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astranite · 10 months ago

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Respite (Spun Glass and Golden Light)

Scott and John, or sky and star!

It's another long one at a bit under 5000 words! Tags copied from ao3 as look, I really should be asleep already.Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, theres a fair spectrum of emotions here, Brothers, Thunderbird Five (Thunderbirds), Nightmares, John is also pretty not okay here too as well as Scott but they are both working on it, space metaphors thrown in for good measure, Cuddling & Snuggling, because everyone needs a hug of course, another fic where John and Scott drink hot chocolate!, they are both also learning they can let each other in and Scott is realising this.

Many thanks to the fab @idontknowreallywhy for all the cheering on and wonderfulness!

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“Do you want to come up to Five?” John asked.

Scott answered far too fast. “Yeah.” His voice broke in the middle.

John thought it would take more convincing, it always did to get Scott to accept anything approaching help. But this time…

He caught one last flash of blue eyes made bluer, meeting his and piercingly desperate, before the hologram shut off from Scott’s end and John was blinking away the after images in the suddenly dark comm hub.

Scott, in rumpled day clothes at 2:47am Tracy Island time, hair falling across his forehead in uneven waves of curls. Scott, whose dark circles under his eyes had startled John into thinking they were bruises, his sharpened features thrown in harsh relief by the dim lamp by dad’s desk. The hologram was fuzzy at the edges, all noisy static between him and his brother, but John couldn’t miss the way Scott looked over his shoulder like he expected something to be there. Or someone.

Ghosts of his past, John thought, then shook himself.

Scott had nightmares, they all knew it. But he always pretended he wasn't shaken by what he saw. Tried to carry on like they didn't happen, like nothing ever happened, and Scott was as invincible as the legend he’d built around dad was.

John saw, more often than the others. There was a reason he monitored the villa feed for movement outside of usual hours when the rescue alarms hadn't gone off.

He’d caught a few funnier moments for blackmail, namely Alan and Gordon attempting to steal storebought baked goods from the fridge and getting them mixed up with Grandma’s latest creations in the dark. Repeatedly, because they’d never figured out how Scott and Virgil conspired together to swap the containers.

But there were worse ones for all of their family. Nights Alan slept on the couch because being in his room, alone inside close walls was too much. Gordon making his subdued way through the halls, cheerful facade gone with gasps of pain unable to be stifled, going to get painkillers from the infirmary for his back. Kayo, prowling on silent feet, checking, triple checking security feeds for any slightest threat, not able to believe in the safety of their island anymore. Jagged notes of piano, near silent from keys barely pressed, while Virgil had tears on his face.

And Scott, of course Scott who had it the worst of all of them, who was the bravest of them but couldn't see it. Late nights, ending slumped ragdoll-like over endless paperwork from endless responsibilities put on his shoulders. Agitated pacing, wearing only socks so he wouldn't wake anyone, ragged breaths louder than his footsteps. The times when Scott was a trembling ball of tears, curled under dad’s desk where he barely fit anymore, hands over his head blocking everything out.

Sometimes John talked to them, offered company and comfort, other times he let the moments pass silently. He was used to witnessing things he could never speak of again; his own moments of pain rarely had anyone but he made sure his siblings’ did, just in case they needed someone reaching out for them.

Watching over Scott in particular to make sure no harm came to him was an unsaid duty John took as his own. Virgil was there in the day, with him on the ground during rescues, but John amongst his stars kept the nights within his reach.

He’d already sent the space elevator down and now he waited, marking careful timings as Eos quietly spoke them. Scott was suiting up. Scott was finishing pre-launch checks. Scott had reached the Kármán line, the beginning of space.

John drifted through a gravity-less Five, switching to lights that gave off a soft, golden glow. They filled the Thunderbird up like she was one of those ancient incandescent bulbs, long since obsolete. Like she was delicate spun glass as well as cahelium strength, two opposites the same, together complete where glass could break and cahelium bend. She was different from her sister ships, a different purpose and way of approach, but in the end she was the same. Rescue. Salvation. Pulling them all back from the void.

He couldn't take the nightmares away, the fear and pain scarred deep in his brother’s bones, but he could offer respite. Warmth and light and safety, with some distance from it all. A set of arms to hold Scott close and a shoulder to cry on when it was needed. It was something, it was everything, in the rare times Scott could reach out and take it.

And John needed it too. He could watch over Scott from afar, he always would, he couldn't not. But he also needed his big brother close enough that he could feel his heartbeat, how his chest rose and fell with each breath, not just as numbers on a screen, but here and real and close. Maybe he wasn't the touchiest person generally, but his brothers wrapped up in a hug or sides pressed together where they sat, their soft voices in the bubble of quiet, that meant safety. With only arm’s reach to check if they were okay, especially for looking out for Scott. There was a reason that otherwise he had to have all of the data. But right now he needed Scott.

John waited for the familiar clunk of the space elevator docking, for Eos to give the all clear for her checks for the airlock being correctly pressurised, before the doors opened.

They silhouetted Scott in their frame, stuck halfway between the warm lights of Five and the cooler, harsher ones in the space elevator.

Scott hesitated, like he always did here, a hand blue-gloved in space issue suit gripping the edge of the airlock.

John opened his arms, because Scott needed this as much as he did. They were the same this way.

He was met by a brother tumbling towards him, clumsy out of their element, in a crashing hug. For a moment, John almost expected it to be Alan, eager and young, those blue eyes— But Alan was nearly as graceful up here as John these days. And his eyes didn't hold the same nightmare bright intensity and John hoped they never would.

Scott hit him in a collision of bodies and John had to stop their combined momentum, a foot finding a wall to slow them until his shoulder slammed into a bulkhead cabinet anyway. Automatically, he wrapped himself around Scott.

“Just a bit of a bump, nothing that hasn’t happened before. You gotta have a lighter touch when you kick off in micrograv,” John said cheerily. Scott was still mumbling repeated apologies under his breath.

John took the moment, in spite of his words, to just cling to Scott, like Scott was clinging to him, burying his face at his brother’s neck. A moment, a minute, a respite.

Finding handholds on Five’s inner surfaces was as easy as it was familiar. John could find every one of them blind, oxygen-deprived, with no Earthly directions as a frame of reference. He had, before.

He shifted to get his fingers around Scott’s wrist, a quick tap on his hand to warn Scott first, then Scott’s locking around his own in a rescue grip, to pull them through a quietened Five as one.

To the galley. Hot chocolate wasn't quite the same when it came in a foil pouch with a straw as opposed to Earth’s ceramic mugs, but it was chocolate and you could still warm your hands around it.

John made up two, passing one off to Scott where he hung about against what was nominally the wall, though the orientation didn't matter without gravity’s bounds.

“Thanks.” Scott tried for a smile. He was still gripping the hand hold with the white-knuckles-beneath-gloves grip of someone unused to being without gravity and scared to drift away.

John settled on the ceiling in arms reach, with just his toes tucked under a bar.

Quiet lulled between them. John’s favourite type of quiet, with just the soothing hum of the life support systems, the ever-present undercurrent of Five, and their own breathing.

Technically, it wasn't hot chocolate, but nutritionally-complete chocolate-flavoured drink didn't have the same ring. It wasn't the same as a proper meal but a stressed Scott barely ate, John wasn't exactly sure how many hours had passed but it’d be too many if he counted, and right now Scott needed something sweet and calorie-dense and easy to get into him.

It was fine until Scott shifted, his hand slipping momentarily with a sharp intake of breath and that all too familiar flash of panic swiftly hidden. Except up here that split second where he flailed before freezing up and stopping himself sent him into a spin.

John caught Scott’s outstretched arm to steady him. He moved next to Scott with a graceful twist to be against the same wall so Scott could hold onto him. Taking the hot chocolate from him, John gently guided Scott’s hands, one to the grab bar, the other to his baldric.

“You can’t fall up here, not really. Even if it feels like it sometimes,” John said. Reassured. Because this was his sleep-deprived big brother he was talking to, not the perfectly put together Commander.

Scott’s eyes searched his face, latching on to John’s with the same unbreakable trust that let John lead on missions where he could see more from above and Scott actually listened.

“Okay,” Scott said, like it was that simple, like anything in their lives was simple. Because he believed John.

They were close enough that John could see how the strands of Scott’s hair were matted together by old gel not yet washed out. More grey was flecked around his temples, his hair surrounding his head in a floating halo from the lack of gravity and the way it caught the light.

Scott flinched at the soft click-rush-clunk of ventilation systems cycling as they should be, a sound unusual for Scott but not enough to normally be a threat. Scott’s fingers tightened on John’s baldric.

Both of them breathed slowly and carefully, to a steady rhythm of calm until the moment passed.

With how Scott was obviously still struggling with the lack of gravity, John quietly decided to make it easier for him when he wouldn't ask.

“Eos? Gravity back on please,” John murmured aloud to ensure Scott had some warning.

The lights around her camera blinked, flashing to a sunset tone in acknowlegement.

“Will do, John,” Eos said.

The gravity ring mechanisms whirred as they accelerated to the appropriate velocity, providing a force at what would soon be slightly less than Earth standard gravity.

“Hello, Scott Tracy,” she added in greeting. John had noticed they’d been getting on better recently, he was glad of it.

Gently, he guided himself and Scott until their feet touched the floor. Until they could sit next to each other on the ground, cross-legged with their knees bumping, to finish their hot chocolates.

When Scott slumped with relief, letting out a long, shaky exhale, John knew he’d made the right call.

They stared out at the stars now ‘below,’ stretching out into infinity. Always captivating.

Scott hadn't looked out there, eyes carefully averted until he’d shuffled even closer to John, and John had tucked an arm around him to hold on. Because while Five and her warm glow, her connection to everything meant safety like any Thunderbird did, for Scott the gaping void of space held only danger and the need for rescues. Only with John it became their sky again, like they were stargazing on the roof of the farm house on Earth, far beneath them and years ago.

“You want to talk about it?” John asked softly, an opening so that Scott knew he could share and he’d listen.

“Uh. I don’t know. Maybe?” Scott’s usually well hidden uncertaintly bubbled to the surface.

“I’m here for you. Either way it’s okay,” John reminded gently, because Scott needed to hear him say it aloud even though it was always there implicitly.

“Nightmares. It was the snow again.” It was a sign of how far Scott had come that he would talk about what was on his mind, instead of burying it deep inside in a misplaced attempt to protect them. John found Scott’s hand and gently squeezed it.

Scott shuddered, continuing, “Probably from the rescue the other day, the entire mountainside came down. But it was with all of you guys instead and it looked more like the skii slope from the avalanche and mum, but I was too late and I couldn't save you, there was nothing I could do, you were all gone and I was alone—” Scott’s voice rose, distressed.

John could feel him shivering against his side, had only to glance to see the tears building in the corners of Scott’s eyes, the way he had his teeth sunk into his trembling lower lip, the same as he always did when he was trying not to cry. John’s heart broke at that, it always did. He gripped Scott’s hand, tightened the arm around him in a wordless effort to make sure Scott knew he wasn't alone, John was here and he wasn't going anywhere.

Scott took a deep breath and went on. “I know it wasn't real, but it felt like it.”

John made a quiet, empathetic noise. In the moment, in the haze where the lines blurred between sleep and wakefulness, nightmares did feel real. And in the sick feeling after when you just couldn't shake it. He’d been there too.

John could imagine the warmth of Scott’s hand through their space rated gloves as Scott squeezed his. “No matter what happens I’ll always fight for you all and I know you’ll all do everything you can to make it back home to me. And we have systems and procedures in place, and better equipment designed for bad conditions, and everything to make sure that never happens. But it still scares me,” Scott admitted.

“It scares me too.” Usually he didn't say that part aloud though with the work they did and the consequences they saw it never hadn't been in mind. “But we hold onto hope and each other and never let go.” John’s voice came with a fierceness he hadn't quite realised was still buried inside him. They had to believe in it. Or they were already broken.

“We’re Tracies. We’re not going to stop trying to make it home.” Scott returned with a fire John had missed before he dropped quieter but no less determined. “All of us. Even— even me.”

John hung onto him because he knew how long it had taken, how much it still took for Scott to say those words. To mean them.

He pressed his forehead against Scott’s temple. The fear of losing Scott to his own sacrificial, heroic recklessness bit at John even now, along with the need to somehow protect him from the world.

But they both were alive, here and now, in spite of the odds so far.

Scott leaned into John.

The feelings, the fears were there, but together up here amongst the stars they lost enough of their power that they could sit with them and they would soften, the raw edged terror of nightmares washing away.

Five was a bubble of light surrounding them, sheltering them from both the void of space and all that was outside. He and Scott were wrapped up in their own little world, as tiredness itched at John’s eyes and Scott lay his head on his shoulder. John pulled his big brother closer, not that there was really any space between them anyway. They were safe as much as was possible in this big, vast world. More importantly, they were here together.

John waited, not wanting to break the moment for as long as possible, wanting in a childish way to stay here with Scott forever, until his legs were numb and achy from sitting on them, until his eyes were threatening to slide shut, until Scott’s weight against his shoulder was resting heavily against him. Even then he was loathe to move.

A gentle poke and repeating his name had blue eyes blinking sleepily up at him from how Scott was slumped.

“Bedtime, big brother.” John trailed a hand through Scott’s hair, brushing back the stray strands fallen over his forehead.

“Mmmph,” Scott grumbled, tucking his face further into John’s neck.

Scott’s characteristic instant alertness come online a couple of seconds later and he pulled away. All for that he hadn't been properly asleep, merely content and dozy, a rare sight John treasured.

They walked, pressed shoulder to shoulder, to John’s tiny bedroom, tucked away on the nearer side of Five’s gravity ring. Reduced gravity made their footsteps lighter but the company did that too.

Scott hesitated at the door of the second cabin, mostly used on the occasions when Alan was up for training, put there because Five wasn't initially designed to be manned alone which John purposely didn't think about.

When Scott shrank a millimeter closer to John, John pretended not to notice the display of what Scott would call weakness in himself but never in anyone else, and nudged him with a casual, “C’mon. Puppy pile?”

“Does it still count without everyone?” Scott replied, following him though.

“Mmm,” John thought, “Yeah.” He knew he missed out on plenty on Earth too.

A hug pile of just them might be just what they needed. Both of them at this point. Memories of the whole family in a tangled, happy heap were some of John’s fondest and he knew that went for Scott too. But it was a lot and right now Scott needed calm and quiet to rest and not to feel as if he had to put on a brave face in front of everyone.

John pulled pyjamas out of his cupboard for them both, tossing an obligatory space pun t-shirt and pair of comfy sweat pants at Scott. Sharing clothes with Scott was easy given they had the most similar builds of their siblings, tall and slim, with Scott being slightly broader across the shoulders and John running more awkwardly lanky. IR space suits were comfortable but not the most for sleeping in, despite how often John ended up doing so.

They changed into pyjamas in silence, except for when John yawned midway through peeling his suit off, then Scott did too, causing them both to giggle in the way of the well past tired.

