#just two special boys having a grand old time in the village

[auxiliarydetective]

OC Masterlist - One Piece OCs!

What can I say? - Special interests are a thing.

As per usual, everyone is listed with their age at their introduction into the storyline. The birth years are according to my calculations and approximations of when the story of One Piece takes place. For OPLA, we have a set date for the Syrup Village Arc - Kaya's birthday, which is August 24th! I used that date to figure out if a character had had their birthday yet that year and went from there. If you want to know why I put the year 1522 as the "present" year, check out this post on my resources blog.

-> Aurelia

"I'll tell you all the things you should know. So, baby, take my hands, save your soul." - Ariana Grande, in: God is a Woman

Full name: Dracule (née Silvers) Aurelia

Birthday: September 25th, 1486 ASC (35 years old)

Identity: bisexual, polyamorous, trans woman

Faceclaim: Zión Moreno

Tag: x | Fic: -

Aurelia is feared and revered all across the seven seas. Marines call her the "Black Widow" because she's like a spider in an invisible net of connections and most of her lovers end up dead one way or another, but most pirates respectfully refer to her as "La Donna". Donna Aurelia gets her title from her "family" of underlings, protégés and associates, from up and coming pirate crews to the absolute big shots. And as if that weren't enough, her father is one of the most infamous pirates of the old era, her mother a former empress, and her husband a Warlord of the Sea and the current World's Greatest Swordsman - Dracule Mihawk. Even though her focus is mostly placed on the Grand Line, Baratie remains as one of her firmest territories, and so she she stumbles across some unruly straw-hatted pirate turned chore boy.

-> Cora

"Coraline vuole il mare ma ha paura dell'acqua." - Måneskin, in: Coraline

Full name: Akaito Coraline

Birthday: June 5th, 1504 ASC (18 years old)

Identity: bisexual, polyamorous, cis female

Faceclaim: Jenna Coleman

Tag: x | Fic: x

Cora comes from a long line of world-famous tailors who were all wiped out by a king in the North Blue shortly after her birth. After having suffered beneath the tyrant for sixteen years, she escapes with her craft, a needle, stories, and the powers of her family's heirloom, the Sew Sew Fruit, making it to the East Blue. Two years later, she meets none other than her childhood friend Sanji, taking the time to catch up with him. One thing leads to another and she finds herself travelling with a crew of pirates and falling in love with not only her childhood friend but also the crew's mossheaded swordsman.

-> Lily

"They call you cry baby, cry baby, but you don't even care - tears fall to the ground, you'll just let them drown." - Melanie Martinez, in: Cry Baby

Full name: Felicity

Birthday: March 30th, 1509 ASC (13 years old)

Identity: fennec fox? (she doesn't really think about it)

Faceclaim: Thomasin McKenzie

Tag: x | Fic: x

Lily is half human, half fennec fox mink, and travelled the seas with her parents for years until they disappeared. Luckily, she was found by Merry while he was travelling for the shipbuilding business, and brought back home to Syrup Village, where Lily since lived like Kaya's sister. But a month before Kaya's 18th birthday, she is kidnapped by the Buggy Pirates, and stuck in a cage until the clown makes the mistake of kidnapping the Straw Hat Pirates as well.

-> Inari

"Sometimes I wonder when I look at my reflection if the person looking back is really me. A couple years spent learning how to disappear, a couple more spent learning what I could be." - mxmtoon, in: growing pains

Full name: Charlotte Inari

Birthday: June 25th, 1508 ASC (14 years old)

Identity: pansexual, gender is all over the place

Faceclaim: Reina Triendl

Tag: x | Fic: -

Charlotte Inari ate a devil fruit when she was still very little, one that made her a servant to whoever last saved her life, one that since then dragged her all across the globe, finally ending her as a slave to the “God” Enel. But with some new pirate crew from the Blue Sea showing up in the God’s domain, it seems her fate is finally going to change for the better. Oh, and she’s also the daughter of one of the Four Emperors, but that’s not a big deal, is it?

-> Kaede

Full name: Shimotsuki Kaede

Birthday: September 4th (23 years old)

Identity: bisexual, genderqueer

Faceclaim: Komatsu Nana

Tag: x | Fic: -

Kaede is a regular Ebisu Town citizen by day, dying and mending kimonos, and stealing food and shooting arrows by night. In a one-in-a-million chance, Kaede was lucky enough to get a SMILE fruit that still had traces of its former power left, allowing her to turn into a flying squirrel at will. This little mistake will come back to bite Kaido and his men in the upcoming revolution.

-> Kan-chan

Full name: Kanyalani

Birthday: January 10th (39 years old)

Identity: pansexual

Faceclaim: Namtarn Pichukkana

Tag: x | Fic: -

Kanyalani, also known as Kan-chan, is a betta fish mermaid and former slave. Upon her release, she joined the Sun Pirates, eventually leading her to meet the joyful Straw Hat Pirates.

-> Luna

"Luna, quieres ser madre, y no encuentras querer que te haga mujer. Dime, luna de plata, ¿que pretendes hacer con un niño de piel?"- Mecano, in: Hijo de la Luna

Full name: Aether S. Luna

Birthday: December 11th, 1503 ASC (18 years old)

Identity: she doesn’t think about it, loves everyone and identifies as ethereal

Faceclaim: Maria Amanda

Tag: x | Fic: -

Luna is the daughter of the moon goddess herself – or at least she believes that. Her strange powers connected to the moon certainly don’t serve any evidence against it. Having wandered the seas for years, she eventually finds herself stuck with the Foxy Pirates. But her rescue arrives in the form of the Straw Hat Pirates and their overly charming chef Sanji.

-> Lux

"Here we go again. We're sick like animals, we play pretend. You're just a cannibal and I'm afraid I won't get out alive." - Neon Trees, in: Animal

Full name: Lux Jirou (he goes by his last name after leaving Syrup Village)

Birthday: July 1st, 1500 ASC (21 years old)

Identity: bisexual (male preference), cis male

Faceclaim: Jack Kilmer

Tag: x | Fic: -

Jirou is sick. It's something that Klahadore tells him again and again. He's only got a few years left to live, so why not live those final years in a state of wealth and luxury? But things go wrong, as they usually do in Jirou's life, because is feelings get in the way. One of those feelings is pity, the other his a sudden crush on a green-haired swordsman that simply appeared in the garden on the big day. Things can never go right for Jirou, can they?

-> Sonoko

Full name: Roronoa Sonoko

Birthday: March 9th

Identity: lesbian

Faceclaim: Hirukawa Yu

Tag: x | Fic: -

Roronoa Sonoko is Pirate Hunter Zoro's sister and a freshly promoted Marine Ensign. Under the care of Vice Admiral Garp and Bogard, she has the best chances of adcancing through the ranks, but Garp has further plans for her: As a deal with Dracule Mihawk, he convinces to take the World's Greatest Swordsman to take Sonoko in as a student, starting a whole new chapter in her life. If only her brother would stop getting into trouble…

[screechthemighty]

Resident Evil Brain is still going brrrr, so here’s a new short fic! I actually came up with the idea for it ages ago, but finishing up everything stays gave me some breathing room to finish it off. You can read the full story below, but I’ll also post it to AO3 (same user name as here) and include a link to that in the reblogs!

If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have slept. He would have powered through, gone after the next Lord. Stopping to eat was one thing; stopping to sleep felt wrong. Almost like he was giving up, or wasting valuable time that could be the difference between life and death for his daughter.

But Ethan had nearly tripped while catching a chicken to eat, and deep down he knew he'd just get himself killed if he didn't rest at least a little. He wasn't expecting that somewhere to be the back of the Duke's wagon, but the man had offered, and Ethan was too tired to complain. He kept the two flasks he'd managed to gather close to his chest as he curled up in his corner. "It's gonna be okay," Ethan whispered. He wasn't sure if Rose could hear him; the Duke had said her essence was intact, whatever the hell that meant, so maybe. It couldn't hurt to try. "I'm coming for you, honey. I promise."

He just needed enough of a nap that his limbs would stop feeling so heavy. Ethan's eyes drifted shut. He thought between the stinging pain in his hand and the memories of that awful house with all the dolls, sleep wouldn't come easy, but he dozed off pretty quickly.

He woke up to a feeling of dread seizing his body.

At first, he thought he’d had a nightmare, but...no, it was deeper than that. Maybe it was his paranoia, but something wasn’t right. Ethan carefully moved off the cot and crept towards the front of the cart. He could just see the Duke’s shoulder, and past it...

Black robes, the flutter of feathers, no, no, she couldn’t be here, not now.

The other man glanced over his shoulder, pressing a single finger to his lips. That was the only thing that kept Ethan from panicking. He thought about making a run for Rose, but that would mean making noise. It was a miracle that Miranda hadn’t heard him move the first time.

How hadn’t she noticed them? The Duke wasn’t exactly subtle. Ethan kept bracing himself for her to turn her head, try to talk to the Duke, maybe even try to hurt him. She did look their way at one point, causing Ethan to duck back behind cover, teeth clenched, trying to steady his breathing. But when he looked again, she just moved on. As if there were nothing out of the ordinary about the Duke being there.

No. As if she hadn’t seen them at all.

Ethan stayed frozen in place until Miranda was out of sight. Even then, he kept his voice down to a whisper: “Is she...?”

