at least that’s what you assume they are, since they’ve been nothing but tight lipped and inherently obedient to a faceless figure – have taken extreme care of you.

Twice a day, they’d open the cellar, the sound of keys rustling and nearly muted footsteps like music into your ears. The slight sliver of light passing through from the outside is immediately concealed within a split second, a black smooth material wrapped around your eyes before they strip you off. Normally, you’d complain and fight back, but you’ve lost all the will to even defend yourself at this point.

You’ve given up a long time ago, and life’s been a lot more tolerable ever since.

Today isn’t any different. Maybe it was hours ago, two servants had came in to wash away the grime and dirt from your body before you felt something combing through your hair. Then, you felt it. A smooth, cold blade running up and down every inch of your body, rendering you immobile in fear even breathing could cut you open.

It didn’t. If anything, you felt a lot smoother, lighter, and freer.

“Is she bare?” an old, croaky feminine voice echoed in the small room, equally wrinkled hands removing the strap of your bra off before she lathers a rose-scented cream all over your body. “Naoya-sama prefers his slaves hair-free, you know that. Not even stubble is allowed, do you understand? Keep shaving her until she’s spotless.”

Naoya-sama.

So that’s where you were. It all made sense now.

For as long as you could remember, that name’s been spoken with terror, the slight tremble of voices and darkened eyes pooled with fear never absent in the presence of his name. You’ve never seen him, but you know enough to understand that he’s a prominent figure especially in your little village. He’s not human, but he’s not exactly a god either – at least, not one that people would willingly worship.

You’ve heard telltales on how his beauty alone had women dropping to their feet, the malice in those eyes of his enough to make even the strongest warriors stick to his side in fear of what he’s capable of.

He’s as old as time and as strong as the steady flow of the river you and your people have always bathed in. It doesn’t make sense that someone as fearsome as he was is living at the mountains where nothing but quiet, peaceful people rejoiced, but the more you think about it, of course he’d prefer his people submissive, heads always ducked in fear and shaking in terror.

This whole time, you thought you’d been sold off to a neighbouring clan head because your clan didn’t have enough funds to pay for the latest trade.

In a way, you’d feel a lot luckier if the former had happened instead, because there’s really no proper way of making sound of the fact you’re sacrificed to your own deity, Naoya Zen’in, after not completing your offerings to him for ten whole moons.

It’s bad, horribly so, and you should be shaking, should be crying, should be wishing for death instead, so then why are you deferential? You don’t complain when two rough hands pull you from the ground and keep your arms tight in shackles at your lower back, vision still obscured by this cloth as you’re guided somewhere – someplace that all the sacrificed women for your deity are received.

Your feet are sloppy and smacking against the hardwood floor, heart pulsing in your tongue for all the wrong reasons. Faintly, you can smell a rose-scented candle and water splashing, but it doesn’t register until you’re immersed under it.

You gasp, hair flattening onto your skin while you look around blindly, struggling to clutch onto something as your feet keep slipping into the tub.

You’ve never been into a tub before; much less recognize the soft, paper-like objects floating into the water with you. Head swaying side to side until water is sprayed everywhere, a firm hand keeps your head in place just as a pumice stone is scrubbed into your skin. It’s not painful, but the rough scraping sensation feels sensitive from your skin that hasn’t been exposed to normal, breathing air for who knows how long.

“Stop moving,” that same elderly voice commanded, and her assistants, most likely, move quickly into extending your limbs until you’re sprawled out everywhere. “We are to make you perfect, presentable, lavishing in front of our deity himself.”

“B-but —”

“You have no right to speak!” You’re left stunned as your cheek bruises red, lips wet from the water as you pant. The sting on your skin becomes more pronounced, but you dare not speak, opting to keep your lips shut instead. The elderly woman takes notice of your behaviour, humming before she makes you stand up, that same blade swiping down your exposed regions. “You learn fast and submit well. I think we have a worthy sacrifice for tonight.”

“She is gorgeous too, my Lady.”

“She should be,” comes a retort, your jaw clenched as you keep still. She forces your legs further apart until you’re embarrassingly exposed, the rose petals in the water sticking into some corners of your skin. “If she was not, she’d be dead already. It’s her pretty face that’s keeping her alive at this point.”

Everything is a blur after that.

One moment, they’re shaving you, the next you’re thrown from one body to another. They perform all sorts of things – towel drying your hair, exfoliating your skin, plucking your eyebrows to perfection before applying a shimmer to your cheeks and something sticky and glossy to your lips, then finally you feel the warmth of silk robes you could never afford even if you work yourself to death caressing your body.

After that, you’re locked inside a much bigger room, the blindfold falling off your face slowly.

You blink in surprise.

The room isn’t that dark, but dim enough, and your heart beats louder in your chest when you see the size of the room. It’s ten times bigger than your village meeting point, a large tatami bed sat in the middle. From one side, a window is open, allowing you to see the white illumination of the moonlight that looks hauntingly romantic.

Candles are lit on either sides of the room, and your gaze lands on odd whip-like weapons placed proudly on the walls.

Your legs are wobbly as you stand, life just coming back into your unused muscles. Making your way towards it, you reach out to touch this...weapon that’s still somewhat coated with the stench of blood. It’s immaculately clean and the leather is shiny, though it’s clear this has been used for far more gruesome situations before.

I think we have a worthy sacrifice for tonight.

You recoil your hand that’s a breath away from coming into contact with it, terror plaguing deep into your bones as you take a step back.

You’re a sacrifice, an offering, sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice – you’re brought here to die, and your god would kill you himself. Others may have considered it an honour to have died from the mercy of his hands, your oh-so divine lord who’s brought prosperity and wealth into your land, but you turn away, breathing hard as you make a break for the door.

But you never made it.

Your back lands into someone’s chest, a slight gasp falling from your lips before you’re pummelled into the ground, strong hands pinning your arms above your head. Eyes widening, you come face to face with your deity, his fox-eyes lined with dark kohl sharpening his already predatory features, ears pierced with tiny skulls and black dots.

His knee nudges your leg open and you groan, the sound making his eyes dart at you in warning before he smirks upon seeing you make no move to get away from him.

“As I’ve heard,” his deep voice cuts through the eerie silence of the room, the night so mute not even birds or insects cricketed at the presence of your deity’s need to have you for himself. “You are a compliant little lamb sent to the slaughter,” you shiver as his fingers run to caress the side of your face, his free hand undoing the knots that keeps your modesty. Naoya hums deep in his throat when the cloth falls to the sides, revealing perky nipples that pushed closer and closer to his awaiting lips at each heavy breath you took.

“You are stunning,” he praises, using a thumb to graze over the hardened bud. It’s barely a touch, but you’re sensitive, wholly new to this that you whimper. The sound is humiliating and utterly pathetic, your teeth coming down to capture your lips.

This displeases him entirely and Naoya taps your lips open, glaring at your wide, fearful yet aroused gaze. “You do not ever conceal such shameful sounds when I’m above you, do you understand?” You nod shakily, freeing your lip from its confines. Naoya snickers, chest puffing up with pleasure before he leans back to his calves, pushing the rest of your robe to the side until you’re completely exposed to him.

Your breathing grows more laboured when Naoya spreads your legs open, smirking as you whimper at the stretch of having your knees flattened by your sides. Legs placed on top of his knees, your elevated posture gives him more access to your bare pussy, his gaze zeroing in on the gleaming arousal that’s beginning to form on your lips.

“So fucking wet,” he comments, using both his thumbs to pry your pussy apart. You moan at the sensation of him pressing down on a part of you that you don’t know existed, and Naoya laughs, the sound sinister yet erotic. “You’re a virgin.”

It’s not a question – it’s a statement he takes pride in, especially because he knows he’s the chosen one to take something precious away from you.

“I’ve always loved virgins,” Naoya’s hands roam all across your body, slowly, sensually, passionately, the rough, calloused hands running under your legs to hitch them up behind his broad back, to cup your soft ass before he cups your pussy, groaning into your neck when he feels you leak and he’s barely touching you to begin with. It makes his ego swell when your hands wrap around his neck; he hates being touched by mere, lowly mortals like you, but you are undeniably gorgeous and so wanting of him that he allows you just this once. “Always so sensitive – do you want to be good for your deity? Hm?”

“Y-yes!” you cry out, eyes snapping shut when he suddenly inserts a finger in.

The feeling is foreign yet not totally unwelcomed, but you grimace anyway at the slight sting his digits bring. Naoya pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy to coax your arousal to drip further into the sheets like a waterfall, your nails digging into his robes while he watches you with a smirk. He laughs when your eyes widen at the second finger pushing in, thumb rubbing over your clit until your legs tremble around him.

“Virgins are always so gorgeous once they finally learn of pleasure,” he scoffs to himself.

You look at him straight in the eye, mouth falling open while small gasps fall through at the speed he’s pushing into you at.

Something begins to form in your lower bally until your body grows utterly warm, something...something close about to snap when he pulls his fingers out of you, throwing his head back in laughter when you cry for the first time that night.

Naoya stares at the way your gaze darts from his cum-soaked fingers back to your drenched core, brows raised cockily before he stands up, his figure looming over you. “What? Got something to say?” you only whimper in response, closing your legs as you try to provide answers to the brooding confusion punching at the back of your skull.

The sound of faint rustling brings you back to life, your eyes snapping to witness your god undressing himself, the robes falling from his shoulders too wonderfully that the mere sight of him has you clenching around nothing.

Fat cock standing tall and proud, tip red and glistening with pre-cum and a body carved by fellow gods himself, the rumours were right.

He is beautiful, and it’s no lie that his slaves aren’t really slaves to begin with, not when all of them have been so eager to please him, just to have a taste of this divine being that stands before you. Naoya easily reads your face; from the slightly parted lips, thighs rubbing together and hands looming dangerously to your core – you look so needy it’s actually fucking pathetic.

He’s slow in his movements, languid and taking his time because he’s got time and more in this world that he never cares about wasting something he has a plethora of.

Naoya makes himself at home above you again, basking in the way you’re struggling to breathe even without his hands on you. It doesn’t take long before he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, clenching his jaw when you open your mouth submissively, innocent eyes blinking up at him as you take your juices into your mouth.