John smiled to himself while he put on a pair of socks, watching Scott poking about his room, trailing fingers over the spines of his paper books, then inspecting the stickers on his window and the handful of glow-in-the-dark stars John had up here because they reminded him of home even with the real ones right outside. His big brother’s curiosity even over these tiny details of his life, a facet he didn't often see with John up in orbit so much, made him warm inside. Especially with the way Scott was so relaxed up here in what was John’s space, a stark contrast to earlier and the staticky comm feed. The dark circles beneath his eyes remained though.

With a jaw-cracking yawn, John tipped backwards to lie on his bed. He wriggled his galaxy patterned duvet out from from beneath him where he’d landed on top of it, unattaching it from the side of his bed where it fastened to formed more of a sleeping bag to prevent him from drifting away when he left the gravity off. Which he probably did too often when the days blurred together, rescues and downtime without separation.

Stars, he was tired. Too many rescue calls, not enough sleep for— he no longer kept track of how long, but that was another day’s problem. Right now, he was here and Scott was here, so John could believe everything was going to be okay. Provided they both got some shut eye sometime soon.

Shuffling over to the wall made more room for Scott, even if John usually curled up right in the middle. The bunks on Five were larger and far more comfortable than the narrow and too short for anyone who wasn’t like, Gordon height, ones he remembered not so fondly from his NASA days. Still, not exactly sized for two people both over the six foot mark but they could make do.

“Promise I won’t push you off,” John joked.

Piling all of their siblings, because if one person was getting cuddles everyone suddenly wanted them, onto beds and couches definitely not designed for so many had led to the occasional person falling off the side, usually facilitated by shoving from the victim of a grievous crime such as ate the last sweet.

Scott rolled his eyes and repeated John’s motion of flopping down onto the bed, long limbs all everywhere, complete with tossing an arm over John’s chest and a foot over his ankles. He let out a dramatic sigh, looking to John out of the edge of his vision for his reaction.

John couldn't even pretend to be annoyed. This was Scott messing around playfully and John had missed this even as he still didn't take breaks from monitor duty and all his emotions were bubbling up in his chest until he was laughing, until there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

And Scott was laughing too, John could feel him shaking with it. Nothing was even that funny but here they were, giggling like a couple of careless, carefree kids, the sound echoing off of the walls. Five filled up with their laughter, contained it in a cocoon of light and air and protective walls between the vacuum outside where no noise could travel.

They were both left grinning exhaustedly at each other as the world came back to the reality that it was well past 3am, they needed to actually sleep especially with Scott having come down from the adrenaline crash of a nightmare and rushing up here. John rubbed at his gritty, tired eyes.

A word to Eos in addition to a goodnight had the lights switching off, the room only illuminated by the stars outside the window. Shutters would automatically close when Five’s rotation would put them facing the sun, but for now John could look out and marvel that he was here as he used to do every night, reaching up to touch one of his glow in the dark stars, a familiar green on the wall.

Scott watched him and John gave a half-shrug before shuffling closer. And he wasn't alone.

John shook his head to clear it before rolling onto his side, holding out his arms to Scott.

Big brother immediately went in for the hug, burying his face at John’s shoulder, clinging to him with maybe a little left over fear or maybe just because John was near. He wrapped his arms around Scott tightly. Took a moment, another moment just to be.

Wondering how long it had been since he’d been part of a cuddle pile with any his siblings, instead of an outside observer in holographic format was not something he wanted to waste time on right now. Or how it still took a horrific nightmare for Scott to seek respite from all the pressures of the world that seemed gathered around dad’s desk. Or for John to get respite from falling on the wrong side of the distinct divide between solitary and alone. Not that he could ask for it, he and Scott were too similar in that way. Instead, John let himself sink into the hug.

“You alright, John?” Scott’s concern was not unusual, he always found a way to check up on them.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” It could be interpreted in several ways, glad for Scott, glad for himself. That’s all John had, the rest he couldn't possible articulate but it was enough for now. He tucked his nose into Scott’s hair.

The sun shutters slid over the windows exactly as they were supposed to. They were left with the green glow of his own stars.

Scott’s chin was digging into his collarbone. Neither of them would likely have slept enough to be safe to fly tomorrow with the hours they were running to.

He shifted, making a quiet noise. Gently rearranging them was easy when Scott willingly followed through with John’s actions, guiding him to lie with his back to John’s chest instead. John wound his arms around Scott, ending up with his hands resting over Scott’s stomach, able to feel the rise and fall of it with each breath. He bumped his forehead against the back of Scott’s neck.

“‘M not the little spoon,” Scott protested even as he snuggled against John.

“Reality would suggest otherwise,” John returned, an observation, with the edges filed off as his deadpan humor had turned accidentally cutting these days.

It was rare that their positions were not reversed no matter the little brother involved. This made sense on a surface level, Scott’s height was greater than anyone else’s, long arms to pull them close, wrapped up safe. He was big brother, the eldest, their leader, he was the one who protected them from the world.

But John could also be there for him. Usually that meant from afar, a hologram projected from a wrist comm they always kept on them or beside flight controls, a voice in his ear, an extra set of eyes. All the data at his fingertips and a Tracy’s determination to keep their family safe. He didn't know whether anyone realised how many crises he averted before they became problems. He protected Scott, and it was far easier now he would let them in.

Scott was warm and something tightly wound inside John loosened. They were there for each other, it was a balance, this was how the world worked. Now that Scott let them take some of the weight instead of carrying the whole universe on his shoulders, it was easier to lean on him too because they shared things like this. To not follow Scott’s less than stellar example of hiding struggles, but from a big brother who tried to do and be everything instead of the little ones, because John couldn't bear to add anything else to the pile. Scott trusted him, he could trust Scott too.

John was just about to drop off to sleep when Scott suddenly tensed up.

“I don’t want to go to sleep. I don't want to have more nightmares.” The words came out jagged and scared, whisper quiet.

Scott was exhausted but the fear was stronger, unpredictably resurging just when everything seemed alright. John had seen how Scott would try to escape it before passing out into uneasy unconsciousness. He found Scott’s hands, sought them gently and linked theirs together.

“I can’t make them stop but I will be right here if you have one,” John said, “I promise.”

“I know.”

Scott settled again, letting out a deep breath.

John felt Scott fidgeting with his hands, carefully curling and uncurling his fingers, tracing over his knuckles, pressing their palms together, as the fear ebbed again.

The sounds of Five washed over them, humming softly as if breathing with them too. Familiar and home. John’s family was also his home. He needed them too. They needed him. He and Scott were rest and safety for each other as much the Thunderbird was for the world.

John made sure to give an, “I love you,” to his big brother while he was still awake to hear it because these things were important to be said and to be heard in reply.

Slowly, ever so slowly the grip of Scott’s hands relaxed, remaining loosely entwined with John’s as sleep finally came.

John kept holding onto Scott. A Scott who knew he could come to John for anything and had come to him tonight. Scott was here, they were both here together on Thunderbird Five amongst the stars. The rest of John’s thoughts trailed off at sleep’s approach but they were filled with a quiet hope.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #sky and star #astrawrite

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damallarky · 5 months ago

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So nothing gets me out of a ten year writer's slump like Dragon Age, apparently. I was going to write a quick character study for my Rook, but then it took a life of its own and turned into a 5000+ word monstrosity.

You can also read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57135346

Anyway, my first fic in ten years. Enjoy!

At the Black Swan tavern in Minrathous, an elven man with bright red hair sat on a massive barrel, tuning a lute. At first glance, it would appear that he was entirely engrossed in the instrument. If they paid close attention, however, they would notice his green eyes dart imperceptibly from guest to guest as if taking stock of each person who entered the tavern.

To be fair, this was exactly what Renan was doing. The Shadow Dragons had been given a tip that the Venatori were having a meeting here tonight. He had been given instructions to keep an eye on them, make a note of how many attended, and if there was anyone there he recognized.

Ren was good at that, using his talent at the lute, voice, and good looks to get him information, and he used his particular skill set often. Sometimes, he played in chamber halls and ballrooms of the Minrathous elite, and they were goldmines, to be sure. But if he was honest, he preferred the establishments of the working class. One would be surprised at how much information could be gained at the taverns and brothels of the world.

Even better, Ren was familiar with this particular tavern, having played here countless times before.

‘See anything good yet, Hope?’ He thought through the bond to his spirit companion, currently flitting between the rafters somewhere. He thought he had caught a glimpse of black feathers once or twice, but he couldn’t be sure.

‘No. Not yet.’ He heard her say.

Suddenly, in his mind’s eye, he saw the vision of a mouse cleaning itself on one of the rafters, not noticing the great, winged beast lurking in the shadows a mere foot away.

‘Hope…’, Ren moaned internally, ‘I just fed you.’

‘Well, yes… But I am still hungry.’

‘Well, I don’t want to find puked-up mouse bones on my pillow tonight. Again.'

‘Ugh. Fine.’ Hope grumbled.

Ren could practically feel the eye roll from his companion, and he struggled to keep his face neutral. He was halfway through tuning a string to A when his own stomach began to grumble. He hadn’t had much to eat today, or at all, what little he did have going to fill his daughter Esana’s belly.

‘Maybe I should catch a mouse for you to eat.’ He heard Hope say.

‘Thanks, but no…’

‘When was the last time you ate?’

‘In the morning.’

‘Which morning?’

‘…’

‘Renan…’

‘…Yesterday.’

‘RENAN.’

Ren winced against the shrill voice echoing in his head. A man sitting at a table nearby gave him an odd look, to which Ren responded with a sheepish wave.

“Lute strings!” He said in way of explanation. “They don’t make them like they used to.”

The man merely grunted and went back to his tankard.

‘Look, Hope.’ He said. ‘I promise I will get something to eat tonight after we’re through.’

‘I will hold you to that, Renan.’

The tavern began to fill in earnest as more workers ended their day shift. Amongst the crowd, Ren noticed a group of shifty-eyed men gathering at a nondescript table closer to the back of the bar. It had probably the worst lighting in the entire tavern, but the darkness made it particularly well suited for those who maybe didn’t want to be watched too closely, such as lovers…. Or secretive organizations.

Interesting…

‘Is Esana still in our room?’ Ren asked as he tuned a string to E flat.

‘Yes,’ came Hope’s reply, ‘She was asleep when I left. Why?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t want a repeat of last time, where she snuck out for an entire hour without anyone noticing after I explicitly told her not to?’

‘Ah, yes. Wherever does your daughter get her complete and utter disregard for authority? It is truly a mystery for the ages.’

Ren couldn’t help but laugh at that. Hope had become quite adept at using sarcasm over the years.

‘Fair.’ He said. ‘I suppose she does come by it naturally.’

‘What is that mortal saying about apples and trees?’

‘Har har. Alright you made your point.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Ren saw a man walk in that he recognized. The thin, balding man was a Magister, albeit a low-ranking one. Ren couldn’t remember what the man actually did in the Magisterium, exactly, only that it was something asinine.

Asinine or note, that didn’t explain what he was doing here, of all places. The Black Swan was a little too plebeian for most Magisters.

‘Well, well.’ He thought ‘Look who’s slummin’ it up with the rest of us. Interesting.’

‘That is the man in charge of grain tax collection!’ He heard Hope say.

‘He is?’ Ren asked. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I pay attention, Renan.’

‘Oh… Well, I’m glad one of us does…’

Ren’s interest peaked even further as he watched as the magister walk to the back, taking a seat at the table with the group Ren had noticed earlier.

Very interesting…

‘Alright, it looks like the Venatori dinner party has started. Table in the back.’ He said. ‘Let’s get to work, shall we?’

‘We shall. Good luck, Ren.’

‘You as well, Hope.’

Ren walked up the stairs to the small stage at the front of the bar. With a bright grin, he played the first few notes of the song on his lute and began to sing.

“Oh, come along with me, love.

Come along with me.

Come for one night and be my wife.

And come along with me.”

While still playing the notes to the chorus on the lute, Ren stopped singing to address the crowd.

“Grata! Bienviedo! Welcome good people of Minrathous.” He said. “My name is Rook, and I am here to add a little song to your evening. But enough with the pleasantries! The night is young, and I don’t know about you lot, but I am far, far too sober!”

His grin broadened as the crowd began to laugh and cheer. Ren heard a few of them shout, “Here, here!” and his playing grew stronger as he egged the crowd on further.

“So, let’s raise a glass,” Ren crowed, “and let the night of drinking and debauchery begin!”

And, with that, he began to sing once more, his voice strong and clear.

“Well it is of a jolly butcher, as you might plainly see,

As he roved out one morning in search of company.

He went into a tavern and a fair girl he did see

And said ‘Come for one night and be my wife,

Oh come along with me!’”

Ren jumped off of the stage and began to weave in and around the tables as he continued his song.

“He called for liquor of the best

And he made such fortune play

‘Come have a drink, it'll make us think

That it is our wedding day’”

‘I cannot hear them, Renan.’ He heard Hope’s voice say in his head as he played. ‘Distract them so I can fly down and slip underneath their table.’

Ren began to maneuver himself to the back of the bar, stopping every so often to play at another table to make it look less conspicuous. He danced around a waitress as she was carrying mugs of ale, giving her a bright smile that made her blush prettily. Finally, he stopped at the Venatori’s table, placing his foot on the edge of the table top with a thunk. Balancing his lute on his knee while he played, he leaned forward and winked at the Magister, who fumed. So focused were they all at the elf and his sheer audacity, that they didn’t notice the small black figure silently fly down from the rafters, dodge the various foot traffic, and tiptoe underneath the table.

‘I made it, Ren!’ Hope crowed, triumphantly.

Ren beamed at the crowd and continued his song.

“Well, he called for a candle to light their way to bed

And when he had her in the room these words to her he said

‘A sovereign I will give to you for to embrace your charms.’

And all that night, that fair young maid lied in the butcher's arms.

Oh, come along with me, love

Come along with me!

Come for one night and be my wife

And come along with me.

Well, about one year later he went roving out once more,

And he went into the tavern where he'd often been before.

He wasn't in there very long when his fair maid he did see,

And she brought forth a baby three months old and placed it on his knee.”

Some of the crowd began to chuckle as they realized where the song was going. Ren’s playing picked up in volume as he reached the punch line.

“And when he saw the baby, he began to curse and swear

And he said unto that fair young maid, ‘Why did you bring him here?!’

‘Well, he is your own, kind sir’, she said, ‘Do not think me strange

Well, that sovereign that you gave to me, well I gives you back your change!’”

The crowd burst into raucous laughter, and Ren couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he finished the song.

“Oh, come along with me, love

Come along with me!

Come for one night and be my wife

And come along with me!”

With a flourish he played the last few chords as the crowd’s laughter turned into applause. He gave a bow, and as he stood back up he saw a flash of red dart through the crowd.

“Dammit.” He muttered.

‘What happened?’ He heard Hope ask. He turned to the crowd.

“Thank you! You have been a wonderful audience!” Ren exclaimed. “Don’t forget to tip your waitresses! If you need me, I’ll be by the bar.”

The crowd quickly went back to their food and drink, and Ren made a beeline for the bar.

‘I thought you said Esana was sleeping.’ He demanded through the bond.