“She won’t be a problem,” said the Duke. Ethan was taken aback by the other man’s tone—not quite aggressive, but definitely hostile. “Not for now, at least.” And then, just as swiftly... “It’s good that you’re awake! I’ve just finished preparing lunch.”

That tone was gone.

The smell of food was the only thing that got Ethan to leave the cart; even then, he made sure everything was packed away and secure before he did. He wanted to be ready if he had to run. The Duke didn’t seem worried, though. He just served up the dish (Ethan had already forgotten what it was called, but fuck it smelled good) and started eating his own portion as if nothing were wrong. As if he hadn’t just had the one and only major change in his mood that Ethan had seen in the time they’d known each other. It wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, but when the guy had been so consistent up until then, it was noteworthy. Weird, even.

Why are you doing all of this?

Why, it’s all part of our first class customer service.

Or maybe it was personal.

Ethan sneaked a few glances at the Duke as he ate. The man seemed genuinely unbothered, but maybe he was just good at hiding whatever that venom had been. “How didn’t she see us?” Ethan asked. It felt almost rude to ask, but if he was throwing in his lot with this guy, he felt like he had a right to know. “She wasn’t too far away.”

“I’ve been in this village longer than she has,” said the Duke. “It seems to agree with me more than it does her.” He noticed Ethan’s immediate frown. “What’s the longest you’ve ever lived somewhere, Ethan?”

“The same...place? I mean, I was in Dallas for a while. Not the same house the whole time, but...probably Dallas?”

“Well, after a while, wouldn’t you say that you get a feeling for a place’s...essence? How it moves, how it breathes? You could navigate it more quickly than a person who hadn’t been there as long, could you not? Stay hidden in places and ways they wouldn’t know about?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “...we’re right out in the open, there’s nothing...” Ethan sighed. “You know what, never mind. This is sounding like a conversation I should be drunk for.”

The Duke laughed. It didn’t sound mocking, at least. “Well, if you find anything left to drink in this place, bring it back with you. We can split the bottle.”

“Maybe. Once this is over.” And as long as it wasn’t from Dimitrescu’s winery. That stuff definitely wasn’t just fermented grapes.

Ethan kept eating, trying to focus on the food and not on the questions still nagging at his mind. Nothing about this place made sense, and the Duke was high up there on that list. Even if Ethan was choosing to trust him for now...

No, I have to knw.

“So...you know Miranda? Maybe not personally, but...” Ethan glanced up at the Duke, carefully studying his nearly unreadable face. “...I take it you don’t like her very much?”

The Duke hesitated. Even though his face stayed impassive, that alone was enough to catch Ethan’s attention. He wasn’t usually so slow to answer. “I am not one of her devotees, no,” the Duke said. “Which means I can clearly see she is the root of much suffering in this place.”

“The Lords? All those monsters?”

“In more ways than you realize. They were people once, you know. They might be monstrous now, but they are monsters of her making.”

Ethan understood what the Duke meant. He thought about the Bakers. The madman that had cut off his leg versus the man with kind eyes who’d begged him to save his family. The shrieking banshee with her bugs versus a woman who could’ve been his own grandmother. He wasn’t sure if Eveline had ever been anything but cruel, but even if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have existed if it hadn’t been for someone else’s greed. Even the molded had been people once. Ethan didn’t regret defending himself and Mia, never would, and he’d keep defending himself here as long as these people kept screwing with him. But...

How different might things had been if someone somewhere down the line just hadn’t screwed with everyone? Just left the Lords, whoever they had been once, and the villagers in peace?

“Yeah,” Ethan said quietly. He took his last few bites of the food. “Fuck that crazy bitch, huh?”

The Duke laughed boisterously. "I'll certainly eat to that."

Ethan didn't entirely relax. He wasn't sure he was capable of that. But he was able to relax a little. Even if he didn't know how, it seemed like the Duke's little setup was a safe place.

There weren't too many of those in this place.

---

Knowing what to say and when best to say it was one of the most important parts of customer service. It was the only thing that kept the Duke from saying more to Ethan Winters. The poor man had enough on his plate, much he had to grapple with, most of it beyond the scope of his understanding. Further truth might not break him, but it would cause him unnecessary stress.

There was much the Duke would have told him if it weren’t for that concern. What centuries felt like. How this little village had changed, people coming and going, living and dying. How many had tried to seize the power the mountains held. None had truly succeeded before Miranda, the self-proclaimed mother of this place.

The Duke may have long forgotten the face of his own mother, but he remembered enough to know what maternal love felt like. Whatever Miranda had to offer was not that love. Just a twisted perversion of it, as the Lords were twisted perversions of children. She was an infection in these lands, but unfortunately, one he could do nothing about. The Duke had a great many tricks up his sleeve, but he was only a seller of arms. He had never learned to use them himself. He had always been keen to supply those who might oppose Miranda, but none had succeeded yet.

Out of all of them, he felt that Ethan Winters had the best chance of succeeding.

It wasn’t just the man’s biology, though that was clearly giving him an edge. It was something else: the spark the Duke had in his eyes from the first second they met. Determination. Rage. The kind of drive that couldn’t be found in any mold or virus in the world.

And what better to defeat a perversion of parental love than its true counterpart?

Ethan kept his bag clutched close to his chest as he ate, the bag that contained two parts of his daughter. The Duke had heard him whispering to the flasks before he fell asleep, trying to soothe and reassure the child. Even now, as he paused in eating, Ethan hummed quietly. A jaunty tune, one that the Duke didn’t recognize. “A favorite song of hers?” he asked.

Ethan glanced up. “Oh, uh. Yeah. ‘Doctor Worm.’ Never too early to get started on good music.” He held the bag a little closer before finishing off his meal. “Thanks. For the food. And for...” He gestured. “Whatever it was you did back there. If you did anything.”

His tone cemented the Duke’s decision to keep some things from Ethan. He sounded exasperated by even a simple cloaking technique. The Duke’s true age would only elicit a similar response.

Maybe if Ethan survived this, when he had less on his mind, the Duke could tell him everything. His full, dark history with Miranda. The full scope of the horrors he’d seen. The horrors that Ethan would have put a stop to. But for now, the Duke took Ethan’s plate with a smile. “Do keep an eye out for more meat as you go,” he said. “It would be an honor to have dinner with you.”

“Yeah,” Ethan said in a quiet huff. “Assuming I make it that long.”

That was always a risk, of course. That Ethan wouldn’t make it. But despite knowing that...

“After what you’ve done, Mr. Winters? I think you’re more than equipped to handle what’s to come.”

And he meant that. He truly did. Even if it was to be the death of Ethan Winters...the Duke had a feeling it would be the death of Mother Miranda as well.

He just hoped he would be able to explain exactly how truly important that was.

[becomingpotatoes]

Always an Actor, but Never a Joke

Camilo Madrigal x GN!reader

Camilo - he/him

Y/n - they/them

(all other characters have the pronouns their associates with in the film)

You had always been one for theatrics.

As an aspiring actor, as a child most of your time had been spent making up plays in the village courtyard and roping the younger kids into being your supportive ensemble, against most of their wishes.

But of course, what is a show stopping actor without their costar?

You had found such a person in the one and only Camilo Madrigal. The two of you had quickly become friends after Camilo got his gift - shapeshifting. You had been constructing as good of a play as your five year old brain could when you noticed you had an audience.

“Hey!” You had called, hands on your hips. “My show doesn’t start for two more days! You aren’t supposed to be watching before I’m done practicing!”

Camilo’s head popped out of the bushes, his brown curls spilling over his head in a slightly endearing way, a mischievous grin tugging at his mouth. “Sorry, sorry. I was just curious! I wanted to know about the secret show.”

You frowned. “My show isn’t a secret.”

Camilo giggled. “No, but nobody knows what it’s about!”

“Oh.” You considered telling this boy your grand idea - it did deserve to be shared with everyone. But - no! He would have to wait like everyone else.

“Anyways, how are you having a play with just yourself?” Camilo asked, walking over to you. Your face flushed slightly - that was something you had thought about, but you hadn’t done anything about it. You did need another person, another actor, yes…but nobody had wanted to hang out with you.

“I…do you wanna be in it?” You blurted out suddenly.

Camilo clasped his hands together. “Yes! And plus, look at what I can do!” Camilo then did something amazing. He changed shape - turning into a perfect copy of yourself. You stared at him, transfixed.

“How did you do that?!” You gasped. Camilo turned back into himself and shrugged.

“My whole family has magic stuff like that. Mi hermana can hear really well, mi madre can control the weather, mi prima can grow flowers, mi other prima is super strong…oh, but Mirabel doesn’t have anything. Or mi padre.” Camilo rambled.

You had heard tales from your padres about the Madrigal family. Kids with special gifts - it had sounded like a dream come true to you, a fairy tale, one of your plays come to life.

And speaking of that…

The Madrigals had been your inspiration for your play, except your play was about a girl who was the only one in her family with magic. She could fly! As a five year old, you thought that was the coolest thing ever.

So, you and Camilo became instant friends. He became your loyal costar, featuring in almost all your plays. Throughout the years, as his powers grew, so did your friendship.

And it only seemed natural that you would develop a crush on the funny, charming, handsome Camilo Madrigal.

The boy who’d read the plays you wrote out loud and shapeshift into the characters.

Who’d always give you words of encouragement.

