#just catching up on asks don’t send any new mod asks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

edendaphne · 4 years ago

Text

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 19

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

–––––

CHAPTER 19: ATTACCA

Music glossary: Attacca - "To attack at once"; used as a direction in music at the end of a movement to begin the next without pause

–––––

(Mood music: "The Conversation" - Pearl Django)

Being mere months away from graduating lycée meant that their group of friends didn’t have as many classes together, due to their diverse individual interests and talents. However, they always made sure to make time to hang out after school before their extracurricular activities began.

And thus, Adrien, Nino, and Alya made their way to the classroom where the art club gathered to meet up with Marinette. From there, Adrien would make his way to either fencing lessons or Chinese, depending on the day of the week. Marinette would join him on days when he had Chinese (as she’d become determined to master the language ever since her uncle visited from Shanghai a few years back), Alya would go to her journalism club, and Nino would travel to his part-time internship at the local recording studio.

“–and the backlogs just keep piling up!” Alya spoke as they walked, voice full of vigor and excitement. “I’ve had to recruit yet another mod to help me keep order in the forums! Especially since the Ladyblog has started going international and we’ve had to organize servers in different languages. You wouldn’t believe how crazy it’s gotten in there recently!”

“Dang, babe,” Nino interjected. “Sounds like things are super rough for you right now.”

“Not really, more busy than anything. Especially because I have that big research article due next week, there’s just not enough hours in the day to try to read everything that goes on in there. But I have my mods report to me daily, ‘cause I always like to stay on top of everything that goes on in the chats!”

“What’s gotten everyone so riled up in the Ladyblog lately?” Adrien chimed in. “I don’t recall it being nearly this busy last year.”

The trio entered the art club’s classroom and settled down at the table where Marinette sat, getting her various sketches organized. The art teacher was quite easy going, so they didn’t have to talk in hushed whispers and could come and go as they pleased.

“Well, to be honest, it’s because of Chat Noir,” Alya replied.

Adrien tried to contain his surprise. “R-really? What– uhhh, what do people have to say about him?”

He winced inwardly. He knew he shouldn’t ask. But curiosity got the better of him today. Maybe learning the news through the filter or Alya’s paraphrasing instead of reading the negative comments firsthand would lessen the sting of what people said about him.

Marinette whipped her head around at the mention of his alter ego. “Wait, what about Chat Noir?” she inquired.

“Girl,” Alya replied, her voice filled with renewed exuberance. “You would not believe how much we’ve had to censor and moderate all the inappropriate things people have been saying!”

Adrien flinched in his seat. “Wow… do people really hate him that much?” he asked, trying to conceal the dejection in his voice.

Alya busted out into loud guffaws. “Hate?! Dude, most people don’t hate him; they LOVE him! By ‘inappropriate’ comments, I mean the kinda stuff you wouldn’t want your grandma to catch you reading! There’s a whole giant section dedicated to his new fan club!” she said as she removed her glasses so she could wipe away the tears of laughter.

“WHAT?!” Adrien squawked in confusion, his face feeling hotter than the ovens back at the bakery. “A fan club??”

Marinette burst into uncontrollable snickering. “Has it really gotten that bad?!”

Nino joined in, “Bro! Adrien, I can’t believe you haven’t heard Alya rant about these rabid fans before! They call themselves the ‘Noir Nation’, and the kind of things they’ve been writing would make adult romance authors blush like schoolgirls!”

Alya nodded, thoroughly amused. “And that’s not including all the fanfiction people have been writing.”

“Wait– the WHAT?! There’s fanfiction?!!” Marinette gaped in shock, as if she’d been hit in the face with an enormous pie. “Alya, how come I never knew about this?!”

“Why? You wanna read em? Girl, you’ll get no judgment from me. If you wanna check ‘em out for yourself, just go check under the hashtag ‘Ladynoir’.”

Marinette stammered as her arms flailed in her bewilderment, accidentally knocking her phone off the table and onto the floor, her eyes bigger and rounder than Adrien had ever seen them. “They have a ship name?!” she screeched.

“Just mind the ratings though,” Alya advised. “Some of them can get pretty steamy. You wouldn’t want someone to catch you reading those in public,” she added with a wink.

Marinette continued to sputter incoherently. “NO, I am NOT gonna read it!! It would be different if they were fictional characters, but I could never read fanfiction about real people!”

Alya raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Mm-hmm… Sure.”

Marinette’s hands flew to her face, trying to hide how red her entire face had gotten, and released a long squeak that resembled a hamster on helium. As shocked as Adrien was about these rather unexpected news, seeing Marinette’s over-the-top reaction brought a wide grin to his face and he busted out laughing.

He bent over to retrieve Marinette’s phone, since she was too busy being mortified to notice it had fallen to the floor. As he was about to hand it back, the screen lit up and Adrien saw the lockscreen wallpaper: it was the same photo of Ladybug and Chat Noir that he himself had saved earlier that day. He smiled, not exactly sure what to make of it, but finding it adorable that she’d liked the photo enough to set it as her lockscreen.

He tapped her shoulder, waiting for her to respond. She emerged from behind her impromptu hand shield and turned her head, then her eyes widened once again as soon as she saw what Adrien was showing her. She jolted straight up, stiff as a board, and her eyes met his, cheeks turning tomato red. He winked at her, amused about this little secret between them, and handed back her phone without a word.

Marinette accepted it with a meek-sounding, “Thanks,” looking like she wanted to explain the photo, but not able to do so unless she wanted Alya and Nino to find out that she was potentially a… ahem– “Ladynoir” shipper.

Switching the conversation to something else (which Marinette seemed to be eternally grateful for), the group chatted until it became time for them to scatter to their next destinations.

With a wave, Adrien exited the classroom and headed towards fencing practice, one of the few activities he decided to stick with despite not being forced to participate. Fencing, along with Chinese lessons, were not only enjoyable, but were also quite useful. Sadly, he didn’t have access to a piano anymore, so he wasn’t able to pursue that hobby for the time being. Hopefully later down the line, when things had settled down and he’d found his own place to live, he’d be able to finance one.

Thinking about the future had become an exciting pastime instead of an anxiety-inducing one, and it was all thanks to his friends and those he cared about. He smiled as he reached the door to the locker rooms, continuing to daydream of what was to come.

(Mood music: "Recollection 3" - Shirō Sagisu (BLEACH OST, "The Diamond Dust Rebellion")

Adrien finished getting dressed for fencing, his head still blissfully floating in the clouds. He stored his belongings into his assigned locker, shutting it with a loud clang, which echoed through the empty room.

Huh...? Empty?

He swiveled his head around, surprised that there was no one beside him. He stood up and began walking down the large room, peeking down the other locker rows looking for his classmates; but there was nobody.

Where was everyone? There’s no way that every single one of them was running late. Had his lessons been cancelled and he’d somehow missed a text message or email? He began heading back towards his locker to check his phone for any schedule changes.

Before he reached his destination, however, heavy thudding footsteps broke the eerie silence. Adrien whipped his body around to greet whoever they belonged to.

The owner of those footsteps was one of the last people Adrien expected to meet here.

“Gaspard?!”

Adrien stood agape, face to face with his old bodyguard, whom he hadn’t seen in a couple of years; not since he’d resigned and moved out of the country. Nathalie had mentioned that in his resignation letter, Gaspard said that he’d become involved in an overseas business venture involving the market of rare action figures. Nevertheless, Adrien couldn’t help but suspect that his father’s ill temper and poor treatment of their employees was the true reason for his departure.

Adrien’s first reaction was surprise and joy, and he rushed forward to greet and embrace him. However, as he approached and got a better look at the man’s face, Adrien’s mood instantly morphed into confusion and apprehension. There was something odd about his eyes.

Something wasn’t right. Why was Gaspard here? And why now?

He came to a halt about a meter before reaching him. An oppressive weight seemed to press in all around him, and he had to suppress a shiver. “Wait. Gaspard, did–” he gulped, “–did my father send you?”

His old bodyguard did not reply, but took a heavy step towards him. Adrien stepped back.

“Please… I can’t go back. I live somewhere else now, and I’m very happy there. Whatever he told you about the situation, it’s a lie.”

His bodyguard continued to approach him, his stare vacant and unsettling.

Fighting the urge to panic, he pleaded, “You don’t have to do this. If he’s offered you compensation, I can match it; it’ll just take me a bit of time. But we can work something out, right?? For old time’s sake?”

He continued walking backwards until he bumped into something firm, but it wasn’t a wall; it was another person. Before he could turn around, they grabbed him by the shoulders, detaining him and preventing him from running away.

He was about to shout for help when something sharp jabbed him on the side of the neck, injecting a cold liquid. Adrien’s eyes grew wide in terror.

Shit.

Adrien swore as he jerked away, elbowing whoever was behind him and managing to break free. Rubbing at the spot where the syringe had stabbed him, he glanced back to take a look at his other assailant, only to see... another Gaspard?

Why are there two of him??

This was wrong. Gaspard didn’t have a twin; he knew that for a fact. He’d worked for the Agrestes ever since Adrien was a toddler and was too young to even pronounce his name correctly (hence the nickname “Gorille”, which stuck around for years afterwards). Additionally, there was something uncanny, otherworldly, even, about the way these two men looked and moved.

He shook himself out of his stupor. He didn’t have time to contemplate any possible explanations. He had to get out of there fast.

He sprinted towards the exit, but only managed to travel a few paces before he lost his footing and tripped. He fell to the ground hard, almost hitting his head on a nearby bench. As he struggled to get up, he realized that his fingers and toes had already gone numb.

Not good.

Time was running out. Adrenaline coursed through him and, with a grunt, he hefted himself to his feet and scrambled towards the exit, as fast as he could despite a heavy limp. Though his heart was hammering and his legs felt like they were filled with sand, he pushed himself, concentrating on reaching the door.

After taking a few steps, however, he realized that even if he did manage to exit the locker room, the area beyond was an open courtyard. Meaning he wasn’t going to be able to reach someplace safe before getting caught. He had no choice but to transform into Chat Noir, and hopefully Plagg’s powers and strength could help him escape and find somewhere to hide.

He’d scarcely uttered the first syllable in the transformation phrase when he was tackled to the ground. A giant hand swiftly covered his mouth and Adrien felt his hands get bound together with thick zip ties behind his back. A muffled scream of writhing frustration made its way up his throat as his limbs became more and more useless by the second.

No… This can’t be happening! Please, this can’t be how it all ends!

Just when his life had finally gained a semblance of normalcy and he’d found happiness again, it would get ripped away and he would disappear without a trace, leaving everyone to wonder what had happened to him. Leaving his friends to think that Gabriel had pulled him from school and they would never see him again. Leaving Ladybug to wonder if Chat had abandoned her forever. Leaving her to fight Hawkmoth alone. Again.

He couldn’t let that happen. He thrashed and struggled as furiously as he could, fighting the feelings of overwhelming helplessness that threatened to consume him. Nearing despair, he was too distracted to notice Plagg phrasing through the wall, away from the skirmish, in search of the only person who could save him.

(Mood music: "Run" - Ludovico Einaudi)

Marinette fidgeted with her pencil, her feet wiggled and bounced under her desk. She didn’t understand; when she’d arrived at the art club, her head had been filled with inspiration and ideas that she’d been excited to draw and execute. However, at the moment, her mind was filled with noise and disquietude.

Having had enough, she excused herself to visit the restroom. Once she’d walked far enough from the classroom, she opened her purse to talk to Tikki about her current dilemma.

“It’s the same feeling as last night, Tikki! Except that would mean one of three possibilities. Option A.) It’s nothing and I’m going crazy. And— don’t give me that look, Tikki! I can see what you’re thinking and I don’t have time for your cheeky sass right now!” The kwami snickered while Marinette cleared her throat and continued, “Option B.) that Chat is here, at this school, which is impossible because his school’s on the other side of the city, that’s why he always leaves the house super early for his long commute.”