You’re a natural at this, he observes, tongue expertly swirling around his digits until you’ve licked it clean. Naoya pats your cheek affectionately, his own way of applauding you for your work.

Under him, you grow shy and abashed, arms covering your bare breasts because he’s a god, why should he be pleased with you?

Naoya doesn’t give you enough time to think before he’s hauling you upwards, your shoulders shoved back onto the ground. You kneel below him in prayer and he tugs at your hair, forcing you to look at him, or rather his cock that’s slipping past your lips. You gag when he pushes his length all the way inside, the tip of it hitting the back of your throat.

Naoya sighs at finally being taken in – you should be grateful he even fingered you – his hands guiding your head to bob up and down him.

You do well at pleasing him even through the tears, clutching at his thighs while you suck in his length and swirl your tongue around the prominent veins. Naoya watches with hooded eyes as your cheeks hollow just to take his whole length in – and again, you’re a natural – so eager to please him too when you keep pushing and pushing, his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat.

His muscles ripple above you while he lets out a long, drawn out groan, nails scratching your scalp. You feel him twitch inside you and that’s when he takes over, snapping his hips ruthlessly until you’re left gagging and sucking his cock helplessly.

Your saliva is dribbling at the edges of your mouth, looking so fucked out and whore-like while he pushes himself to the edge. He doesn’t care that you’re choking and your eyes are zooming out of focus from not being able to breathe. He doesn’t care that you could die from asphyxiation, he doesn’t care because you’re his sacrifice – if you can’t even do this simple thing, then how else could you prove you’re worthy to live?

You know this too because you force yourself to breathe through your nose instead, wanting to show that you are worthy, that you can please and take him however he pleases you to.

Naoya isn’t stupid, he can see what you’re doing and can read your mind even in his lust-driven state. Nothing edges him more than a good, submissive whore. Now that he knows you’re willing to do anything without complaints, Naoya pulls his cock out just seconds away from orgasm, pushing you back into the mat with a grunt.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he hisses and pushes both your legs to the side, your body bent and pussy left open for him.

Naoya groans as he slides himself inside you. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but your virgin cunt is still too tight and new to this that you scream around him, subconsciously clenching around him harder.

“You’d do anything for me, yeah?” he challenges, cupping your face while he rams into you hard, uncaring that your walls are beyond abused and a ring of blood is already coating his cock. This isn’t the first time he’s taken someone’s purity, but this is the first time he’s had someone look gratified that he’s hurting them, fuelling him to fuck harder into you despite the steady stream of tears down your face. “Look at you – so obedient,” he pinches your nipples and rolls them between fingers, growling at the way your pained moan sounds more like an encouragement for him to go harder. “You want to please me so bad you don’t care I’m hurting you? Are you so eager to worship me that you won’t even stop me?”

“N-no, my lord,” you manage through the pain, regulating your breathing as you completely break down in tears. Naoya is hitting a spot deep inside you that makes your insides feel like they’re about to burst, and he takes note of this, pinching your clit just to get you to clamp down on him. “Please – use me however you want – please.”

Naoya smirks, pressing your knees flat on the ground before he hovers above you, forearms planted beside your head. At any other given moment, he prefers to fuck his sacrifices with their face planted on the ground because he can’t bear to see how disgusting they are, but you – you’re so damn beautiful it puts his fellow gods to shame.

Now yours is a face he’d like to keep looking at, so he roughly grabs your cheeks and squeezes them with his fingers, kissing your puckered lips and nipping at them.

You taste heavenly too; his servants did a good job of choosing honey as a gloss. Naoya greedily licks your lips until he’s shoving his tongue inside your mouth the same way his dick is ramming inside your walls, tight, puffy lips wrapped happily around his base.

You’re moaning inside his mouth as he squeezes your breast painfully. Never in your whole life have you thought that pain would feel so good, enticing you to moan louder when the sting finally subsides, replaced with the mind-numbing sensation of his thick length rubbing against every ridge of your walls. Naoya pulls his face away from you, his cum and your saliva sticky on your face and he chuckles, the sound stuttered and breathy, brows drawn together.

He looks down to watch the way you accommodate him; this is by far the tightest and wettest cunt he’s ever fucked – ever will fuck – that he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with any random whore’s pussy anymore.

Naoya frowns as anger bubbles up inside him, hatred making his cock swell inside you because how dare you make him wish he won’t take anyone again.

He wants more – want to kill more people, want to fuck more virgins, want to have more blood showering his skin until he’s bathed in glory and gore, but even though you’re the one he’s destroying, he’s slipping on the edge, too lost and hypnotized at the way your tight walls suck him in. Your moans don’t help either; they’re breathy and whiny, so defeated yet so eager to have more that Naoya grips your hips tight enough he might’ve cracked a femur from his godly strength.

Your scream this time is that of pain and loss, grappling on the sheets while white bursts through your eyes. Your orgasm comes crashing down on you overwhelmingly and you fall limp to the sheets, your translucent cum soaking his cock along with the previous blood, but Naoya doesn’t stop.

He keeps slamming into you until you’re mute from oversensitivity, hands cold with sweat and eyes empty while he uses you as his own fuck toy.

He gets there eventually, the room painted with his groans followed by a feral snarl, the rhythm of his thrusts turning sloppy and unbalanced. Naoya stills inside you after burying himself to the hilt, his crotch angrily rubbing at your pelvic bone as he cums. You whimper at the feeling of his warm seed spilling inside you in thick spurts. Naoya pulls out with a slight wince, scoffing at the mess you’ve made on his precious dick, but he’s forced to soften a little when he sees both your cum spilling out your hole in a messy puddle, the liquid coating your ass.

Meek as always, you don’t move a muscle when Naoya spreads your legs open, inching his face close enough to watch the way your pussy stutters and legs tremble in front of him.

You’re absolutely ruined – the puffy lips spread out and hole still pushing out the remnants of his cum. He doesn’t bother pushing them back in, uncaring if he’ll get you pregnant or not because it’s not like matters to him. You are nothing but another body to fuck and dispose of under the river once he’s satisfied with you, but he surprises both you and him when Naoya suddenly pushes two fingers inside of you, his eyes dark as he insists on keeping his seed right where they should be nurtured.

Now that he’s sure that will make your belly grow and provide him with a half-mortal heir, Naoya retrieves his robes and walks out the room, the slamming of the door shut similar to an impending doom of an imminent death.

But not yours.

You’ve fulfilled your duty as the death curse bearer of your clan; the greatest and most formidable weapon they’ve been carving to perfection the moment you’re born. The cracks in your bones and bruises on your body immediately heal as you turn to your side, chanting under your breath a hushed whisper of the words of your ancestors who’ve perfectly planned the death of the Zen’in God who’s made his people suffer for thousands of years.

They would be proud of you.

And as a body crashes outside the door followed by the frantic screams of his confused servants, you smile to yourself, falling into a deep sleep upon using your true gift.

#naoya zenin x reader #naoya x reader #naoya zenin smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #naoya x reader smut #naoya zenin x reader smut #naoya imagines #naoya x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #naoya x you #naoya x you smut #suki: 500 milestone event #i think this is kinda darkkkk?

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ginger-snaps014 · 2 years ago

Note

I love this - but it is notable that mermaids were declawed as sea travel became easier, less deadly and less common. Meaning if we want the mermaid to get her claws back, we need to determine what innate fear they can represent in the modern era if the claws were returned?

My understanding is that mermaids, sirens, and the like represented a fear a the the unknown sea - as alluring as the sparkling waves and as dangerous as a sudden storm. As sea travel got safer, this fear no longer needed a sea myth as it’s face. Also, mermaids/sirens/etc. tended to be female presenting (at least in the west- I don’t know eastern mythology as well) due to fear of the untamed feminine as alluring and dangerous. As a representation of society’s lack of control and the boundary of the cultured world’s power. After all, society at that time saw the control of women as a way to control distribution of property (with heirs), to represent the home and domesticity, and to belong to the man. Mermaids, sirens, selkies, etc. would never bow to man or remain in a home (unless held hostage). Selkies in particular as interesting because in stories they were almost always trapped women and could be seen as representing the domestication of wilderness, the role of women in society, and the fear of losing control of nature or one’s wife. And every time a selkie had the chance to be free, she left the home, children, husband, etc. meaning she was never tamed in the first place. Just temporarily contained against her will.

Rusulka is the danger of false spring and thinning ice resulting in death. As well as fear of transitions (shows up a lot in Slav folklore - menstruating yet unmarried, sunrise, dusk, unholy death (ie dead but not in the land of the dead, Christian or otherwise, like vampires). And there again is fear of the untamed feminine as alluring and dangerous.

Modern meanings (aka declawed) - so part of the reason we see a lot of declawed mermaids (and vampires), is that people not longer see humans as primarily good or innocent. We identify with monsters (as less mythical versions of a monster) or we feel like humans are the evil (given human caused climate change, racism, xenophobia, sexual violence, etc.)

The more modern change to represent unrequited or impossible love makes sense. The lovers are from two worlds (land and sea) and cannot come together without a miracle. Many couples (rainbow, waring countries, feuding families, economic differences, etc.) have felt that impossibly. There are fewer ship deaths and women have gained rights so there is less to fear there anymore. The little mermaid, shape of water, etc. show this meaning.

Some mermaid stories have come to be about transformation and fish out of water. We have seen these the rise of teen mermaids trying to find their identities in adolescence, deal with puberty and changing bodies, growing up (transform for child to adult), and feeling like a fish out water. This media however seems limited in audience to teens/tweens themselves (13th year, H2O Just Add Water, Aquamarine, etc.)

I am honestly surprised the trans community hasn’t started using mermaid imagery in stories (changing form to be in world were you belong as opposed to born; feeling off in your own world; fish out of water; fear of changing even if right; fear of rejection in the new world).