Who roped you into his pranks on his hermanos and primas.

It was when you two were about fifteen that things began to change.

Camilo started acting a bit…different towards you. He smiled a lot more, you noticed, and he seemed more nervous, but at the same time more confident as he often complimented you and shot flirty comments your way. You had to admit that you like the attention, but you didn’t get why he did it.

“You know, you’ve stole mi hermano’s heart.” Camilo’s hermana, Dolores, teased one day. After an impromptu sleepover with Camilo and Mirabel (Mirabel had also become one of your closest friends, she was just a joy to be around) you were assisting Dolores and Mirabel in setting the table for breakfast.

You laughed nervously. “Don’t be ridiculous, Dolores. We’re only good friends.”

Mirabel rolled her eyes. “That statement has absolutely no truth in it. I see the way you two look at each other.”

“And I hear it.” Dolores reminded them, winking at you. You blushed, but crossed your arms.

“What about you and Mariano, hmm? When should I be buying something nice for your wedding?” you asked playfully. Dolores swatted at you good-naturedly, and Mirbael laughed.

“Oh hush, we’ve been dating a month. There are no plans to get married anytime soon.��

Mirabel raised an eyebrow. “I feel like I remember him asking to marry you as soon as you two became official, but you do you.”

Dolores’s face grew red, and she quickly excused herself.

Mirabel then turned her attention to you. “But back to you, mi amigo. There is something going on between you and mi primo, isn’t there?”

“I…” you start, prepared to spill your crush, but then you were interrupted by the boy himself, Camilo, carrying two plates; one for you and one for himself.

“Here you go, mi vida.” Camilo said, placing the food in front of you. You blushed from his name for you - but you were used to him calling you that as a joke.

Mirabel’s gaze darted from you to Camilo. “Oh, does Camilo have himself a novio?”

You laughed. “Oh, come on Mirabel. He was obviously just joking.”

Camilo turned his head with a small laugh. “Yeah. Of course. I didn’t mean to say it.”

~

You were seated at your desk in your room, rapidly scribbling in your notebook. You had a really good idea for your play, and you needed to get this down. Plus, writing distracted you from…Camilo…

At least, it had.

Because Camilo seemed to be determined to see you that afternoon.

You heard a frantic tapping at your window. Confused, you walked over to it, then shook your head as your realized it was Camilo. You opened the door and Camilo collapsed into your bedroom.

“Camilo, what are you doing here?” You asked, reaching out a hand and pulling him to his feet.

Camilo dusted himself off and shot you one of his trademark grins. “Am I not allowed to see my bestest amigo?”

“You saw me earlier!” You laughed. He shrugged, took your hands, and spun you around, the two of you landing on your bed, both laughing.

“What are you up to, Writer Extraordinaire?” Camilo asked playfully. You rolled your eyes.

“Well, I was working on a play…” You trailed off. “I had had the best idea for a scene, but I went to write it down and it just…wasn’t working for me.”

“Mhm, I see, mi amigo.” Camilo commented. “What’s it about?”

Your face flushed slightly. “Uh, didn’t I tell you? It’s the romance one, about the two kids who grow up together and fall in love.”

Camilo’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh. And where did you get an idea like that from?”

“…I don’t know.” You lied. “See, the problem is…I’m at the confession scene, you know, the part where they realize their feelings and stuff…but it’s kind of hard to write a confession scene when you’ve never been confessed to before.”

You could almost feel the tension in the air as you said those words. Camilo turned to look at you, and he raised a hand to cup your face. He seemed to silently be asking if it was okay for him to do this, and you nodded.

“Y/n,” he began. “I’m sure you already knew, because I’m very obvious, but I love you, mi vida. And that wasn’t a joke.”

You felt as though your face was on fire, your stomach exploding into a thousand butterflies.

“I love you too, mi vida.”

“Was that a joke?” Camilo breathed softly, inching closer to you.

You shook your head.

“No.”

You closed the gap between you two.

[tooweirdforyou]

How ASL Bros React To Getting Married To You

A/N : well, I reallyyy want to write a nice long fic but like.. life man. I’m on spring break and have work all week and with my sleep problems 😭 just enjoy this please c:

Summary : what the asl brothers wedding would be like.

-

Luffy

“Woah! You look awesome, [Name]!”

So cheery and wholesome.

Zoro is his best man, ( much to Sanji’s dismay )

EVERYONE is there, every single person he’s ever met is there so it’s crowded and you basically had it outside, in Foosha Village, though he wanted it to be on the ship.

All of the girls Luffy’s met is responsible for your appearance, they all helped you on your big day.

Some of the marines were invited, of course.

Luffy’s best mans/groom mans ( idk) ( other than Zoro ) consists of Sabo, Ace, Sanji, Usopp, Franky, Brook, Law, Shanks and Koby.

Your bridesmaids consist of Nami, Robin ( maid of honor ), Perona, Tashigi, Vivi and Makino. ( shirahoshi and others didn’t have too much room to stand by you because of the guests so they just sat in their respective seats.)

Before it officially started, there was a lot of tension so separation in seats were needed. Big Mom’s crew is sitting on the left back, Marines in the front right, Law’s, Kid’s and Shanks and other pirates are put in the right back, and everyone else Luffy knows is in the front right.

Few are still in shock because of the fact that LUFFY is getting married before them.

A lot of yelling and laughter from everyone is around but as soon as the classic music is playing in the background, everyone shuts up and turns to face the back, where you’re walking with Garp.

Old man Garp is the one taking you, and even he is full of tears from the fact that his own grandson is getting married.

“You take care of my dumb ole’ grandson, you hear? If he ever becomes too much of an annoyance, just knock him a few times in the head.”

And when you finally reach him, everyone is quiet and has the proudest smiles on their faces. Their Luffy is all grown up.

His bright, radiating grin is plastered and he is pretty overwhelmed but right now, you’re distracted by his handsome look in his suit.

Of course, he has shorts instead of long dress pants but he still looked handsome regardless.

Vows are said, rings are given and you smile at Luffy as the minister ( Sengoku ) questions your commitment.

“Do you, [ Name LastName ] take this complete fool, Monkey D. Luffy, as your everlasting husband and, future pirate king?”

Chuckles are heard, and you couldn’t suppress a giggle either. “I do.”

“I see. I wish you luck on this journey. Luffy, you may now kiss the bride.”

Claps are heard around as Luffy grins. “About time!” He cheers and pulls you by your hands, quickly smashing your lips together in a kiss.

“Congrats, Luffy!”

“Not bad, Straw Hat.”

“Where’s the beer? Time to party!”

“Alright, Luffy! Woo!”

Music is quick to break out as everyone is celebrating and cheering.

You and Luffy already cut the cake, ( it took you a lot of force to make Luffy not shove his face in the cake and just CUT IT. )

The giant cake made by Sanji and the Big Mom family, was shared for everyone and there was still plenty left.

And it was just a fun time with everyone. You even threw your bouquet(?) behind you already and it seems the next to be wed was Tama!

Clearly some of the women weren’t too happy to see the little grow becoming married before them but it was a nice laugh.

The night goes on and it’s getting late. Guests are leaving after wishing the two of you well and you two head in for your suite that Nami booked as her present.

“It feels normal. I thought this was some big special thing, why is it such a big deal again?” Luffy questions, forgetting what the girls had told him the several nights before about weddings.

You smile gently and set the last wrapped gift to the side with the others, taking a glance at the shimmering ring on your left hand.

“Because,” you spin around and face your husband, reaching over and taking off his straw hat that he kept on.

“It swears our connection and commitment to each other. Why do you think Shanks married Makino, despite their long distance relationship?”

Luffy offers his gentle smile, seemingly more relaxed at the mention of the two of the most important people in his life, out of many.

“Because they love each other?” He guesses calmly, tilting his head and you nod, giggling at his black hair that swayed.

“And I love you.” You whisper, leaning closer and felt Luffy’s arms enveloping you in a tight hug, his face nuzzling into your neck.

“I love you, [Name].”

And he leans back, connecting his lips on yours.

-

Ace

“Oh..wow..”

Oh boy, did the Whitebeard crew go BIG.

I have a feeling that Ace would want something a little normal or smaller perhaps, just inviting his personal friends and family, and maybe a few people he met along the way of his journey.

He’s a friendly, outgoing person but for a personal occasion, it’s best to stick with the people you’re closest to.

But he wasn’t complaining when he saw the large äss party, feast and the important people in his life showing up.

Sabo, Luffy and his crew, Shanks, Makino, all of his brothers, members of his old crew, Garp, he was thrilled to see everyone!

The wedding was held on Whitebeard’s ship, of course. It wasn’t too fancy or grand but still pretty large and the ship was right in the middle of the sea.

Ace is all dressed up handsomely in his suit, with the help of Marco, Vista and Izo. His hair isn’t too messy and just styled neatly.

You were dressed beautifully in your gown/suit, with the help of the nurses, Nami, Robin and Izo.

There was a bit of trouble with seating but naturally, many people stood up anyways and were quite busy throwing confetti and other things at you, even if it was a wedding.

Whitebeard is taking you down the aisle, it’s a little bit difficult but he still did, and you can bet he’s excited to have a daughter/son that will help watch over Ace’s dumbass self.

“Rough him up real good, take good care of my stupid son. And call me Pops!”