Tikki opened her mouth and looked like she was about to say something, but then didn’t (...or couldn’t?).

Marinette resumed, “Or, C.) that my–– what do I even call it? My ‘Spidey sense’??–– that it’s got a long distance mode, and Chat is all the way across Paris and he’s in trouble! But what am I supposed to do about that from here?! I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking!”

Tikki shrugged. “Follow your instincts, Marinette. There’s no harm in taking a quick look around the school, right?”

Marinette groaned. “UGH! It doesn’t make sense!! Am I going to get interrupted like this all the time from now on?” She shook her head resolutely. “No. I can’t just go off on random field trips every single time I feel a random fit of anxiety. I’m sure it’s just leftover jitters from last night. I’m supposed to call Master Fu after school anyway; he can help me figure everything out. I’m just gonna go back to class and forget about it.”

Tikki frowned, not quite convinced, but deciding not to press further.

Marinette made her way back to the classroom in a frustrated huff. But as her hand reached to turn the handle, the feelings of danger and urgency multiplied tenfold. Without a word, she sprinted away in the opposite direction, not even knowing where she was running to, only knowing she had to get there immediately.

She reached the large common area of the school downstairs. Her head whipped around, frantically searching for something, anything. In her haste, she didn’t notice a small black creature zoom into her open purse.

A few moments later, she felt a frantic tugging at her shirt from below.

“Marinette!! Over there! Check the locker room, quick!!!” Tikki whisper-screamed as she peeked outside the purse, her tone uncharacteristically frantic.

Marinette nodded, then sprinted to the locker room.

“Wait! You should transform first!” Tikki added.

No time!

“Marinette, wait!!”

Despite Tikki’s protests, Marinette raced towards the double doors, tackling them open.

Three sets of eyes landed on her as she skidded to a halt, but only one pair consumed her entire attention. She gasped in horror, hands flying to her face as she stared at what was occurring in front of her. Adrien let out a desperate, muffled scream urging her to run.

His panicked voice snapped her out of her dazed shock; but instead of running, she stood her ground, eyes darting back and forth across the area searching for something useful. The room was remarkably barren except for a lone broom a short distance away from her. She grabbed it and leaped towards the closest attacker (the one holding Adrien down), swinging it like a baseball bat.

The man didn’t even try to avoid the hit; the broomstick merely bounced off the side of his face where Marinette had hit him. She frowned in confusion, then tried hitting him again, bringing the stick down on the top of his head like an axe.

SNAP.

The end of the broom flew off, and Marinette stared in shock at the broken broomstick.

“What the hell are you?!” Marinette exclaimed, shifting her grip on the shortened wooden stub.

She pounced at the second bodyguard, bringing her weapon down in a stabbing motion; but he swatted at her hand, disarming her. She yelped in pain, leaping backwards to get some distance between them.

She was outmatched. The only strategy available was to use their own size against them. With a feint to the side, she shot at his legs for a takedown, hoping to catch him off balance. He called her bluff and shoved her backwards with his giant palm, then kneed her in the stomach.

Winded from the impact, Marinette doubled over with a gasping wheeze, fighting with all her might to keep herself from collapsing onto the ground. She forced herself upright and attacked again. With a clumsy jerk, she lunged forward, swinging wild punches at her opponent. The shots connected but his expression barely changed; it was like beating a breathing punching bag.

The bodyguard backhanded Marinette across the face. Pain shooting across her cheek, she staggered, almost losing her balance. In her daze, she watched helplessly as the man reared his arm back. There was no chance to dodge. His fist connected with her abdomen, delivering a liver shot that shut down her entire body. She crumpled to the floor as if boneless. She tried to call out Adrien’s name, but her mouth merely opened in a silent scream.

Marinette could hear Adrien’s distressed screaming, but it sounded distant, like they were underwater. The edges of her vision grew black and fuzzy, the entire room dissolving around her. She had to consciously force her lungs to inhale, but couldn’t fill them all the way, as if a boulder had been placed on top of her chest.

Faintly, she felt herself getting picked up off the ground and carried away over someone’s shoulder. Disoriented and semi-blinded, the sudden movement and rough jostling made her head spin and gave her vertigo. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out.

A few moments later, they stopped moving, and she heard a door burst open. Where were they? Before she could gather her senses, she was in the air, thrown several meters away, landing with a hard thud. A sharp pain traveled down her body as she rolled into the wall across them. The shriek that tried to escape her throat emerged as a strained, shallow whine.

The man stomped out, leaving her alone in the room. “Stop…!” she rasped out, managing to tilt her neck upwards, head pounding.

The bodyguard slammed the door shut, followed by a bang and a clattering sound that could only mean he’d broken the doorknob of whatever room she was in.

Marinette's vision became more and more blurred. At the verge of losing consciousness, she fought to keep her eyes open as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

No, she couldn’t pass out! She had to save Adrien! Stay awake, Marinette, stay awake!!

She bit down on her lip hard, focusing on the sharp sting, on the swelling that was already forming around her right eye, forcing herself to feel the pain her body was in. At this moment, feeling pain was better than falling unconscious. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly regaining her senses.

She reached down to open her purse and get Tikki’s help… only to be met with emptiness. Panic settled in her gut as she realized that sometime during the skirmish, the purse had slipped off her shoulder. She sat up, slowly, so she wouldn’t risk feeling faint again from the change in positions.

She squinted, adjusting her eyesight to the darkness of the room. It seemed to be some sort of supply closet. After a failed few attempts to stand, she crawled towards the door instead, careful not to bump into the crates and shelves that filled the area.

The girl eyed the broken doorknob wearily. She was pretty proficient at lockpicking and breaking into things, but not as good at breaking out. Her only hope was that Tikki would be able to find her… if she was even nearby.

She swore to herself. Why had she rushed in and attacked two grown ass men (who, incidentally, may or may not be supernatural to boot!) instead of hiding and creating a strategy?! Now she was useless, Tikki was gone, and Adrien was surely on his way to get auctioned to the highest bidder in the criminal black market and ransomed off for an enormous sum. Great job, Marinette. Adrien’s been abducted and it’s all your fault.

Gathering all the determination she could muster, she tried to call out for help. But her voice was still too hoarse, and only a weak croak came out. She clenched her fists, grumbling irritably. Time for a different approach. Somehow, she needed to make noise.

After a brief search, she found a hard, metallic object that she could use to hammer on the door. She tested it out; it was surprisingly effective. She doubled her efforts, making as big a racket as possible. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of time before somebody heard her, let her out, and she could go find Adrien.

She couldn’t let anything else happen to another loved one. Not again.

–––––

I'M REEEAAAAALLY SORRY FOR THAT CLIFFHANGER JSHDKFJHSKDF ᕕ(╯°д°)ᕗ I tried splitting up the sections differently but it didn't really flow as well.

But the next chapter is almost done, so I'll have it ready by next weekend!!

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #enemies to lovers #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes

156 notes · View notes

eijiroukiriot · 3 years ago

Note

#8 kiribaku? :D

8. ...in secrecy

In Katsuki’s mind, most things are black and white. Easily reducible to a single snap judgement. All Might was the best hero because he never lost. Those Class B losers are the worst because they think it’s Katsuki’s fault that he’s better than them. The dorms are great because Kirishima is there.

The dorms are the absolute worst, because the rest of the idiots in their class never leave them alone.

“I’m telling you, I’m taking back my crown tonight. I’ve got a new technique,” Katsuki hears Kaminari say. He can’t even stand to walk as a part of the group anymore, so he keeps pace five steps ahead of them. You’d think that after a month of living together, Kaminari and Sero would pick up on what a bad idea it is to block off not only every Friday, but every Saturday and Sunday, too, as “friend time”. Game nights and movies and choking down Kaminari’s shitty modded ramen. They still haven’t fully earned friend status in Katsuki’s book, but Kirishima never says no when it’s Soy Sauce and Dunce Face, and Katsuki isn’t just gonna hand his boyfriend over to a couple of losers for all the time they could’ve been spending together.

So, game night it is.

“You got a new technique since last night?” Sero shoots back. He’s probably elbowing Kirishima to egg him into joining - no, Katsuki knows he is. He’s not gonna turn to look. The sooner he gets to the elevator, the sooner they’re down in the common room, the sooner those two drive themselves into a one-on-one death match and Katsuki can ignore him in favor of Kirishima on the couch.

But as Katsuki’s finger hits the down button, Kirishima says, “Wait, Bakugou,” and that’s the one voice that can get him to turn.

Kirishima’s stopped in front of his door, hand on the doorknob. “I’ve gotta give you back your chem notes, right?”

He’s looking at Katsuki with the same certain smile as usual.

Katsuki glances at Kaminari’s confused face, then back at him, and says, “Right.”

With a nod in Katsuki’s direction, he ushers him towards the door, and points the grin at Kaminari and Sero - a don’t worry about it that could break down any skeptic. “We’ll catch up to you guys in a sec.”

There’s definitely the beginnings of a typical clueless what? why don’t we just come in? on Kaminari’s face, but before it can make its way out, the elevator dings. “Okay, but be fast. I wanna get my Smash on.”

“What, you’re in that much of a hurry to lose?” Sero says, stepping in behind him. Before he presses the ground floor button, he waves.

Kaminari’s groans of protest echo all the way down the hall. Kirishima stays perched in the doorframe, like a sailor waving to a departing boat, until the door’s completely shut - and then, in one swift motion, pulls his own door shut and clicks the lock behind him.

“You don’t have my chem notes,” Katsuki says.

“We gotta tell them Friday is date night,” Kirishima blurts, before Katsuki’s done speaking. He breaks out so much air with it that his wound-up shoulders drop three inches.

This is the first time they’ve been alone all day, and Kirishima had to break his men don’t tell lies code to make it happen. It pulls a laugh out of Katsuki, which he covers with a, “Fucking finally.”

“You know I love those guys, but I wanna have some alone time, too.”

Too, as in he had noticed Katsuki wanted to get away from those idiots, and broke his men don’t tell lies code to make it happen for him. “So tell them.”

“Yeah.” Kirishima looks set on the decision, but he’s still pressed up against the door.

“Shouldn’t we go down there,” Katsuki asks. If this coming Friday will be just for them, he doesn’t mind pushing Kaminari off a video game stage for an hour tonight.

“Yeah, but,” Kirishima says, and then pauses. He showered before they met up, so his hair’s hanging down around his face, and curling up a little as it dries. It hides his ears, but there’s a little bit of red peeking into his cheeks.

His face breaks into a little half smile. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

They’ve only kissed four times so far - Katsuki’s counted - and this is the first time they’ve been alone all day and Kirishima had to break his men don’t tell lies code to make it happen because he wanted to kiss him.

God dammit, Katsuki should’ve told them to get lost himself.

His own cheeks are definitely heating up, so before Kirishima catches on, he grabs the collar of his shirt, which he stole from Katsuki a few days ago, and pushes his lips against his. It’s not graceful, but fuck graceful - “watch how much force you use” sounds like advice one of the girls in their class would try to give him without his asking. As soon as he realizes what’s going on, Kirishima starts pushing back, too; it’s hard, but there’s no bumping, or awkward collision of teeth. The thought sends a rush through his body that makes it feel like he’ll fly straight off the ground - they’re definitely getting better at this.

“Hang on,” Kirishima breathes, pulling away just long enough to move them over to the edge of his bed. The way he sits, one of his legs is over Katsuki’s and one of Katsuki’s is over his; it’s an uncoordinated landing, but the hand that cups Katsuki’s face is gentle, and when Kirishima leans into him again, it’s to leave three soft kisses on his face - the side of his nose, the inside of his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

“That’s,” Katsuki says. He doesn’t really know what he’s going to say next. His throat feels dry, and Kirishima’s looking at him with the warmest eyes in the world like he’s the only person he wants to see.