There honestly have not been as many stories with mermaids as victims of society which is weird in a day and age when women are losing rights, climate change is recognized as a threat and mermaids are a non-human species coming into human land. (1) You could have the selkie story to look into domestic violence, sexual assault, the sex trade, loss of female power. After the overturn of Roe v Wade, I would expect some more women trapped storylines. (2) mermaids as refugees (due to global warming) and dealing with humans xenophobia and persecution. (3) mermaids dealing with prejudice in general for being a different species. (4) mermaids dealing as a result of global warming or pollution (the web comic little trashmaid does this well without being too sad)

But none of these modern representation need claws. So let’s see what we can scare people with:

I do think the mermaid can still represent the free woman. Certain parts of society still fear the untamed woman and her inability to be controlled (just look at what happened to Roe v Wade). But I hate that this is a fear in society. Let women be free!!

Xenophobia - fear of people different than you coming to your land. Obvious why it could work, but I hate that society is still scared of this. Like i said above, I would want a sympathetic story of a mermaid here (showing humans as the monster), not a clawed one.

Global Warming/Extinction Event- The representatives of sea coming to land to avenge the damage done to the sea. This is already starting in some storylines (Sirens references this as a reason to hate humans for example). After all we are currently seeing nature “take revenge” for pollution and global warming with more intense storms, rising sea levels, etc. I think this is a good option for a clawed mermaid.

War/Invasion - this coincides with global warming, humans fear being invaded and overthrown as the top dog of earth. Maybe as sea levels rise, mermaids come to take us out. Think alien invasion movies fears, but from the ocean. (Actually a lot of space fears can be used). After all the end of humanity is scary. Humans being responsible for bringing out executioners, scarier

Inhospitable Environment- if we build underground complexes (for research, luxury hotel, etc). Like space ships in movies, you can’t escape. There is no air. If a leaks develops, you die. Communication can be lost. We are not welcome in that environment, and will die as a result of our hubris. Mermaids can be the hunters

Hidden threats - like vampires, invasion of the body snatchers, spy movies etc., because mermaids can change their shape. You never know who is a threat. Any person could be the murder. Hidden behind a smile.

Puberty - ya I put it in the non-fear section, but you can always do a scarier version of this change. Like Carrie.

Missing people- We never like when loved ones go missing and it happens. Mermaids as kidnappers could be scary and goes back to their siren roots.

Reverse Unpopular Opinion ask game: what do you think about mermaids?

i need you to understand you are about to activate a part of my brain that usually runs at like 5% for my sanity.

Mermaids conceptually are fascinating because they've existed for so fucking long as a folkloric tradition. Almost every culture on earth that existed near the ocean or any significant body of water has a legend about fish people in some shape or form and it's another one of those universal qualities of humans that make me go batshit insane. We'll really look at the scariest, most inhospitable environments in existence and ask ourselves if something we can befriend, something like us, is down there. It is SO interesting to me from a sociological standpoint.

Of course, these stories are not completely based in The Innate Longing For Kinship. A lot of mermaid stories are based on actual animals--dolphins, otters, manatees and their relative, the dugong, tend to be the most prominent contenders for mermaid lookalikes. It's the same thing as giant/colossal squids being claimed as ship-drowning beasts, or of whale penises being misidentified as sea monsters (sorry if you had to find out this way).

The first instance of a fishperson that we know of now is the Mesopotamian god of wisdom Ea, later known as Oannes to the Greeks--he was both man and fish simultaneously. Legends about the luring power of mermaids seem to stem from Homer's Odyssey, wherein they take the form of the sirens--beings with the heads of women and the bodies of birds, singing their song to tantalize Odysseus. This kind of went through cultural osmosis, and a lot of European mermaid legends began to speak of the accursed "siren song" that would drive sailors to their deaths when they became to enamored to guide the ship properly. The first "true" mermaid that I know of came from an Assyrian folk story from about 1000 BCE about the goddess Atargatis, who dove into the sea and tried to become a fish, but was too beautiful to become one in full. So her upper half stayed human, and her legs became a tail.

Mermaid legends are so widespread and their stories so intermingled by modern stories that their literature has kind of become an amalgamation of a million things. Siren stories are often tied with those of Irish merrows, predatory mermaids who lure people close to their streams and eat them alive (distantly in relation to the Scottish kelpies, horses with backwards hooves that drag unsuspecting riders into water and drown them). There's also the selkies, originally stemming from Celtic myth, who wear sealskin coats and use them to shapeshift between human and seal. Or there's the Japanese ningyo, who are disgustingly ugly to behold but give you centuries of luck if you manage to capture and eat one. Individual stories have made waves (hah) in history, too, like Hans Christian Anderson's original telling of The Little Mermaid, an allegory for queer love. (This is a great article about the story's purpose of showing exclusion, if you wanna take a look.) There's also the infamous mockumentary from Animal Planet, which did convince me at eight years old that mermaids were real. As misleading as it is, it did convince me that mermaids need to be scientifically backed somehow to make them interesting. There are countless other variations that I know much less about. Regardless of where you're from, if the sea is in sight, there's a mermaid in your history, and she was probably down to kill.

In the modern day, mermaids have in some ways been "declawed", as I like to put it. From what I've seen, a lot of contemporary media about mermaids lacks originality and brightness, watering them down and simplifying them to conventionally pretty women and men with monochromatic fish tails. This phenomenon is common in beachside towns as well--most merchandise stores in tourist towns show artwork of generic mermaids with well-done hair and makeup, somehow, beside a quip about wine or toes in the sand (spoken as someone who grew up in a beachside town). My experiences are mostly Western-American focused, however, so I can't speak for all mermaid media collectively.

That being said, a lot of artists and creators are also doing their due diligence to change that perception. I haven't seen it myself and have no intentions to, but the TV show Siren has a main character who's not afraid to bite, and I respect that. One of my personal favorite artists right here on tumblr, @aurorepeuffier, does a truly phenomenal series of Mermay paintings every year, with each day's subject being based on an actual species of fish. They're all beautifully crafted and subtly scientific, which I adore. See also @guttertongue for their deep-sea mermaid Scylla and @nazrigar for their species-accurate mer story--and there's probably a million more I can't think of now. The three artists mentioned above have also served as huge inspirations for my own mer story, which is still underway and kind of a mess in terms of production (wheeze).

That being said, I truly think modern mermaids being brought back needs with it a healthy sampling of fear. More than anything, mermaids and sea monsters are sprung from human fear of the ocean, which is a damn healthy one, and the moment you take the claws out of a mermaid is the moment you lose an enormous part of what a story with them could be. There's a lot to say about stereotypes of mermaids and the two extremes, but I believe the best kind of mermaid is one with nuance, a mix between scientific backing and fantastical extensions, and a deep sense of uncanny valley. People need to be less afraid of making scary mermaid stories and I believe this with all my heart.

Anyways this became extremely long and rambly uhhhhh if you stayed the whole time thank you for your time and I am giving you a seashell. Not all the sources are the best but I tried. TLDR: more scary, scientifically accurate mermaids. Thank you and goodnight.

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douxie-casperan · 3 years ago

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Rise of the Titans and the assassination Hisirdoux Casperan’s character development

I’ve been ranting so much since Wednesday morning that I finally condensed by thoughts of WHY this one subject keeps setting me off namely the utterly diabolical way they handled Douxie and Archie’s relationship in Rise of the Titans and how it wasn’t just enough to hit him with the nerf bat.

Please note I’m at the point where I literally cannot tell the difference between Aaron headcanons, Teny headcanons and my own they are all mixed together in the blender that does funky things. I also apologise for typo/weird wording it’s half 1 in the morning and I’d rather sleep than edit.

If asked to sum up Hisirdoux Casperan there are certainly several things that come to mind:

Sees the value in people as a whole and will find do anything if there is a chance of help someone out

Prefers tactics that disable/banish rather than kill an enemy yet willing and able to pull the trigger if circumstances become forced

While not academically inclined he is very capable of thinking on his feet and outside the box calling back to his time on the streets where a split-second decision making is the difference between being caught and not

Terrible at planning he’ll be in there figuring it out as he goes along which is what makes the previous point so vital to literally how he goes through life

A natural charmer that would let him talk his way out of trouble 9/10 providing a perfect cover for his distrustful nature and reluctance to be touched by random people

Very down to earth, humble and never one to brag unless outright sassing someone

Will bang out some hot tunes at the drop of a hat, his love of music has never wavered once since he caught the bug despite instrument hopping ironically becoming a jack of all trades much like his magic style

The earliest memories he can recall are him as a young boy lost in the woods where he was for an unknown amount of time before his soon to be familiar finds him amongst the roots covered in dirt and drying tears, there is nothing before that. Unbeknownst to him is the colour of his magic matches the blue of a lost mother’s eyes and the song that haunts his nightmares as much as fire could well be hers though there is no way to be sure. From that moment on Archibald, shortened to Archie, would become his entire world and their friendship only becoming closer during the years they prowled Camelot together trying to keep themselves in one piece until the fateful day Douxie tricks the wrong person leading him straight into the path of the famous wizard Merlin Ambrosius.

It's no real secret that Merlin is a very closed off person who keeps his emotions as well guarded as his secrets, prefers the style of negative reinforcement over positive encouragement and is a very strict perfectionist in his. At this point in his life he can be very easily described as a disaster that is genuinely doing his best with every little mistake held of his head and his future self when brought back to that time period is belittled by Lancelot (Errand boy) and Arthur (Boy) too meaning it’s hardly a wonder his confidence was very fragile revelling in the times where he could do things without being told off for it. With Morgana largely ignoring him too (Though personally I like to think as he got older she’d occasionally take an interest until the blistering arguments with their master started to talk over daily life) a certain disguised dragon would have remained a lifeline and give that physical affection he craved much like being told he’d done well never seemed able to earn.

With Killahead he’d lose that home and family he made leaving just the two of them behind struggling to figure out their place in the world that had abandoned them.

There wouldn’t have been the words for it back then but the way he had been treated prior was outright abusive instilling very bad habits into Douxie yet by irony he was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and help those in trouble without thinking earning a reputation as the Shepard of Fire. He refused to become like him seeking to be better, perhaps not as a wizard (Even though he was learning new charms and spells along the way) but certainly as a person. Despite everything he suffers through or witnesses in the intervening years, the loss of friends and kindling of far newer ones he never loses his good heart

That said is it any wonder that after rightfully sassing Merlin for resurfacing, ignoring his existence despite being in the same town and only visiting him to run a finding errand that all the confidence he’d managed to build completely from scratch after Camelot wavered causing him to fall back solely into trying impressing his old Master who was acting like his humble apprentice must have coasted the past few centuries who himself fell back into old habits of belittling? It’s only when Merlin started to truly listen and acknowledge that this was not the same Moppet he once knew after Excalibur was fixed that their relationship finally started to become more like equals. After the defeat of Janus the changeling that broke into the castle he touched Douxie’s shoulder with a genuine smile and for a second he simply didn’t know what to do because the old man never did this before his brain kicked into gear and realised he’d finally earned that one thing he’d been so desperate for his entire life: That in Merlin’s eyes he could be more than a failure who only caused problems for the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had, never solved them.