When Ace sees you walking down, he’ll admit, he’s teary. He’s actually found love, someone like him.. and he’s about to be married to you, the most amazing, attractive, and sweetest person he’s met.

You look so amazing in your outfit, he’s in tears. He’s so lucky.. Marco has a hand on his shoulder and patting his back. “Congratulations, Ace. You deserve this.”

Wiping his tears with his finger, he nods and exhales, holding the widest, warmest smile he could muster.

He was going to love you and protect you all of his damn life, that’s for sure.

The minister is actually Vista! Ace’s best man is Marco and his groomsmans all include Thatch, Luffy, Jozu, Izo, and Haruta!

“Do you, [Name Lastname] take this young kid as your loyal, lawful and everlasting husband?”

“Really?” Ace pouts at Vista’s joke and chuckles are heard, even yours.

“I do, Vista. I’ll make sure he grows.” You giggle as Ace sighs in exasperation.

“Very well. I now pronounce you husband and wife, Ace, kiss your damn bride already.”

“My pleasure.” Ace grins and he’s quick in pulling your wrist towards him, and spinning you into a dipping motion before connecting your lips together in a kiss.

Whistles and catcalls are heard as loud cheers and applause are made.

“Go Ace!”

“Alright, Fire Fist!”

“Better not lose her, Ace!”

Ace rolls his eyes at the comments from his brothers and pulls you back up with a smile. He’s a little glad he didn’t fall asleep midway because of his narcolepsy.

Party immediately breaks out, Sanji aids Thatch in the kitchen to bring out everything and it’s a long night of dancing, boozing and more.

Ace is just off with the guys, having fun and celebrating while you are off with the women, talking about experiences and such.

And when Ace finally finds you and pulls you two away to his room for some alone time, he pulls you close.

“Well, Mrs. Fire Fist, what do you want to do first?~”

His arms are around your waist as he secures you towards him, a cheeky smile on display on his face.

“Not sure, what did you have in mind?” Playing coy, you shrug and tilt your head, turning away from his face which he pouts and uses his hand to force his back to him.

Pecking your lips, Ace smiles again and leads you to his bed. “I have an idea, if you’re up to it?” He wiggles his brows, making you laugh.

He jumps onto the bed, pulling you with him so you were on top. “Well?”

“Oh! Cuddles, I get it! Sure, I’m tired anyways.”

Ace groans at you, heaving a sigh and he whines. “Come on, [Naaamee]!”

You just giggle and sit up, repositioning yourself on his lap and straddled him. “Fine, fine. You’re lucky it’s our special day today.” You hum.

“Oh? So you don’t want to do this after today is over?” Ace muses, smirking a bit since he knew the answer.

You puff your cheeks out at the thought of not having sex with Ace anymore, but you weren’t going to back down. “..Nope!”

Knowing the truth, Ace chuckles and begins to grind upwards into you.

“Alright, I guess I better make this a special memory to remember.”

-

Sabo

“You look incredible, [Name]..”

The most average, normal one. It’s traditional, smaller than most would be, and it’s for personal guests only.

So close members of the revolutionary army, his brothers, Garp and Makino were the only ones invited. If Luffy wanted, he could bring his crew but that’s it!

It’s traditional, so it was held inside a chapel, of course. It wasn’t anything special, everything was set up already and prepared for a small group so it was great.

Sabo is in a dashing, handsome suit like Ace was, but somehow has a much more charming, princely appearance. He helped himself in the appearance, with smallest help of Inazuma.

Your dress too! Somehow it’s more Royal appearing and your veil resembles a crown in a way. Koala and Iva helped you out in this!

Sabo’s best man is actually Ace! The strongest brotherly bond overpowered the thought of having Kuma, Iva or Luffy as a best man, but fortunately, they didn’t seem to mind, since they were groomsmans anyways. Iva being both bridesmaid and groomsman.

Ace was pretty teary and honored, and felt so excited.

The one who takes you down the aisle is Dragon. He’s a little awkward about it at first but he is quite proud of Sabo, even if he doesn’t openly show it.

“Take good care of him, alright?”

“I will.” You assure, thanking him when you finally reach the point of Sabo’s side.

The whole time, Sabo is staring at you in awe, feeling speechless. How did he manage to get someone as beautiful and wholehearted as you?

He can’t contain his wide grin and excitement, his hands just a hint clammy from the nervousness of possible rejection. But he knew you loved him. Because he loves you.

“Someone looks handsome.” You whisper in a giggle and Sabo chuckles. “Not compared to the beauty you have right now.” He winks.

The minister is actually Kuma, of course. Kuma was the obvious choice. Kuma took the position with gratitude.

“[Name Lastname]. Do you take Chief of Staff Sabo, as your lawful, loyal and everlasting husband?”

“I do.”

“Congratulations. I now pronounce you husband and wife, Sabo, please do the honor of kissing your bride.”

Sabo is the most natural approach, taking a step forward and cupping your cheeks in his hands and pulling you forward, for a kiss.

Cheers and applause are made and heard, and Luffy, being the brother he is, pulls out a loud confetti popper and pulls it, it shooting it out everywhere like fireworks.

“Congratulations, you two!”

“Alright, time to get drinking!”

“Better not let this get in the way of your missions..”

“Luffy, how’d you even get that?!” Sabo widens his eyes and he laughs. “Franky made it for me! He said it’ll be super, for the wedding!”

“Geez..”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips and Sabo finds himself laughing alongside you and the whole place is soon filled with laughter and cheer.

It’s a small family party but it was still pretty chaotic regardless, and Sabo makes sure to take you outside for some fresh air when it becomes nighttime.

“Hey, feeling okay?”

Taking a seat on the bench nearly, Sabo sits beside you and you nod, immediately leaning into his shoulder.

“It’s overwhelming, I guess..” the warm smile that spreads your lips is contagious as he does the same when he sees it. “But,”

You take a look at your ring finger, that held the beautiful silver ring and diamond. “I couldn’t be happier with today. I’m married to the love of my life.”

Sabo smiles gently and closed his eyes, leaning against the backrest and let the moonlight light against his face.

“I am, as well. I couldn’t be any luckier to be married to you now..” taking your hand in his, he intertwines your fingers and brings your hand up to kiss.

He kisses your ring finger specifically and hums.

“Thank you.. for being with me.. I love you, [Name].”

“Of course. Thank you for being with me. I love you, Sabo.”

-

-

A/N : well! This was sweet~ I feel bad for Luffy’s part because it’s not the greatest. :/ but I hope you enjoyed! :D

[roach-works]