Needless to say, it takes them a few minutes to get downstairs.

#kiribaku #bnha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #my writing #IT'S. been a second lmao hello hi!!!#i swear i didn't forget about these prompts i just got stuck on a few of them and then got very very sidetracked #i definitely went overboard w this one too slkdjgkjf #i didn't realize how short the other 2 were until i checked the word count and realized. this is twice as long #but i reeeeally wanted to write this scene and honestly having that prompt was a perfect excuse to do it #i really hope they know how lucky they are to be in love...;-;#anyway i have my first cold since the pandemic started and i was pretty sure i'd crash at like 9:30 today but here i am with late night writ #ing #and zero self control #time to pass out now goodnight krbks sweet dreams

57 notes · View notes

forbidding-souda · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request the V3 boys brushing their fem S/O's hair?

DV3 Boys brushing their fem S/O hair

YES!! Cute stuff right here

I’ll just say Saihara’s is still hair related but he doesn’t brush her hair technically.

-Mod Souda

Shinguuji Korekiyo

“Do you think there are going to be things you haven’t seen before?” You ask, still a bit flustered by the feeling of his hands brushing against your neck.

He hums in amusement. “Things I haven’t seen before? Quite possibly. But I’m sure I know their history better than any contemporary source.”

A new museum opened up, and with the news popping up, you wanted to take him to it. He accepted happily.

Before every date, though, he always helps you get ready. Helps you get out of the shower, dries you both off together, dresses you, and does your hair.

Not something flashy, you told him, and he listened. The soft coo of the brush replaced the typical electric purrs of a curling iron.

“Can I add a braid?” He asks, already sectioning off parts of your hair.

“Korekiyo - a small one.”

“A small one,” he reassures.

Rantarou Amami

You curl against your pillow, holding it like it another person.

And he sits behind you, holding your hair softly, brushing it. The soft sounds of the brush soothe you.

You have a hard time sleeping, which is not a new thing at all, and it seems like nothing but his touch can ease you into sleep.

There’s a silence in the room. No words. No ticking clocks or birds outside. Just the soft hums of the hairbrush.

When you close your eyes, it feels like you are safe. Like this is where you are meant to be.

Shuichi Saihara

“You can’t brush your hair when it’s wet,” he says from his spot on the sofa. You walk past him in a hurry to the kitchen, dressed in pajamas.

His words didn’t even process to you.

You stop, hairbrush still pulling through the wet knots. “What?”

“It’s more fragile while it’s wet, you’re going to weaken it.”

And after dragging you to the bathroom, he uses his fingers to calmly soothe the parts you hadn’t reached yet.

You watch his movements in the mirror. He seems at peace like this. No concern laced into his brow.

He pulls a towel off the rack and hands it to you. “I’ll be right back,” he says, “don’t wrap your hair.”

Jeez. All you think to do is squeeze sections of it, trying to collect the water. You think you’ve seen a beauty guru do this one time. It sounds about right.

“Alright,” he appears at the doorway once again, “here.”

You don’t even recognize it as an object at first. Oh! It’s just a bonnet.

“Why do you have this?”

He just shrugs. “I used to have long hair. Put it on, it’s good for your hair.”

Kokichi Ouma

He puts a small kiss on the back of your neck. It illuminates your spine, sending your nerves dancing like fire flies.

A small noise even leaves your lips.

“Oh? Did I catch you off guard?” He snickers, continuing to run the brush through your hair.

“I just wasn’t aware that was even an option.”

The response amuses him enough to smile behind your back.

His brain keeps swirling for possible ways to catch you off guard, until, after a second, he leaves the thought alone.

Plus, you seem seconds away from falling asleep in his arms.

Maybe next time.

But for now, the calm aura maintains.

Gonta Gokuhara

“Can Gonta try?” He holds his hand out for the hairbrush. He wouldn’t dare try to take it from your hands - nor would he even want to try and demand it from you either.

A smile forms on your lips. You just got done brushing through his hair, braiding parts of it and adding butterfly clips throughout it.

“Of course you can,” you hand him the brush.

You continue, “start at the bottom and work your way to the top, just like I did with you.”

He whispers okays under his breathe while his big hands runs down the first layer of your hair. Calmly. As if smoothing it with his fingers.

The breath in his lungs remains there. What if he moves a little too rough? What if he pulls on your hair?

A few of his worries subsides when he hears you hum in happiness at how kindly he was brushing your hair.

Kaito Momota

“I don’t trust you - not one bit, Kaito Momota!”

“Ay - I got it, I got it, just let me see the brush!”

You complain about brushing your hair all the time. Sometimes, if you are just lazy enough, you will refuse to do it altogether.

And as entertaining as it is... it does open up an opportunity for him to take.

He snatches the hair brush out of your hands with a confident look on his face. “Prepare to be amazed,” he whispers, a little calmly this time.

A bit of your heart melts when his rough demeanor calms down. There’s no jabs. No silly teases and whispers.

All you get are soft hums and the calming presence of his fingers through your hair.

Ryoma Hoshi

“Please,” you sit down, back leaning against the bed. “I have a presentation in like an hour and I’m not done with my makeup - could you brush my hair for me?”

He sits up and rubs the tired from his eyes. Even though he’s in a daze, he doesn’t need you to repeat yourself. He had heard all of what you said.

“Is there a specific way I’m supposed to do it.”

“Uhm,” you pull your mirror closer to you to try and focus on your lipstick, “I don’t know, bottom to top?”

He grumbles back the instructions before sectioning your hair. There’s a lot of thought he put into it. Big sections? Small sections?

The sound of the brush waving through was something he hasn’t heard in awhile. It’s a soft noise.

The bristles slow, and the noise gets softer.

“How long do I have to do it for?” He asks in a much quieter tone.

“Until I’m done with my makeup, I suppose.”

The answer amuses him. It was worth being woken up for.

Kiibo

You switch your gaze from him to the hair brush in his hand.

“And you say you saw it in a movie?”

“Yes!” He chimes back. “And I thought that I could try it! If you are okay with that.”

Out of instinct, you run a hand through your hair, testing out the knots. “Good news, I am okay with that.”

A smile forms on his face. The first thing he even does is sit down, and motion to the floor in front of him. “Sit here! And I will brush your hair.”

Following his instructions, you smile. “Very exciting.”

A lot of things are new to him. Things you were surprised about at first. He didn’t understand why you painted your nails, or why people use blowdryers.

This is one of the simplest things he’s been curious about.

He lifts up a part of your hair, getting a bit... anxious? Over whether he will pull too hard.

Is hair fragile?

But worry not, he runs the brush smoothly through.

It’s so much more effortless than he imagined. The steady pace of the brush gliding through your layers lets out a soft hum.

You find no words, nothing to say. You don’t want to interrupt him.

He finds it very romantic, as well. It makes a soft pink pull to his cheeks.

#danganronpa v3 #kiibo #kiibo x reader #kokichi ouma #kokichi ouma x reader #drv3 #ryoma hoshi #gonta gokuhara x reader #kaito momota x reader #rantarou amami x reader #korekiyo shinguuji x reader #drv3 boys #korekiyo shinguji #shuichi saihara x reader

435 notes · View notes

inscryptiondoodles · 3 years ago

Text

HELLO THERE!

I’m your one and only mod, Three-Blood! I’ll be quickly laying out a couple of things before we get this on the road.

Specifically, these are hard rules on requests and what you are allowed to request. Please read this post if you’re new here!

1. Inscryption related requests only! This can be about any characters, settings, cards, etc. as long as they’re related to Inscryption.

2. No NSFW or explicitly shipping content. I’m a minor, and I’m not exactly in the market for drawing characters smooching. Just keep it to asks like hand holding if you wish, but I won’t be doing any romantic connotations myself.

3. I may not do your request, and you’re going to have to accept that. I’m one person taking time out of my day for this, so please don’t be rude or spam requests if I’m slow or simply choose not to do a request.

4. Use your common sense. This is a catch-all rule for people who may use hateful language, send hurtful requests, etc. etc. I have every right to block you if you act rude.

That’s it! Now, run along and send in some requests!

P.S. If you recognize me from anywhere else, please don’t bring it up. I will be inconsolable and incredibly embarrassed.

#threebloodspeaks #inscrybesomerequests

18 notes · View notes

autumnslance · 3 years ago

Text

About Plagiarism

I left a long, planned essay on Twitter tonight. I will copy the meat of it here for y’all, as recently a friend was copied (a rarer ship in the fandom, so very noticeable by the writer and their regular beta reader) and it seems we need a Talk, kids. Links and screenshots and my rambling underway.

------

Apparently we need to discuss what is and isn’t plagiarism. Especially in FanFic where we're interacting with the same characters, settings, ideas. Let’s start with the dictionary and continue the thread from there (I like the word origin/history personally):

Definition of plagiarize

transitive verb : to steal and pass off (the ideas or words of another) as one's own : use (another's production) without crediting the source

intransitive verb : to commit literary theft : present as new and original an idea or product derived from an existing source

The Kidnapping Roots of Plagiarize

If schools wish to impress upon their students how serious an offense plagiarism is, they might start with an explanation of the word’s history. Plagiarize (and plagiarism) comes from the Latin plagiarius “kidnapper.” This word, derived from the Latin plaga (“a net used by hunters to catch game”), extended its meaning in Latin to include a person who stole the words, rather than the children, of another. When plagiarius first entered English in the form plagiary, it kept its original reference to kidnapping, a sense that is now quite obsolete.

“Ideas” is fuzzy in the Merriam-Webster definition. There are story archetypes that exist in many forms. Joseph Campbell’s Monomyth/Hero's Journey outlines many famous stories. And it's popular to say that “Avatar” is “Dances with Wolves” is “Pocahontas” is “The Last Samurai” etc.

But note how while those films have similar plotlines--”Military Guy falls for Native woman, learns to appreciate her Culture, stands up to Evil Bosses”--none of them execute those ideas in the same way. Sully’s story is different from Dunbar’s not just cuz one’s a Science Fiction epic and the other a Western. Disney's “Pocahontas” Very Loosely takes history and uses the same story beats. The Last Samurai uses the Meiji era Westernization. Same ideas, different executions, even beyond settings.

None of these are plagiarizing each other though the ideas are similar. They’re told in their own ways, own language; both in the genres they belong to (Western, Pseudo-History, SciFi, Animated) and how characters interact with each other and settings. Original dialogues (variable quality).

We also see this in books as similar novel plots get published in waves so we end up with bunches of post-apocalypse teen revolutionaries or various vampires or lots of young wizard stories all at once. Sometimes ideas just happen like this; multiple discovery, simultaneous invention, concurrent inspiration, cognitive emergence are all phrases I’ve seen for it. So it happens in original content as well, and legality gets fuzzy (Also why you don't send authors your fanfic ideas).

In existing properties, this gets trickier but even “Elementary”’s Holmes and Watson are nothing like the BBC’s “Sherlock” characters. Who are nothing like other versions of the Detective and his Doctor pal over the decades in various media properties.

FanFic's in a similar position where like Sherlock Holmes we play with the same characters, setting, and storyarcs but give our own spin to them. People can and will have similar ideas about plots. Trick is to use your own words. Take the characters and make the story your own.

I have a good example courtesy of @raelly-writing. We both ship Wolcred. We both wrote soft post-Paglth’an scenes with Thancred and our WoLs. Both features the couples helping each other undress, examining injuries, bathing, bantering. My fic was written soon after 5.5 part 1 came out. Dara’s is much more recent. Yet at no point reading hers did I feel she was copying my words. The PoVs differ. Our characters focus on different things. Mine has a mini-arc concerning the Nutkin.