A staff will be earned, history would be set back on trap by banishing Morgana tag teaming with Archie because they know one another inside and out, as promised he’d get the kids back to the present but soon after things would go badly wrong. They’d lose Jim and because of his very nature he’d make a gamble to try and get him back because that life is worth trying for just for in a moment of surprising selflessness Merlin would be sacrificed to save him. The only constant in his life apart from Archie would apologise, openly express pride and how the greatest thing he’d ever done was saving this orphan, call him son for the first and final time before turning into ash in his arms. There would be no time to grieve for things will barrel into the crescendo of Douxie sacrificing his own life to buy everyone time to escape because if they did that everything he’d ever done would be worth it with one last whispered goodbye.

(Zoe sees him fall, so does Archie – His heart would break if he was conscious just like theirs does when his body crumples into the ground)

On the very fringes of the Light Realm he is gifted one more conversation with Merlin in a truly heart-breaking sequence (THANKS TENY) where they can just talk without any fear of consequence or politics and just be completely honest. Douxie is allowed to stand equal to Merlin, to have the hug he’d needed since he was a child and be allowed to simply let go of every pretense and cry his heart out because this can never happen again. He’s allowed to say goodbye to both his master and Morgana who had both shaped so very much of his life but like the painting he’d always remained firmly in the long shadows of until that moment.

When Hisirdoux Casperan finally leaves Wizards if we just accidently deliberately put the shawarma back in along with checking in with Zoe before departure, it is with having learned to live during his wandering years but this is the point of true freedom because he can finally escape into his own light with Archie by his side to keep Nari out of the hands of those that would see the world harmed. It won’t be easy but it feels possible somehow even with the knowledge everything is simply running on borrowed time.

Then Rise of the Titans happens.

At first everything is genuinely fine! No more running, they engineer a solution shut the Order’s magic down to make them a lot less dangerous and potentially at least incapacitate them until they can come up with a longer-term solution but all the best laid plans and all that. Douxie’s quick thinking stops the train from crushing any of the people below and it’s a very him style move to switch places with Nari to stall for time because for some reason the plot disabled Claire from portaling her or any of the threatened people/heroes to safety. He openly sasses the Order despite knowing the consequences will be bad for him because once again he’s managed to trick them, buy time that at the other end isn’t even slightly utilised until he’s forced back into his own body in excruciating pain. Archie immediately mobs him with comfort just as he has done every single time the wizard is distressed or collapsed with exhaustion without thinking because that is what their bond is like, incredibly close and far more than the Soul Bond mark that connects them together. They’re very alike in that regard, you have to earn the right to touch while equally knowing exactly what form the other needs the most in that precise moment in a way very few others could.

Bar the moment of figuring out that an illusion is in place to hide where the Order is opening the Genesis Seals and the brief insistence on reconnecting with Nari somehow Douxie manages to forget everything that makes him who he is after this point choosing to stand in the background being very no thoughts head empty or can only use the most basic spells of his youthful days not the seasoned master wizard he should be. Nomura is treated like an innocent slip rather than an outright death he did absolutely nothing to prevent (Not to mention the stupid daytime thing) nor seems to care particularly about afterwards yet with Nari’s he’s allowed to openly grieve in a gorgeously animated visual showing how he’d failed to keep her safe despite everything. He did nothing to help here either mind despite allowing himself to be tortured in the same piece of media to keep her safe, just watched another loss happen right in front of his eyes in his conga long line of them.

Then there’s Archie, oh god then there was Archie.

The dragon who even here he’d been shown to have an incredibly close bond with him decides you know what sod that tell him goodbye I’m going to make a joke about having a kingdom now dad and me are trapped in here forever. Douxie on his part looked sad for all of three seconds saying that he hoped he’s happy like it's a pet that wandered out into the world one day and never came back instead of a lifelong companion that has been there for as long as he can remember. He was now completely alone in the world since Zoe was also written out entirely and because every bit of his background had been forgotten about it somehow meant nothing. This wasn’t “I know you miss him, I know you need to grieve but you are running out of time” moment like things had been with Charlie, this was “cool shapeshifting dragon cat is now stuck in a plot hole that’s a shame” with zero pay off or any of the genuine reaction that should have been there or hell even trying to Ohana him back that very second because it never should have happened in the first place. Then even this wasn’t enough somehow, they managed to de-power Douxie even further into uselessness bar the (Admittedly nifty!) sticky feet stunt, the one who fought Skrael and Bellroc to a stalemate was shunted aside with barely a thought and his head would somehow get even emptier.

The one person who knew the danger of time magic the most stood by and said nothing.

The one person who would suffer the most by a reset because the lynchpin to his issues would be asleep if you got it wrong and should have drilled it into Jim’s head the best time to aim for stood by and said nothing.

The one person who had just suffered the loss of his familiar, best friend and only family along with the almost sister like Nari stood by and said nothing.

Then to add further insult to injury the caption when Douxie and Archie is shown says Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation because every drop of his character growth, his ability to finally start addressing his trauma instilled back in the 12th century, the staff he longed for was instead openly mocked by going “Aww he got his cat friend back how nice!” Everything he’d rightfully earned and had now would be unable to progress until certain criteria are met because it hinges entirely on the Trollhunter going to Merlin’s tomb and there’s only so much your support network of two (One if she’s written out) can do, the root of the majority of his issues all stem from one man.

And this folks is why I’ve been going on multiple rants about Douxie in particular, everyone was hit with the out of character bat to some degree in this film but when they came for him they didn’t just stop after they took his legs out because they wanted him to suffer from something he’s never had any control over to begin with all over again. Abuse survivors deserve better, these characters deserve better and we as viewers deserve far far better writing than we were forced to endure.

#Ooc - Behind the curtains #Rise of the Titans #Rise of the Titans spoilers #RotT Spoilers #RoT spoilers #Wizards #Tales of Arcadia #ToAWizards #Hisirdoux Casperan #Douxie Casperan

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years ago

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Anonymous asked: Now that you’ve traded in an army pilot’s helmet and gun for corporate high heels and Armani, I am curious to know what accessories do you wear to dress stylishly for work and play in Paris?

Interesting question. However I am unsure how to answer it without giving too much away. I will say is that I don’t trade in cliches. ‘Corporate high heels and Armani’? Really?

It’s true in a place like the City of London there is a formal dress code for professional women whether they work in the corporate world or the legal profession. Usually a varation on the black jacket, skirt or trouser. I know when I worked there It was like wearing a uniform all over again.

However in Paris, things are more relaxed. For the most part, women can wear what they want to the office as long as they are elegant and have an aura of professionalism about them. So the corporate dress code is more relaxed here than in London (I think lawyers still dress in black or navy).

To be honest I work such long punishing hours that I feel like I almost sleep in my work clothes. But I’m glad that I can just take it all off and slip into a t-shirt or simple blouse and jeans.

Still, I have to make an effort. My Parisienne friends (friends from my boarding school days), my neighbours, my peers, and other circles I travel in means I really can’t look like a hobo. So at least I feel I have to try and make some attempt at looking even faintly presentable.

So what can I tell you about dressing as a woman in Paris?

The basic rule I would say is what makes Parisienne women stand out is that they give the impression that they never look like they are trying too hard with their outfits or they never look like they spent hours getting ready. It’s really about expressing your own self-confidence and so in that sense Parisian style isn’t terribly difficult to pull off.

Once you live here - I mean really live here by knowing the language, the culture, friendships etc - it does come to you quite easily via osmosis.

In my frequent travels to many capital cities because of work you get lots of styles that are often variations on a theme. So there is a Milan style, a Roma style, as well as Madrid or Frankfurt style, and further afield, a Dubai and Shanghai style.

But if I was the characterise the Parisian style it could something that is effortless, classic, nonchalant, cool but not arrogant. The essence of the Parisienne style is to find the right balance between looking dressed up and chic-décontracté (laid-back in French).

I would argue that there is even difference between a Parisienne style and a wider French style. For example when I go the countryside to the family owned vineyard to help out, I typically dress down and slip easily into old jeans, muddied wellies or tough all weather boots, and well worn chunky jumpers.

And don’t forget not every French person pays attention to what they wear that includes within Paris too.

This doesn’t mean Parisienne women dress extravagantly and expensively. In fact, quite the opposite. If you ever watched the abysmal Netflix series Emily in Paris then you will know that the American Emily’s style is actually anti-Parisian.

Parisian style is to keep things simple. all about effortless basic clothes with one statement piece like a silk scarf, a nice hat, or a great pair of shoes. Accessorisation of outfits is kept to a minimum and the overall look is simple and clean. Parisians are never overdone or overdress. And while this style may seem easy to reproduce, making a fashion statement while being a minimalist requires a particular style-savviness; think of it as a kind of art. Wear what you love and keep it simple, that is the Parisian way.

Let me try and unpack all this below and you might also have your answer how I dress too.

Firstly be au natural. Like many Parisians, I don’t waste time wearing any make up. If Parisian women do so, they use it sparingly and not draw attention to it. I don’t wear foundation but I do moisturise. I may use a concealer when necessary - under the eyes, nose or even the odd blemish - because I had a rough night before, or I was doing late hours, or jet lagged from an overseas flight, and even hung over from a boisterous party. I know some of my French friends and colleagues may even use a little bit of blush or bronzer, a layer of mascara to wake up the eyes. I try not to. Lip balm is as far as I will go. Like the typical Parisienne, I pooh-pooh make up and it’s far more healthy and natural to emphasise your natural skin care over make up.