here’s a story about changelings

reposted from my old blog, which got deleted:   Mary was a beautiful baby, sweet and affectionate, but by the time she’s three she’s turned difficult and strange, with fey moods and a stubborn mouth that screams and bites but never says mama. But her mother’s well-used to hard work with little thanks, and when the village gossips wag their tongues she just shrugs, and pulls her difficult child away from their precious, perfect blossoms, before the bites draw blood. Mary’s mother doesn’t drown her in a bucket of saltwater, and she doesn’t take up the silver knife the wife of the village priest leaves out for her one Sunday brunch. She gives her daughter yarn, instead, and instead of a rowan stake through her inhuman heart she gives her a child’s first loom, oak and ash. She lets her vicious, uncooperative fairy daughter entertain herself with games of her own devising, in as much peace and comfort as either of them can manage. Mary grows up strangely, as a strange child would, learning everything in all the wrong order, and biting a great deal more than she should. But she also learns to weave, and takes to it with a grand passion. Soon enough she knows more than her mother–which isn’t all that much–and is striking out into unknown territory, turning out odd new knots and weaves, patterns as complex as spiderwebs and spellrings. “Aren’t you clever,” her mother says, of her work, and leaves her to her wool and flax and whatnot. Mary’s not biting anymore, and she smiles more than she frowns, and that’s about as much, her mother figures, as anyone should hope for from their child. Mary still cries sometimes, when the other girls reject her for her strange graces, her odd slow way of talking, her restless reaching fluttering hands that have learned to spin but never to settle. The other girls call her freak, witchblood, hobgoblin. “I don’t remember girls being quite so stupid when I was that age,” her mother says, brushing Mary’s hair smooth and steady like they’ve both learned to enjoy, smooth as a skein of silk. “Time was, you knew not to insult anyone you might need to flatter later. ‘Specially when you don’t know if they’re going to grow wings or horns or whatnot. Serve ‘em all right if you ever figure out curses.” “I want to go back,” Mary says. “I want to go home, to where I came from, where there’s people like me. If I’m a fairy’s child I should be in fairyland, and no one would call me a freak.” “Aye, well, I’d miss you though,” her mother says. “And I expect there’s stupid folk everywhere, even in fairyland. Cruel folk, too. You just have to make the best of things where you are, being my child instead.” Mary learns to read well enough, in between the weaving, especially when her mother tracks down the traveling booktraders and comes home with slim, precious manuals on dyes and stains and mordants, on pigments and patterns, diagrams too arcane for her own eyes but which make her daughter’s eyes shine. “We need an herb garden,” her daughter says, hands busy, flipping from page to page, pulling on her hair, twisting in her skirt, itching for a project. “Yarrow, and madder, and woad and weld…” “Well, start digging,” her mother says. “Won’t do you a harm to get out of the house now’n then.” Mary doesn’t like dirt but she’s learned determination well enough from her mother. She digs and digs, and plants what she’s given, and the first year doesn’t turn out so well but the second’s better, and by the third a cauldron’s always simmering something over the fire, and Mary’s taking in orders from girls five years older or more, turning out vivid bolts and spools and skeins of red and gold and blue, restless fingers dancing like they’ve summoned down the rainbow. Her mother figures she probably has. “Just as well you never got the hang of curses,” she says, admiring her bright new skirts. “I like this sort of trick a lot better.” Mary smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, fingers already fluttering to find the next project. She finally grows up tall and fair, if a bit stooped and squinty, and time and age seem to calm her unhappy mouth about as well as it does for human children. Word gets around she never lies or breaks a bargain, and if the first seems odd for a fairy’s child then the second one seems fit enough. The undyed stacks of taken orders grow taller, the dyed lots of filled orders grow brighter, the loom in the corner for Mary’s own creations grows stranger and more complex. Mary’s hands callus just like her mother’s, become as strong and tough and smooth as the oak and ash of her needles and frames, though they never fall still. “Do you ever wonder what your real daughter would be like?” the priest’s wife asks, once. Mary’s mother snorts. “She wouldn’t be worth a damn at weaving,” she says. “Lord knows I never was. No, I’ll keep what I’ve been given and thank the givers kindly. It was a fair enough trade for me. Good day, ma’am.” Mary brings her mother sweet chamomile tea, that night, and a warm shawl in all the colors of a garden, and a hairbrush. In the morning, the priest’s son comes round, with payment for his mother’s pretty new dress and a shy smile just for Mary. He thinks her hair is nice, and her hands are even nicer, vibrant in their strength and skill and endless motion.   They all live happily ever after. * Here’s another story: Gregor grew fast, even for a boy, grew tall and big and healthy and began shoving his older siblings around early. He was blunt and strange and flew into rages over odd things, over the taste of his porridge or the scratch of his shirt, over the sound of rain hammering on the roof, over being touched when he didn’t expect it and sometimes even when he did. He never wore shoes if he could help it and he could tell you the number of nails in the floorboards without looking, and his favorite thing was to sit in the pantry and run his hands through the bags of dry barley and corn and oat. Considering as how he had fists like a young ox by the time he was five, his family left him to it. “He’s a changeling,” his father said to his wife, expecting an argument, but men are often the last to know anything about their children, and his wife only shrugged and nodded, like the matter was already settled, and that was that. They didn’t bind Gregor in iron and leave him in the woods for his own kind to take back. They didn’t dig him a grave and load him into it early. They worked out what made Gregor angry, in much the same way they figured out the personal constellations of emotion for each of their other sons, and when spring came, Gregor’s father taught him about sprouts, and when autumn came, Gregor’s father taught him about sheaves. Meanwhile his mother didn’t mind his quiet company around the house, the way he always knew where she’d left the kettle, or the mending, because she was forgetful and he never missed a detail. “Pity you’re not a girl, you’d never drop a stitch of knitting,” she tells Gregor, in the winter, watching him shell peas. His brothers wrestle and yell before the hearth fire, but her fairy child just works quietly, turning peas by their threes and fours into the bowl. “You know exactly how many you’ve got there, don’t you?” she says. “Six hundred and thirteen,” he says, in his quiet, precise way. His mother says “Very good,” and never says Pity you’re not human. He smiles just like one, if not for quite the same reasons. The next autumn he’s seven, a lucky number that pleases him immensely, and his father takes him along to the mill with the grain. “What you got there?” The miller asks them. “Sixty measures of Prince barley, thirty two measures of Hare’s Ear corn, and eighteen of Abernathy Blue Slate oats,” Gregor says. “Total weight is three hundred fifty pounds, or near enough. Our horse is named Madam. The wagon doesn’t have a name. I’m Gregor.” “My son,” his father says. “The changeling one.” “Bit sharper’n your others, ain’t he?” the miller says, and his father laughs. Gregor feels proud and excited and shy, and it dries up all his words, sticks them in his throat. The mill is overwhelming, but the miller is kind, and tells him the name of each and every part when he points at it, and the names of all the grain in all the bags waiting for him to get to them. “Didn’t know the fair folk were much for machinery,” the miller says. Gregor shrugs. “I like seeds,” he says, each word shelled out with careful concentration. “And names. And numbers.” “Aye, well. Suppose that’d do it. Want t’help me load up the grist?” They leave the grain with the miller, who tells Gregor’s father to bring him back ‘round when he comes to pick up the cornflour and cracked barley and rolled oats. Gregor falls asleep in the nameless wagon on the way back, and when he wakes up he goes right back to the pantry, where the rest of the seeds are left, and he runs his hands through the shifting, soothing textures and thinks about turning wheels, about windspeed and counterweights. When he’s twelve–another lucky number–he goes to live in the mill with the miller, and he never leaves, and he lives happily ever after. * Here’s another: James is a small boy who likes animals much more than people, which doesn’t bother his parents overmuch, as someone needs to watch the sheep and make the sheepdogs mind. James learns the whistles and calls along with the lambs and puppies, and by the time he’s six he’s out all day, tending to the flock. His dad gives him a knife and his mom gives him a knapsack, and the sheepdogs give him doggy kisses and the sheep don’t give him too much trouble, considering. “It’s not right for a boy to have so few complaints,” his mother says, once, when he’s about eight. “Probably ain’t right for his parents to have so few complaints about their boy, neither,” his dad says. That’s about the end of it. James’ parents aren’t very talkative, either. They live the routines of a farm, up at dawn and down by dusk, clucking softly to the chickens and calling harshly to the goats, and James grows up slow but happy. When James is eleven, he’s sent to school, because he’s going to be a man and a man should know his numbers. He gets in fights for the first time in his life, unused to peers with two legs and loud mouths and quick fists. He doesn’t like the feel of slate and chalk against his fingers, or the harsh bite of a wooden bench against his legs. He doesn’t like the rules: rules for math, rules for meals, rules for sitting down and speaking when you’re spoken to and wearing shoes all day and sitting under a low ceiling in a crowded room with no sheep or sheepdogs. Not even a puppy. But his teacher is a good woman, patient and experienced, and James isn’t the first miserable, rocking, kicking, crying lost lamb ever handed into her care. She herds the other boys away from him, when she can, and lets him sit in the corner by the door, and have a soft rag to hold his slate and chalk with, so they don’t gnaw so dryly at his fingers. James learns his numbers well enough, eventually, but he also learns with the abruptness of any lamb taking their first few steps–tottering straight into a gallop–to read. Familiar with the sort of things a strange boy needs to know, his teacher gives him myths and legends and fairytales, and steps back. James reads about Arthur and Morgana, about Hercules and Odysseus, about djinni and banshee and brownies and bargains and quests and how sometimes, something that looks human is left to try and stumble along in the humans’ world, step by uncertain step, as best they can. James never comes to enjoy writing. He learns to talk, instead, full tilt, a leaping joyous gambol, and after a time no one wants to hit him anymore. The other boys sit next to him, instead, with their mouths closed, and their hands quiet on their knees.   “Let’s hear from James,” the men at the alehouse say, years later, when he’s become a man who still spends more time with sheep than anyone else, but who always comes back into town with something grand waiting for his friends on his tongue. “What’ve you got for us tonight, eh?” James finishes his pint, and stands up, and says, “Here’s a story about changelings.”

[cali-holland]

Risk It All- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Osterfield!Reader

Prompt: (Royalty!AU) As the princess, you have to hide your relationship with Tom, the stable hand. When your mother sets up a jousting tournament with the prize of your hand, Tom must risk it all to win your heart.

Word Count: 4100

A/N: This is for @geminiparkers ‘s writing challenge under the AU brother’s best friend and the scenario forbidden love and special thanks to @duskholland for proofreading this and correcting me when i literally made up a word

~ Also a melee is a tournament where two groups of knights reenact a battle, and i’m pretty sure we all can picture a joust… but i’m not historically accurate with any of this so oh well