The links for comparison’s sake (and maybe leave kudos/comments if so inclined please and thanks). Note while the scenes are very similar no phrases are written in the same way. Mine: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417882/chapters/76059467 Dara’s: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067565/chapters/81832915

Dara and I both hang out in certain Discords and I know conversations about Thancred and WoL caring for each other post-battle has come up in those channels and we've both participated. It’s a stock FanFic scene to boot. Cuz it's soft and feels warm and snuggly.

I HAVE been copied before, back in WoW. My case is pretty clear cut so here are the images of my old RP Haven profile (1st, old RP website) and the plagiarist’s RSP (2nd, an in game mod to share descriptions and basic info).

This was a decade ago on Shadow Council and I think the character deleted so any Availa’s in WoW now aren’t the same person. I left the names to point out what changed. Just the names and a word or 2 to make sense for the class changes as well. Otherwise lifted directly from my RP profile.

The funny part is how the person got caught. Literally walked into our weekly RP Guild meeting that I was running and asked to join. Folks noticed right away the similar backstory; after all there may have been more Outland-born Azerothians. My initial excitement at a character I could weave into our story turned to gut-twisting rage and grief as I recognized my own exact words though. Words I’d carefully crafted and constantly iterated on to improve over time (before and after this incident, until the site died).

When caught they tried to claim their significant other had leveled the character for them and made up the backstory based on Skyrim. If you know WoW’s Outland story and Skyrim’s plot you know how ridiculous that is. Also tried to lie about other drama I knew about thanks to roommate's characters but hey. I had to be blunt that I’d shared the info with Haven mods and other guild officers Alliance and Horde. That we would not “laugh about this” one day though lucky this was “just” RP not original or academic work. Cuz if it'd been monetized or academic I would've raked them through the coals.

I felt violated. Hurt. Had anxiety attacks. They took MY WORDS and tried to claim them as theirs. Have another character born in Outland trained by Draenei; Awesome! Our characters have an instant connect in similarities and differences of that experience. Don’t steal my characters wholesale!

Then the audacity of trying to come into my guild as if no one would notice. ShC wasn’t a large server by then, still active but not nearly Wyrmrest Accord or Moon Guard big. My character was well known due to my writing and RP. Speaking of how easy it is to get caught in specific spaces...A case of a self-published novelist getting noticed for plagiarizing fanfic was discovered recently (explicit erotica examples through the thread).

One way they got noticed was how much content they put out in only a year, lifted from fandom. The examples in Kokom’s threads show how the material was altered but still recognizable. In some cases, just the names are changed as in my experience. In other passages more has changed but you can still see the bones of the original fic poking through in the descriptions and character interactions, even with adjustments made.

Similar ideas happen. Similar plots exist. Same 'ships with friends are fun! In FanFic we’re working with the same material. It’s possible to write a similar scene differently. To make that scene and characters your own. All we’re asking is not to copy others' words. Others' characters. Others' specific phrases and descriptions used to bring those words, those characters, to life. Use your own. In the end you’ll be happier.

I get wanting to have what the perceived “popular people” have. I get seeing concepts others succeed with and wanting some of that too. We all get a bit jealous now and then for various reasons. Sometimes we don't even realize it, consciously. But do it in your own way. Maybe check to see if you’re getting a bit too close to the “inspiration” you admired, maybe reread often. Don’t hurt your fellow creatives. If you do and get caught don’t try to double down. Have the grace to be abashed at least and work to do better. Eventually you WILL get caught. All it takes is once to throw all else you've done into question. Ao3 doesn’t take kindly to plagiarists. Nor do a lot of fan communities focused on writing and RP. Getting back that trust is hard. The internet doesn’t forget easily, for good or ill.

#writing #blogging #about me #social media #plagiarism #fanfiction #Ao3

48 notes · View notes

omorial · 4 years ago

Note

AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC AUSTISTIC SUNNY FIC A

Just a note- I'm not autistic! I did this based on my own research and what I've learned from friends. I had someone read over it to make sure it wasn't being insensitive, so I hope anyone who reads likes this!

- Mod Zale

Mari loved her little brother!

Sunny was the light of her life, the center of it, and she cared about him so much. Even the things that some people might consider weird, or be mean about. Because those things made Sunny Sunny, and people who were mean about it were just bullies.

Like how he didn't talk much. People were mean about it, but Sunny just didn't like to talk, and who cares? He can still communicate, and it makes him happy! As long as he's comfortable, it didn't matter if he talked.

He also wore the same thing a lot, but that's just because it made him comfortable. Routine helped him, and if it helped, it was fine. Having a signature outfit was cool, too! Like you were a cartoon character!

He had favorite foods, too! Like steak! That was one of his favorites. He says some foods bother him and make him feel icky, so they don't make him eat those, because he should eat what makes him feel good! Eating is supposed to be fun!

As long as Sunny was happy, it didn't matter if he did things other people thought was weird. Those things made Sunny Sunny, and she loved him for him.

•••

Kel was excited!!

Hero said they had new neighbors, and he was finally taking Kel to meet them!! Hero said he hadn't taken him yet because they needed time to adjust, which was kind of weird, but whatever. He could make a new friend!

"Calm down, Kel, he hasn't met anyone else in town yet and his sister said he's nervous." Kel looked at Hero, pouting. Hero bent down, looking at Kel. "Also, I was told he doesn't like to talk much. So be nice to him, okay?"

Kel nodded. "Yeah! I'm super nice!"

Hero laughed again and Kel stuck his tongue out at him as he stood up.

He bounced in place as he waited for someone to answer the door, excited to meet someone new.

"Hey, Mari." Hero said, and Kel looked at the girl who answered the door. She must be the big sister! "This is my brother, Kel. How're you all settling in?"

"We're settling in well, Hero, thanks for asking." Mari turned to Kel, and he beamed up at her. "Hello, Kel! You should meet my little brother, Sunny! He's in our room upstairs right now, the door on the left, you can go up there if you want!"

"Hi!! Okay, cool! Nice to meet you!" Kel rushed out a response before sprinting into the house, giggles from Hero and Mari following him.

Kel rushed upstairs, almost tripping in his excitement. He made his way to the door he'd been directed to, barely remembering to knock before opening the door.

There was a boy sitting on one of the beds, probably Sunny, with short black hair. He was fidgeting with something, and didn't seem to notice that Kel was there.

Kel knocked on the doorframe before walking into the room, waving slightly. "Uh, hi? Sunny, right?"

He still didn't seem to react so Kel walked further into the room, trying to get his attention. He walked up to the bed, and Sunny still didn't seem to register he was there. Kel bounced in place little before deciding to tap Sunny on the shoulder.

Sunny startled a little, looking up.

Kel smiled sheepishly and waved again. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Uh- I'm Kel! I'm Hero's brother, you've met Hero right?"

Sunny looked at him for a second, before nodding. He grabbed a notebook off the nightstand beside the bed and Kel moved a little so he could see it better.

'I'm Sunny. Nice to meet you.'

"Hi Sunny! Uh-" Kel glanced around, eyes catching on the cube thing the other boy had been fidgeting with. "What's that?"

Sunny fidgeted with the pencil he was holding for a second before replying. 'It's a Rubix Cube. You have to solve the puzzle by getting the same color on all sides.'

"Oh, that's cool!" Kel looked around to see more things that looked akin to Rubix Cubes on one of the shelves set up in the room. "Do you collect them?"

Sunny nodded.

"That's so cool! Can you show me how to solve one?"

Sunny's eyes widened slightly and he nodded, moving some so Kel could sit beside him. Kel beamed.

•••

School had started, and Kel was excited because he and Sunny were in the same class. Sunny was fun, and liked talking to him, and he knew so much cool stuff! He was such a cool friend!!

Sunny seemed nervous, so Kel tried to send him silent support any way he could. He seemed to appreciate it, so it was a success!

It was lunch, and the two of them had sat down at a table. They'd both brought lunch, so they didn't have to wait in line!

Kel started eating but stopped when he looked at Sunny, who was frowning at his food.

"Sunny? You okay?"

'... Fine. Mom just gave me Mari's lunch instead of mine.'

"Oh." Kel glanced at the pasta Mari took for lunch, then back to his pb&j sandwich, tilting his head. "Want mine? It's just a pb&j."

Sunny frowned more. 'Are you sure?'

"Totally, bud! You can have it, I don't mind."

They switched food and the issue was averted, lunch going smoothly after that.

•••

Basil fidgeted with his bag, looking nervously at the friends Aubrey was introducing him to. It wasn't that he didn't think they'd be nice! He trusted Aubrey! It's just- he was nervous.

The boy in orange- Kel, right? -smiled before speaking. "Hey Basil! Nice to meetcha! I like your bag, the flowers are cool!"

Basil flushed, stuttering out a thank-you as the two older kids- Mari and Hero -said hi as well.

The last one, Sunny, waved a little. He was wearing short sleeves, which confused Basil because it was kind of cold out.

Sunny held out a notebook in front of him, and his eyes widened as he took it.

'I don't like wearing long sleeves a lot. It feels weird.'

"Oh!" Basil gripped his bag, handing the notebook back to Sunny. "Sorry it was obvious I was wondering! I- I didn't mean to be rude."

Sunny put the notebook in front of him again, and he read it.

'It's alright, I don't mind. It's nice to meet you. Flowers are pretty cool.'

Basil looked at Sunny, eyes wide.

"Uh- okay. Thanks! Your notebook is pretty cool." Basil looked at the drawings on the cover. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

Sunny nodded.

"That's so cool! You must be really good at art."

Sunny wrote something down and Basil read it.

'Um- I guess. Thanks, though. It's fun.'

Basil smiled a little. This was seeming okay.

•••

Sunny closed the door to the bathroom, pulling at his hair. His eyes stung.

His wrist, his fingers, everything hurt. He couldn't do this- it hurt.

He wiped at his eyes, sliding down against the door as he tried to calm down. It just- it was too much. Mari was pushing him too much. It hurt.

He pulled at his hair again, trying to hold back his frustrations as the crying got worse.

He didn't want to play the violin anymore.

It hurt.

•••

Sunny had collections.

He had, rubix cubes, and stuffed animals, and he had so many of them.

It was fun. It gave him something to focus on. And he liked them.

The stuffed animals were comforting, and soft. The rubix cubes were fun to fidget with, and it was fun to figure out how to solve them, too.

Drawing was also fun. It was fun to do, and he could do it in bis own way, just for fun.

He could draw his friends, and draw out his frustrations, and it helped.

Collecting things helped.

121 notes · View notes

merrock · 3 years ago

Text

monday; phew, hi!

Popping in super quick now that I’ve cleared the inbox and caught up on mod work for a few minutes! I wanted to say hello and welcome to our new (and returning) players! If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask, and we’re really excited to write with you and get to know you on our dash. And thank you for being so patient with me, as well!

If anyone would like the link for our OOC blog, please just let me know and I will be sure to send it to you ASAP.

Also, if you notice any errors I’ve made when adding people to pages, or anything I might have missed, don’t be afraid to come talk to me to let me know. I try my best to catch everything, but it’s very easy to make mistakes, and I want to get things right for you guys.

Hope you’re having a great Monday! xx

#merrockadmin

4 notes · View notes

gordonradiotv · 4 years ago

Text

GordonRadioTV Masterpost

Hi there! You must be new here, or you’re a returning reader seeing this post for the 800th time. Whatever it may be, welcome! This is just a little something something to help out new readers navigate without having to dig through thousands of posts to catch up with the story.

The following is a summary of what this blog is about, how to go about reading the story and interacting with the blog, etc. PLEASE read this post if you’re new and want to know where to start BEFORE ASKING THE MOD ANY QUESTIONS ABOUT IT! Thank you!

So without further ado, lets go!

[ Put under a readmore for the sake of your convenience lol]

So what is GordonRadioTV?