‘She was!’ The spirit replied. ‘I thought she was. Oh! But she might have been faking, now that I think about it. The snoring was a bit too loud.’

To which Ren could only groan.

The Maker had to have it out for him. That was the only explanation.

‘Don’t move, Hope.’ He said. ‘Keep listening in on the Venatori. I want to have something to report back to the Dragons before the night is over.’

“Only one song tonight, Rook?” Asked one of the waitresses, Rosa, as she carried a tray full of food and drink.

“Can’t be helped, Rosa.” He said as he approached the bar. The barkeeper, a jovial older man with a wiry frame and bright eyes named Julius, poured him a glass of water with a knowing grin.

“Loose something?” He asked.

“Ugh.” Was Ren’s articulate response. Julius only laughed as Ren downed the water in one gulp before setting the glass back down on the counter with a thunk.

“You didn’t happen to see which way she went, did you?” Ren asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Aye. She snuck out the back door.”

“Thank you, Julius.”

“Best of luck, Rook!”

Ren stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the cool night air to center himself. He needed to remain calm. Esana couldn’t have gotten far.

In the distance he heard the sound of cheering. Children cheering. He relaxed slightly; he had a feeling whatever was going on, Esana was probably around, if not directly involved.

He followed the sound of cheering until he turned a corner and found himself staring at a veritable horde of children all gathered around a circle. In the middle, playing what looked like a game of bones against an older human boy, was Esana.

“That looks like another game for me!” She exclaimed as she grabbed the copper pieces and put it in her already fairly substantial pile of winnings.

The boy didn’t seem too pleased.

“That’s not fair!” He cried. “You cheated!”

“How do you cheat at bones, Dax?” One of the other children asked. Dax’s face only grew more red as the other children began to laugh.

“Yeah, Dax.” Esana taunted as she began to count her winnings. “Don’t be a sore looser.”

“Why you-“

Whatever Dax was about to say was cut short by the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the alley. Out of the darkness, a behemoth of a man emerged. He had lank, dark hair that clung to his face and a scar that ran from one side of his neck to the other. He approached the children, most of whom had already scurried away, and sneered at them with yellowing teeth.

“What do we have here?” The large man asked as he loomed over the children eyeing the pile of money. “You brats got some money for me?”

“No!” Esana cried. “That’s mine!” She stood up, putting herself between the man and the coin.

Ren could have sworn his heart had stopped beating then, as he watched the giant man loom over his daughter. His daughter, who looked so very small standing in that man’s shadow. Thinking quickly, Ren grabbed a bottle from a nearby drunkard and flicked a coin his way before the man could complain too much.

“What did you say, little knife ear?” The man sneered as he pulled an out a wicked looking dagger. “Perhaps I should teach you a lesson of what happens when pests like you talk back to your betters.”

Esana’s eyes widened as the knife was held merely inches from her face. The man made to grab her, but before he could do anything, Ren staggered out of the darkness as if drunk, practically barreling into the man. He made a show of spilling the contents of his bottle all over the man’s clothes.

“M’so sorry, serah.” He said, slurring his words together. “It seems I-“ and he hiccuped here for effect “-I can’t seem to hold me liquor! Can’t seem to carry it neither.”

Ren gave his best drunken laugh as he pointed to the almost empty bottle of booze. Predictably, the man took the bait, grabbing Ren by the collar and shoving him hard against the wall.

“Stupid elf! I should gut you here and now!”

Too busy threatening him, the man didn’t notice Ren pull on the Fade, summoning flames in his left hand.

“Gut me?” Ren asked, feigning innocence. “While you’re on fire?”

The man stared at Ren in confusion before bursting into laughter.

“On fire? You must be drunker than I-“

Suddenly, the man let out an inhuman screech as Ren held the flame against the man’s alcohol drenched clothes, quickly setting them ablaze with a satisfying woosh. The man dropped Ren as he tried to quickly strip off his burning clothes.

Ren, for his part, didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing his daughter, he took off running down the narrow alley.

They had made it almost halfway back to the Black Swan when he stopped to catch his breath. He looked down at his daughter and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Getting down on one knee he began to look her over.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Ren nodded. That would have to do. For now, at least.

Together, father and daughter ran the rest of the way back to the Black Swan. When finally they arrived at the back entrance, the adrenaline seemed to leave Ren all at once, leaving him drained. He sank onto one of the large crates nearby, placing his head in his hands as the reality of what almost happened hit him like a druffalo.

Esana stood there nervously, sensing, perhaps, that she had crossed a line somewhere.

“Papa, I’m-“

Ren cut her off.

“Esana,” he began, frustration filling the void where fear and adrenaline once were, “How many times have I told you that you cannot go out at night on your own?”

“I was just-“

“And yet, you continue to deliberately disobey me. And for what? A handful of coin?”

“It wasn’t just a handful…” she muttered.

Something inside Ren snapped.

“HE COULD HAVE TAKEN YOU!” Ren shouted as he gripped his daughter’s shoulders desperately. “PAWNED YOU OFF AT THE SLAVE MARKET! OR WORSE, HE COULD HAVE KILLED YOU! DUMPED YOUR BODY SOMEWHERE AND I WOULD HAVE BEEN NONE THE WISER. WOULD THE COIN HAVE BEEN WORTH IT THEN? WELL?”

Hot, angry tears streamed down Esana’s face as she pulled herself out of her father’s grip and ran into the tavern. Ren tried to grab her but she was too quick.

“Esana!” He yelled. “Esana get back here!”

Instead, he heard the sound of a door slamming from upstairs, where the guest rooms were. He looked around the tavern and noticed that it was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers who seemed too deep into their cups to notice the elven family drama going on around them. He also noticed a distinct lack of Venatori. They must have left earlier as well.

Shit.

With a sigh, Ren felt all of the previous anger bleed out of him, leaving him bone-tired. With great effort, Ren dragged himself to the bar, rubbing at his eyes before anyone could see the moisture in them.

“Julius,” he called, “Can I have another glass of water, please?”

The barkeep popped out from the kitchen, a bowl of something heavenly smelling in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other.

“I’ll do you one better.” He said, setting the bowl, some sort of stew, in front of Ren. “Here, eat. You look like you’re about to keel over where you stand.”

“Julius, you are a gentleman and a scholar.”

“Yes, yes. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Ren took a few spoonfuls before his appetite left him entirely as the monster currently gnawing at his stomach felt more akin to guilt than hunger. He stirred the soup in lazy circles with his spoon, occasionally making a half-hearted attempt at taking a bite before giving up entirely.

“I need to go talk to Esana.” He said with a sigh.

“Rook, wait…”

Ren looked up and was surprised to see the old barkeep looking at him with eyes full of understanding… and a bit of sorrow.

“I don’t usually tell people this for obvious reasons, but… my father was also a freeman.” He said. “And an elf, too.”

Ren’s eyes widened. A lot of things about Julius suddenly made sense. The slight build, the bright eyes…

The easiness in which he accepted Ren and Esana…

He looked at the man in a whole new light then, silently wondering how he never noticed the way Julius’s ears tapered to a point, a tell-tale sign of the man’s heritage.

“I’ll be.” Ren exclaimed. “I’d had no idea I was in the presence of a fellow knife-ear. I’ll make you a flower crown. Maybe even show you some of my favorite places to frolic naked in the moonlight.”

“I am quite capable of going to a whore house on my own, thank you.”

Both men burst into laughter, loud enough in the almost empty tavern to draw the attention of the last remaining guests. The confused stares sobered both men up fairly quickly, and Julius continued whatever point he was getting at.

“Before I was born,” he said, “my father had somehow managed to buy his and my mother’s freedom. Never did quite figure out how he managed to pull it off...”

Julius’s eyes grew distant as he stared at something only he could see. After a moment, he blinked, and turned his attention back to Ren. In all the years he had known the man, Ren had never seen an expression so solemn on his face as he did now.

“When I was Esana’s age, I also never… appreciated the sacrifices my father had made for my family. For me... And Maker, there were so many…”

“And you do now?” Ren asked.

“Aye.” Said Julius. “I do now. Very much so. And I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but Esana will too.”

Ren considered the older man’s words as he took a few more bites of his stew. He pushed himself off of the counter and dusted himself off.

“Thank you, Julius.” He said. “For everything.”

“Anytime, Rook.“

Ren made his way up the stairs and down the hall to where he and Esana were staying. As quietly as he could, he crept in, closing the door behind him.

They were fortunate enough to stay in a room with two cots this time, an upgrade to their usual fair. He noticed that the cot on the left was occupied by a relatively Esana sized lump buried underneath the blankets. On the desk , underneath an open window, was a rook. It sat atop a wooden perch as it cleaned its feathers with its long, grey beak.

Hearing the door close, it looked up and flew over to where Ren sat on the empty cot, silently landing on his knee.

“Hey, Hope.” He uttered.

“…Why is your doublet singed?” Was the spirit’s response.

“Good to see you too.”

“Renan…”

Ren looked down at his doublet, his favorite one too, and, sure enough, he noticed singe marks all long the bottom hem.

And lo, did the Maker say “Fuck this Elf in particular.” He thought.

“I suppose it does not matter. I am sure it can be fixed.” Hope said kindly. Then, through the bond, he heard: ‘Esana was very upset, but she would not tell me what happened.’

‘She decided to pick fights with grown men and then I lost my temper and yelled at her.’

‘Ah. I see.’

Hope climbed up Ren’s arm to perch on his shoulder.

“I think I am going to go out.” She announced. “Stretch my wings for a bit.”

“Have fun.”

Hope rubbed up against his cheek affectionately, nuzzling him much like she had when he was a boy, newly arrived in the Tevinter Imperium and being sold off like chattel.

‘You can fix this.’ He heard her say through the bond.

With that, Hope flew out the open window and into the warm summer’s night, leaving father and daughter alone to talk. After a minute or two of sitting silently in the dark, Ren spoke.

“I know you’re awake, Esana.” He said. “Can we talk? Please?”

A loud sniffle from underneath the covers was the only response he got. With a sigh, Ren pulled off his boots and set them neatly by his bedside table.

“It’s ok, Esana. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He said as he took off his now singed doublet. “I’ll talk then, ok?”

Ren took a moment to gather his thoughts. He stared down at his hands, looking at the small knicks and callouses from years of playing the lute. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, and let the loose sleeves reveal old scar tissue across his wrists from where too-heavy shackles had rubbed his skin raw years ago. They certainly weren’t pretty, which was part of the reason why he always covered them, but they weren’t the worst of his scars. He knew his back was a gnarled web of lash marks, fifty in total. They still ached from time to time, too…

He made a vow, long ago, that the Imperium would never hurt him, or his loved ones, ever again. And he intended to keep that promise.

“I love you, Esana.” He said, finally. “And I am very sorry that I yelled at you like I did. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

In the darkness, Ren saw two bright blue eyes (her mother’s eyes, he thought distantly) peek out from underneath the covers, watching him warily. Taking that as progress, he continued.

“The truth is, I was scared. What you did was incredibly dangerous. I truly thought that man was going to hurt you, and that terrified me.”

Esana crawled out from underneath the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and refusing to look anywhere but her bare feet. Ren noticed that she was already in her nightgown. She must have changed after she stormed upstairs.

With a small smile, Ren patted the empty space beside him in invitation. Esana quickly crossed the short distance to sit with her father, but still refused to look up at him, even after he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to his side.

“I just wanted to help.” She said miserably, swiping at her eyes as fresh tears began to fall. “I thought that if I could earn money like you do, then you would let me join you for once.”

“Esana…”

“I just wanted to be like you. I’m tired of being treated like a baby.”

Ren tucked an errant lock of red hair behind his daughter’s ear.

“Esana,” he said, “I don’t need you to be like me. In fact, that’s the last thing in the world I want you to be. And while I appreciate the help, I’m your father. It’s my job to take care of you, not the other way around.”

“But I want to help!” Esana cried, almost desperately. “I want to be out there, with you!”

Ren chewed his bottom lip as he pondered Esana’s words. He certainly did not want to expose her to the drunks of Minrathous, but he also knew that soon she would be turning thirteen. Too old to stay willingly cloistered away. Maybe he could bring her along every now and then, introduce her little by little to his world in a way where he could monitor her and keep her safe, rather than having her go out behind his back…

Still, he couldn’t help but feel he was missing something. Something important. There was a frantic edge to Esana’s pleading that Ren couldn’t understand. Not for the first time, Ren wished his wife were still alive. Leena would have known what to do. She was good at that sort of thing.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ren began, cupping his daughter’s chin gently, “how about I teach you how to play that spare flute I have? Then, you could play with me. Sometimes.”

Esana stared up at her father with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Sometimes!” He reiterated. “Only the jobs that I think are safe, ok?”

“Really?” she asked, excitement and a strange tinge of something akin to relief shining in her eyes.

“Yes.” Ren laughed. “Really.”

Esana launched herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug which he returned without a thought.

“I love you, papa.” She said.

“I love you, too, Esana.”

Not long after Ren noticed his daughter’s eyelids grow heavy and her shoulders begin to droop. He chuckled as he watched her try to stifle a yawn.

“Alright little Nuglette, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. To bed with you.”

“Ok, papa.” Esana murmured sleepily as she crawled back into her own cot. Suddenly, that frantic edge that Ren noticed earlier returned.

“Papa…” she said, “Could I stay in your cot? Until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.” Ren said with a small smile.

Esana quickly scurried from her cot to join her father. She snuggled herself up against him, and he felt her relax as if she had been holding in some sort of tension.

“Esana,” Ren asked as she tucked herself in the crook of his arm, “Is everything alright?”

Esana hastily nodded, not quite looking her father in the eye. Ren sighed.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

Another nod.

“Ok. Good night, Esana. Sweet dreams.”

Ren didn’t notice Esana wince at the mention of dreams. He didn’t notice his daughter squeeze her eyes shut, desperately trying not to think of the monsters in her dreams that hounded her, begging her to let them in.

Instead Ren began to sing softly, voice barely above a whisper as he sang an old Elvish lullaby, one that his own mother sang to him when he was little. It didn’t take long for Esana to drift off into the Fade. No nightmares plagued her this time, safe as she was in her father’s arms and a song promising only pleasant things echoing in her ears.

For Ren, however, sleep evaded him despite his exhaustion. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t mind and was content to watch the rise and fall of Esana’s chest as his daughter slept soundly, snuggled up against him. Truth be told, he cherished moments such as these because he knew that sooner rather than later, his daughter would grow too old to cuddle with her papa. For now, though, he placed a kiss upon his little girl’s brow and held her as tightly as he could without waking her.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, only that it was near dawn when Hope flew in through the window, the first rays of light gently reflecting off of her feathers, giving them a purplish hue.

“Morning, Hope.” Whispered Ren as he watched her land on the bedside table.

“Good morning, Renan.” She whispered back. “I am happy to see you two worked it out.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Ren shifted slightly to face his friend. “You were gone an awfully long time. Did something happen?”

“I ran into Neve Gallius. She would like you to meet her later this evening.”

“Ah… and what did our favorite Ice Queen want? Did she say?”

“Only that she would like to introduce you to an aquantence of hers. Some sort of… novelist?”