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Moodboard is mine, pics used are not *

~~~~~~

The castle was quiet that afternoon. Harrison was off attending to some royal duties with your mother, and you found yourself making your way down the familiar path to the stables on the far side of the castle. You smiled to yourself as you crossed the cobblestoned road. You pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside, your gown catching the stray pieces of hay that lay on the floor. Your smile grew wider as you saw a familiar figure, reorganizing the hay bales to make room for tomorrow’s import.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Tom said, not even sparing a glance in your direction as you came over to him.

“Are you really going to tell a princess what to do, stable boy?” You asked teasingly, a smile playing on your lips. “No one followed me. We’re safe.”

With a laugh, Tom turned around to face you, dusting the hay from his hands on his raggedy pants. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You leaned into his touch, your hands roaming underneath his old shirt, ghosting over his abs that rivaled those of any knight in the kingdom. He pulled away, regretfully admitting, “We shouldn’t- the other stable hands will be here soon.”

“Right.” You let out a small sigh, but neither of you made any effort to move out of each other’s arms. “I wish that we could be together, really together.”

“I wish that, too, but you know the law.”

It was a risky business, all of this sneaking around to be together. You were the princess, you weren’t allowed to marry anyone less than a knight, and Tom was a stable boy, whose family served yours for generations. Despite his status, you would trade your silk gowns and other luxuries for him in a heartbeat, but he wouldn’t let you. Tom feared you’d be unhappy if you left your family, your status, your life for him. The rendezvouses were your only chance at being happy with Tom, even for a few moments. If anyone found out and turned Tom in, he could face dire consequences, and it would be out of your power to protect him.

“I have a gift for you.” Tom said, his hand left your side to pull the gift from his pocket. You looked in awe of the delicate necklace. With one diamond hanging from the silver chain, it was simple, but beautiful. It was much smaller than any of your necklaces, ones that had been made from the best jewels in the world, but it was by far the best necklace you’d ever received. You felt a pit grow in your stomach as you realized that this necklace must’ve cost a fortune by Tom’s standards. “I know it’s not much, but I had the village jeweler make it special, just for you.”

“Tom, it’s beautiful.” You smiled at him, “How much did this cost you?”

“Don’t worry about it, princess. It’s a gift, I don’t expect or need repayment.” He insisted, holding up the necklace, “May I?”

You nodded, slowly turning around so that he could put it on you. The chain was long enough that you could conceal the diamond underneath your dress because, while you admired it, it would draw attention to the two of you. You turned back around in Tom’s arms and leaned in to kiss him again.

Hearing the handle to the stable door creak, you and Tom stepped away from each other’s embrace. He returned to his work, moving the bales of hay around, while you turned to your horse, acting as if you were simply in the stable to care for her. When Harrison stepped through the door, you knew you were being beckoned away from Tom.

“Mother would like to see us.” Harrison told you, and you nodded, stepping away from your horse. He turned to Tom, who had paused his actions, “I’ll be going on a hunt tomorrow with the knights. You should come.”

“I’ll have the horses ready.” He replied. Although Tom was not a knight, Harrison always treated him better than a regular stable boy. In fact, you’d dare to say that Tom was Harrison’s best friend with how the two often spent time together, whether it be on a hunt or training. Tom was a knight, all but in name.

You followed Harrison out of the stables, not bidding Tom more than a simple goodbye. As Harrison fell into step beside you on the way to the throne room, you spoke up, “Did mother say why she needed us?”

“No, but it sounded important.” Harrison replied, his shoulders shrugging a little. “What were you doing in the stables?” It wasn’t an accusatory question, but it certainly felt like one. “I was tending to my horse.”

“That’s what the stable hands are for.” He stated. A small smirk grew on his face. In a hushed tone, he teased, “Was there a certain stable hand you wanted to tend to?”

You bit back an unladylike scoff, “There most certainly was not.” You insisted, acting as if you weren’t currently wearing a pendant from said stable hand.

“I have a hard time believing that.” Harrison dropped his voice even quieter as you two came to a halt outside of the throne room.

You didn’t have time to question him before the grand doors opened, and you two were greeted with the guards lining the throne room and your mother sitting rather anxiously on her throne. Hesitantly, you and Harrison stepped forward until you were directly before her.

“Mother, you called for us.” You said graciously.

“Us? No, I asked Harrison to find you, so that I may speak with you alone.” She corrected you, and you looked over at your brother skeptically.

“I thought perhaps Y/N would feel more comfortable with my presence.” Harrison explained. When your mother just nodded, you spoke up again.

“Have I done something wrong?” You asked, your eyes trailing back to your mother in confusion.

“No, my dear. It has come to my attention, though, that you have caught the eye of suitors within and outside of our kingdom.”

“Suitors?” You didn’t want to believe that you heard her right. Surely, she couldn’t mean-

“Prospective husbands. Princes and dukes alike have taken notice that you are of age and without a suitor.” Your mother stood from her throne and stepped towards you, taking your hands in hers. “I have made the decision that there will be a tournament for your hand.”

“Do I not get a say in any of this?” You tried your best to keep your voice steady, but your racing mind, clammy hands, and aching heart made that difficult. All you could think about was Tom and the beautiful necklace secretly dangling around your neck.

“No, our family has done tournaments with the price of the princess’s hand for centuries. Your father had to win a tournament to earn my hand, remember? It will start in two days' time.” You wanted to say something, wanted to tell her that your heart already belonged to the best suitor, but your tongue was caught in your mouth. You wordlessly nodded, though it broke your heart to do so. Your mother smiled and let go of your hands to return to her seat, “It is settled then. The princes and dukes shall arrive tomorrow. We need more servants in the castle to tend to our guests.”

“Will they not bring their own?” Harrison asked, and she shook her head.

“We cannot expect our guests to bring their servants with them. After tomorrow’s hunt, I want all the stable hands to serve our guests.” She insisted. You spared a glance at Harrison, and you could’ve sworn you saw his nose twitch in disapproval. “That’ll be all.”

You and Harrison silently made your way out of the throne room. As Harrison tried to rush off to his bedroom, you grabbed him by the arm, effectively stalling his plans.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “You knew there was going to be a tournament for my hand, and you didn’t say anything. How long has mother been planning this?”

Harrison let out a sigh, “She’s been corresponding with the other princes and dukes for a month, but I promise I only found out today. I wanted to stay because I knew you’d be crushed by the news.”

“Crushed? Harrison, my life is being sold off to the champion of a vicious sport. I’d say I’m well passed crushed.” There was no hiding the bitterness in your voice. You let go of him and turned to leave to your own chambers.

Quietly, Harrison called out to you, “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Harrison didn’t even have to say the name because you both clearly knew it was Tom he spoke of. You looked back at your brother and with a sad nod, you answered, “Yes. He is not a prince or a duke, and I love him anyway.”

The corridor was quiet for a moment before Harrison spoke up again, “Your secret’s safe with me, but be careful. You both mean a lot to me.”

That night, you hardly slept. You couldn’t stop thinking about Tom and the fact that, in mere hours, you’d be meeting the men championing for your hand. When the sun rose, you stood from your bed and watched from your window as the night was replaced by morning. From your tower, you could see Harrison and his group of knights walking across the courtyard to the stables with the castle’s best hounds, where Tom was waiting for them. As the men all settled onto their horses, Tom looked up, his eyes catching sight of you from your window. Though he was far away, you could tell there was a smile on his face.

He didn’t know yet. You didn’t have time to sneak off to see him yesterday, and you weren’t sure how to deliver the news. You stayed at your window, watching as they all rode off through the castle gate and into the nearby woods, the hounds close at the horses’ sides. A knock on your door from your own servants told you it was time to get ready for the day.

“Bit slow this morning?” Tom asked Harrison as he rode beside him on the familiar trail. The knights were ahead of them, keeping up with the hounds as they searched for today’s kill.

“Not particularly looking forward to tonight.” Harrison muttered, an unimpressed look on his face.

“My mother said there were guests coming. Who are they?” It was a simple question, but it stirred a regretful feeling in Harrison. Tom’s mother was the queen’s closest servant— she knew exactly who was coming. Why she didn’t tell Tom, Harrison didn’t know, but he had a guess.

“Suitors.” He replied. “There will be a tournament, beginning tomorrow for Y/N’s hand.”

Tom immediately stopped his horse, coming to a standstill in the forest as the rest of the nights rode on. Harrison halted as well and turned his horse so he could face his friend. “Oh, I didn’t realize-“

“Tom, I know about you and Y/N.” When he registered the fear in his friend’s eyes, Harrison quickly spoke up, “I won’t tell. You’ve always been a good friend to me, and you don’t treat me differently as the crown prince. I have no reason to wish you or my sister that kind of misfortune.”

“Thank you.” Tom said, taken aback by the prince’s words. They continued their walk as Harrison continued his explanation of the dire events to come.

“My mother’s put together an entire tournament, and the suitors will come tonight. She also expects the stablehands to act as servants to the guests.”

“You mean I’d have to serve one of the suitors?”

“I’m afraid so.” Harrison let out a sigh, and Tom grimaced at the thought. Not only was he going to have to sit back while you married some noble prince or duke, but now he’d have to humiliatingly serve your future husband. Harrison paused in thought, “When we get back to the castle, remind me to look over the tournament scrolls.”

“What use are the tournament scrolls to you?” Tom asked.

With a small chuckle, Harrison responded, “I think I know a way you and Y/N can be together.”

Tom opened his mouth to question him, but the hounds barking ahead pulled them back to the reality of the hunt. The two hurried to catch up to the other knights, ready to partake in the hunting party.

That afternoon, when Harrison, Tom, and the rest of the hunting party returned, the word had spread around the castle of the coming guests. While Tom and the other stable hands took care of the horses, Harrison made his way to the castle library. He searched through the library until he came across the specific tournament scroll he had been searching for. With a smirk on his face, he took the scroll and hurried to find Tom before the welcoming ceremony.