The same philosophy is at work when it comes to hair. Less is more. My shoulder length hair is natural, a little undone and even messy, but I’ve happily discovered that’s also the way Parisian women prefer it too. Again, it’s about simplicity and being practical than wasting precious time on one’s hair.

Secondly, understand the unspoken dress code. The French call it décontracté. The Americans might call this ‘trés chic’. But it’s closer in meaning to the English understanding of ‘smart-casual’.

What makes it a little more sophisticated is the art of mixing and matching items. So it’s not a question of being 100% casual or 100% full on dressed up. It’s about judiciously combining elements from both. A good example from my own wardrobe would be a trench coat over jeans and a T-shirt, or flat shoes with the obligatory little black dress, or a handsome blazer with muted pair of shoes or sneakers.

Thirdly, it’s not your clothes that do the work, but your choice of side accessories. A lot of women I see who are not Parisian - in my humble opinion - just focus on what clothing they are wearing and not focused on what side items they are wearing it with. They waste so much money on designer brands that they get obsessed with the label to make a statement. They forget about the smaller things as we shall see.

Fourthly, pay attention to quality over price.

I would say that the Parisian style is muted. In other words it’s not about making bold statements but about being discreet. Parisiennes do make a statement through their clothing - after all they are not austere minimalists like Scandinavians are - but its all about nuance within discretion.

Parisiennes prefer neutral colours. They don’t make the mistake that American women typically make which is to wear too many colours at the same time and also too bright colours. Instead Parisiennes prefer to play with muted tones of black, cognac, burgundy, white, navy blue, grey, brown, or beige. One benefit of neutral colours is that you can easily mix and match them with other pieces of clothing.

The reason for this is it allows you focus on your choice of accessories - in particular the scarf, the hat, or the bag or purse.

Paying attention to quality means caring about the details.

So I pay particular attention to the fabric and to see what is it made of. I always go for natural fibres such as cotton, silk, wool, cashmere, or linen, over synthetic fabrics. What despairs me is that most of the clothes you see on the high street (in every capital city, not just Paris) are just terrible quality and also badly cut. It’s because clothing, like fashion, has become disposable.

People don’t care because they are themselves illiterate when it comes to understanding naturally sourced fabrics because no one really sews or does knitting or paid attention to their grandmother’s when they did all this. So they can’t tell the difference because they can’t read beyond the brand or the designer logo. Globalisation also reinforces their bland consumerist appetites.

From finding the right fabric is but a short step to making sure you have a good fit in your clothes. Your clothes should fit perfectly, meaning your clothes should be not too tight, not too loose, not too short, not too long.

Where I would indulge - although I wouldn’t see it that way - is I would get some pieces tailored if I was looking for a perfect fit. By seeking out unknown brands (“marques confidentielles” in French), I’m no different from other Parisiennes in creating one’s own individuality through details.

In the this respect when it comes to work I actually go to one or two bespoke tailors here in Paris who do women’s business wear such as jackets and skirts.

One of my few indulgences is that I do go to Savile Row in London - and especially a bespoke tailor like Huntsman - who now cater to professional women such as those who work in the corporate and legal worlds. This wasn’t always the case of course. Both Jermyn Street - known for its bespoke shirt makers - and Savile Row - the bespoke menswear tailoring - were bastions for countless generations of men.

But thankfully that has changed. There are even female cutters who having cut their teeth training in the trenches of Savile Row and then go on to set up their own bespoke businesses. I like going to them on occasion because I admire their craftsmanship.

The detail is also in how you co-ordinate your outfits, how tops match pants or skirts, and which matches shoes, and which matches their coats. But it’s smaller details that count such as not overlooking pant cuffs, rolled sleeves, shirt tucks, and - how much or little - you button a shirt, that could make all the difference in your ensemble. Or a good rule is never underestimate the power of a belt to give your outfit more shape.

Fifthly and finally, when accessorising items such as jewellery, watches, shoes, or scarves, remember, less is more. In essence each accessory is a statement. So it’s better to keep your accessorising to a bare minimum otherwise they become distractions in themselves.

With regards to shoes, Parisiennes (and I would count myself) would never wear too-high heels. You will never see a French woman with shoes like modern day pop divas. On occasion I do wear heels but I usually wear flats because I am on my feet a lot. I just find them more comfortable than high heels. I’m fairly tall at 5’11 and so I still can impose myself on men in meetings without the need to wear slutty high heels.

To be honest I’m more used to wearing hiking and mountaineering boots as I was always an outdoorsy sporty type and especially in the army when we would go for a ruck I felt fine in my army issued boots. When I used to do triathlons more regularly, I was very particular about the athletic shoes I was wearing as it really does have an impact on your feet, posture, and also to avoid injury. You have to change them a lot because of wear and tear but changing brands to a different shoe did have adverse effect on the feet and body.

Parisienne women also go out of their way not to wear flashy logos. I would avoid wearing clothes or accessories with the name of the brand shown very distinctly. I think luxury is the way you wear your clothes, not by showing the name of the brand. If you show off then you’re really saying how insecure you really are about yourself inside.

I would never wear more than two or three pieces of jewellery at once. I think any more than that clutters and confuses a look. Understated jewellery is usually my go-to, but if I do wear a statement piece it will always be on its own. Even here I would often wear some family heirloom because it’s personal and also timeless. I wold rather wear something of sentimental value than some designer item that others have also splashed the cash to wear.

In the end it’s more important to find your own style. Style is about your personality and how loudly or quietly you communicate that will come across. Parisians create their own individuality through details.

Parisians are always confident with what they wear. And they never leave the house feeling uncomfortable and unsure of what they have on.

Accessories can really boost a woman’s self-confidence which is why I for example I would feel over a hundred times sexier if I carried a sword.

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #clothes #parisienne #fashion #style #vestements #personal #accessories

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more-than-a-princess · 1 year ago

Text

There it was. Besides a good cup of tea and a smutty novel (did Mikan like dark, brooding heroes too, perhaps?), they could agree on chocolate. Sonia adored it in all forms (well, anything that didn't involve plum fillings or chocolate-covered plums: those were an affront to the senses, particularly her taste buds), including dark. It was just the sort of chocolate that paired well with the aforementioned heroes, often shut away in old, decaying mansions with an old, decaying past they could not escape from until the heroine came into their lives (and they gave in to their desires, naturally).

"Yes, that is correct!" Sonia grinned. A mental note: send a message to her secretary for a chocolate assortment. Her supplies had been nearly depleted after she'd attended a tea party with Celestia Ludenberg, and this time around, she would request more dark chocolate to suit Mikan's tastes. "Novoselic produces the most delicious chocolate in the world. And yes, dark chocolate is quite favored! In the last meeting I attended regarding my country's chocolate production and profits, the chocolatiers reported that it is milk and dark chocolates that are most popular, with white chocolate in third. But filled truffles, drinking chocolate, and semi-sweet baking chocolate are also voraciously consumed."

Those meetings, at least, were far more fun than the usual trade delegations: they came with samples of the newest offerings, as gratitude for the Royal Family bestowing the Royal Seal on only a handful of chocolate companies in the country. Chocolate was also her favored treat for her horror film marathons: no amount of gore could turn her stomach when there was chocolate present. "Oh, I should like to read the book!" Sonia exclaimed, "I have not had the opportunity yet. I wonder though, Mikan-san, how realistic are some of the more bloody and gory scenes, in your professional opinion? Do special effects artists recreate them true to life, or perhaps over-exaggerate for the sake of cinema?"

As much as she wanted to support national pride in the Eurovision preliminaries, Sonia's attention was now fully diverted from her TV screen. Instead, she sat, legs neatly stretched out before her as she listened. It was something that Mikan clearly struggled to talk about, and it was clear to her friend that, first and foremost, she needed to listen, and then decide a proper course of action. "Done something against my will...?" She repeated, before pressing her lips together in careful thought. Truthfully, there were times when much of her life was against her will: when she wanted to do something, anything, that was glaringly unfit for a member of the Royal Family: attending an event as part of a crowd, visiting a haunted location, enjoying a meal in a public dining room in Novoselic. All of them were barred to her at home, and instead she was forced to live so much of her life in private that she wanted to make public, and the public side she desperately wished to be private.

Things her father, and mother for that matter, wanted her to do. Perhaps forcing her to be accompanied to the ballet, the theater, a ball, or some other party by some son of some aristocrat or other, who was so full of self-importance, greed, and upholding the family name and tradition that she not only had nothing in common with him, but he felt entitled for her hand, her lips, and everywhere else. And her parents never minded: he came, as they always did, from the 'right family.' The sort of man who would suit her as Prince Consort one day and be a spectacular failure to her in every other way, particularly in loving her for who she was.

"I suppose," She answered slowly, sighing. "There are...people, families, my parents would like me to befriend and create a closeness, an affinity, with one of their sons. Hoping it will result in a royal union that shines throughout the aristocracy and all of those who admire it: even if the men in question are entirely unsuitable for me in nearly every way I value."

But that wasn't what her friend was referring to. If Sonia was nearly all but in an arranged engagement, with her parents selecting the vast majority of those she was allowed to be publicly dating or romantic with, what Mikan was enduring was much worse. Sonia frowned, shifting closer to Mikan so she could place her hand comfortably on her shoulder. "Oh, Mikan-san..." She murmured, "I am so very sorry that you have experienced such cruelty. But it is not a reflection of your character in the least: you are still my precious friend, no matter what. Is there anyone who might be able to help you?" She wasn't entirely abreast of Japanese law where non-consensual sex was concerned, particularly within families and those still in their teenage years. But if her friend was willing to seek help, she would assist her in any way she could.

"D-Dark chocolate is delicious!" Mikan exclaimed. "It's the only bitter thing I like besides tea." She rarely got the chance to eat chocolate in general; her diet consisted of mostly healthy options. But when she did allow herself a treat here and there, dark chocolate was always a favoured option. "Novoselic is well-known for chocolate, c-correct? Is d-dark chocolate popular there?"

"Oh so you have watched it!!" Mikan exclaimed, excited to know Sonia liked the disturbing horror film too. "I d-do think the book was a little b-better. But overall, Eihi Shiina d-did an excellent job in the starring role." She could go on and on about her favourite horror films. Mainly because she loved theorizing how she would medically fix the gory injuries and wounds.