“Of course she does…” Ren murmured tiredly, not really paying attention.

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the silence of the early morning. Ren was just about to finally drift off to sleep when Hope looked up from where she was preening her feathers and stared out of the window with an unusually concerned expression.

“Renan…” she whispered, so quietly Ren barely heard her.

“Mmm?”

“There is a storm coming.” Was all she said.

Little did Ren know, as he later found himself staring up at the terrifying visages of his Dalish mother's myths, how true those words were about to become.

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naranjapetrificada · 10 months ago

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Fanfic Friday!

I still don't completely understand it, so this week I'm just gonna reflect on things that happened while writing this arranged marriage longfic, some of which I posted about on here and some of which I didn't.

I gave up on the Soup Paragraphs that were haunting me and realized I can introduce them later if I must.

I got in some "let go and let god" practice when I realized I don't have to get every little throwaway detail right, especially when it slows down my progress/makes writing miserable.

My therapist wants me to see about applying this Free Yourself skill in my non-writing life, to which I say I know you are but what am I

Characters put themselves in situations without my input and it was great!

Ceremonies are hard to write but at least I now know what Ed and Stede would be like if they were kids in a school play.

I started watching Rome again after thinking about it last week in the wake of the cancelation (I've had it on DVD for years). Still problematic in the way something made in 2005 will be, but otherwise it holds up incredibly well.

I've also stopped caring as much about all the people using the world's problems as a bludgeon against OFMD fans and the campaign to to save the show. For all the reasons other people have already articulated well but also, on a personal note, because of what this show has done for my relationship with writing.

I won't get into too much detail but suffice it to say I have a lot of baggage around writing, because of all the "gifted" nonsense of my childhood and my MFA experience as an adult. I don't blame anyone per se, but unhelpful social frameworks were unhelpful. Let's just say that when Pop-Pop said "if you were ever good at anything go do that" to Ed, it didn't not remind me of feeling obligated to do something that used to be rewarding but isn't anymore because it's what you're "supposed" to do. Anyway.

I wrote three short (<2000 word) fics between seasons 1&2, the first fic I've felt like writing in over a decade. It was liberating as hell to write again in a low-stakes environment, and with blorbo motivation to power me through the difficult parts. I never, ever thought I would write anything longer than 2000 words, but for the past (several?) weeks now I've been alternating between two drafts in tropes I can't get enough of, the shortest of which is around 10,000 (admittedly unedited) words.

The other is longer, and every time I work on it I keep having to break shit up so the chapters stay under 5000 words. This is unprecedented for me, and I've wanted to share it so much that I'm running out of shit to post on WIP Wednesday that won't reveal the plot or require too much context. I've never been in a fandom as creative (and creatively inspiring) as this one, nor have I every written so much in a single fandom before.

My relationship with writing wouldn't be healing like this at all if it weren't for this show and this fandom, and in particular I want to highlight the freedom in embracing the "David Jenkins School of Historical Inaccuracy." In fact, I've been keeping a running list of AO3 tags for the fic I've made the most progress on, and there are several "David Jenkins School of ________" tags, including Archaeology, Theology, and Comparative Politics. Thanks to seeing DJ's philosophy at work it's now possible for me to move on from certain details when I get stuck because they're "inaccurate" for the setting or whatever in a way I never could before. Now I feel empowered to move on from tricky details by asking myself:

Is it funny?

Is it related to the plot?

Is it character-building?

And if the answer to all of those is no, then so is the answer to question 4: "does it matter?"

Assuming I finish these longfics they'll be the longest creative pieces I've ever written and beyond the longest works of fiction I ever thought I would write, and for that I'm eternally grateful. Even if the world we live in is a crumbling disaster. Especially if the world we live in is a crumbling disaster.

#ofmd #our flag means death #renew as a crew #save ofmd #fanfic friday #WIP it good #edward teach #ofmd meta #fandom meta #writing process #writing woes #fic writing #arranged marriage AU #ancient rome AU (sorta)

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invinciblerodent · 3 months ago

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Writing Interview Tag Game

Tagged by @ra-scheln – thank you dear! ❤️

When did you start writing?

I feel like there is almost never a set date for anyone- I never really considered myself a writer, I still don't fully embrace it as a label any more than I do many others, but it's very much in that "technically true" vein of things- I don't think of myself as a writer, but I do write, and have been writing most of my life.

The first story I ever consciously remember writing was a lengthy (and objectively terrible) story I wrote around the time I was maybe 11 or thereabouts, though- kind of a fairytale paranormal romance before I would have ever found out what that meant, involving wisecracking frogs, and the three little pigs, and some sort of an ancient curse, and it stretched quite luxuriously across roughly 120 single-spaced pages that -true to form for me- were never posted anywhere.

It was utterly gratuitous, masturbatory, filled with the most horrible purple prose in existence, and I will never stop feeling regretful over losing it to a simple hardware upgrade.

I really wish I could re-read it now, at 30, and maybe get back a little bit of that unapologetic confidence and drive to just write what the fuck ever I feel like writing, without feeling the eyes of an imaginary critic burning holes into the back of my head.

Are there different themes or genres that you enjoy reading than what you write?

While I'm most interested in writing navel-gaze-y, introspective character-pieces and romance/fantasy (romantasy? is that what the kids are calling it now?), I do like to consider myself an omnivore, when it comes to reading.

I generally read a lot of literary- and historical fiction, SF, fantasy, a couple thrillers here and there- though there are topics I don't gravitate towards, I don't exactly discriminate against any genre, and I try to keep a varied diet of pulp- and high-brow literature alike, lol.

Some books I've really loved over these past few years are (hold on, scanning my shelf here) Min Jin Lee's "Pachinko", Ursula K. Le Guin's "The Left Hand of Darkness", Raphael Bob-Waksberg's "Someone Who Will Love You In All Your Damaged Glory", and Iona Grey's "Letters to the Lost". That's an award-winning saga novel, a genre classic, a contemporary collection of short stories, and a very good romance novel, lol.

Although I do admit, reading tends to fall by the wayside in my most active writing periods, which is whenever I get super absorbed in a particular video game, lol.

Can you tell me about your writing space?

I don't actually have a dedicated writing space. Over the past while, I've realized that I most like writing by hand, in coffee shops mainly- which may make me look a touch obnoxious, but it's just the way my brain and hand work the best together. (I handwrite slower than I type, so it's easier to get into that ~~flow~~ state because I have time to think without pausing, and with the background noise being just at the right level, I can babysit an americano for hours at a time.) If I'm writing on the computer, it generally falls more into the realm of editing.

I don't exactly have a preference when it comes to the space itself, but the stationery is crucial. I'm very particular about the pen I use (it has to be a Zebra Superfine H-5000- I've been using them exclusively for like ten years now, and unfortunately you can't really get refills for them, but they're like a dollar each, and they last bloody forever), and slightly less particular about notebooks, but I still have strong preferences there too (lined paper, hard cover, not terribly ugly- which is harder to find than one would think).

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I don't typically try on a conscious level, but sometimes, just that dedicated action of putting my notebook away, and walking to the coffee shop gets the words rolling. Often I find myself starting to tell myself the story on the way, and then I'm kind of playing catch-up with myself, once I actually get there.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing?

Disappointment, mostly. "Wasted" potential, reclamation of personal choice, and the deeply personal act of mourning the self that died so that another may live. What-ifs, maybes, could-have-beens. The things we want to want.

.................. also dicks. Dicks are a big part of it.

What is your reason for writing?

There's no real reason, I think. I thought about this one for a long time, but I can't phrase it any better than prev: the words just have to go somewhere.

Besides, if I'm not writing, I'm crafting. If I'm not crafting, I'm drawing. If I'm not drawing, I'm designing, baking, making something. I'm always making something.

Is there any kind of specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I haven't published much of my writing over the past few years, but from what I've gotten, "It feels like you really know this character" is the comment I keep coming back to in my mind.

I got that one on a silly, smutty fic from like 2016, and it really gave me pause. It really got stuck in my mind.

It's been many years since, and I still catch myself smiling whenever I write a line of dialogue that feels quintessential to a particular character. I found that really encouraging.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I... I'm still kind of unpacking whether I want to be thought about at all. Whether I want to be perceived. You know, the terrifying ordeal of being known, and all that.

I think the way I want to be known is how a pet fish knows its owner, you know? Like I arrive occasionally, at a reliable, if nebulous time, and they kind of have a vague idea of what I am, but mostly I just bring them food, dump it in the water, and disappear while they voraciously consume whatever it was that was dumped in there.

If goldfish were terminally horny and could leave comments but expected no response, they'd be the ideal audience for me.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I want to say maybe... evocative imagery, and dialogue. I like to get somewhat poetic with my descriptions and I feel like I'm rather good at grasping somewhat powerful images through minute details, that's something I know I have a lot of fun writing. I also enjoy the process of trying to find words that feel like they sit right in a certain character's mouth.

If someone were to actually say "he would not fucking say that" to me, I think I would mentally walk into the nearest ocean.

How do you feel about your own writing?

.... Insecure. Apologetic. Fearful, in a way I'm well aware I shouldn't be.

I have tried to blame the fact that English is my second language, and there is a kernel of truth in there, but I know that's... kind of bullshit. I know my linguistic prowess is not exactly the issue here (if I may, bigger idiots than me have done it, I've a darling friend who can absolutely testify), it's literally just the confidence that I lack.

I'm also apologetic in tagging, or promoting my work whenever I do end up posting something, because I know it's not going to have mass appeal, or I know it's not going to be interesting to a lot of people even of the ones following me, and that completely undue, asinine embarrassment is definitely holding me back within my writing as well.

This is why I enjoy handwriting most I think, because that, I know is for me.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's purely for myself, and this ties into the previous answer- I know I write my best when it's utterly self-indulgent. But that's also the shit that makes me feel the most naked emotionally, so it's hard to bring myself to want to subject myself to any kind of scrutiny.

This really is the fucking duality of man, to crave validation but hiss and sneer at anything that might invite it, lol.

Anyway, I think if you guys are up for it, I'd like to tag @sketchyelvenasss and @lindira, and of course anyone who feels like it. ❤️

(Please do excuse me for the copious amounts of whining in this post lol, I have realized in myself that once I come closer to filling a new notebook I always get a bit emotional about my stuff, and I've like 10 pages left on my current one. Prime angsting-time.)

#squirrel speaks #or rather #squirrel writes #i took a nap in the middle of this #it was a bad idea; came back SECOND-GUESSING my writing ON A MEME. ABOUT WRITING.#what the cinnamon toast fuck is wrong with me

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oppvenuz · 8 months ago

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Top Wedding Venues in Mumbai: Unforgettable Settings for Your Special Day | Oppvenuz

So, you have decided to take the big step and get married. Congratulations! It’s great but you are probably worried already about all the preparations, arrangements and spending that need to be done for the big day. Fret not. You are not the first person to go through this. However, a little help is always useful. That's where wedding.net steps in. The website has every detail about best wedding venues in Mumbai. You can find one in just a few minutes because there are variations and variety for a wide category of people. It will become much easier for you to look for the best wedding venue in Mumbai.

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For a bride, she has to look absolutely perfect on her wedding day and there isn't room for any compromise. However, sometimes we are on a budget and we cannot spend much. Normally, the venue might seem the most important thing on a wedding. If the wedding venue is appealing and luxurious, then the wedding will be perfect, even though we will pay more for it. But what if we would tell you that it doesn't have to be like that. On our website, you can find venues from 150 to 5000 rupees, and each of them offers a nice and coquette atmosphere. It only depends on how many guests you want to receive and what additional services do you require. But no matter how much you are willing to pay, the location won't disappoint you.

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A bride is always the centre of focus in the wedding, and the entire celebration has to be perfect, and according to her preferences. At your wedding, you probably want to invite all your relatives, colleagues, friends, old neighbours and anyone who has touched your life in a special way. Well, it's better for you to start counting and see how many guests are you planning to invite. Do you want a close celebration with less than 70 people? Do you want a huge celebration with more than 1,000? On wedding.net you will find accurate information about any venue, guest capacity, and price. This way, you will know if your favourite venue can receive your guests, and if it can't, you can start searching for one that does.

With Oppvenuz, searching for wedding venues in Mumbai has never been easier. On this platform, you will have free access, even if you are a bride or a vendor, and you will be able to search for a wedding location or to screen it online, so everybody could know about it. Because it's always good to be prepared, you should start looking for a wedding venue today to know the market.

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thetoxicgamer · 2 years ago

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Wild Hearts Improves Monster Hunter, and That’s Great News for Both

Wild Hearts, a fantasy game from Koei Tecmo's Omega Force division that will be distributed by EA and is already looking like a formidable threat to Capcom's crown, is about to debut. It may seem a little crazy to think that one game could out-monster Monster Hunter, but Wild Hearts makes several significant advancements for fans of the series in general and Monster Hunter fans in particular. I’ve played over 2,000 hours of Monster Hunter World. That’s a lot of time, and not something I say lightly – but I say it with confidence, because it’s a game that earns your attention. I didn’t play it for that long out of some weird obligation or because I was adamantly stuck in a grind, I was simply having fun. I’ve also put several hundred hours into Monster Hunter Rise, a game that’s even more impressive than World in some ways despite its intentionally smaller scope. After all that time, you notice the small things – and Wild Hearts is set to make some key improvements that Monster Hunter would do well to learn from in the future. Among these is fully fledged crossplay for players on PC, PlayStation, and Xbox – including the option for in-game voice chat along with the text chat and emote options you’d expect in line with Monster Hunter’s stickers and shoutouts. That’s a very welcome change, especially as my gaming friends are somewhat spread out across platforms nowadays. Hunts in Wild Hearts – much like their Monster Hunter equivalents – will fail after three faints. However, the ability to revive teammates and salvage yourself one of your three chances makes the appeal of tackling the hardest Wild Hearts monsters in a group much more enticing. Some of the toughest fights in Monster Hunter World and its Iceborne expansion almost felt easier alone, because you weren’t sharing that failure counter across a wide group that could see the entire hunt end with one devastating attack. Also a welcome improvement is the way Wild Hearts camps work. Much like Monster Hunter, you’ll be able to build additional camps as rest points around the world. However, as demonstrated by YouTuber ‘Ms 5000 Watts’ (seen below, at the 9:33 mark), you can place these down anywhere you like and can then build out on them as you see fit, including the likes of ziplines and other Wild Hearts tools to help get to and from them quickly. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSJQZ6FUlfk Once again, that’s a nice evolution of the systems seen in Monster Hunter World and Rise. In addition to this, you can eat food at any time to gain stat buffs, as long as you aren’t in combat. The most recent Monster Hunter games did make improvements to allow you to eat at camp once out on a hunt, but being able to do it anywhere is an even nicer feature. Changes such as this let you focus on your task at hand without being punished for forgetting the perfect order of activities – something that comes easily to veterans, but can prove yet another stumbling block for newcomers. On a similar note, Ms 5000 Watts shows off the Wild Hearts training area (at around 6:28 in the video above), which gives you complete, step-by-step guidance to your weapon alongside adopting the Monster Hunter World moveset in the corner of the screen (something notably absent from Rise). Along with aiming to ease newer players into the experience more smoothly than Monster Hunter has ever quite managed, Wild Hearts promises more direct accessibility settings including a screen reader, text-to-speech and speech-to-text options, and other settings such as colourblind tools to help players enjoy the game as intended. Wild Hearts - a giant Kemono that resembles a stone monkey bares its fangs in angerAs a Monster Hunter diehard, it won’t surprise you that I also ploughed quite a lot of time into Dauntless – a more arcadey spin on the format from Phoenix Labs and Epic Games. While that game was a pretty solid take on the genre, it definitely leant hard into the faster, simpler side of things, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that it had some influence on Capcom making the notably nippier Monster Hunter Rise next. Wild Hearts, by comparison, seems to be angling much more directly for the scale, scope, and spectacle that World gave us back in 2018. There’s no word on Monster Hunter World 2 yet, but it feels like a fairly safe bet that Capcom will want a direct follow up to its best-selling game of all time. Hopefully Wild Hearts proves to be just as good as it’s shaping up to be. Whether it does that or falls short, however, its very existence should drive Capcom to make Monster Hunter even better in the future. Competition ultimately benefits us all, in the end. Wild Hearts releases on February 16 on Steam, the Epic Games Store, and the EA Store. In the meantime, check out more of the best games like Monster Hunter, along with more of the best co-op games if you just fancy a good time with some pals. Read the full article