This is an ask blog for HLVRAI Gordon Freeman (and the rest of the cast!) that follows a set narrative that can be influenced and interacted with by the audience! It uses both audience interaction and comic art to progress the story. Each story arc is tagged as a “chapter” of the story, and you can find each chapter linked over in the Chapter Index section of the blog! PLEASE NOTE: This is not a roleplay blog! I will not be interacting with any other asks blogs, rp blogs, etc. in character due to the set narrative that I already have set that involves the entire cast

GordonRadioTV takes place after the events of Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware. Gordon has returned home with his son Joshua, Coomer and Bubby are soon to be married, Tommy’s spending some quality time with his father, and Benrey hasn’t been seen since they defeated him in Xen. Everything seems to be going just fine, but then the day of the wedding occurs, and something…unusual happens. That’s the most I can say without spoilers.

This blog also has a sequel! @grtvgamechanger ! Once you’re done here, maybe go check that out! [NOTE: The sequel is incomplete and on indefinite hiatus.]

WARNINGS

GordonRadioTV is a story that discusses topics such as PTSD/other mental health issues, canon typical violence, death, memory loss, apocalyptic scenarios, possession/mind control, etc. While the story does have a happy ending and everyone who goes through these things ends up okay, it’s still best to consider your mental health when reading through this story and read with caution. Everything will be properly tagged, of course.

NAVIGATION

PLEASE NOTE: If you are a mobile user you will have to access these pages via your internet browser (such as chrome or safari) instead of the tumblr app because tumblr sucks

Chapter Index - This is the main “navigation” of the story. It includes a list of chapters that are all listed and linked in order. Just click on the title and you’ll be at the start of the chapter! Don’t worry, the tags are ordered chronologically and DO NOT INCLUDE any of the out of character posts.

Rules - What it says on the tin. These are rules for sending in questions- please for the LOVE OF GOD read them before you send in an ask.

About + FAQ - If you have any further questions for the mod it’s best to check here first! It details what the blog is about + some questions that the mod gets asked a lot

Chat’s Craft Corner (Fanart Gallery) - Not important to the blog story but it IS very important to me so! This is a tag full of fanart, fanfics, etc. that you guys have made for this blog! I wanted to have a little area to appreciate the stuff you guys have made for me so!!! Check this out if you have the time!

If you have any further questions feel free to ask (please read the FAQ first, though!) Happy reading!

SOUNDTRACK:

The GordonRadioTV soundtrack was completed by Selene Highchurch, aka @stygiuscantus! You can check out the full album here:

https://stygiuscantus.bandcamp.com/album/gordonradiotv-remastered

A DISCLAIMER:

As a warning, there are elements of Bubby and Benrey’s character designs in this comic that are considered antisemetic (meaning they’re both occasionally portrayed with pointy ears, claws, etc.) At the time of me running this ask blog, I was unaware that these design elements whenever applied to antagonist characters like these two were considered antisemetic. Regardless, this isn’t an excuse and I’ve stopped including these design elements for these characters since then, but I still feel like I should give a warning for the fact that they’re present in this blog’s story, which I deeply apologize for. Proceed with caution if this sort of thing bothers you, and again I apologize for the inclusion of these design elements.

#ooc

270 notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 4 years ago

Text

I Promise to Kiss You (Before You Die): 7/7

We're here! Finally! I'm sorry this last chapter took so long. It just came slowly for some reason. However, I am thrilled with how it turned out, and I hope you all enjoy it. And to make it up to you for the long wait, this beast of a final chapter is a massive 5,700 words and then some!

I have thoroughly enjoyed turning this iconic story into a Captain Swan fic. Thank you to every single one of you who left kudos and comments - it meant the world to me, even if I didn't respond to you. Thank you also to the mods of the @captainswanmoviemarathon and to my beta @hookedonapirate - it's been a fun ride!

Summary: Emma noticed him first, never forget that, and while all four of the Lucas sisters love Killian Jones, no one loves him the way Emma does, of that she is certain. Killian Jones also made her a promise. Sure, she was only twelve when he made it, but one day he’ll realize what it meant. One day, she hopes, he’ll get over her sister Ruby and finally notice Emma. A Little Women AU

Rated: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @xsajx @itsfabianadocarmo @spartanguard

Chapter Seven: Her Gallant Captain

Killian wrote to Emma every day, just as he had promised. He wished letters could fly as quickly as his thoughts, but alas, they had to make their way across the channel, then across Normandy, and into Paris. Emma wrote back to him that her pen was flying across paper just as quickly, but they both chafed at the slow exchange, wishing they could be in one another’s arms instead. Regina mentioned possibly heading back to London sooner than planned, but then the older woman’s health took a sudden turn for the worse. With her aunt suddenly bedridden, Emma was stuck in Paris, hundreds of miles away from the man she loved.

Letters traveled between London and Paris much, much faster than they did between London and Storybrooke, Maine. So it was that Killian didn’t learn of the tragedy that had befallen the Lucas family until autumn had begun to turn the leaves on the trees. The letter was written in Ruby’s blunt handwriting:

Dearest Killian,

Have you heard the sad news of our precious Belle? I always knew she was too good for this world. Our hearts are broken, especially since we can’t even all be together for the funeral. Mary Margaret has entered her confinement, and poor Emma is stuck in Paris as Aunt Regina is too ill to travel -

Killian dropped the letter upon his desk without reading it further and shouted for Smee to get him passage as soon as possible to France. He raced out of the office, jumped into the first cab he could procure, and headed to his flat to pack. Emma was grieving and alone, and he had to get to her as quickly as possible. Emma was all he could think of; even grief couldn’t penetrate the single minded need to rush to her side. That would come later, he knew, and it would cut him deep.

The letter was left behind in his office, the rush of air from the swiftly shutting door sending it fluttering to the floor. The maids disposed of it along with the rest of the trash, and Killian never read the rest of it.

I need you, Killy. Please come to me. I long to see you again.

With all my love,

Your Ruby

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

Rain fell from the sky, soaking Emma’s layers of clothing so that they stuck to her skin and weighed heavily upon her frame. She’d discarded her hat, seeing no point with the rain beating down. Her intricate updo was now a sodden mess with tendrils falling down and sticking to her cheeks. She sat in the little rowboat, the oars forgotten, letting herself drift aimlessly on the surface of the pond.

The man who rented the boats in the park had looked at her as if she had lost her mind. If he wondered why a woman of means clad in mourning black wished to rent a rowboat alone under a sky heavy with rain clouds, he didn’t ask. Who was he to turn away her coins? If a rich woman drowned in her eccentricity, that was her own problem.

Emma didn’t wish to drown; she just had to get out of that house. The air was thick with sickness, and the staff tiptoed around the place like it was already a tomb. Emma sat with her aunt as much as she could, reading to her, but the woman was spending more and more of the day sleeping.

Belle, her kind and gentle sister, was gone, and she hadn’t been able to say goodbye - not by her sickbed or even at her graveside. She was trapped in Paris, knowing her traveling companion would make the journey back to America in a coffin. The doctor had said as much on his last visit.

Emma shivered as the wind rocked her tiny boat. She wished Killian were here. If only he were by her side, to help carry this burden, maybe then she wouldn’t feel as if she were suffocating.

“Emma!”

The sound of her name was almost swallowed up by the pounding rain. She lifted her head and straightened her spine as her gaze swept the pond. There, on the same shore where they had so often picnicked, was Killian, her Killian. She shook her head and blinked, worried at first that she was hallucinating, but then he was running into the water and shouting her name again.

“Killian!” she shouted back, fumbling for the oars. “I’m coming!”

Yet he didn’t head back for the shore, the foolish man. He dove into the water and swam toward her, his strokes strong and sure, even in the pouring rain. She worked as hard as she could to maneuver the boat toward him, suddenly terrified that his head would slip beneath the green waters forever, but she simply couldn’t make much headway because of the wind and the rain.

Soon, Killian was clambering over the edge of the boat with her help, and they fell into one another’s arms. Emma grasped his sodden shirt collar and pressed delirious kisses to both his cheeks. Then she threw her arms around him again, grasping him tightly.

“I knew you’d come,” she wept against his neck.

He rubbed her back soothingly. “Of course I came. I’m so sorry, Emma. I’m so sorry . . .”

The words may have been inadequate, but his embrace and the tears that mingled with hers were what she really needed anyway. They rocked back and forth, the rain still pouring from the sky, and time no longer mattered. Then, suddenly, realization seemed to dawn on Emma, and she pulled away from him, smacking him in the chest with both palms.

“Are you insane? Jumping into the pond like that?”

He chuckled, taking both her hands in his and pressing kisses to her knuckles. “And what are you thinking, my darling? Rowing in this weather?”

“I just . . . “ she shook her head, “I don’t know what I was thinking. I had to get away, and I missed you, so I came to our spot here, but it still wasn’t enough, and -”

He broke off her words with a passionate kiss, and Emma kissed him back, burying her fingers in his thick, wet hair. It was good the rain had cleared out the park, for the picture they made would have been quite the scandal. A woman in mourning kissing a man so passionately in public without a chaperone.

“Emma,” he said breathlessly when they finally parted, “I can’t wait any longer. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” she answered, her voice breaking on another sob. He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her once more.

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

When Emma returned to her aunt’s, it was in a much different condition than when she had left. Servants were bustling here and there, scarcely noticing the two young people dripping wet in the foyer. At first Emma feared her aunt had slipped from this world in her absence, but then she heard Regina’s clipped voice coming from the parlor. Emma exchanged a worried glance with Killian, then rushed toward her aunt’s voice. She found the woman seated in a comfortable chair by the fire, her feet propped up on the ottoman before her. She was clad in a dressing gown, her gray-streaked dark hair tumbling free about her shoulders, and her lap draped with blankets. She still looked ill, but there was a new color to her cheeks.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emma shouted without thinking.

The parlor maid at her aunt’s elbow gasped, and the kitchen maid nearly dropped the tea she was pouring. Regina simply regarded her niece calmly with an arched brow.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m planning a wedding.”

Emma glanced at Killian in surprise, and he shrugged. She shook her head; how her aunt knew Killian was proposing wasn’t the issue right now.

“Aunt Regina, you aren’t well.”

“I haven’t been well since I was fourteen,” Regina replied sardonically, “I’m used to it. The two of you, on the other hand, might catch your death standing there in those wet clothes. Go change, for heaven’s sake, and then we’ll talk.”

“But -”

“Now.”

Emma and Killian were rushed out of the room by two more servants and shooed up the stairs. Emma’s chamber maid helped her dress, and when she exited her room and headed back downstairs, she heard Killian’s laughter coming from the parlor. She was surprised to find him having tea with Regina. He was wearing dry clothes - a brand new suit from the looks of it - though his hair was still wet. Regina chuckled at something he’d said before gesturing for Emma to join them. She hadn’t seen her aunt so animated in over a month.

“Swan,” Killian greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, then pulled out the chair for her.

Emma sat, regarding her aunt with complete confusion and shock.

“Take some tea, dear,” Regina practically ordered, extending the teapot.

Emma took the offered beverage automatically. “I don’t understand. When I left late this morning, you were abed.”

“Yes dear, but then the servants told me Killian had arrived, and I told myself, now Regina, stop this nonsense, there’s a wedding to plan. And, well, here we are.”

Killian attempted to hide a chuckle behind his hand as Regina cooly took a sip of tea. Emma shook her head in bewilderment.

“The wedding doesn’t need to be planned right away. We haven’t set a date yet. I’m in mourning!”

Regina’s casual air finally cracked, and she set her tea down with a shaking hand, the teacup rattling against the saucer. “Etiquette dictates you mourn your sister for six months,” Regina spoke quietly, “but I’m afraid I don’t have that long, my child.”

Emma exchanged a startled glance with Killian, then she hesitantly reached out and laid her hand upon her aunt’s wrist.

“You don’t know that. Like you said, you’ve battled this illness for many long years -”

“Which is precisely why I know the end is near!” Regina snapped.