But her cheerful demeanour faded. The thought of her reality had come crashing back into orbit and she hugged her knees even tighter. Sonia meant well - Mikan knew that - but she also knew that once she told the princess the truth of her home life situation there was a big chance she wouldn't want to associate with Mikan anymore.

She sighed, eyes glued to the tv screen for a few minutes as she calculated the consequences she'd have to endure if she confessed. "S-Sonia?" She began, voice slightly shaking. "Have y-you ever done something against your will? But... y-your dad wants you to do it... because it'll m-make him look better. So y-you do it. Even though you don't wanna because you have to... You have to do it so y-you can keep going..."

Her eyes had gotten watery and red, tears threatening to spill. "I still feel their hands on me when I try to sleep at night..."

#hxpelessnurse #Non-Despair AU: Hope's Peak Academy verse #(It's not the trauma olympics but both Mikan and Sonia could benefit from some kinder and more accepting families)#(But Sonia would never judge her based on what's happened to her)

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squishneedsahero · 3 years ago

Text

Maybe It Isn’t all Bad

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 2 of 13

Word Count: 1714

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

It had been two months since you published your book, and it had taken off. Tons of people loved it and even more had read it. Because of this you were suddenly a popular public figure of Gotham, and of course like all other public figures you were invited to one of the many galas that happen in this city. You hated it. You, y/n l/n the nobody who lived in a shabby apartment and just happened to get lucky with your book. What you wouldn't give to go back to being a nobody so you could spend your Friday night watching Netflix alone on your couch.

Unfortunately you weren't sure how the snobby rich people,who thought they were better than everyone else, would take you rejecting their invitation the first of probably many. But this was a charity gala hosted by Bruce Wayne: play boy, billionaire, and one of the few people present that seems somewhat genuine even if you didn't think he had a single thought behind his eyes. So maybe it wasn't all bad cause all the rich people were donating to charity and Bruce usually made sure the money went somewhere good.

You had worn an elegant gown, preferring it to the ones that let your ass hang out the bottom. The dress was fabulously elegant and made you feel like a queen. You had paired it with your your highest high heels, stilettos that you could stab someone with if it came down to it. So far the night had been filled with pointless conversations and lots and lots of introductions, all while dancing a waltz.

Lets be honest you won't remember most of the new people you had met, you could've met the Queen of England and not have known it. You didn't remember not because you had been drinking, even if you had thought about it many times, but because there were so many people that wanted to get you and your new found popularity under their thumb and gain through you.

You had finally gotten a break by standing by the buffet table and eating the food they seemed to be letting go to waste. If nothing else you would singlehandedly make sure the food didn't get wasted. You kept trying to think of an excuse to go home, but so far couldn't think of anything. Your planning was interrupted when yet another person came up to you, except his face is somewhat familiar. "Hi," you say after you hurriedly swallow a bite of food.

"Hello, Miss (y/n) (l/n)," he begins, knowing your name but you not knowing his, "may I have this dance?" He asks, great another dance luckily you were used to being on your feet thanks to waitressing otherwise you'd be worried about them falling off with all this meaningless dancing. Why couldn't rich people be more fun with their dancing, most of them were white, playing some pop songs, and the Cupid Shuffle could only make things better.

"Yes, Mister..." you pause as you try to place him, you know you know him but you'd seen so many faces like that tonight that it was a blur.

"Wayne," He finishes for you.

"I'd love to dance with you Mr.Wayne," you lie through that smile that was plastered to your face. You offer your hand and wish desperately you had taken your chance to escape when you'd had it only moments before.

He takes the hand you offer to him and leads you out to the dance floor, waltzing yet again, at least you didn't have to lead cause you had no idea what you were doing. "My son read your book," he begins, trying to start up a friendly conversation, "he's keeps trying to convince me to read it."

"That's nice," you respond awkwardly, what were you supposed to do? Try to convince him to read it too? Hell no, you are not going to act like an airhead and promote yourself.

"He doesn't know that I've already read it," Bruce says. You laugh before you can stop yourself, you almost apologize but he laughs as well. "I enjoyed reading it, it was very well written." Maybe he did actually have real thoughts in his head unlike how the media portrayed him.

"Thank you," you say a slight blush making is way onto your cheeks. He was quite attractive after all and here he was complimenting you. The smile on your lips becomes more genuine as the two of you continue dancing, making light conversation, and surprisingly it was quite enjoyable.

Before you know it the party is over. And you'd spent almost half of it dancing with one man. "Thank you for the dance."

"It was my pleasure," he says, and you find yourself blushing for the millionth time that night. Maybe these parties weren't all bad, you'd found a friend you could have intelligent conversations with after all.

You find yourself invited to almost every gala that happens in the city over the next few months and every time Bruce is there the two of you spend most of the time dancing and talking with each other. The conversations between the two of you are pleasant, covering many topics, and most importantly they aren't meaningless like all the other conversations you were forced into at galas.

Bruce would get your opinion on things such as how the money he got for charity should be spent since you had been more recently living among the people he was trying to help. Like you weren't bad off by any means but you hadn't owned a car, relying on bus routes to get around the city and working 40+ hours a week to keep your head above water. You had been better off than many in Gotham but you had been closer to the poverty than Bruce had, even considering his night job. The fact that he genuinely cared and wanted your opinion amazed you. He was the first and probably only friend you made among the one percent at those parties.

Of course the two of you didn't only talk business, other more casual subjects came up. The two of you bonding over having dead parents, even if he was more traumatized and your wounds more recent. Then talking about school and how you had decided to skip college in order to pursue writing while he had been homeschooled then traveled the world instead of college, not that either of you were too old for college though. He was was 23-24, still young despite having adopted an 8 almost 9 year old and you were close to the same age as him.

The both of you being young, and single, did lead the two of you to have more than a friendship but that was after nearly a year of just talking at galas. Okay a year of just talking was a lie. It was probably only six months before the two of you found yourselves out in a garden and shared your first kiss. But it was an entire year before he finally asked you out, claiming it was a dare from Dick and to ease the pressure of the press.

You of course called him on those lies and pointed out the fact that there had not been a single other woman in his life since the two of you met. And said the only way you'd go out with him was if he'd, "just admit you like me." Needless to say he did.

That was part of the reason that he was so attracted to you. Despite what he knew about you from the one day he saved you from Joker, you were just unafraid to be yourself. You had never pretended or tried to pretend to fit in at the galas. You'd never been afraid to call him on his shit, even if it had risked your one friendship that made those galas bearable.

To your surprise when you had called him a dumbass for thinking it was acceptable to give a 9 year old unlimited access to the internet he laughed and said you were probably right. Then for some reason he thought it was a good idea to ask you for parenting advice and you told him that was a worse idea. You had less of an idea how to be a parent than he did, the only reason a 9 year old shouldn't have unlimited internet access was because he was a bit young to already get unrealistic expectations from porn. Mainly you had no idea, it just felt weird to turn a kid loose on the internet but then again you'd been a kid who ate mud and called it fun.

So, all the talking and asking opinions and just spending a ton of time together leads to Bruce asking you out. The press saw this coming from miles away and caught you both on your date, not that they didn't have pictures of the two of you hiding from people on a balcony. But an actual date?!? Amazing! All the internet fans were happy for you, the paparazzi loved you and would do anything to get pictures of the two of you.

The two of you became Gotham's it couple overnight but the best thing about it was that it was real. Both of you were blatantly honest, calling each other out when needed and defending each other at other moments. There were no secrets between the both of you and you wouldn't trade that for anything. It was amazing to you that you had finally found a man who saw you as his equal and if anything he was a man known for being a womanizer.

So that's how it all started, in the space of a year the two of you fell in love and were head over heels for each other. Dick played match maker every chance he got, since he adored you for some odd reason. And of course, when you finally met him Alfred approved of you and Bruce being together, the one person able to call him on his shit and have him listen. It was a miracle that Alfred had thought he'd never love to see.

#Batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #batman x you #batmom #batmom reader #batfam x batmom #dick grayson #damian wayne

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thewritetofreespeech · 4 years ago

Text

Words: 5000+

Rating: M

Pairing: Benimaru (TSSK) x Reader

Summary: You were husband & wife in name only.

AO3

The moon was bright & crisp in the sky over Rimuru. Even without your candle light, you would probably be able to see clearly into your mirror as you brushed out your hair, preparing for bed. It had been a challenging day.

Keeping Shion and Shuna from destroying their Lord with their love was a full-time job sometimes. Being the buffer between them was sometimes more than your poor human body could take; a fact Rimuru-sama was often concerned about. You usually brushed it off with a ‘better me than you’ remark as his peril would be far more of a detriment to others than you, but appreciated his concern. Besides, neither ogre-ess would intentionally hurt you. Worst you’d ever come away with before was a good goose egg from Shion swinging around Hercules’s willy-nilly and caught you in the back of the head. It was an accident, and she could have easily crushed your head like a melon, but Shion still cried for almost 3 days after every time she saw you in apology.

You chuckle a little at the memory. How wonderfully problematic your life had become in this past year. You wouldn’t call it ‘blissful’. It had it’s challenges like most. But your life taken an interest, wonderful turn that had led you to this life you wouldn’t trade anything for. You were safe. You were loved. You were a respected person when just some months ago you were nobody and nothing. How quickly the world turns.

A knock at your door halted the comb in your tresses and you look up surprised by the sound. “Who is it?” You ask. Curious who would be at your door so late at night.

“It’s me.” Your eyes blink in surprise as you hear the familiar deep timber of Benimaru behind the frame. “May I come in?”

You stammer out a reply of ‘one moment’ as you adjust yourself to make your appearance more presentable and told him to come in. It was embarrassing to have him see you in your night clothes. But if he was coming here so late at night, it must be important. Your husband never came to your chambers this late at night.

The title of ‘husband’ was in name only. You and Benimaru were not romantically involved, nor had you chosen each other completely of your own free will. He had saved you, along with Rimuru-sama and the rest of the Kijin, when they defeated the great bandit army that had been sweeping the east. Once just thugs of human and monsters alike, they had grown into a real threat in the land taking anything they please. Money. Goods. Women. When they came to your small village, they had burned it down and had taken you with them when they left. You were their prisoner and slave for nearly two months before Rimuru-sama and his band had come along.