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runthepockets · 2 years ago

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It's not that I don't think Fight Club isn't meant to be a "satire of American masculinity", it's not that I don't think the book isn't about a gay man battling the stranglehold thataforementioned masculinity has on him while coming to terms with his sexuality, it's not that I don't think it's about a man who has all the right concerns but is so caught up in his narssasistic vigilante fantasies that he forgets that nothing is a solo project, that people exist as more than tools to serve him (especially in context of his relationship with Marla), and that there's bills to pay in the meantime, it's not that I don't think dudes who think of Tyler Durden the same way a 9 year old boy would think of Black Panther or Superman aren't kinda dumb, I just think it's all only scratching the surface. There are like 5000 other messages also being thrown around in that book and they're all just as worthy of engagement. I'm especially intrigued by the bits where Project Mayhem is introduced but considering where the majority of mainstream discourse around the book is centered I wonder if people kinda fell off after the first half of the book / film.

Project Mayhem is the logical extreme of dudes not talking to each other. It's a cult. A bunch of guys running amok in the shadows, never getting caught because their coworkers never assume other people have rich inner lives or personalities outside of the family friendly facade they wear on the clock (and honestly have no interest in hearing about it anyway), answering to one dude that they've unspokenly and universally deemed "the manliest" and do whatever demented tasks he asks them to take on in an effort to win his favor, becoming more and more self destructive and dangerous with each task; bullying random, unsuspecting dudes on the street until they're left with no choice but to swing back, holding 22 year old college dropouts at gunpoint until they agree to quit their dead end 7/11 jobs, etc. "It's all good as long as you don't go to jail or die." It honestly reminds me of a lot of things I've read about the way Old School Hardcore, Black Metal, and Death Metal dudes were with each other; not having a real hierarchy in your particular scene, but still self mutilating and burning churches and beating each other unconcious in the pits and straight up stabbing people to be able to cling to whatever abstract and juvenile definition of masculinity and power you could get without absurd amounts of money and influence.

At the same time though, Fight Club is about class unity. Deprioritizing materialism and shedding your ego to become one with the people in closest proximity of you. Fight Club is a bunch of working class guys maiming each other in bar basements after sundown because it's a quick and easy way to unwind after being emotionally and spiritually beaten down at work. Project Mayhem is those same guys getting union benefits and blowing up credit card companies, turning their backs on the material luxuries that solely exist to distract them from starting and sustaining an adequate and effective left wing political movement, making their bosses and the police force fear for their lives because, at the end of the day, the working people they've taken for granted and labeled "unskilled laborists" are the ones with access to their credit card information and their insurance claims and securing their dinner reservations and tiling their roofs and fixing their $700,000 sports cars; they're the brains and muscle that make the world go round, the ruling class is just the face. It made me think about how common it is for working class Americans to blame immigrants for the lack of work rather than asking the ruling class why the fuck we have to scramble and claw at each other for middling wages in one of the richest countries in the world in the first place. Found it really complex and engaging.

The fact that people have been arguing over the "true meaning" of Fight Club for almost 30 years leads me to believe that it was never meant to be interpreted any one particular way. Whatever you take away from it is what you made of it.

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honeybee-deepsea-kitty · 2 years ago

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I’ve been consuming too much Star Wars content lately, so far as I’m aware the darksaber is the only black lightsaber. It was created by the first Mandalorian Jedi and is an important symbol of the right to rule.

Gotta agree summer is exhausting. Love the increased chance of sunshine but when it’s hot it’s intolerable.

What colours have you dyed your hair so far? Would you rather have horns or fangs? Ideal Halloween costume if you had unlimited budget? What would your go to karaoke song be?

- 🤓 anon

Ah I see you are also a nerd. Nerds are the best!

Like the sun is better for mental health, but the heat is a killer.

Let's see; light pink, dark purple, dark green, red in many variations(I'm not a big fan of the natural red I have s fire a long long time I'd darken it) black obviously, indego, something that was called sapphire but just looked like a basic blue. Different variations of natural browns, and as a child my mom used to kind of bleach my hair (I hated being a blonde though)

The idea of fangs appeals to me but I'm a bitey person and I'd really hate to hurt anyone in trying to be playful. So horns, one of my fav pictures I've taken of myself was in these cute horns I bought from a Ren faire.

Unlimited budget hmm... Literally the most cringiest cat girl ever moving tails and ears all that. No seriously It'd probably more like cosplay because I'd want to do Ahri, the nine tailed fox (league of legends) Probably the fox fire or popstar versions of her. Those styles would be cool as fuck to try and pull off. But also the amount of detail I could go into with an unlimited budget would be insane. The thought excites the artist in me.

Oh music... Ha I'm sooo obsessed with so much music it could pretty much be anything. But I'm going to give you actual answers so.... Here's a short list of songs I'd kill in karaoke.

This is one of my favorite fall out boy songs and really I could probably sing anything by that band but this one! I'd sing I'd dance it would be a show.

I was stuck between a few songs by Icon for hire but there's a special place in my heart for this song.

This song uhhh it's so good. Seeing it live was seriously the best thing ever.

This is my all time favorite song. It touches in my heart in such a way.

This goes without explanation

And this one's a comfort song.

#asks #nerds are my people truly #like im a nerd in my own right and i know it #just about alot of different things than my nerd friends which is cool because learning #one day i would like to make my hair look like a sunset because colors of the sky during those times are art #id dedicate my hair to my mom jokingly... shes the sunset picture lady around here. her photos have actually been published. which is cool #though half head hair colors would be cool too like half black half blue or something #i would like to get bigger horns one day #and even with the costumes id want to be super precise. the tails move a certain way depending on movements #theyflow one way when relaxed. and move back a way when walking or running. same with the ears #but also her outfits for those particular skins appeal to me #initially I was going to say midnight Ahri but changed my mind #ideally one day i will cosplay her and Ashe the frist archer. whose another league champion #Ashe was one of the first champs i played when i started playing league back in like uhhh 2012 #shes literally one of my favs still though #giving actual links to songs so you can listen and enjoy #hell I could give you my Spotify playlist which is like 5000 songs or something i could sing any if those songs.#ideally I'd want to sing run devil run by girls generation.l'd have to learn to sing it since its a kpop song and id want to do it justice.#such is the case withy other favorite kpop songs #i could sing any mcr but dead is fun #this answer post would be sooooooo long if i listed all the songs I'd kill on karaoke for real #special mention to black Cadillac by Shinedown I was also going to link it then forgot so doing it now at a later time seems insulting #probably going to just link it on its own thing but i love it #heres a long as answer ha!#i was also going to link photos to ahri but that would be such a big answer and it makes me nervous.#also because i forgot #thanks anon friend 🤓#todays weird lol

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floofs-headcanons · 3 years ago

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Hello!

I'm..kind of new here but I really like your scenarios and writtings you made!

If it's okay..Can I ask a headcanon for Whitebeard Pirates with Female! Teen! Shy! Reader?

By that I mean, Y/n is one of the people that usually spend their time alone away from others and genuinely prefers to be in fpur walls.

I just wonder how would the crew treat her..

Anyway, if you feel uncomfortable with it - please ignore this message. Take care of yourself!

Have a nice day!

Sorry this took us 5000 years </3 askjdh

From the moment you joined Whitebeard’s crew, you knew you were in it for the long haul

They could be quite loud and rambunctious, but there was so much affection that came with it and admittedly it can be a lot- especially since you tended to shy away from these sort of scenarios.

Of course, if you don’t look like you want to be there or seem uncomfortable, the division leaders are the first to come to your aid. Izo in particular is a face you’ve grown well accustomed to.

You assumed you’d be hard-pressed to find a moment alone and to yourself, especially in the company of those so tightly bonded together as a family- yet it’s quite the opposite really.

Those moment where you needed a way out and Izo found you, depending how easily the answer could be coaxed out of you a few encounters may have been necessary to get your point across but damn- does Izo truly deliver.

No one treats you like glass and they sure as hell aren’t walking on eggshells with you. An important part about family is the fact people are accepting of one another and Whitebeard and his crew are no exception to this clause.

You don’t have to explain yourself, they understand- but they do need you to let them know your boundaries and what you’d be comfortable with overall; they’re more than happy to accommodate.

As a member of the crew, you are always welcomed to join them when you feel more comfortable or ready, take all the time you need!

That of course, does not save you from friendlier souls who will simply seek you out because they’re built like that.

They’ll give you space, but you have to accept that they’ll be around sometimes- maybe they won’t say anything to bother you but they’ll be around.

Marco and Ace are probably the finest examples of this case.

Ace is an older brother, of course he’s going to look out for you. Even if he’s easy going and a rascal, he’s got a big heart that he wears quite openly on his sleeve and he’ll always be around if you’re willing to take his penny for your thoughts.

Most of Whitebeard’s crew have family or have found family amongst themselves and would be 100% understanding of your situation- but will also stir the pot, because as loving as family can be, they can also be a very lovable pain in the ass.

#one piece headcanons #whitebeard pirates #Portgas D. Ace #Marco #Izo #one piece x reader

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archived-kin · 4 years ago

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local cashless god nearly loses you your job (but you’re okay with it)

note from kin: *throws this at you* please take it i’ ve been stuck on the blasted thing for hours (peepaw i promise i’ll write you something where you’re better characterised another day)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, zhongli, xingqiu

pairing(s): zhongli/reader

warning(s): none! (though i do want to give a heads up for some out of character stuff since i started this when i still wasn’t too familiar with the liyue characters)

genre: fluff

“How many copies of Encyclopaedia of Liyue does one man need?”

You shush Xingqiu as the man just across the shop continues to browse at his leisure, golden eyes furrowed in concentration as he trails his gloved fingers across the books’ spines. “Maybe he’s here to buy something else this time! You never know.”

“He’s bought the exact same book seven times in a row now,” Your little brother insists, pulling his nose out of his novel for once to regard the tall figure drifting listlessly from one end of the shop to the other. “I doubt he’s going to break the cycle now.”

“He could be a collector,” You suggest, dropping your voice slightly when the man’s eyes flicker over to you briefly. “This shop’s older than us - maybe it has a bunch of different editions that he wants to get.”

“Well, wouldn’t it make sense for him to find all the different editions and then buy them all at once?” Xingqiu whispers in reply, tapping restlessly at the countertop with one hand. “Then he wouldn’t have to stop by every day and charm you into paying for him.”

You don’t have a reasonable argument for that, so you don’t reply. Xingqiu really is too smart for his own good sometimes.

The man - who you can see is now flicking curiously through a copy of The Founder of Diabolism - isn’t someone you know particularly well, but he’s visited the bookshop where you work enough times that you do know the essential facts: his name is Zhongli, he likes drinking tea, and he’s broke. In every sense of the word.

That last point is quite the source of exasperation on your part. No matter how many times you remind him as he leaves, he never fails to turn up with a completely empty Mora pouch the next time you see him. At first it hadn’t been so much of a problem - he’d just come in, browse the books, start a little small talk with you, then leave. But then he’d actually started wanting to buy the books, and buying usually involves money - something that Zhongli seems to forget exists.

If it had been any other ridiculously handsome guy, you might have sent them packing, but there’s something about the lost look on Zhongli’s face when you ask him for his payment and he realises that he has no way of giving you one that never fails to make you get out your own Mora pouch and suggest that you foot the bill for him instead. Zhongli always tries to refuse your offer, but, in kind, you always insist. You have no idea why he has such an affinity for that particular book, but the way he smiles at you as you as you drop your own coins into the payment pouch is more than enough to make up for the money you lose. It’s not like you actually need the funds, anyway, considering who your father is.

Today, however, Zhongli has neglected the shelf of encyclopaedias in favour of drifting over to the Xianxia section. You’re not sure what’s spurred this change in interest, but maybe it’s the little toy dragon you’ve set on top of the shelf? Zhongli seems rather enamoured by it - he keeps glancing up at it while he reads.

Speaking of the book that he’s skimmming through, it’s a rather odd choice on his behalf. You haven’t gotten the opportunity to read it yourself, busy as you usually are between your work shifts, adventurer’s guild commissions, and making sure your little brother doesn’t get himself into trouble by wandering directly into a gang of hilichurls in the middle of reading a book again. You’re pretty sure Xingqiu has read it at some point, though - to be honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already read every book in this shop several times over. (Part of you wonders if the only reason he’s so supportive of you venturing into the world and taking this job is because he gets to sit with you and read all the books he likes during your shifts.)

You don’t remember all the details he’d spewed off to you over the week or so he spent reading it, but you vaguely remember him crying into your sleeve about something to do with trees and lanterns and hugs. You’re also pretty sure that it got kind of… what’s the word? Risqué? Adult? Well, whatever word you use to describe it, it doesn’t really seem like the sort of thing that someone like Zhongli would read. Then again, you wouldn’t have ever expected your innocent gentleman of a little brother to read something like that, either.

“At least he seems to have good taste in fiction,” Xingqiu sighs as Zhongli continues to skim over the first few pages, looking rather intrigued. “I suppose that’s about as much as I can ask for…”

“He seems pretty invested,” You observe. “Reckon he’s going to buy it?”

Xingqiu shakes his head. “No. He’s going to come up here and realise he’s forgotten all his Mora again, and then you’re going to end up buying it for him again because you have a giant crush—”

You shove him in the shoulder so hard that he falls off his stool. “Oh, shut up.”

Xingqiu quickly catches himself on the side of the table and shoots you a glare, fumbling to retrieve the book that he’s accidentally dropped in the process. “Hey! This book doesn’t belong to us, you know.”

“It’s one book, A-Qiu,” You sigh as he turns away from you, clutching the book to his chest like it’s some precious child that you’re threatening to kidnap. “Mr Yao isn’t going to condemn you if it gets a little dusty.”