An uncomfortable silence enveloped the room, and Regina lifted a shaky hand to her brow. Killian reached out and grasped Emma’s hand for comfort. Finally, Regina smoothed her clothes and straightened her spine.

“I wish to see you wed and taken care of, Emma, before I’m gone. Please let me do this.”

Emma nodded slowly and reached out once again for her aunt. The older woman took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Emma wanted to give in to her wishes, but she had one more concern.

“Won’t society disapprove of a wedding during my time of mourning?”

Regina sniffed. “First of all, with death looming, I find I give little note to society. Aside from that, exceptions are often made in such situations.”

She and Killian exchanged a silent conversation, and then Emma smiled at her aunt tremulously. “Okay. Let’s plan a wedding then.”

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

The next two weeks were a flurry of activity as Regina threw together the small ceremony and celebration. The guest list was small - just Regina’s staff, a handful of her closest European friends, and Nemo. The latter just happened to be in France for business, and was thrilled at the news. (He may have also given his nephew a knowing wink that communicated I told you so.) The wedding would take place in the salon of Regina’s home, with the reception following in the dining room. The menu was one of only two things that weren’t simple. This is France, Emma, Regina had explained. Food is art here.

The other thing that wasn’t simple was Emma’s dress. She had fully expected to wed in her mourning clothes. It wasn’t unheard of for a woman to wed while still in mourning - as a matter of fact, sometimes situations made it a necessity - however, they never broke the rules of etiquette in their attire. Regina, however, almost threw a fit when Emma mentioned it.

“You must have a proper wedding gown,” Regina argued. “I promise you’ll regret it if you don’t. I’ll send for my favorite seamstress right away.”

At first, Emma felt guilty about the cream colored dress with lace at the cuffs and bodice and a train adorned with flounces and ribbon. Then Killian reminded her that the dress could be worn again for many happy occasions, including a celebration of their marriage when they got back to Maine and the period of mourning ended. That thought set Emma’s mind at ease and allowed her to enjoy the beautiful picture she made in her gown.

Emma contemplated writing to her family about the wedding, but she eventually decided against it. By the time the letter reached them, she and Killian would already be wed. A letter might do nothing but add to their sadness. She wasn’t sure when or how she would share the news, but it was something she would worry about later.

When her wedding day came, Aunt Regina came into Emma's chambers to admire her niece in her dress, carrying a large box in her arms. It warmed Emma’s heart to see her aunt getting around so easily. Planning the wedding had seemed to invigorate the older woman, and for that alone Emma was glad she had agreed to it.

“You look lovely, Emma,” Regina told her, a smile filling up her face. “I have a gift for you. The dress is your something new, the forget me nots in your bouquet the something blue, and this can be your something old and something borrowed.”

Regina lifted the lid on the box carefully. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was the most beautiful white lace veil Emma had ever seen. It was attached to a silver comb studded with the most exquisite pearls. Emma gasped as Regina lifted it and held it out to her.

“This was my mother’s,” she told Emma. “Unfortunately, my sister died before she could wear it, and well . . .” she shrugged, “obviously I never wore it either.”

Emma reached out reverently and touched the pearls with a feather light touch. “Could you pin it in my hair?” she whispered.

Regina nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Emma turned back to the mirror, and Regina stood behind her, inserted the comb carefully in Emma’s elaborate updo, then adjusted the veil behind her. Emma lifted her hand and gingerly touched first the veil, then the comb Killian had given her weeks ago that was tucked into the bottom of the twist in her hair.

“It matches Killian’s comb,” Regina marveled.

“Yes,” Emma whispered, “it does. It’s like it was meant to be.”

Regina laughed. “Yes, I think it was.”

There was a knock at the door and both women called for the person to come in. It was Admiral Nemo, tentatively peeking into the room.

“I don’t mean to rush you ladies, but we’re ready to begin.”

“Good,” Emma breathed with a chuckle, “I just want to be Killina’s wife already!”

The other two laughed and Nemo offered his left arm to Emma. She took it, smiling up at him. Regina brushed a kiss to Emma’s cheek, then rushed from the room so she could be seated before the ceremony began. Nemo guided Emma down the steps slowly and carefully, and as they rounded the hallway, Emma heard the strains of the string quartet her aunt had hired. Her heart pounded in her chest at the realization she was about to marry the boy she had loved since girlhood. A boy it had once seemed would never love her in the way she longed for.

He certainly loved her now, and passionately so. It was evident in the way he looked at her as she made her way toward him. His eyes widened, his chest expanded as he took in a sharp breath, and then he swallowed as tears welled in his eyes. Emma scarcely noticed when Nemo gave her away, pressing her hand into Killian’s. All she could see was him as they pledged themselves to one another.

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

The sight that greeted Killian when he woke the next morning was Emma’s bare back, her golden hair spread out on the pillow. She had stolen all the sheets and had them clenched in her fists beneath her chin, leaving her back on glorious display, the sheets barely covering her shapely derriere. Killian smiled lazily as he slid closer, pulling her flush against him and burying his nose in her hair. Emma groaned in weak protest.

“G’mornin, love.”

Emma grumbled again, and he chuckled.

“S’early,” she protested, voice slurred with sleep.

“I couldn’t resist you,” Killian told her huskily, running a hand over her bare shoulder and down her arm. “Besides, you’re hogging the covers.”

Emma turned in his arms, releasing her hold on the sheets and tossing them over his back to cover them both. “Better?”

He grinned as he pulled her close, her breasts pressing against his bare chest. “Definitely.”

He claimed her lips, and she kissed him back with the same intense passion she had revealed the night before. He rolled her onto her back, one hand roaming down the length of her body, and the other tangling in her hair.

“Killian,” she gasped feebly as he trailed kisses across her jaw and down the column of her neck, “this really isn’t proper.”

He pulled back, his brow furrowed with confusion. “Whatever do you mean? We’re husband and wife.”

“Well,” Emma bit her lip, “that’s true, but I really shouldn’t have slept in the nude. What will the hotel staff think?”

“They’re not going to break in, darling.”

“But what if . . .” her voice trailed off as he resumed the path of his lips farther down to the hollow between her breasts. Her voice hitched and she dug her fingers into his hair. “What was I saying?”

“Hell if I know,” he teased, running his thumb across one of her nipples and chuckling when she gasped.

Suddenly there was a rapping at the door, and a voice called out in French, “Le service de chambre!”

“See!” Emma squealed as she sat up quickly and gathered the sheets to her chest.

Killian sighed. “Dans une minute!” he shouted to the maid.

“Petit dejeuner, monsieur.”

“Yes, yes, just a minute!”

Killian hopped into a pair of pants and started shrugging into his discarded dress shirt.

“You can’t go to the door now,” Emma hissed, her face flaming red.

“This is the honeymoon suite,” he told her, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek. “They know what we’ve been doing. Besides, it's Paris!”

Emma huffed, but didn’t stop him as he headed for the door. They had paid for breakfast to be sent up to the room, and Killian planned on enjoying it. He also wanted to enjoy Emma in the nude a little longer, if he was being completely honest. They were in a cocoon of happiness right now, he knew this, and he wanted Emma to relax as long as she could.

He opened the door only a crack to find the maid on the other side with a full breakfast on a rolling tray. She didn’t seem surprised at his disheveled appearance or his request for her to leave the tray with him. Like he’d told Emma - the staff knew what this suite was for. When he turned around, he was a bit disappointed to see Emma seated at the small dining table in front of the fireplace, clothed in a satin dressing gown. Still, her hair tumbled about her shoulders, the satin outlined her curves deliciously, and her robe gaped open revealing the creamy skin between her breasts; all things only he, as her husband, had the honor to behold. He kissed her upon the lips before setting her breakfast before her.

“I’m starving!” Emma exclaimed as she spread her napkin upon her lap.

“You did work up quite an appetite last night,” he teased with a waggle of his brows.

“Killian!” she gasped, but he could tell from her smile that she wasn’t offended in the least. Their married life together would be fun, he was sure of it.

They had scarcely finished their morning repast when yet another knock sounded on the door of their suite. They shared a confused glance, knowing it was far too soon for the maid to return for the breakfast tray. Killian patted his mouth with his napkin, then hurried to the door. On the other side was the concierge with a folded note in his gloved hands.

“Message urgent, monsieur.”

Killian took the offered note with a hurried “merci,” then turned away, shutting the door behind him. He ripped open the missive, and as he scanned the brief words, his heart sank. He glanced up at Emma, who stood nervously, her arms wrapped around her middle. She knew before he even spoke that their honeymoon was already over.

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

The carriage rattled along familiar roads, and Emma could scarcely believe how little Storybrooke had changed while she, on the other hand, had left home a girl and was returning a woman - a married woman. Killian threaded his fingers with hers, and she turned away from the window to smile at him. Even through her gloves, his touch warmed her. She scooted closer and rested her head upon his shoulder. Despite her black satin bonnet getting in the way, Killian rested his cheek against her head.

Emma’s hands nervously picked at the black taffeta of her skirts, and her black reticule bounced with the rhythm of the carriage. She didn’t necessarily dislike the color black, but mourning clothes were a bit much, in her opinion. Her deep sadness from losing her sister, then her Aunt Regina less than twenty four hours after her and Killian’s wedding, was never far from her mind. She didn’t need the somber clothes to remind her.

“Do you really think surprising them is such a good idea?” Emma asked, lifting her head so she could see her husband’s face.

A mischievous grin curled his lips. “In times like these, pleasant surprises are always welcomed.”

“But how will they react when they discover they missed the wedding?” Emma also wondered how Ruby would react when she discovered her old flame had married her little sister, but she kept that to herself.

Killian gently caressed her chin with his thumb. “Your family aren’t the kind to be petty over social functions. Besides, we can throw the party of the ages - once the mourning period has passed.”

He bent and brushed a kiss to her lips to further punctuate his confidence, and Emma was suddenly taken back to another carriage ride many years ago. She smiled against his lips as she kissed him back.

“What are you grinning about, my Swan?”

With a sparkle in her eyes, she cupped his face, tracing his jaw with her gloved fingertips. “Oh, I’m just reminded of a promise.”

He chuckled. “That again?”

She slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him again. When she pulled back, she dragged his bottom lip between her teeth, and the growl he made low in his throat sent warmth shooting down to her core.

“I think,” she told him breathlessly, “that we will be reminding one another of that promise frequently throughout the years.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “And I will gladly be fulfilling it over and over again.”

“Good.”

She snuggled up against his chest, wrapping her arms around his bicep, but just as she got settled, the carriage came to stop. She looked nervously at Orchard House, biting on her lower lip. Killian stepped out of the carriage, then turned and offered her his hand. Once her feet were on solid ground, she leaned into her husband for strength as tears pricked her eyes.

“It’s hard to believe Belle won’t be inside reading by the fire or playing the piano,” she whispered.

“I know, love,” Killian replied hoarsely.

They ascended the front steps, and Killian turned to her with a finger pressed to his lips. He winked at her, and had her step to his left, out of sight. Then he straightened, cleared his throat and knocked at the door. As was customary in the Lucas household, there was a shout within, followed by pounding footsteps, and then the door was flung open.

“Killy!” a familiar voice squealed, and Emma’s husband was jerked forward into a hug. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?”

Killian stepped back, chuckling, and from Emma’s hiding place, her heart beat wildly in her chest. Ruby sounded so giddy with happiness, Emma was half afraid she would do more than hug Killian. He better hurry up and get to the surprise.

“Ruby, I’m so glad to see you!”

“Well, don’t just stand on the stoop, come in!”

“No, no, I’m glad it was you who answered.” Killian templed his fingers and pressed them to his lips as a deliriously happy grin filled his face. “I have a surprise for you all, and I want you to be the first to hear.”

“What?” Ruby squealed.

Oh God, Emma thought from her hiding place, does she think he’s going to propose a second time?