Meanwhile, you adjusted the tiara on your head as you looked yourself over in the mirror again. As much as you dreaded this moment, you just wanted this ordeal to be over with; you’d never be truly happy if you weren’t with Tom. When your servants left you alone in your room, you slipped the small diamond necklace on, letting it fall underneath the material of your dress.

“Y/N? It’s time, my dear.” Your mother called to you from the other side of the door. You stepped out of your room, smiling at your mother through your discomfort.

“I’m ready.” You told her. You walked with your mother down the halls and stairs to the throne room. Your names were announced, and everyone parted ways for the two of you to walk down the aisle. Your mother took her seat at her throne, right in the middle, while you sat in your own throne beside her. Harrison was already seated at this throne on the other side of your mother, his own crown shining brightly under the candlelight. Beside your throne was a small desk, and the royal advisor was seated there with a quill and scroll, prepared to take down the names of the princes and dukes.

By just your third “it’s a pleasure to meet you”, you were bored with the welcoming event. None of the princes or dukes or even knights caught your eye as potential husband material. Still, you remained polite in your kind smiles and words of faux genuinity.

“Prince Arthur, your highness.” A young, blond prince said, bowing respectfully to you. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You had heard many stories about him; he was the best jouster in his kingdom. He was by far the most attractive of the suitors. Your eyes didn’t remain on the prince for long as he moved on, and you immediately recognized the next suitor.

“Tom, your highness.” A nervous, yet determined smile played on Tom’s lips while he looked at you. Before you could speak, there was a call from the crowd.

“He’s a stable boy, not a knight!” The bystander exclaimed. Tom’s eyes shifted anxiously over to Harrison, who calmly stood up.

“If he is a stable boy, he cannot-” Your mother started, but Harrison shook his head.

“By law, a tournament is open to any man of age, not exclusively knights or princes or dukes. Tom may proceed in the challenge.” He announced, definitively. 

As your mother went to speak again, you cut her off, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You bit back a smile as Tom proudly walked off.

The names went on, and, with each additional suitor, you wondered if Tom could succeed in this tournament. Tournaments were a demonstration of military and combat skills, both of which he had limited experience of in comparison to the others. It was a deadly tournament; you just hoped he knew what he’d gotten himself into.

While Tom was allowed to enter, he still had to act as a servant to the castle guests, which meant that, later that evening, while all of the other suitors were asleep, Tom had to work. He was used to cleaning equestrian tack as a stable hand, but he wasn’t used to cleaning them in the dead of night. He was already tired from the preparation for and cleanup after the hunt, and now he was stressed over this upcoming tournament. At this rate, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to clean his own armor and tack in time.

Meanwhile, you could hardly sleep again. From your window, you could see the candle light illuminating the stables, and you knew Tom was down there. Grabbing a couple blankets, you slipped out of your bedroom quietly. You snuck down to the stables, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Perched on a hay bale as he worked on polishing a helmet, Tom jumped from the sudden noise.

“You scared me.” He said, quietly, bags already forming under his eyes.

“I thought you might need some company.” You replied, sitting beside him on the hay. As you draped a blanket over his shoulders, he smiled gratuitously.

“You should be sleeping.” Tom insisted. He began to polish the helmet some more, making sure it was spotless.

“So should you.” You cuddled into his side, seeking his warmth from the cold night air in the stables. “It’s going to be dangerous, you know that?”

“Yes, but Harrison and I have been training together, so I can work a sword.” He replied. “Plus, how hard can a melee be?”

“Tom, it’s a joust, not a melee. I don’t think I’d let you fight if it was a melee.” You laughed a little, and he paused his polishing.

“You don’t think I can win a melee?” Tom asked, looking down at you on his shoulder. You sat up to face him properly.

“I don’t know. These suitors all have military backgrounds. And I’d rather run away with you and abandon my title than have you die trying to win my hand.” You answered, quietly. “A joust isn’t nearly as dangerous, but please, be safe.”

“I will.” Tom gave you a quick kiss, “And I will win tomorrow.”

“My knight in shining armor.” You smiled as your hand ran through his hair, appreciating the messy curls.

“I’m no knight, and I don’t know about shining, but it’s armor.” He nodded over to the rusted armor in the corner. “I’m borrowing it from the widowed milkmaid.”

“Tom,” You laughed a little, knowing exactly how that milkmaid was widowed, as if the crack in the breastplate wasn’t a give away enough. “You can’t wear that.”

“What do I wear then? It’s a bit late for me to ask the blacksmith to custom make armor.” He joked with a small yawn, and you shook your head at him, cupping his cheek.

“I’ll handle it.” You assured him as you pulled him in for another kiss. Tom dropped the helmet and the polishing rag, the metal clanging on the cobblestone of the stable floor, and his hands found your waist. Though the next few days would determine your future, tonight was all about Tom.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of the stable door opening. It took you a moment to figure out why you were in the stables before you realized that you had fallen asleep there in Tom’s arms. Tom woke up startled, just the same. You both thought that this could be it, the end of it all, until you realized who was there.

“Y/N, get up before your servants come looking for you.” Harrison urged. You and Tom hurried to stand up and gather blankets. “I thought I told you both to be careful.”

“It was an accident.” You stated, but he just sighed.

“Come on, I need to sneak you into the castle. We can’t have the suitors seeing you like this.” He gestured to your nightgown, which covered you modestly, but he was right; it was rather unladylike to be out in a nightgown. As you and Harrison went to leave the stables, Tom started to finish his job from last night, cleaning Prince Arthur’s armor. “Oh, and Tom, ride my horse for jousting today. He’s never lost a joust.”

Tom looked at his friend incredulously before looking over at the stallion in the stall. “Thank you.”

“That reminds me,” You spoke up, “Harrison, where’s your old armor?”

In just a few hours, it was time for the joust. You sat in the front row of the arena with your mother seated beside you. The suitors began to emerge from their private tents along the sidelines as the announcer called out each name. Harrison came out of Tom’s tent, bearing your own house sigil, and made his way to his seat beside you. Your brother gave you a playful nudge as Tom’s name was called and he stepped out of the tent. It was odd to see him wearing the same armor Harrison had retired just last year, but you felt a sense of pride overcome you. The armor wasn’t bad, but the royal men got new armor every year; besides, Harrison hadn’t been to war, so it wasn’t used much.

The tournament’s first round began, and each suitor got ready for their respective joust. It was a simple jousting tournament; each suitor would take on one other suitor, and the winner would progress to the next round. The rounds would progress until there was one distinct winner left.

You did your best to conceal your nerves for Tom, though one of your hands played with the small chain around your neck. As Tom mounted his horse (technically Harrison’s horse), he got ready for his joust- the first one of the day. He picked up his wooden lance and adjusted the helmet to cover his face. You watched with bated breath while he and his opponent took off, riding towards each other at full speed. A breath of relief coursed through you as Tom’s opponent was struck, falling to the ground.

He had won, but it was the first of many jousts that he had to win. Removing his helmet, Tom sent you a cheeky wink, one that did not go unspotted by your mother beside you. He dismounted and led the horse away, leaving the arena for the next joust.

“So far, so good.” Harrison mumbled to you. He wanted Tom to pull this off, just as much as you did.

“Let’s hope your horse’s winning streak keeps up.” You whispered back to your brother.

The jousting tournament continued on, and every time it was Tom’s turn, the same hopeful nerves came back. Finally, it was down to the last two suitors- Tom and Prince Arthur. As the two got on their horses and into position at either end of the arena, Harrison’s hand slipped into yours, reassuringly squeezing it.

“Come on, Tom.” You muttered under your breath, eyes fixated on him. You held your breath anxiously as the horses went barreling towards each other. Your heart jumped when Tom’s lance made contact with the prince’s armor, and he went crashing to the ground. Tom took off his helmet, and his eyes immediately found you, smiling victoriously.

“He’s a stable boy.” Your mother breathed out incredulously.

“Mother, if he must be a knight to marry Y/N-” Harrison started, ready to wholeheartedly defend Tom, but she cut him off.

“Please, Harrison.” She shushed him, “Prepare the other knights. We’ll have a knighting ceremony this evening. Now,” She paused, smiling at you, “I do believe Y/N has a victor to go meet.”

You looked at your mother in surprise, a smile of disbelief on your face. Wordlessly, you stood up as Tom made his way over to the three of you. He bowed before you, making you let out a laugh. “You won. You did it. And mother will make you a knight, too.”

“A knight? We can really be together then?” He asked you, and you nodded. Without hesitating, Tom wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss, happy that now he could kiss you publicly. “I love you, my princess.”

“And I love you, my future prince.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-hollands @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorrillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys @duskholland @biebsmylife95 @dummiesshort @perspectiveparker @miraclesoflove​

Tom Tag List: @quaksonhehe @tomkindholland

[rocksandrobots]

Fanfic Fashion - Engagement Gown

So in this episode, Rapunzel tries to booker a peace treaty with the Saporians by canceling the Day of Hearts and replacing it with a new holiday called ‘Unity Day’ to symbolize, what she hopes will be, the end of the second Saporian/Coronian war. 

The Saporians surprisingly agree to the truce, however Rapunzel’s idea of ‘Unity Day’ is just to repurpose and repackage old Hearts Day traditions.... this goes about as well as you would think. 

Anyways she talks Varian and Honey Lemon into participating in the ‘new’ tradition of signing the ‘Shampanier Scroll’. 

Below is a segment from this episode... so spoilers 

Varian starred up at the hastily repainted ‘Happy Heart’s Day’ sign in annoyance. All they had done was cross out the ‘Heart’ with a big red X and then wrote the word ‘Unity’ above it. It was tacky and lazy, and it pretty much summarized everything that was wrong with Rapunzel’s plan. They hadn’t even let the paint dry completely before hanging it up and the rose-colored paint ran down the banner making it almost ineligible. 