“Books should be treated with respect,” Xingqiu sniffs, turning up his nose at you like some nobleman - which he technically could be considered, now that you think about it. “You of all people should know that.”

“Just because I work at a bookshop doesn’t mean I think they’re Morax’s gift to man like you do,” You snort, noting in the corner of your eye that Zhongli’s eyes had flickered over to you briefly as you spoke. “Sure, books are neat, but they’re not holy.”

“‘Books are neat?’” Xingqiu repeats disbelievingly. “Of all the words to—”

“Excuse me.”

Both you and Xingqiu jump in startled surprise - neither of you had noticed Zhongli approach the front desk. You gather yourself quickly and smile at him as he quietly sets the book on top of the counter and pushes it towards you with a small nod.

“Will that be all?” You ask, reaching for one of the complimentary bamboo bookmarks that you’re obligated to give out with every purchase. You’re pretty sure that Zhongli has more than enough at this point, but you don’t want to risk getting into hot water with Mr Yao for not doing it.

Zhongli takes the bamboo bookmark with a small smile. “Yes, thank you.”

You nod and flick the book open to check the price label on the inside of the cover. “Alright, that’ll be… 5000 Mora, please.”

Xingqiu mutters something resignedly under his breath as Zhongli reaches into his pocket and fumbles about for a moment, clearly not particularly hopeful that the man has actually brought his money with him today. Your little brother, as usual, is perfectly correct in his intuition; after a second of slightly embarrassed silence, Zhongli pulls his hand out of his pocket with nothing in it.

“My apologies,” He sighs, bowing his head in shame. “I’ve forgotten my money pouch again.”

“I knew it,” Xingqiu whispers.

“A-Qiu, shut up,” You hiss back, then turn back to Zhongli, your smile back in place. “No worries, I’ll buy it for you.”

His brows pinch together slightly in the smallest of frowns. “No, no, you shouldn’t. You’ve already spent so much money on me…”

“It’s no big deal!” You assure him brightly, already reaching into your lapels to find your coin pouch. “You seemed to be really into it earlier, so it’d be a shame if you couldn’t keep it, right?”

Zhongli’s frown deepens. “Even so...”

“You could always pay back with something else,” Xingqiu chimes in, the exasperated look on his face replaced with a shit-eating grin that you know all too well. Before you can step in and shove him into the cabinet or something to shut him up, though, he continues, turning to you in a parody of innocence, “What do you say? Mr Zhongli clearly has some time on his hands…”

You narrow your eyes at him, not liking what he’s implying with that grin. “I’m still on shift, A-Qiu, I can’t just up and leave. Mr Yao would probably kill me.”

“You’ve been working shifts for two weeks straight,” He counters, crossing his arms stubbornly. “I can mind the shop for a long enough for you to take a walk. He won’t notice a thing.”

“You won’t ‘mind the shop’, you’ll just sit there and read,” You shake your head and tussle his hair with a flippant hand. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you eyeing up those antiques at the back.”

He looks affronted. “Are you accusing me of stealing intent?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” You explain patiently. “I’m just saying that your moral compass is very easily diverted when it comes to books.”

“If I may,” Zhongli begins, cutting off Xingqiu’s indignant spluttering. “I do not mind the idea.”

You turn to look at him in shock, only to see that his golden eyes are already fixed intently on you. He has the sort of gaze that makes you feel as if he’s seeing right through you, as if all of your faults and flaws and wishes and dreams are laid out bare for him to examine at his leisure - but Zhongli doesn’t look at you with any judgement. In fact, if you hope hard enough, you think that there might be some affection in his eyes.

“W-well, I—” You glance quickly back at Xingqiu, who pointedly refuses to help you, evidently offended by the moral compass comment. “I- I’d love to, honestly, but I need to finish my shift…”

“This young gentleman has already volunteered to take care of that for you,” Zhongli counters. There’s a strange intensity to the way he’s looking at you now - hope? Determination? “I know of a quiet spot just outside the harbour. If you would…?”

You glance at Xingqiu, who, despite still looking a little miffed, gives you a begrudging nod. After another moment of thought, you turn back to Zhongli, who gazes expectantly back at you.

“I’d love to go for a walk,” You say, standing up. “Lead the way.”

He smiles then, holding the door-curtain open for you to exit first. You pause briefly to wave a goodbye to Xingqiu, who pointedly sticks his nose in his book and pretends not to see it.

The two of you walk in silence for ten minutes or so, with him in the lead and you occasionally glancing behind you to make sure Xingqiu hasn’t already set the bookshop on fire or something. Zhongli walks rather more quickly than you’re used to, mostly because you usually walk with Xingqiu, who has refused to grow more than half an inch in the last three years and still has legs substantially shorter than yours. Zhongli seems to notice you lagging behind a little after a minute or so, slowing down his pace slightly so that the two of you can walk side by side properly.

“The breeze is pleasant this time of year,” Zhongli comments as the two of you cross the bridge to the mainland and begin to leave the harbour. “Particularly as the sun is going down.”

“I’ll have to get out to see the sunset more often, then,” You sigh. The amount of people milling about around you thins out the further the two of you walk from the harbour and along a grass-lined path, until the two of you are alone.

“I’d be happy to escort you,” He says, glancing quickly back at you, then snapping his head forward again. “...that is, if you’d like me to.”

You’re glad he isn’t looking at you, because you’re pretty sure that the look on your face is smitten to an absolutely ridiculous degree. It takes everything in you not to reach forward and grab Zhongli’s hand right then and there, but you restrain yourself just in time, knowing full well that initiating sudden physical contact with someone that you still don’t know all too well is incredibly rude.

“Of course I would,” You answer. “Just name a time and a place.”

He looks at you again, a gentle smile curving at his lips. “I’ll be sure to.”

The walk takes the two of you through a grove of trees dappled by the rich afternoon light. Zhongli speaks at length about the various different species that you pass; part of you is listening attentively, but the other part of you is far too distracted by the elegance of his quiet footsteps and the way the sunlight glows softly at the edges of his hair to register the information.

Leaves and branches crunch underfoot as Zhongli finally leads you out of the trees and out onto a quiet spot on the mountainside overlooking the harbour. He sits down on the ledge, legs dangling precariously over the edge, and you follow suit, quietly settling down beside him, leaving about two inches’ space between the two of you. Zhongli doesn’t say anything for a minute or so; he’s absorbed in watching the city below him, golden eyes darting back and forth as he watches the tiny figures of the people bustle about the streets.

You notice that he’s still holding the book you bought him earlier, keeping it set carefully in his lap with both hands placed firmly on top of it, as if he thinks it might slip out of his grasp and off the mountain if he isn’t careful.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” You begin, catching his attention. He turns to look at you, and the sudden sight of his content expression, framed by the sprawling fields and trees in the distance behind him and the light casting his features into sharp relief, knocks all the air from your lungs for a moment. You very nearly choke on your words, but manage to gather yourself in time to ask, “Why the sudden change in interest?”

He cocks his head ever so lightly to the side in confusion, then realises what you’re referring. “Ah - the book? I just wanted a change of pace, really.”

You nod in understanding. “I see. A-Qiu’s read that one. He says it’s one of his favourites.”

“Is A-Qiu the young gentleman accompanying you in the bookshop?”

“Yup.” You sigh, leaning back and kicking your legs slightly, noticing with some fascination that you can faintly see yourself reflected on the water far beneath you. “Xingqiu. He’s my little brother.”

If you squint hard enough, you can see Zhongli’s reflection in the water as well. He’s shifting slightly - is he moving closer to you? You can’t quite tell from the reflection alone, and you’re not about to risk looking at him. Zhongli is a little like the sun in that respect: warming you indirectly with his presence, but damn near blinding (and incredibly flustering) to look directly at or make eye contact with. He’s almost ethereal-looking - as if he isn’t quite of this world.

“He seems a well-intentioned boy,” Zhongli comments quietly.

You respond with a light-hearted scoff. “I’m not too sure about that. He’s good at hiding it behind a book and all those airs and graces, but he’s always annoying me.”

“Is that not what younger siblings are for?” He counters, eyes twinkling slightly as you laugh in reply.

“I guess they are, huh?” You shake your head, a grin continuing to play on your lips as you finally turn to look back at him. Somehow the blinding beauty of before feels as if it’s mellowed out, become softer around the edges - like a surging river calming to a trickling stream.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while. The late afternoon breeze picks up a little, and Zhongli’s hair dances about on the air, twisting and curling in swirls as if the very wind is playing with it. You’re so occupied by (subtly) staring at him that the small movement of him lifting a hand to adjust his tie makes you jolt slightly on the spot.

You can tell that he’s noticed as well, so you hurry to start a conversation before he can bring it up. “So… what’s the fascination with Yi Xichen?”

“...ah.” You might be imagining it, but you think you can see a faint flush forming over his cheeks. “The encyclopaedias?”

“What else?” You swing your legs back and forth restlessly, leaning forward and resting your cheek in your hand. “You must have at least fifteen copies by now. Are you collecting them or something?”

“Well, no...” He glances away from you, intertwining his fingers. “I suppose I’m not particularly good at ‘acting natural’, am I?”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Zhongli fiddles slightly with the seam of his glove, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “I have no need for encyclopaedias, but after the first few days, I found that I had fallen into the routine of selecting one every time I visited.”

“Why did you visit, then?” You ask.

He glances quickly at you, then back down at the water. He doesn’t answer at first, as if mulling over what to say, until finally, he replies, “...I suppose I just wanted to see you.”

It takes you a good moment to fully process what he’s just said to you. Once you do, though, your entire body implode. Well, it feels it does, anyway.

“I— you— me— huh?” is all you manage to get out at first, hands dancing around in front of you like two birds trying to escape from a net, as if they’re trying to physically pluck some words to say from the air. It’s a bad habit you’ve always had, throwing your hands about when you’re stressed; it drives you mad sometimes, but you can’t stop yourself.

Zhongli closes his eyes and bows his head, and there’s no mistaking it - his cheeks are definitely pinker than usual. “Is that alright?”

You nearly choke on air, but you force yourself to take a deep breath instead, fanning yourself briefly with one hand. Getting flustered heats you up surprisingly quickly. “Y-yeah! Of course it’s okay.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles a little bashfully, leaning forward and tilting his head slightly to look at you. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but, if it’s alright… could I see you more often after today as well?

The sheer adrenaline rushing through you is so intense that you’re surprised that you haven’t busted a blood vessel yet. Actually, as far as you know, you might as well have - you’re far too focused on the man in front of you and his… confession? Is this a confession? You’ve read romance novels, sure, but is that how it works in real life as well? What are you supposed to do?

Your head is so filled with pure chaos that you just know that, if you speak, you’re going to say something completely inane and stupid. So, instead, you reach forward, and take his hand in your slightly shaky one.

He looks down at your intertwined fingers with mild surprise for a moment, then raises his gaze to you once more, eyes lighting up slightly. “...I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

You nod quietly, hesitantly shuffling closer to him. He squeezes your hand almost experimentally, then glances quickly back up at you as if trying to gauge your reaction. You offer him a smile; he returns it wholeheartedly.

You’re sure that you’ll have missed the rest of your shift by now, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care. Zhongli doesn’t let go of your hand, and you in turn do not move away from him - if anything, you move closer, leaning slightly into his side. He doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he doesn’t object.

The sun is slowly beginning its descent, staining the sky a pale orange that reflects from the waters below you. It seems that the two of you will be seeing that sunset together a lot sooner than you had anticipated.

#unedited #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin xingqiu #zhongli x reader #fluff #this whole scheduling thing seems to be working out pretty nicely

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castthy-nightedcolour · 3 years ago

Text

One- Shot: The Seaside Dream (written as part of my series ‘don’t worry about a thing’ on AO3, link can be found at the bottom of the post as it won’t let me embed it)

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: GN Reader, Aziraphale, Crowley

Warnings and Tags: depression, skipping meals, dynamic duo, here come the boysssss, soft crowley

Summary: you don’t show up for wine with crowley and aziraphale, and the two hurry to your apartment to see what’s going on

Word Count: 2281

Link to original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31055930/chapters/83889112

‘Crowley, please hurry!’

The pained cry of the angel came from the top of the flight of stairs in your apartment block, echoing off the concrete walls. This mixed with the reverberant sigh of Crowley, and the ever- so- slow tread of his footsteps.

‘CROWLEY. This is important! Do you not care?’

The demon stopped dead in his tracks, planting his feet at the bottom of the set of stairs that the out of breath Aziraphale stood at the top of.

Crowley was not at all happy with the angel’s question.

‘Do I not what? Care? Oh Angel, you’re asking to be pushed down these stairs,’ he responded, almost growling under his breath. In any other circumstance, this might have actually pleased Aziraphale, however this time, he was actually terrified.

The scenario had started with what Aziraphale called ‘a dreadfully funny feeling.’

Since Armageddon was narrowly avoided, the angel and the demon had found themselves at somewhat of a loose end on Earth, enjoying their free time together but still constantly striving for some higher purpose.

That’s where you came in. Little did you know that a walk into a lovely little bookshop called A.Z Fell & Co. one day to search for an overpriced illustrated copy of your favourite book would lead to drinking a couple of bottles of wine with the owner and his companion for seven hours straight, and that this would become a weekly tradition. You just clicked with the pair, you found them magnetising and, well, you were a fascinating human to the angel and the demon, so they quickly grew fond of you.

The two supernatural beings then decided that their purpose would be caring. Caring for you.

Not in a suffocating way though, at least that was never the intention. Between the two of them, Crowley and Aziraphale decided from the get go that they would just be there for you as a friend, with little extras added on top like going out and buying your shopping for you whenever there was a thunderstorm, or baking you enough cake to feed the 5000. But, the pair’s talents in observance and intuition slowly made them realise that something was always just slightly off with you.

To them, it seemed like there was always something hidden behind a wall in your head, like a pretence that you constantly held up. Granted, part of their realisation came when in one of your drinking sessions at the bookshop, you let slip that you hadn’t eaten a proper meal for two days and they both nearly hit the roof. They asked you why, and kept asking why (Aziraphale in particular was extremely persistent) but you brushed it off- you always brushed it off.

‘No no, it’s nothing to be worried about, I promise! I’ve just been so busy, y’know? It’s nothing, please Aziraphale, you can sit down. Don’t you worry about me.’

Now, Crowley could sense a lie from a mile off considering he was the lord of them, and Aziraphale could feel that your inner emotions were about as steady as a mongoose riding a pedal bike, and they therefore deduced that they should in fact worry about you.

And so the slightly incompetent suffocation began.

This was definitely mainly from Aziraphale, as his senses for detecting emotional suffering and hurt were a lot stronger than Crowley’s- this was just down to how long he’d been pulling angelic manoeuvres. Crowley was a lot less practised however when he felt that something was off, he really did feel that something was off. This however meant that wherever in London you were, Aziraphale would realise that something was wrong, no matter how small the inconvenience.