You still remember seeing them for the first time. Bright and regal. A peasant before being a slave, you had never seen such fine strange clothes before. Nor the impending presence of the man in front of you when he’d come upon you.

“I claim this woman as my own.” They were the first words he’d ever said to you. Then he picked you up over his shoulder and carried you away with his band while the smoldering embers of the great bandit army died out in the distance.

At first, you thought it was all going to be the same. One capture was no different than the last; though you were a little concerned about an ogre being your master than a human. But how much worse could it be? The last human captor you had had been a true monster. Being owned by a real one could not be that different. Or at least that was what you thought at first.

The ogres and Rimuru-sama had been impossibly kind. They tended to your wounds from your long capture. Gave you a place to sleep. Clothes. Fed you, although there was some debate on which ogre-ess’s cooking would ‘best suit you’, and treated you as an equal. You were incredibly moved by their generosity. They were even willing to take you home. And when you told them “I have no home” they seemed genuinely hurt by that.

You of course explained to them what happened, and realized now that you really had no place to go. You thought you would die in the bandit camp. So the thought had never crossed your mind where you would go should your imprisonment be over. You were lost and alone in the world. No money. No home. No family. Even if you left, who was to say you wouldn’t be taken up by another group who found your helplessness easy pickings? Or worse, going to that life on your own because you had no other choices…..

“You’re staying here.” Benimaru had announced, much to the surprise of everyone. “You’re my woman now, remember? I defeated those fools and claimed you as my prize. This is your home now. You’re staying here.”

There was a loud commotion from the group as they all thought he had been joking but, apparently, he wasn’t. While the energetic group argued, you looked at Benimaru critically and realized what he was doing. He knew that if you didn’t belong to someone, you could easily be taken by another. If not the remanences of the great bandit army, but someone else; as you feared. Being his woman, letting him lay claim, offered you protection you couldn’t afford on your own. “Ok,” you’d told him. Your soft voice somehow ringing out over the crowd.

Rimuru-sama had of course forbade his general from ‘keeping’ a woman. He said if he wanted to do this, he would have to do the honorable thing and marry you. It had been surprising how quickly he agreed. Then asked if you would be alright with it and you’d said yes. You had been married the next day, and were then husband & wife, and that was the end of it.

Your married life was that of about the same as anyone else in the close group. You weren’t intimate. You didn’t share secrets or stories. You didn’t even sleep in the same quarters of the estate. Aside from a few group outings, communal meals, and when he popped in on Shuna when you were around, you honestly rarely saw your ‘husband’.

Which was why it was so surprising he was here now, at this late hour.

“What is it Benimaru-sama? Is something wrong?” You ask, looking up at him from where you’d been sitting on the floor before he sat down too. His expression was placid, so it was hard to tell if something was going on.

“The envoy from Blumund is leaving tomorrow.” His eyes fixed on the hardwood under your knees.

“Yes, I know. He told me. He’s a little hard to miss.” You reply with a soft chuckle.

The envoy in question was a nice man. Tall, lean. A little bit older than you, but still a jovial person. Rimuru-sama had set you with the important task of keeping him company and being his escort during his stay. His immediate council in the Kijin were nice, but they sometimes lack the social grace or understanding of human culture. He didn’t want to offend the man and trusted you could keep him company during his stay.

“He’s rather taken with you.” Benimaru then stated. Taking you a bit by surprise. “He wants to take you back to Blumund with him.”

Your bit of surprise turned into full blown shock. “W…What are you talking about??”

“He wants to take you back to Blumund with him.” He repeated. As if somehow that made you understand completely. “He said he thinks you’re very beautiful, and charming, and that it would be a better fit for you to live among humans, rather than here in Rimuru with none of them. He talked to Rimuru-sama about this.”

“And Rimuru-sama told you about this?”

“I was there.” Benimaru stated after he shook his head. “He asked for us to severe our bond so you could go with him. So you could marry him.”

Your eyes probably bug out of your head now. Were you being proposed to by proxy by your own husband?!?

“How could he ask such a thing?!”

“Like I said, he’s taken with you.”

“That’s not the point! How am I supposed to marry someone else when I’m already married?!”

“He knows our marriage isn’t consummated.” His eyes finally look up to catch yours.

You feel your whole body turn red. Now you have to look away to stare at the floor. It was true. Your marriage wasn’t consummated. It had been something done to offer you protection and stability. It had never been about love. So you have never laid with your husband as he wished to respect your virtue. “How crude.” You mutter. Embarrassed, more than anything, as you were sure people knew about your unclaimed marriage, but no one would dare bring it up until now.

“Do you want to go with him?”

You look up again and offer a soft noise of surprise at the question. “Do you want to go with him?” He repeated. “As you said, he’s a good man. He has fortune, and power. You’d be a respected woman among your people. You’d be among your people.” Maybe you imagined it, but you thought you saw Benimaru wince at that. “You don’t have to stay here anymore. You don’t have to stay with me. You’re established enough now to make your own choices. You can be free.”

Free? The word played over in your head for a moment. The sheer concept completely foreign to you at the moment.

You’d never been free. First you belonged to your family. Then the bandits. Then Benimaru. Though you had freedom on occasion, you had never been truly free. And now that you had it, you found the idea ironically suffocating. You could choose to leave. Leave Rimuru City and start a new life as a woman of prominence in Blumund. But what if you didn’t want to leave?

“D…Do you want me to leave?” The kijin looked up at you again with a confused expression at your soft words. “If you want me to leave I will. But…I don’t want to leave all of you. I love being here, and being with Shion, and Shura, Rimuru-sama and….you. My ‘people’ have never been kind to me, so I really don’t want to go back to them. I want to stay here. We don’t have to be married anymore, if that’s the problem. We can still break our bond, if that’s what you want. But I’d like to – “That’s not what I want!”

Your eyes flicker up. Startled by the red Kijin’s roar and the burning fire resting in his eyes. “I don’t want to break our bond! I don’t want you to go with him! Do you have any idea how hard it was not to tear that man’s head off at the table when he said that?! I wanted to gouge his eyes out for saying you were beautiful! I wanted to rip out his heart out for ever letting you rest in it! You’re my woman, and my wife, and he thinks he can just say those things to me and live! He should kiss Rimuru-sama’s feet before he leaves because he’s the only reason that wretch is still breathing!”

Silence passed between you for a moment as you were completely stunted into speechlessness by Benimaru’s words. You had never expected such a passionate response out of the man. Until now, you were sure his only feelings toward you were ambivalence and mild friendship. The way he just ‘my wife’ to you, however, let you know that he had thought of this more than just a marriage of convenience. Your body flushed hot again as your heart beat hammered in your chest. “Benimaru….sama?”

“Don’t go with him.” The kijin repeated. Calmer this time as his expression seemed to morph into sadness at the thought of you leaving. “I can’t stand the idea of you leaving with him. When we first met, and I took you as my woman & wife, I will admit that I did it out of pity for you. You lost everything, and had nothing. I know what that’s like and wished to spare you. I thought that, after a few months, you would have a good enough reputation as the former wife of the Ogre Prince, Commander of the Jura forces, that we could break our bond honorably and you could make your own path in the world without fear. But, as time went on, I became more and more attached to you. Your kindness in spite of everything you endured. Your determination. Your desire to work hard to make things better for everyone here. I grew to fall in love with you and I couldn’t let you go. I know it was selfish, and that I’m being selfish now, but please don’t go.”

Your heart was still hammering so hard in your chest that you were scared you might faint. You felt like you could swoon at any moment. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”

He looked down and started to fidget. “I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same.” His confession less confident this time. “You weren’t really given much of a choice in our marriage. I was afraid that you thought of me as just another man who had taken you. If you didn’t feel the same I could live with it, but knowing was – “That’s not true!”

It was Benimaru’s turn for his eyes to flicker up and be stunned by your confession. Apparently you had more in common than you thought. “I’ve never thought of you that way! If anything, I’ve only ever seen you as my rescuer. You saved me from a horrible existence as a slave. You gave this life that is so wonderful. With friends, and people I can’t live without anymore. I can’t begin to repay you. Or tell you how I feel….”

All these feelings and emotions were rushing to the surface now the more you spoke. You had always been fond of Benimaru. Your strong, brave protector. You just assumed that he wanted nothing to do with you. The distance he put between you making it very clear. So you had pushed your feelings toward the back of your heart. Forgetting them until now, where they crashed to the front like a dam had burst.

“[Y/N]….” You look up into the red head’s eyes when he said your name. Whispered it, really, like it was some secret plea. His hand then reached out slowly to cup your cheek. Those battle calloused hands incredibly gentle against your skin. You really might swoon at the juxtaposition.

Those burning red orbs look at you in earnest before they flicker down to your lips. A silent request. One you eagerly receive.

The only time you had kissed your husband before this was at your wedding. To seal your bond. That, however, had been just a simple peck on the lips to meet the contract. This was a real kiss. Your lips pressing together in committed passion. Intense, but both of you still too shy it seemed to go past pressing your lips soundly together.

“[Y/N],” Benimaru said again as you press your foreheads together after your kiss. You don’t ever think you’ve heard your name sound so sweet. “Become my woman and my wife. Truly. You didn’t get a choice when we first met, but I ask you this now to make your own decision. Will you be mine?”

Your heart swelled unbearably tight in your chest before you nodded against his forehead. “Yes. Yes, I want to be your woman and your wife. Truly.”

You can feel the smile on his lips when he kissed you again. More deeply this time. His tongue snaked into your mouth against yours. The way he was kissing you making your legs feel weak to the point that you were happy you were sitting down. However, if they had buckled, your strong husband could easily pick you up in his arms. A shiver racing down your spine at the lewd thought that had just passed through you.

“Aah…I knew it. This is why I stayed away from you.” Benimaru said, finally letting you go. Your lips were kiss swollen now, and you were having a hard time understanding what he was talk about. “Every time I was near you, I wanted to claim you.” He explained. His expression looking deliriously happy as he examined his handiwork on your lips. “It was so hard to even be in the same room as you with your scent always hounding me every moment I was near. I had to stay away so I wouldn’t do anything horrible to you. But then that was its own torture as well. Near, apart. Both were an agony I couldn’t face somedays. Now that I have you though, I’ll never let you away from my side. You’ve summoned the beast in me. I hope you’re prepared.”