Killian, however, seemed oblivious to the breathlessness in Ruby’s voice. He practically vibrated with excitement as he said, “I’d like you to meet . . . my wife.”

At this, he gently pulled Emma into view, and she watched Ruby’s eyes grow comically large, her jaw drop, and the color drain from her face. It only lasted a brief moment, however, and then Ruby squealed with excitement again, pulling Emma into a crushing hug.

“Emma,” she choked out, “you’re home.”

Emma hugged her back, unable to stop the tears from falling. Ruby pulled back, but didn’t let go of Emma’s arms.

“Surprise?” Emma laughed.

Ruby looked over Emma’s shoulder with a twinkle in her eyes, then back at Emma. “Wife, huh, Mrs. Jones?”

Emma nodded her head enthusiastically, unable to keep the happiness from filling her face. Ruby hugged her again, then pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I’m so happy for you.”

“Ruby,” Granny’s voice called from the hallway, “who in the world was at the - Emma!”

What followed was complete and utter chaos as her family crowded the tiny foyer of the Lucas home. Emma was hugged first by Granny, then Marco, then Mary Margaret. Tears flowed as they pulled both Emma and Killian into the house and dragged them into the sitting room. Tea was fetched, and soon she and Killian were joyously sharing the story of their reunion, courtship, and hurried marriage.

“Aunt Regina knew she didn’t have long,” Emma mused quietly into her teacup, “and she wanted to see the wedding. I hope you aren’t angry with us.”

“Angry?” Granny exclaimed. “Why would we be angry? What a blessing during such a sad time.”

Granny lifted her apron to wipe at her sudden tears, but before the mood could grow too somber, a baby’s cry pierced the air.

“Oh dear,” sighed Mary Margaret, “that’s Ava, I hope she doesn’t -” her words were cut off by the cry of a second infant, “wake up her brother.”

“My niece and nephew!” Emma cried, jumping up from her seat. “Let me help you with them, please? I haven’t met them yet.”

Mary Margaret was more than happy for Emma’s help and gave her sister a crash course in changing the twins’ diapers. Then Emma distracted Leo while Mary Margaret nursed Ava, then they switched.

“How do you do it alone?” Emma mused as she swayed back and forth with a now content Ava in her arms.

“Oh I’m not alone,” Mary Margaret protested as she lifted Leo to her shoulder to burp him. “David is a wonderful father, and while he’s at work, I come over here so Granny can help. Our cottage is just over the hill, you know. Ruby helps too, although I don’t foresee that lasting much longer now that she has the inheritance.”

“So you think she’ll really move into Aunt Regina’s old house?”

Mary Margaret rose from the rocking chair, shifting Leo in her arms. “She wants to turn it into a school like the one Granny and Marco had all those years ago. Where any child - regardless of wealth or race or sex - can learn. David plans on leaving his clerk job to teach there. It’s risky, but he’s dying of boredom at that job.”

“It will be an interesting school with Ruby in charge, that’s for sure,” Emma chuckled.

Mary Margaret nodded her agreement, her eyes sparkling. “She’s reading up on all these new theories of education.”

Emma’s eldest sister tilted her head, studying her in a way that made a spark of excitement shoot up her spine.

“She plans to ask you to be an art teacher, Emma.”

For a moment, Emma’s heart thrilled at the prospect, but then quickly crashed back to earth. “You know married women aren’t supposed to teach.”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “I’m going to be teaching nature and gardening, Emma. Do you really think a school run by the Lucas clan is going to be traditional?”

“Precisely,” a voice spoke from the doorway, and Emma spun to see Ruby standing there with a smug smile on her face. She walked into the room and scooped her nephew out of Mary Margaret’s arms, planting kisses to his squishy cheeks. Then she turned back to her sister. “Please, Emma, be my art teacher. You’re so talented.”

Emma shook her head. “The art teachers in Europe would beg to differ.”

Ruby scoffed. “Please, they’re just a bunch of snobs. Besides, I know you would shrivel up inside without your art. Killian knows it, too.”

Emma glanced over Ruby’s shoulder to see Mary Margaret slip out of the room with a knowing nod. She then looked back at Ruby before taking a deep breath to steel herself.

“About Killian,” she said nervously, “I love him so much, and you know I always have. But please, Ruby, tell me honestly . . . do you . . . do you mind at all?”

A soft smile filled Ruby’s face. “Even though Killy once swore to me he’d never love another, I knew that couldn’t possibly be true. I also knew the love he had for me was more adolescent infatuation than true love. But you two? You’re meant to be, I can see it plainly.”

“Really?” Emma whispered.

Ruby nodded emphatically. “Besides, I had my share of lovers during my time in New York.”

“Ruby!”

Her sister gave her a sly look. “What can I say? I went there to expand my views of the world, after all.”

Ava gurgled and flung her arms about, causing both women to laugh. Emma offered the tiny lass her finger, and the baby rewarded her with a gummy smile.

“Careful,” Ruby warned, “that one bites.”

“At least she doesn’t have teeth.” Emma looked back up at her sister. “And this Peter you wrote me about?”

Ruby sighed. “Yes, I was rather fond of Peter, but Emma, I learned one thing beyond a shadow of doubt while I was in New York. Marriage isn’t for me. I want my freedom.”

Emma shook her head. “You can have both.”

“No, you can have both because you love a man who will let you have it. I didn’t love Killian, not like that. I did love Peter, but he would have hemmed me in.” She gave a wry laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“You’re sure you’re okay with never marrying?”

“Absolutely. There were others besides Peter, anyway, Emma. Settling down, though? It’s just not for me.”

Emma nodded, trying to wrap her mind around what Ruby was saying. She loved Killian so much, she had a hard time understanding why everyone wouldn’t want what she had. On the other hand, maybe what she and Killian had was rare.

“Ouch!” Emma cried out, yanking her finger away from the baby’s mouth. Ava giggled delightedly.

“Told you.”

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

And so, dear reader, if you were to travel to Storybrooke, Maine, most likely you would hear gossip about the very unconventional Lucas girls: the scandalously single one who runs a “modern” school and lets her married sisters teach; the eldest sister who doesn’t seem to care that her husband is poor, actually encouraging him to quit a well paying job to be a teacher, of all things; and the youngest sister, who, while incredibly wealthy, is no more proper than her sisters.

The Storybrooke residents will regale you with shocking stories about Mrs. Emma Lucas Jones. How she lowers herself by teaching art to poor children in that odd school of her sister’s. How she scandalously bestows affection upon her husband in public. How she actually travels with him when he has business abroad, their entire brood in tow. Their brood, naturally, being the most scandalous thing of all since it’s evidence that they are entirely too amorous with one another. A proper lady may have two or three children, possibly four, but the Joneses have the improper number of six: Henry, Alice, Belle, Liam, Regina, and Hope. Henry, of course, is a scandal of a completely different sort, since Emma and Killian adopted the boy only a year into their marriage. An orphan of ten who may be afflicted with all types of evil vices. (Never mind that Henry Jones has the highest grades in his class at the Lucas school or that his manners are impeccable - he will always and forever be an orphan to many in the town, despite his parents treating him no differently than his siblings.)

Marco Lucas and his wife no longer suffer the bite of poverty. Between their second daughter’s inheritance, and the vast wealth of a certain son-in-law, they will never want for anything again. Yet that isn’t the reason their hearts are full as their large clan gathers for another Christmas in their modest parlor. It’s the love that binds them together, a love that runs deeper than blood. A love that reaches out to orphans, a love that calls the forgotten son or daughter, a love that crosses oceans to seek one who is lost and alone.

This isn’t the type of story that has a moral. But, dear reader, if it did, that would be the moral of this tale.

#cs ff #csmm #captain swan movie marathon #cs little women au

30 notes · View notes

askaceattorney · 4 years ago

Text

Dear 91teivos,

Mod Vera: Thanks! Everyone in the world is going through some kind of existential crisis, so it made sense for the AA characters to join the party! (And since it was another follower who gave us the idea, we might just keep that idea in the think that after all...)

Dear dawsongfg,

Mod Vera: No need to apologize! We like to space out letters from specific people a little, but we’ll answer as many as we can!

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Bluedragoncody,

Co-Mod: Don’t worry. I doubt they’ll have much luck against the Ace Attorney crew, even without the Proto Badger. They have the ultimate weapon against despair in their arsenal, after all.

...They’re doomed, aren’t they?

I can’t make any promises, but if I ever gain enough skill in the art of animation (which has been a dream of mine for a long time, it turns out), I’ll keep that idea in mind.

Dear skibot99,

Mod Vera: Probably Tumblr bein’ weird. (What else is new?)

Dear sheeeesh,

Mod Vera: Mods get brought on as needed, as you can see with the arrival of Mod Edgeworth! Also, DGS2 is one of the few AA titles I’ve never played, but rest assured. Where there’s a letter, there’s a Mod who can answer it!

Mod Edgeworth: To add to Mod Vera, even if you weren’t accepted during any mod applications, that doesn’t mean you have lost all chances. I applied early January and lost to Mod Vera. Regardless, Co-Mod informed me that, even though I was rejected, he saw my potential and kept me in mind for if I was ever needed. Now, here I am.

Just because you get rejected, that doesn’t mean it’s game over. Show that you have potential and make yourself known by sending letters to us. That is what I did, after being rejected. I made myself known to the mods by sending letters. We do read them and they tell us how much you know the characters and games of AA more than any application. Of course, you must also follow the guidelines. That just goes without saying.

Co-Mod: I think my actual words were something like “Don’t tell anyone, but you were my second choice.” But yeah, what they said is true -- becoming a Mod here, like many things, may or may not happen to you, but you can definitely increase your chances by waiting patiently and demonstrating your potential.

As for DGS2 letters, I’m afraid those are still off-limits unless you know of a way to play or watch the game in its entirety, translated into English. I guess I could check to see if the Dai Gyakuten Saiban 2 channel finished translating...

(Translation: Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?! ...D-Don’t tell me?!)

...Okay, looks like I have some watching to do. Don’t know how I missed that.

So, uh... That part in bold was what I was going to say. Now that both games are finally getting an official English version, all I can say is, hang tight!

(Previous Post)

Dear Inferno again,

Co-Mod: Yeah, I agree. I was just joking around. For anyone who didn’t catch it, that was a reference to Sbemail #108.

The event’s technically over, but we’ll answer the rest of the April Fools’ Day letters when they reach the bottom of the queue. I’m as eager to see Trucy’s reaction to the news (after the stunned silence) as anyone else, after all.

(Video in Letter -- Strong Language Warning)

Dear Ella,

Mod Edgeworth:

I can’t see the first link and....

How did you find this masterpiece and where can I play this game?

Co-Mod: We don’t check for direct messages on Tumblr, if that’s what you’re referring to, so it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. You can always send links in your letters, of course.

(Previous Post)

Dear Inferno,

Mod Edgeworth: That mad lad would be me and thank you.

I like to put my heart and effort when answering these letters. With this one, I figured you wanted to see Trucy in costume, so I just searched up an image on Google for the Ancient One’s costume, a sprite of Trucy and a bald head to put on her. The rest I photoshopped on GIMP.

We’re still going through letters from January. Hopefully we will get the rest of yours soon enough.

Mod Edgeworth: Thank you very much. Your support and the others’ support that have liked, commented and reblogged it mean a lot. As you have stated, a majority of the fandom seem to consider him the worst. I’d like to think it’s because how AA had created this villain of a character to be universally hated was pure genius. Not even the Phantom gets this much hate… and that’s saying something.

Unfortunately, I’d like to keep my real identity outside this blog a secret. I write a lot of letters here and I don’t want to break the spell for anyone. Think of it like a Disney theme park. The cast that play the characters will never admit their true identities, outside of family and close friends, to prevent the experience from being ruined. I want to do the same as a Mod. I don’t want to break the spell of writing to your favorite AA characters. This blog had helped me through my tough times and I want to help everyone else as a mod.