Notable occasions included when the tubes on the Central Line were running one minute late and Aziraphale unsuccessfully attempted to miracle another train up, causing even more delay and destruction, when the bottom of your shoe fell off in a puddle and Aziraphale got so upset that he cried for an hour, (to be fair, he’d had a long day; someone had tried to buy a book from the shop which had displeased him greatly) and when a seagull crapped on your shoulder while you were sitting outside a bar at Canary Wharf and the angel managed to manifest a fluke bolt of lightning which struck the seagull down right into your food.

And all this from the comfort of his own home.

Crowley had tried to tell the angel that not every inconvenience could be sorted out, that the pair needed to pick their battles with the perils of the human life.

‘Yes yes, I understand. I’ll stop, I promise. We’ll stick to the original plan. Now have you seen my banana bread recipe? I think they could do with a pep up.’

This lasted for 22 hours.

You hadn’t shown up to the bookshop like you did every week.

‘Oh Angel do stop pacing, they have a life of their own you know,’ Crowley nagged, holding a bottle of red wine in one hand as he stood in the doorway between the main shop and the back room.

‘Something is wrong, Crowley. I have a dreadfully funny feeling,’ Aziraphale insisted, wringing his hands and pacing at twice the average speed of an angel.

‘Right, yes, okay but the problem is, you’ve said that every night for two weeks and it hasn’t been true once.’

‘You can’t sense it like I can.’ The angel stormed towards the coat stand, reaching for his coat.

‘Oh no no no, we agreed, no suffocation. Put that down, you’re not going anywhere,’ the demon asserted.

‘Oh yes we are. Put that wine in the back, you’re driving.’

Crowley had rarely heard Aziraphale’s voice like this before, low and extremely demanding. There wasn’t any way he was getting out of this, the angel was on a mission.

And so, Crowley drove the angel to your apartment block and the two of them ended up in the stairwell facing off with each other. Too highly strung for their own good.

‘What if this is the one time that I’m right? You’re here getting all… demonic on the stairs and-‘

‘I will get demonic, Aziraphale. I am in fact a demon, plus if this is the one time that you’re right then you’re holding both us back by squabbling. Move out of the way.’

Crowley marched up the stairs stony faced, swooping straight past Aziraphale to your front door.

He did care. He really did. He just didn’t like to show it around Aziraphale because he always felt inferior in they way that he cared compared to the angel. He didn’t have those massively intuitive senses, his baking skills weren’t up to scratch, he felt held back by control. But something in the demonic form burned when he thought of the idea that you were hurting- and that burning was made more painful by Aziraphale’s suggestion that he didn’t care.

He snapped his fingers at your door, and it violently swung open, hitting against the wall of the hallway as it did. He stormed inside, barely letting Aziraphale follow behind before he snapped his fingers again to close it. Darkness and silence fell over the hallway as the angel and the demon stood completely still, their anxious breathing slowly filling the space.

They could both easily sense one important thing- you were present in the apartment, you were safe within the four walls. There was a collective sigh of relief.

‘Told you,’ Crowley sneered under his breath, trying to hide his still present anxiety. As much as he could feel your presence, he was struggling with any of the finer details, your emotional state or your exact whereabouts.

‘Don’t be like that. I was only trying to help,’ Aziraphale whimpered, taking a small step forwards. Unlike Crowley, he could just about tell that you were somewhere in the general direction of your bedroom. The angel clicked his fingers and uttered a small ‘let there be light’, allowing the hallway to be illuminated by a faint white glow. There was no other light coming from anywhere due to a distinct lack of windows in the architecture of this building, the only three were in your living room, your bedroom and your kitchen and even then, you’d shut all of the curtains and all of the doors in the place.

The angel padded further down the hallway, leaving Crowley to look at the prints on your walls like an awkward cousin at a party. By the time Aziraphale had reached your bedroom door, Crowley had moved onto examining the items on the coffee table that was slightly further down the hall. There wasn’t a lot to examine, a couple of books, your keys, an Alexa that you’d turned the microphone off on. The one thing that caught Crowley’s eye was a small painting of a seaside town just laying down on the table. It wasn’t anywhere near being finished and much to Crowley’s dismay, it was crumpled up. He assumed two scenarios from this, either someone had given you an unfinished painting and you felt so strongly about it that you took to crumpling it up, or this was in fact your handy work that had been partially destroyed.

‘Crowley, what now?’ Aziraphale whispered from the end of the corridor, bringing Crowley’s gaze up from the table and back to reality.

‘Uhhh, don’t scare them. Don’t just burst in,’ the demon responded, moving down to meet Aziraphale by the bedroom.

‘I wasn’t planning on doing that! I just mean, do I knock? Just go in? Announce our arrival?’

Crowley rested his hand lightly on your bedroom door, looking quizzically at Aziraphale who was jumping through every possible scenario in his head. The demon sighed.

‘Just, shush. Okay, let’s just be quiet. Follow me, angel.’

Crowley very slowly pushed your bedroom door open, being greeted with yet more darkness from inside as he did so. Aziraphale hung over his shoulder to try and look inside, with Crowley grunting slightly at this. Through the darkness, Crowley made out a shape in the bed.

You, curled into a ball and fast asleep. Your breathing was heavy, but not laboured, and the bedsheets rose and fell accordingly. You were as close to comatose as could possibly be, dead to the world but luckily, very much alive.

‘Aaah. Oh, look,’ whispered Aziraphale. Crowley glared slightly at the angel, but inside, his sentiments were very similar. The pair stared at your form resting in the darkness for a few seconds, relieved with every breath that you took. With anyone else? It would have been creepy.

But not with these two. It was a deep devotion and concern.

Aziraphale went to take a step forwards but Crowley stopped him in his tracks, stopping the angel from getting anywhere near you.

‘Don’t even think about waking them, look. They’re deep in dreamland,’ the demon hissed, meeting Aziraphale’s puppy eyes.

‘Oh please, I just wanted to check that they’re okay.’

‘Aziraphale, they’re very clearly shattered. I think that we’ve discovered that they’re definitely not okay, but interrupting their sleep won’t help anyone. Let’s just, y’know, help where we can.’

‘But their soul-‘

‘I know. We’ll help with that tomorrow. For today, they sleep.’

Aziraphale eventually backed off slightly, looking down while nodding in defeat. While his deep concern could only ever have come from a place of love, he realised that stepping back for a second could be beneficial to everyone. He started to head towards the kitchen to see if there was anything that he could help with in there, turning back round for a second to ask Crowley what he should do. Crowley however was no longer stood in your doorway, and was instead sat on the edge of your bed, resting his hand on your leg.

The angel went to protest in some jealousy for a moment, but the warm glow that filled up his heart because of the sight stopped him. He just smiled, and turned back.

—

Between the pair of them, you were treated to a clean kitchen, a full fridge, a massive fuzzy blanket for the bed and soft, warm light for each room.

But there was one final detail bugging Crowley.

As the pair crept down your hallway back to the front door, Crowley let out a soft whistle to his friend as he stopped beside the coffee table. The angel turned his head, looking at the objects scattered about the surface.

‘What’s this?’ He asked, strangely intrigued by the small speaker- like object.

‘It’s an Alexa, it’s like a - y’know what, doesn’t matter. That’s not what I need you for. Look at this.’ Crowley picked up the ruined painting that he’d spotted earlier, showing it to Aziraphale. The angel scanned over it.

‘Ooh, its Whitby, the place with Dracula!’ He half gasped half squealed, failing to see what his friend was seeing.

‘It’s fucked is what it is, angel. I think they’ve crumpled it up in frustration or something, which I’m not exactly thrilled with. I’m out of niceness for today, can you do something?’ Crowley sighed, thrusting the painting towards his friend slightly.

‘Oh, easily. Your wish is my command, dear.’

Aziraphale swiped his hand across the paper and watched as the creases disappeared and the smudges eased. The colours got just a little brighter, and the beauty of your half- finished painting was restored.

‘We’ll help them finish it tomorrow, yes Crowley?’ The angel continued. Crowley gave a small smile with all the good energy that he had left in his body.

‘Yes angel. That would be nice.’

#good omens #good omens one shot #good omens fanfic #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader

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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years ago

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Skinny Love II (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: second part to skinny love. This is all angst. Very sad. I just watched the pain arc again and had to write something about Kakashi and what happens. Im guessing this could be tagged for spoilers but Naruto is old soooo.

Word count: 5000

“I’m just saying, maybe the second novel is better than the first. You’re free to have your own opinion, that’s just what I think.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Whatever you say,” Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes at the masked man sitting in front of her. She was sipping on a hot bowl of broth after coming home from her most recent mission. It was a nice day out, and she thought it would be a good idea to go out and get something to eat with her favorite shinobi. He was dangerously possessive over his romance novels, and felt immense embarrassment when Y/N decided to pick them up as well.

For a week after finishing the series, she mocked him for liking the gushy, mushy romance that lied on the pages, not to mention the more inappropriate chapters that left nothing to the imagination. Master Jiraiya wasn’t kidding when he said he was doing “research” at the bath house.

“We should go out more often,” he commented, “It’s nice to relax with all this Akatsuki business going on.”

“Definitely. We used to go out like this all the time before you started training those kids,” she hummed. It was true. They had normal outings at that point in time, as the only thing they did was go on missions and then chill at home until the next outing. After Naruto and Sasuke revealed their unique personalities, and got themselves into some sticky situations, the times changed and they spent much more time apart than before. “Not to mention going out with you gives me an excuse to eat whatever I want.”

He nodded in reply, his eyes trailing down to his novel once again which he was skimming over. She didn’t mind him reading at the table. What was he supposed to do? Eat? There was no way he would take off the mask. He was content just giving her company.

His reading gave Y/N an excuse to admire him. Her eyes would lift from the table every time he looked down at the pages, and she would take in all his features. She swore, he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever met, even with the mask. Without a mask, he probably resembled a god. It was nice to just watch as he relaxed into his novel, enjoying himself without any cares in the world.

She liked to talk to him even more. He always knew the right thing to say to make her feel important and wanted, even on her worst of days, he was there to make it better. He was brave and strong, but kind and gentle when need be. His soft words in the late nights they hung out, or his concern when she injured herself, or the happiness the times she made him laugh. Each moment meant so much more to her than he realized.

It was evident to everyone that she had an attachment to him. What kind exactly was the complicated part. While they had been friends for quite a long time, she felt like he was more than just a normal friend or even a best friend. He felt more like a partner than anything, whether it be partner-in-crime or partner-in-love. She loved him with every bone in her body, more than she loved her comrades or her friends, she cared for him like she would a lover.

Maybe it was because she was so shy that she couldn’t tell him how she felt after all this time. Maybe it was fear of rejection. Maybe it was fear of death. She wasn’t sure what held her back from confessing her love to him, spilling all those words she kept under lock and key. She wanted there to be something more, but he’d never let on that he cared for her that way, and surely he would have said something if he did feel that way. It just seemed impossible.

But not to the ordinary person.

People had mentioned in passing to Kakashi that he acted like a lovesick teenager when he was around the woman. She was just so perfect, how could he do anything but adore her. To him, she was one of the only people that truly mattered as more than a fellow shinobi or comrade.

There was no reason to rush it though. If she truly wanted a relationship with him, she would tell him eventually. He wasn’t one to go around throwing out love confessions first. He would wait until she was comfortable and ready. Until then, he would admire her from a distance, through friendly touches and smiles, and dreamy looks when the other wasn’t watching. To him, that was enough.

This lunch outing was the perfect time to waste some hours with her just talking and reading in the others company. The day almost felt too good to be true.

And it was.

First there was the explosion, followed by the screams. Oh, those screams would haunt Y/N’s dreams. Villagers who she’d known growing up screaming in pain. Quickly, she jumped to her feet as did the copy nin. Their eyes frantically looked through the doorway of the restaurant, but there wasn’t anything on their particular street, just dust from the explosion floating down in thick clouds.

“Someone’s attacked the village. Shit,” he cursed under her breath.

They would have to go out there and fight, they both knew that very well. Fight who, they didn’t know, but Y/N could sense that the same foreign chakra signature was coming at her from multiple directions in the village. That couldn’t be good. It was probably that Akatsuki member that everyone was talking about. Pain. Pain with the rinnegan. How could the leaf compete against something as strong as that dojutsu?

“Everybody out! You know the evacuation route,” Y/N called out to the civilians in the restaurant, as she swallowed her panic. She made a move to usher the people from the store so they could run in the direction of refuge.

This wasn’t a normal battle. These intruders were a completely different breed than the ones they were used to fighting. She could feel the impending doom start to blanket around her body, and she took a deep breath. How could this happen? Was Pain here to take Naruto? Naruto wasn’t even in the village, how could that be? Was it the Akatsuki making a big statement attacking one of the five great villages?

There was just something off. She could feel it. Today was going to be one of the worst days, worse than anything else they’d experienced.

“Y/N, let’s go.”

“Kakashi…” she trailed off, not taking a step forward just yet. Was there something she needed to get off her chest before they rushed into a battle with an outcome unknown? As she met his frantic, panicked eyes with her own, she wondered if she should just confess her feelings right then and there, just so he could know before they put their lives on the line.

Never in her life did she think that her or Kakashi might die. It was never a thought that crossed her mind. She assumed she had all the time in the world to gather the courage to tell him. Now it felt like she had run out of time, and they might never get the chance to see each other again. The chakra signatures around them were just too strong to guarantee they would live against their blows. It felt like this was her final chance.

She started again, “Kakashi, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, wanting to hurry this along. She could see plainly that this wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t in the right mind to hear her words, or comprehend the meaning behind them. Instead, she lowered her head and sighed.

And so she kept that secret tightly bound deep in her heart.

“Nevermind, it’s not important. Just be safe out there. Make it back to me in one piece, okay?”

“You know I can’t promise that,” he replied, and her heart sank in her chest. He was right. If he died, he died. If she died, she died. Nothing could stop fate from doing its dirty work.

“Just promise me. Give me some confidence before we jump into this mess. I-I can’t do this without you promising me you’ll live!” She cried, passion and fear dripping off her words. She had her eyes shut tightly at this point, just trying to keep herself from letting the potential tears gather in her eyes. Her fists clenched by her side as well. “Just say something!”

He nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “I promise I’ll make it back to you, Y/N. Now promise you’ll live. For me,” he demanded, lifting her head to face him. His fingers were strong against her cheek, firm when faced with danger. He wanted her to live, but knowing that Pain killed Jiraiya was enough to make him worry and plan for the worst.

Why was he even asking? He knew that words meant nothing. That most promises were just bound to be empty.

Just this one time, he prayed that she’d keep it.

“I promise.”

“Now let’s go. I’ll take this side, and you go that way. Sounds like explosions came from both directions.”

“Got it.”

There was no room for goodbyes.

After that, they went their separate ways. Y/N had to keep herself from losing control. Everything was going to be okay. She was worrying far too much. Kakashi was strong. Stronger than anyone else she knew really. He couldn’t be taken down by some terrorists. It wasn’t an option.

As long as she could sense his chakra lingering in the distance, she would know.