A loud squeak left your lips as the sneaky ogre flipped you. Instantly going from sitting on your ankles to flat on your back. Your world righted again and was filled with Benimaru as he leaned on top of you. His expression soft but heated, making you blush, before he kissed you again. His weight on top of you now making you moan wanton into the kiss this time.

Your world was filled with passionate kisses. They steal your breath away and make you squirm under your husband. You then feel his hands on your side. Touching you. Caressing your curves. You feel them fumbling around for your kimono tie, unwilling to let your lips go for even a moment to get to it properly, and place your hand on his chest.

“Benimaru, wait.”

The kijin stopped instantly and sat back off you. His eyes questing into your own to see what was wrong.

“I just….I thought I should…I mean we never…I’m not…” You stumble over the words to say to him. To explain that you weren’t the maiden he might have hoped for. The words cling in your throat as images of your former life flash across your mind. You feel unworthy. Dirty. Then his hand reached out to you brush your cheek again. Causing one of the tears that were welling up in your eyes to fall against it.

“That doesn’t matter to me.” He said with assurity and a softness that could only be described as love. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you as you are now. Not who you could be. My only regret is that I couldn’t kill those bastards 100 times more over for ever having hurt you.”

You scoff out a chuckle at the violent decree said so sweetly. You hand came up to clasp his own. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappointment.” He replied, almost instantly. Then kissed your hand as he brought it to his lips once he removed it from your cheek. “Do you wish to stop? We don’t have to do this now. I can be satisfied with you declaring you want to be my woman and my wife. Well….contented.”

You chuckle again, more light hearted this time, and leaned in to initiate your kiss this time. “I meant what I said. I want to be your woman and your wife truly. I don’t want to stop.”

A sigh of relief left Benimaru. The prince willing to stop if you wanted but clearly so glad you didn’t. You giggle and let him take you in his arms.

The momentary pause in your kissing afforded Benimaru the chance to undo your kimono tie. Loosening it and letting it fall, but not pushing the thin material of your actual robe off your body yet. You reach out for him as well to undo the clasp of his overcoat. The heavy material immediately falling of his shoulders, in contrast, once the hold was released. He seemed fascinated with your work as your hands untie his under coat as well.

“Your touch is like fire.”

“Is that a joke?” You ask when Benimaru growled those words at you. Your apex quivering at the sound, but still curious if he was making a joke.

He chuckled. Another shiver at your core. “No. But I guess I can see how it would be. I mean it though. Everywhere you touch me sets a fire in me.” His hand came up to take yours and slip it under his loose top now. Guiding it over the hard planes of his chest over to his heart. “I can’t get enough of it.”

You kiss again and continue stripping. There wasn’t much to let go of for you, as just before now you were preparing for bed, so you were quickly naked in front of him. He talked about your touch being fire, but his was burning you up inside. His hands were hot. They left a lingering heat in your body everywhere he touched, to the point that you wonder if he had activated his magic. You were helpless against his soft touches. Your body aching already before he even properly touched.

Then, when he did, your body became a livewire.

Your limbs immediately went taunt when his fingers touched your core. “Please try to relax.” He whispered to you in your hair. His own long, hard body nestled beside you. Holding you close.

You try to do as he said and relax. It wasn’t difficult after the initial shock as the pleasure made it easy to succumb to him. Those hands so skilled at fighting working your body with similar expertise. “Mmmm…Benimaru….”

“Ah…say that again.” His deep voice was in your ear again. This time sounding elated, before his tongue reached out to lick the shell of it. “Say my name again. Please.”

“Benimaru…” You repeat his name over and over again. His precious name he held so dear. The name Rimuru-sama had given to him. It fell from your lips like a prayer chant as his fingers brought you closer and closer to climax. When you did, it fell from your lips again in a shout. “Benimaru!”

He continued to touch you until your walls stopped clamping around his digits. Finally setting them free. Your spent body laid against him, and you open your eyes tiredly just in time to see him cleaning your juices from his fingers. “Ah…my love tastes so sweet. I could get addicted to your flavor.”

If you body wasn’t already flushed from orgasm, you would have blushed completely. Benimaru seemed pretty proud of himself, however, before he leaned in to kiss you. You don’t think you taste sweet at all. But the taste of yourself on his lips was something you could get addicted to too. When had you become so perverted?

He let you go for a moment and shuffled around to pull out of his pants. You watched him, in the soft light. His handsome body bare to you. Not a mark on him thanks to his skill and healing. Your eyes travel down and find the proof of his love for you staring back proudly at your face. You gulp at his size. That was going to be inside you.

“Don’t worry. I know it’s a bit bigger than a human’s, but I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“I-It’s alright.” You reply back at his concern. He had mistaken your gulp for a concern about his size. How shameful he would probably find you if he found out that it wasn’t from concern, but excitement, that had caused you to gulp. Again, when had you become so perverted? “I trust you. And I want to be with you.”

“[Y/N]….” He spoke your name softly again before he leaned in to kiss you. Guiding you back down on your back. You feel his weight press on top of you. Your legs spread wide around his pelvis to let him mount you. You can feel the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance and shiver a little at the lower kiss. “Please tell me if I’m hurting you.” Benimaru urged as he started to press into you.

You let out a wordless cry at the initial invasion into your most private place. You can feel your entrance stretch to accommodate him. The sensation a duality of pleasure and pain. And it was only the first few inches. Finally, agonizingly slowly, he was fully inside you. The kijin raining kisses down over your face and neck and everywhere else his lips could get to as you held on to him. His back tight under your fingers as he was very clearly straining to wait for you. “I’m alright, Benimaru. Please. Continue.”

You felt him nod against your shoulder before his hips pull back away from yours, then forward back into you. You both moan at the initial slow thrust. The feeling indescribable and compounding with each shallow thrust. “[Y/N]….”

“Mmmm…Benimaru….” You moan back when he said your name. “You can…go faster….” Not that you weren’t enjoying this slow entanglement, one could only describe as love making, you could tell that he was holding back and it was hard for him. “I..I want you. Please….Make me your woman.”

“I did warn you.” His voice sounded hard now, in comparison to the soft words he’d whispered to you earlier, and you think you hear the sound of nails scratching against the floor mat by your head.

His hips pull back again, this time practically pulling out of you, before they slam back in. You let out a loud cry. One readily identified as one not of pain. Then all you can do is hold on. Your arms wrap tight around Benimaru’s neck as he pounded into you. Before, where you had tried to roll your hips up to meet his thrusts when they had been soft & gentle, all you can do now is lay under him and take it. And become a babbling mess it seemed.

“Ah~! B-Benimaruuu! S-So good! Don’t stop!”

“I have no intention of stopping.” His words were stern. The cool seriousness of his intention to keep claiming you made your walls quake around him. “You’re my woman now. This body is mine. I’ll remind you of it every day if I have to. You’ve possessed me to the point of madness with this love. I can never let you go.” His tongue laved at the sweat collecting on the skin of your neck. Following it up to the back of your ear before his teeth bit into the soft flesh there. You let out a yelp, and call his name again, before you were cumming. Your nails biting him back into his shoulder.

“Ah! [Y/N]! Too tight. It’s too tight. I’m gonna-!” His hard thrusts come to a staggering halt as he spilled his seed inside you. Holding there before his hips roll softly against you as his cock continued to twitch its release.

He collapsed on top of you once it was finished. Your bliss worn body not seeming to care about the extra weight as you held him against your bosom and both tried to catch your breath. Rested, but not to say recovered, the ogre lifted himself up off your body and pulled out. You wince as he did. Those hard thrusts catching up to you, and suddenly feeling at a loss without him inside you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You look over to Benimaru, who had apparently seen you flinch, and was looking concerned. “No. Just a little sore.” He looked a little ashamed at that and muttered an apology to you. “Don’t,” you tell him. Reaching on to touch his chest. “It’s not as if I was really complaining.”

You both blush, despite everything you’d just done, still apparently shy about intimacy, before he slid over to you. “Are you sure you’re alright? About everything?”

You nod. Both of you laying on your side to face each other. His fingers caressing your cheek before moving down to the love mark he’d nipped into your skin. “Yes. I meant what I said. I don’t regret it.” You weren’t foolish enough to think that you were going to be instantly happy as husband and wife now. You were basically starting fresh. Starting anew. Though you knew a lot about each other, you had to relearn things and uncover new things as only a spouse would know. It would take time. But you were happy enough for now to at least try to start this new chapter with Benimaru. “You’re not going to kill the envoy before he leaves tomorrow, are you?”

The man let out a boisterous laugh and wrapped his arms tight around you in a hug. “No. I would never disrespect Rimuru-sama like that. As long as he leaves, I’m satisfied. But if he touches you between now and then, I make no promise on the guarantee he will leave with all his limbs.”

“Benimaru….”

The envoy, it seemed, was clever enough to take the hint in not touching you. The murderous aura & killing intent of the red kijin seemingly always just behind you making that clear. You decline his invitation to join him in Blumund. Telling him that the only time you would come to the city to visit him was with your husband. He again took the hint and left without comment. Rimuru-sama gave Benimaru a stern talking to about scaring their allies and ambassadors to their country, but you could also see that he wasn’t very serious about it. He seemed pleased enough that things had worked out, that you were staying, and his beloved friends were happy.

Ever the wonderfully problematic life in Rimuru City.

#;pen & paper (fanfiction)#benimaru #benimaru x reader #tensei shitara suraimu datta ken #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #tensei shitara slime datta ken #tensei shitara slime datta ken x reader #tensei shitara suraimu datta ken imagine #random fandom #imagine #benimaru tssk #benimaru (Tensei shitara Slime Datta Ken)#scenarios #[the fact that there isn't more work about my beautiful red headed baby is criminal]

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aquilaofarkham · 3 years ago

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title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought.

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️ Thank you so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity.

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.”

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician.

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

“I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough.

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

#castlevania #castlevania spoilers #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #alucard #alucard castlevania #sypha belnades #greta danesti #trephacard #trevorcard #my writing #*cvfic

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