However, I will answer your letters and, if you post anything on your account, a mysterious friend I know may linger and give you a like ;)

(Previous Letter)

Dear Ali S. Fakenamington,

Co-Mod: Beautifully so.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Sinyove,

Mod Edgeworth: That letter was made in 2012 before AA5 and AA6, which was WAY before I became a part of the AA fandom. I’m certain a lot of us were not here when this letter was made, except maybe Co-Mod, but you’ll have to speak with him about this. I will say that the mod that answered this is no longer working here... I think. At the very least, I haven’t heard from him.

That being said, AA4 or Apollo Justice was the first AA game I’ve ever played. Despite all of the hate I saw towards that game, I still loved it regardless. Though, having not played the trilogy, playing the tutorial of AJ was a pain in the ass. I remember going to YouTube to find out how to beat it, because it was so hard. I also played it on PC.

I do see where The Mod was coming from. Had the two sequel games never existed, Apollo Justice would have more holes than my brothers’ socks. My only critique is that Phoenix wasn’t any better either with having Mia babysitting him during almost every trial AND investigations. Hell, Phoenix needed Mia to know how to talk to a kid, talk to a perverted old man, almost gave up in most of his trials in the first game and never conducted a trial without Mia until Turnabout Goodbyes when Maya literally couldn’t summon her. For the most part, Apollo was doing fine on his own without Phoenix, with only Trucy assisting him for the two middle trials, only almost giving up once and Phoenix having assisted him during times when Apollo was not in a normal situation (like when the criminal turned out to be his own co-council/mentor or when he had to lead a trial that included the Jury System). That’s more than Phoenix ever did on his own in the first two games and I think Apollo deserves more credit than he got in that letter in my opinion.

For me, Apollo Justice is one of those games you either like or you hate. I love it for what it is. My least favorite AA game would have to be Ace Attorney Investigations, the first game. The second one is my absolute favorite.

Co-Mod: Sadly, I haven’t seen or heard from the Mod in a while, so it may be time for us to declare him MIA again.

Erm... Sorry, poor choice of words.

I’m fairly certain I wasn’t around 5 years long ago, but I have to say, Capcom did a great job of making Apollo and his story more interesting over time. He may not be Phoenix, but he certainly carried his legacy forward pretty well, both as an attorney and as an Ace Attorney protagonist.

Now, WHAT ABOUT ATHENA ALREADY!?

Dear BDC,

Co-Mod: It fits like a glove, if you ask me...although it also kind of reminds me of 101 Dalmatians. And thanks for that bit of info! I never get tired of watching people enjoying the fun dialogue and plot twists of Ace Attorney, so I might have to look him up.

I’m not sure I feel the same about watching Dahlia’s voice actress, though. I’m sure she’s a nice person and all, but the thought of hearing that voice for so long... *shudder*

(Previous Letter)

Dear dawsongfg again,

Co-Mod: I wasn’t trying to say that natural deaths can’t happen in the Ace Attorney universe, just that most deaths aren’t what they seem. I knew right away that Archie Buff’s death was no accident, for one thing. Waaaaay too much of a coincidence, know what I mean?

-The Mods

#91teivos #dawsongfg #bluedragoncody #ajanisapprentice #skibot99 #sheeeesh #Ella #moonlitgraffiti #Ali S. Fakenamington #sinyove #Mod Post #Mod Vera #Co Mod #Mod Edgeworth

15 notes · View notes

ronnie-azumane · 4 years ago

Text

Kitten?

This is something I came up with at midnight while trying to complete my numerous missing assignments. I apologize in advance

Summary: Tsukishima Kei is a mod of a discord server And with his luck, he finds his first love on the server he runs. He falls head over heels, and vows to fulfill all her needs. However, not everything is what it seems.

Tsukishima was a simple man with simple likes. Granted, However, these likes weren’t as commonplace among his peers.

Sure, he moderated a Discord Server full of people of all ages. In said server, they would play games and talk about the various shows they watched together, some of which were considered children shows.

“Anyone catch the new episode of My Little Pony?” someone on the server would ask.

Tsukishima would bat in immediately, saying, “Remember the two-week spoiler warning, everything else must be covered and properly tagged.” He was the perfect mod, as he was both online all the time he didn’t have school or practice, as well as he was a stickler for the rules. Plus, he had only recently gained access to last week’s episode not long ago, therefore, he had not seen the new episode.

Another thing he liked to do on this server was talk to others on the voice call feature. He enjoyed talking to the many people who decided to join the server, even making a couple of friends, which he refused to believe for the longest time.

One of these many friends was a user that went by the name of gamergirl05. She was a peculiar person, only logging in late at night and logging out early in the morning, only to be away from her computer until late that night again.

She intrigued Tsukishima. Not only was she one of the only girls on the server, she always seemed to be on the voice chat. She never typed messages, never spoke, unless she was spoken to on the voice call.

Her voice was soft and breathy, with a medium pitch. Her profile picture was a white cartoon cat against a pastel pink background. Sometimes, when playing videogames, you could here her grunt in frustration every once in a while.

Tsukishima couldn’t help from gaining a crush.

She didn’t seem clingy, she seemed rather chill and independent, it was like God itself sent this woman into Tsukishima’s life.

She was perfect.

Tsukishima couldn’t help but get excited whenever he saw that she was online. He would always join the voice call whenever he saw she was online.

They would have meaningful conversation. Tsukishima would learn much about her. She was living in Tokyo. She was a year older than Tsukishima; a second year in high school. She had been playing videogames for as long as she could remember. She has an overactive imagination, pretending that she was getting chased by dragons and facing checkpoints every time she walked to school in the morning. She wasn’t popular, but had a couple of close knit friends.

The more they talked, the more Tsukishima fell head over heels. However, the more he started to fall for her, the more he realized that he didn’t know how to express himself in a positive way. He was known as a negative nelly most of his life, with his relationship with the fellow members of the Karasuno volleyball club solidifying that feeling of disgust he felt toward others. Ever with his best friend Yamaguchi he was unable to show positive feelings toward, even though he didn’t feel anything negative toward his best friend.

Unknowing what to do, he looked up online ‘how to show someone you like them,’ only to come up with a website offering a free test to those wondering what their love language was. perfect.

Tsukishima took the test, answering each question as truthfully as he could, even asking his mom what she thought of him for one of the questions.

After thirty minutes of reading, understanding, and clicking, Tsukishima gat the result he was looking for- his love language.

His love language was gift-giving.

He knew exactly what to do at that point.

Later that night, he stared at the voice call box, waiting for a certain someone to join the call. At 11:00pm on the dot, gamergirl05 joined the call. Tsukishima joined the call soon after.

“Um, hey, uh, how was your day?” Tsukishima asked her.

“My day? I guess it was okay,” she replied. Her voice was still light and breathy as usual. Not too high-pitched as to make Tsukishima believe that she was fake, and not to low to make her sound unattractive to him. The perfect voice for arguably the perfect human.

“Do you have Nitro by any chance?” Tsukishima asked her.

“No, I don’t see the benefit for paying for it myself,” she replied.

“If someone got it for you, would you use it?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“I-I Don’t mid gifting it to you, if you tell me your Venmo, Ill send the money right now!”

“Ok.”

She read off a couple of letters and numbers, spelling out her Venmo for him to gift money to. Tsukishima used his mom’s credit card to send her over $50, with the unspoken promise of paying her back one day, even though she didn’t even know her youngest son stole her card.

They talked the rest of the night, until Tsukishima had to go to bed.

XxX

Tsukishima didn’t let up on his gifts to gamergirl05, or Cat as she started referring herself to. Anything she mentioned offhandedly form a new skin to a longing for a fast food meal, Tsukishima sent her the appropriate funds needed to retrieve that item.

Each monetary gift he sent on Venmo was given a reply of the kissing face emoji.

Tsukishima was over the moon. Not only was he becoming better at volleyball every day after school, but he was also getting closer and closer to Cat. When he found out that he was going to Tokyo for a training camp, he excitedly went online that night to tell cat about how he was going to be in Tokyo and that maybe they could meet up.

“Sorry, but I have plans for that weekend,” Cat said. Tsukishima sighed, but figured as much. He was disappointed, but not surprised.

However, he picked himself up by the bootstraps and packed up his stuff to go to Tokyo for the training camp.

XxX

The weekend was tough. Karasuno faced loss after loss against the Tokyo powerhouse schools. However, the team had learned a lot about both themselves and their offensive and defensive power.

After a long weekend of training, all the guys were sore. All their muscles were aching and screaming, begging for some relief. The coaches complied, supplying all the players with all the watermelon they could eat.

All the players gathered into groups, talking within each other’s friend groups. Tsukishima kept his distance from the others, with Yamaguchi joining in with them. They talked about various topics here and there, but nothing too serious.

Tsukishima was starting to zone out, thinking about Cat, and what she may or may not be doing. He hated to admit it, but he was head over heels in love, even though he had never seen Cat in a picture, much less in person.

While Tsukishima was zoning out, thinking of his unofficial lover, Hinata, Kenma, and Lev gathered nearby, talking loudly about who knows what. Tsukishima wasn’t paying attention, until the topic of discord came up. All his focus then went into listening in on this conversation.

“So you guys are on discord? What servers are you guys in?” Hinata asked.

“Not too many, I bet Kenma’s on a couple though,” Lev replied, only for Kenma to grunt in reply.

“Oh really! What servers are you on, Kenma?”

“Ehh, just a couple here and there. I frequent a My Little Pony server because a mod there gives me money a lot.”

Tsukishima felt a shock run throughout his body. A My Little Pony server? Maybe he was on the same server as him. He would never bring it up, but he was glad to know someone on the server; talking to 12-year-olds all day did get old.

“Wait, someone pays you to be on a My Little Pony server?” Lev asked.

“No, I think he is somehow attracted to me, every time I mention something I want, he sends me money.” Kenma replied, taking a massive bite out of his watermelon slice.

‘That’s kind of odd, who would give money like that to a guy like Kenma?’ Tsukishima thought.

“How did you do that, Kenma? I could sure use the extra cash,” Hinata asked.

“Well, Kuroo taught me to raise my voice like this to sound like some kind of gamer girl,” Kenma explained in a girly voice. Not too high to sound fake, not too low to sound unattractive. Perfect.

Just like Cat.

‘This has to be a coincidence, there’s no way that Kenma and Cat are the same person’ Tsukishima desperately thought.

“Oh, do you guys want to be friends on Discord, so we can keep in contact?” Hinata asked.

“I guess. I’m gamergirl05#0000,” Kenma replied, essentially murdering Tsukishima with his response.

Tsukishima stood up from where he was sitting. Forgetting the fact that he was still supposed to be in a conversation with Yamaguchi, he left the area, trying to find a secluded area, eventually settling for a small ally in between two of the gyms.

Once making sure he couldn’t be seen, he let all his held-in emotions out. He screamed up to the sky as the threw his watermelon rind against the wall, watching it break into numerous pieces.

“My Heart!” he screamed out, “I loved her!” He sank to the ground and let the tears flow. As he wailed out in despair, he covered his face with one hand while knocking his fist against the grass with his other.

Yamaguchi, who saw this all go down, ran up to go comfort his best friend. He didn’t know what was going on, other than the fact that his best friend was a mess on the floor.

How was Tsukishima going to tell his mom, who was already suspicious of him stealing her credit cards, that the money wasn’t being spent on her future Daughter in law? How was he going to log back in on the server, knowing he was cat fished?

He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. All he knew at that moment was the soft an warm hand of Yamaguchi softly rubbing his back in an attempt to calm him down.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #tsukishima #tsukishima kei #hq #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi #hinata shōyō #shoyo hinata #kenma #kenma kuzome #lev haiba #fanfiction #this fanfic is stupid af I'm sorry #discord #discord mod #discord kitten

28 notes · View notes