__________

It was painful, the wound that tore through her thigh. Blood dripped thickly from the cut, but she continued to fight. In this situation, there was nothing else to do, nothing more to fight for than the safety of the village and the people within it. Y/N has never seen a villain this bad, someone so dead set on killing and tormenting that it brought the shinobi of the village to their knees. Yet, here he was, this orange haired creature who popped up at multiple points of their city, each with a different signature move yet a similar chakra pattern.

Y/N knew she couldn’t break down just yet, not after seeing comrade after comrade fall to the ground and lose their lives to the cause. She had to keep going for them. For her friends and her family who died. She was never the most talented at fighting, she was more of a sensory type, stay on the inside and study type of kunoichi. But not today. No one had that luxury today.

Constantly, she could feel the loss of the ninja alongside her, their chakra signatures melting into nothing as blasts continued to ravage their village. The fire within their bodies burned for the last time, disappearing into the ashes.

It wasn’t until she was on her knees, face buried in the dirt and rubble did she really feel the pain this man was so desperate to bestow upon the villagers. Kakashi’s chakra had burned out. It was as if her body gave up after that. She couldn’t move, her bones were broken and she couldn’t afford to stand and fall back down once again, believe it that she tried over and over again. Nothing mattered at this point. How could it? She couldn’t feel her best friend’s chakra signature any longer. He was dead.

Her crying into the dirt was the only thing that signalled another shinobi to come and help her to the infirmary. Someone she barely knew had picked her up by the arm and hoisted it over his shoulder, dragging her by his side to the hospital where the medical nin were no doubt working harder than ever. Her whole body felt like it was caked in bloody crimson mud, dust up her nose and muk between her teeth.

Everything just made her cry harder and harder until she felt she was gasping to breathe.

The harsh lights in the building did nothing but sting her eyes, and the dozens of medical nin rushing around those lying on the floor overwhelmed her.

Sakura stood at the front of all the mess, and her eyes immediately caught onto Y/N and her rescuer. “Y/N-sensei, what happened to you?” she cried, rushing over with her frantic hands hovering over the state of the broken woman as she scanned for the wounds. This only caused more sobbing.

“One second she was fine, the next she was lying in the dirt screaming. I don’t know,” the man said, handing her off to the pink haired girl. “She’s got broken legs, I know that.”

“Thank you for bringing her,” she mumbled as she brought her sensei over to an empty cot, sitting her down on the cloth and beginning the healing process on the worst part of her leg where the bone was exposed. She was shaking so badly it was almost hard to concentrate on her work. She’d never seen Y/N so hopeless and lost. She was strong, she never faltered in the face of danger. It worried Sakura, no doubt.

“Sensei, what happened?”

“It’s Kakashi,” the woman croaked between her harsh breaths. “I-I can’t feel his chakra anymore.” Tears ran down her cheeks furiously, dripping from her chin into her lap. She felt the hopelessness overtake her entire person, the only thing left being complete and utter fear. Her chest heaved, desperate for the next gulp of air into her lungs.

Sakura nearly faltered at the words. Kakashi sensei, dead? How could that be? He was one of the strongest shinobi they knew. He would never fall victim to a villain, would he? From the sounds of Y/N’s heartbroken cries, the medical nin knew that it was over. That another life had been stolen from them.

Kakashi was Y/N’s heart and soul. She loved him for years and planned to love him for many more. Everyone knew that. Kakashi and her may have never acknowledged their feelings before his death, but the skinny love lingered in the air every time they were around each other.

The longing looks when they passed each other in the street. The pain they felt when the other was hurt. The smiles they shared when something good happened in their no-good shinobi lives. They were more than willing to lay their lives on the line for the other, more than just a comrade, more than a friend.

Her passion for Kakashi was the only good thing she had to come home to after missions. His face was the one thing she wanted to see after a bad day. His stupid face as he read his perverted novels, that grin that she positively adored.

All of that was gone, and her heart couldn’t take it. The pain from her injuries sat in the back of her mind, the only thing she could focus on was the loss. Knowing she would never see him again, never hear his voice. If only she could hear him laugh one more time. It was impossible, but she wished to the heavens above for mercy.

Sadly, no one was there to listen.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Sakura whispered, not knowing what else to say. What could she say?

“I need him. I can’t do this without him,” she sobbed, her hands shaking by her side, having to clench her fists just to stop the tremors. “Sakura, it’s been 15 years. I...I don’t know a life without him.”

Her heart broke at the words. It was true. She didn’t know life anymore without Kakashi. They’d been friends and comrades for so long that it seemed like that was all she knew. How can you come back from that? Sakura didn’t know. She might be able to heal the woman’s legs, but there was no way she could begin to heal such a broken heart.

“It’s okay. You have plenty of others. You have Gai and Kurenai and-”

“Fuck everyone else. You know they can’t replace him,” she snapped. “No one can replace him.”

Sakura could only nod solemnly. They could lie all day and pretend that Gai would somehow swoop in and make up for that gaping hole in her heart. They could lie and say that Kurenai and her child would fill Y/N with a happiness she felt with Kakashi. Yes, they could certainly lie about it all.

At the end of the day though, her pain would be unrivalled. Losing the one man you’ve loved from the moon and back. It would take an entire army and then some to combat such a struggle.

When Sakura was done healing the woman, she handed her a roll of bandages from her pocket. “I’ve got to tend to others. Wrap this around your calf and then stay here to rest. Please, just rest yourself, sensei. You’ll heal faster that way.” Y/N took the bandages and nodded her head weakly, shaky hands going to wrap her bare and burned calf with the medical bandages.

Her mind still centered around Kakashi. She found herself curling up into a ball on the little bench she was sat at, hugging her knees close to her chest. She just cried. Right now, she couldn’t do anything else.

Just cry.

________

The village was in complete and utter ruin. Y/N lay painfully utop a mountain of rubble, blood oozing from the back of her head and from her already injured leg. Pain’s final attack, one that completely demolished the village...it spared her life.

How could things get any fucking worse?

She felt like the Gods were being especially cruel to her on this day. Especially cruel to every single person in the village, but they kept Y/N alive for their own personal amusement, laughing at her loss and her pain and her frustration.

Despite Lady Tsunade sending out Katsuyu to protect the villagers, Y/N only seemed to be in worse shape than before. She could feel the slug on her shoulder slowly healing her, but it wasn’t much compared to the pain and the numerous injuries.

Y/N rolled onto her side and groaned, pain shooting up her spine and giving her a brain-shattering headache. When she went to cough on something thick and slimy in her throat, what splattered on the ground was red. Maybe she was just meant to die slow and painfully.

It was better this way, she decided. Nothing could make this day worth it. Nothing. The pain was unbearable.

“Y/N? Is that you?” a feminine voice called from a little while away, and the woman cursed, spitting up more blood as she did so. Sakura climbed through some of the rubble to approach her. Her hands hovered over the woman’s broken body, scanning over all her wounds.

Naruto was down there fighting Pain. Everything was going to be okay as long as they had faith in the Uzumaki. Sakura could focus a bit of her energy on healing her sensei. There was nothing else to do except watch the fight below them, in the center of the wasteland that used to be the Hidden Leaf.

She began the healing process, medical chakra flowing into the woman’s chest wounds, the most critical of all. “Sakura…”

“What is it, Y/N?”

“What’s happening? Is everyone dead?”

“No, everyone is alive. Lady Tsunade sent out Katsuyu to protect everyone. It seems that you were injured before your healing slug could get to you. Thankfully, you have both of us to fix you up,” she muttered. Y/N would have been blind to not notice the way Sakura stared past her deeper into the wreckage as she spoke.

“What do you see?” she asked quietly, as loud as her body could muster.

“It’s Naruto. He’s out there fighting Pain alone,” she said, “He-he’s gotten so much stronger.”

The older woman smiled through her pain, shutting her eyes and letting a soft sigh leave her lips. She hadn’t anticipated Naruto to come saving the day, in fact, it seemed more likely that Pain would kill everyone and leave the village in ruin. Fortunately, Kakashi’s student, the one that people had underestimated for so long, was out there doing what the rest of them couldn’t.

A hero. No matter if he won or not, these are the actions of a hero.

“It’s his destiny: to save this village,” she whispered. “Jiraiya once said so.”

“Let’s hope he was right.”

Together they lay there in the middle of ruin while Naruto battled Pain. They watched as the two men launched themselves away from the village into the woods, the nine tailed fox coming to life far away from where they huddled together. The village was safe from direct harm at this point and the two women let down their guard just a little bit. Down in the middle of the pit some of the students started to gather, including a heavily injured Hinata.

“Help me down there, Sakura. I need to see Gai,” she said, louder than before. After all that time healing, she found herself strong enough to prop up on her elbows and gaze into the destruction.

Once down there, Sakura was quick to start healing Hinata, fearing that the girl had taken too much damage to handle. After all, she charged against Pain, the supposedly leader of this terrorist attack. All of that to help out young Naruto. Y/N felt like she was staring at an image of herself for a moment. A young woman ready to sacrifice it all for the sake of the man she loved.

As her eyes moved around the area, she caught onto the bright green outfit of her long time friend. His eyes caught hers for a moment and quickly, he rushed over to her side. She collapsed onto her knees, wincing at the pain that ran through her body as she did so. She found herself still a bit too weak to stand.

“Y/N, you’re alive,” he gasped. He knelt on the ground beside her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, steadying her shaky form. “Your injuries-”

“Forget about that, Gai,” she mumbled. “Something terrible has happened.” He couldn’t imagine what she had to say could be any worse than the destruction of the entire village. But he nodded and sat there listening as she spoke her words carefully, painfully with each syllable that left her lips. “Kakashi is dead.”

He felt his heart drop in his chest. As he looked at the woman before him, he knew that she wanted nothing more to cry, yet there were no tears. He assumed that she had already cried her fill earlier and could only mourn at this point. He didn’t ask before wrapping her smaller form up in his arms and tugging her to his chest, burying his nose in her hair. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his shoulder, dry sobs causing her entire form to quiver.

In a moment like this one, he just remained still for her. Sit there and be there through this pain. He felt crushed at the thought of his best friend dead, his eternal rival somewhere out there in all that rubble fatally injured. Gai had lost a brother that day, and Y/N had lost her one and only lover.

He listened as she hopelessly bawled in the comfort of his arms, feeling every bit of her pain sink into his form. They had gone through battles together before, they grew up teammates and friends, how could they not. They had seen death and pain all their lives. This was on another level, incomprehensible to either of them.

Pure misery. Every emotion seemed to burn in her chest. She wanted to curl up and die herself.

________

It felt like hours went by before the lives were returned. She hadn’t thought much of it when the elderly Toad woke up from his eternal slumber. For a moment, she thought it was just a fluke. That he had never really died in the first place, they just thought he did. But then, she watched as people above the trench started to stand from their resting places on the ground and in the rubble.

That is when she realized that somehow, someway, the lives lost during this terrible battle had been reclaimed. It was only a matter of time before she found out if Kakashi had come back to life as well. She sat there, focusing all her energy into sensing nearby chakra, sorting through hundreds of people for the one she wanted.

Gai had left to help out some of the others, so she just sat there waiting. Waiting for Kakashi to come back to her. Just like he promised.

After all this chaos, she couldn’t imagine keeping her love a secret from him any longer. He needed to know. She wouldn’t let this opportunity go wasted. Y/N was given a second chance at finding love in her friend, and she would be damned if she let that go to waste.

After a while, she began to feel his chakra. At first it was very faint, like he was a mile away hidden underneath rocks and everything else you could imagine. But then it got stronger.

He was alive.

When she saw his form climb down into the pit with the rest of them, his mask torn and only the bottom layer of his clothes still intact, she nearly cried once again. For hours before this, she was prepared to never see him alive again, never see that masked face look down upon hers once more. She had mourned the loss of Kakashi Hatake, only for him to be returned.

It was as if the God’s had listened to her prayers.

“Kakashi!” she exclaimed as she struggled to get herself up from the ground. She knelt on one knee, pushing herself up with the other, desperate to walk over to him. Her body failed her of course, and she fell back onto her butt. He noticed her though, her tiny figure in the crowd of hundreds. She was the one person he wanted to find all along.

He fell onto his knees beside her, his hands coming up to grasp her cheeks with his dusty, calloused hands. She relaxed into his rough fingers, sinking into the warmth that he was sharing. His thumbs slid along her lips and chin, trying to rub away the dirt that was caked in some places. She was a mess, messier than he was. He could only imagine the suffering that she went through as well, to have survived all of that without death as a retreat in the middle.

“Y/N, what happened to you?”

“Pain’s final blow caused some pretty bad wounds, but it’s fine. Sakura healed me enough that I’ll make it through,” she told him. Softly, she lifted her hands to place them over top his, her fingers slowly wrapping around his. “Kakashi, you broke your promise to me.”

“I know.”

She found that the words came out faster than she anticipated. Emotions and feelings being laid out in the open for him to see/ “I-I completely lost myself when I couldn’t feel your chakra anymore. I thought I’d lost you. I couldn’t stop crying, and I was angry at you for breaking your promise to me,” she rambled, “I didn’t know what I was gonna do without you.”

“It’s alright. I’m here now. Whatever Naruto has done saved my life,” he soothed, letting their hands fall into her lap. She wouldn’t let go of his hands even if he wanted them to himself. She was afraid. Afraid that if she let him go once more that he would be gone forever. “And I’m sorry I lied to you. I really shouldn’t have died like that. So irresponsible of me.”

There he was cracking a fucking joke about his own death. She wanted to smack him for being so dimwitted in a moment of vulnerability. Just the thought of being with him again made tears spring up in her eyes, and she shut her eyes to keep them from falling. Happy tears or not, she wasn’t going to cry again.

“I need to tell you what I was too afraid to say before. What I wanted to say before we went our separate ways,” she confessed, her breaths coming out harsh and rushed. Once again, she gripped his hands tighter in hers.

After taking a couple breaths, she lifted her eyes to meet his, mouth just agape. He really was all she could ever need. This moment wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t ideal, but it was just right for what she needed to say. “I’ve always loved you, Kakashi.”

“Y/N-”

“Listen, I know it’s not exactly an appropriate time to be confessing my love to you and all, but I couldn’t risk another day going by without telling you.”

“I love you, too.”

And silence.

There wasn’t anything else to say. The love was mutual, it had been all this time. They just took their time getting around to admitting it, to just hear those words leave the other’s lips for the first time. There were no butterflies in her stomach nor did her heart race in her chest at his confession.

She could only feel comfort in the umbrella they’d created for themselves, the outside world lost to the both of them.

In a flash, she lurched forward to wrap her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face deep into his neck. “Don’t die ever again, Hatake, or I’ll kick your ass,” she laughed, the sound of her laugh reaching his ear. He held her to his chest and sighed.

“No promises.”

Despite what happened that day, he felt comfortable. For the first time, in a very long time, he felt relief wash over him. Everything was going to be okay.

“Kakashi!”

Requests Are Open!

#kakashi x reader #kakashi imagine #kakashi oneshot #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x reader #naruto x reader #naruto one shot #naruto imagines #naruto #naruto shippuden #one shot #x reader #writing #hope you guys like this one ill be back with either a new kakashi fic or a shikamaru fic soon

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