It made Varian angry. This was their best shot at ending the war and Rapunzel threatened to ruin it all with her thoughtlessness. And the worst part about it all, was that the princess genuinely was trying. She wanted this peace more than anyone, but she was unfortunately too inexperienced and shortsighted to enact her attempts at diplomacy with any sort of tact. 

She barreled on through with her ideas, ignoring how pressed for time they were, paying no heed to the nuances of history, culture, and tradition, and generally failing to listen to anybody. It was a surprise that Andrew and the rest of the Saporians had even agreed to go along with this mess.

It was more than surprising; it was suspicious. 

Varian would have much rather spent the whole event with the Captain helping to maintain security. He didn’t trust Andrew to keep his word anymore than he trusted a storm cloud not to poor down rain. Unfortunately, Rapunzel had insisted that his participation in the festivities was vital to the negotiations. 

Many of the smaller villages were sympathetic to the Saporian cause, including most of the former residents of Old Corona. As one of them, Varian was one of the few people in a position of power that they trusted. Seeing him agree to the truce and take part in the ceremonies could help to bridge the gap between the islanders and the folks of the mainland, which in turn could put pressure on the Saporian forces to keep up the peace. 

It was all just political theater, and Varian hated it. He hated having so much responsibility. He hated having to plaster a smile on his face and pretend that everything was okay when it wasn’t. Mostly though he hated how his private affairs had become public spectacle. 

Everyone knew that he was in love with Honey Lemon. That was no secret. The townspeople even referred to her as ‘the alchemist's wife’, which made Varian cringe whenever he heard it. Not only was it inaccurate, but he also felt that it was disservice to Honey Lemon herself since she was a brilliant chemist in her own right. Still their relationship, as rocky as it was, had always been between the two of them up to this point, and not some show for people to gawk at. 

“I got the scroll!” Rapunzel sang out, carrying a roll of paper with her. 

“And explain to me again how this is any different from just signing Herz Der Sonne's journal?” Varian asked, exasperated. 

“It’s a scroll.” She said, pointing to it as if such a superficial change mattered. “Also it belonged to General Shampanier, the person who helped to end the first war, so it’s both Saporian and a symbol of our new truce.” 

Varian folded his arms and looked at her as if she was the dumbest person alive. “General Shampanier? The same general who is still deemed a traitor by the Saporian people to this day... Gah, Rapunzel! Why do you think they all hate Heart’s Day to begin with!? 

Rapunzel only looked up at him with big wide eyes and a pout on her face as she clutched the scroll. It made him feel guilty, which only made him even angrier. He wasn’t the one who was jeopardizing everything that they had worked for with their stupid schemes. 

“Well, then just don’t mention that it belonged to her.” A voice behind him gently suggested. 

Varian turned around when he heard Honey Lemon’s voice, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. 

She was radiant. 

Varian had sewn a new dress for her, just for the occasion, along with Faith’s assistance. His friend had found some old tablecloths that the royals were just going to throw away. Instead they had rescued the material and together had made a fancy ball gown of linen and lace, with Faith giving input to the design. Varian knew nothing of fashion nor of women’s undergarments, and was grateful for her advice. Especially, now that he saw what it look like on the love of his life.

It was cream colored and trimmed in off-white lace. Both the skirt and sleeves proofed out in soft folds of fabric, framing her already slender waist which was fitted in a golden threaded stay. The collar was also made of lace and hung off the shoulders revealing Honey Lemon’s swan like neck, which was adorned with a simple gold chain. Varian wanted nothing more than to trace kisses along those shoulders and hear her gasp in delight whenever he would reach the nape of her neck, but not here. Not with everyone watching them. 

Instead he reached out and kissed her hand. As always, she wore the platinum promise ring he had given her back in San Fansokyo. He kept it’s matching half on a chain close to his heart. He had been but a boy, foolishly high on his own hype, when he had first proposed to her, and she, perhaps foolishly herself, had believed his grand proclamations. He had broken so many vows since then, made her cry so many times. He didn’t deserve her, and yet here she was, still refusing to leave his side. Hopefully today would be the day that he could finally give her the other half of that ring and keep his promise. 

He tucked a stray bang of her hair out of her face and behind her ear and then in the same motion caressed her cheek. She nuzzled his hand and held it there with her own hand. She looked up at him with the sweetest smile, and his heart melted. He could get lost in her hazel eyes forever, the rest of the world be damned. Everything else about her was appealing to look at as well. From the delightful dimple in her chin, to her elegant long nose, to her fiery read hair that refused to stay in place. It was all imperfectly perfect, just like her. 

“Do you like the dress?” He asked her. 

“I love it.” She breathed. “Especially, the flower crown.” 

Varian had spent hours that morning making the blasted thing. It was still February and there hardly were any blossoms to be had, and so he had scoured the country side looking for them. The end result was less grand than he had hoped for, but Honey Lemon had seemed to like the simpler style. It was an Old Corona tradition for bride-grooms to pick the flowers for the bride’s crown. True they weren’t having an actual wedding, yet, but Varian wanted Honey Lemon to feel special on this day, anyways. Just because the ceremony was performative, didn’t mean that his love for her was. 

[root-admins]

SINoALICE x NieR Replicant - Weapon Stories

A complete compilation of all weapon stories from SINoALICE’s NieR Replicant collab... well, the ones that has lore to do with NieR anyways.

Whatever grammar mistakes/translation errors belongs to Pokelabo, and you will tell there are some. Most are stories are pretty self-explanatory tho.

Grimoire Weiss

We fought for what seemed like ages. To kill those things that took a twisted human form. To protect those precious to me, with my own hands. We were deceived for so long. Deceived by people in a land we've never been, whose faces we've never seen Issuing orders from a safe distance. We must have been in love. And despite the fact I couldn't save you, but I never got to thank you for saving me. These fragments glimmering deep in my depths... they seem to be the vague memories of people... the faded remnants of human wisdom... H-hold on! I’ll have you know my name is not “Booky Wooky!” You may call me "Grimoire Weiss" I am a great compendium of ancient wisdom. Treat me with respect!

Grimoire Noir

My name is the Black Book. Are you the king who will lead the world to salvation? Don't be so surprised, Your Majesty. For me, it is a simple matter to speak human words. I sympathize with your distress, Your Majesty. On this occasion, however, we have no choice but to let them deal with your sister. When sorrow overtakes you, you may come to me and speak of your tribulations. Reading is an admirable pursuit. Your Majesty--for me?? I shall peruse this volume if it comes on your recommendation... What is that? You think it odd for a book to read a book? Noir? I would prefer to dispense with this nickname. My name, Your Majesty, is the Black Book. I am a grand tome of human wisdom... thus, to refer to me by such a curious moniker is, dare I say, inappropriate.

Kaine’s Sword

She was slender, with smooth, white skin. The hint of a dark shadow in her expression highlighted her beautiful features. But something about the sword in her hand didn't seem to fit the picture. Anger, sorrow, hatred. When emotions overwhelmed her, she would swing the sword, so there was never a lack of blood to quench its thirst. The problem was that she couldn't put the sword down. A heart and body in constant conflict. No one in the world could understand her. And loneliness was eating her alive. The long war came to an end, and darkness devoured her. But her heart remained at peace. Because she faced fate in the arms of the one she loved.

Halua Head

File_25_10: Update Soon twins will be arriving. There is nothing at all in the white-walled, prison-like room except for a white bed. If only there were something to do in there... File_25_12: Update I went to look in on them, and the girl was kindly encouraging her anxious younger brother. The two of them had heavy expectations to fulfill. The weight of all humanity's hope bore down upon them. File_26_06: Update The day of the experiment, the girl passed me a letter. To the very end, she wanted someone to watch over her brother. Once I agreed, she quickly ran away. Report: Human Weapon Development Things seem to be progressing as expected with Experimental Subject A (Sister), but her condition has changed drastically. In her present state, she seems to have no sense of self. I am urgently beginning work on Experimental Subject B (Brother).

Devola & Popola’s Staff

－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Thanks for that soup recipe! My mom loved it!  －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ A note received from a child in the village. Does this mean they are developing a sense of self? －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Thanks to the medicine you gave me, I'm feeling a lot better, though I can't leave home yet. Just sending a note to say thanks. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ According to our records, humans wrote their feelings down on pieces of paper, and sent them to others. Where did they learn to do such a thing? －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, I like you a lot. Will you be my girlfriend? Waiting to hear back. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ I simply cannot understand the things they have written on these scraps of paper. I feel an unfamiliar feeling, my heart saying “no”… －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Sorry I couldn't tell you in person, but I'm coming home late tonight. Go ahead and sleep if you're tired. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Ah, Devola. No need to worry about me this way. Tee-hee.

Favorite Pot

Yonah, I learned a special recipe! When you eat it, all your injuries will be gone! Oh! I want everyone to feed it to those they care about!

The ingredients are deer meat, sea turtle eggs, fresh veggies and herbs from the garden, and lastly tons of scorpion claws! Next, fill a pot up with all your ingredients, place the top on, and let it simmer overnight! The white steam rising from it is just so mesmerizing. ...Oh! I think it's ready! Smell for a soft scent when you take the lid off. That means it's done! I can't wait to give it to grandpa.

Transience

"Rule 0: You have the right to disband a rule by vote." I am the king's aide and second-in-command. Until now, all rules have be absolute, however, a "Voting Rite" was held where citizens could vote to change rules. Now, let's see what sort of ballots were made...

"Rule 451: Consuming alcohol is forbidden during the daytime." And stated as the reason is: because I like drinking... Because it's anonymous, all these votes are based off selfish desires. We need to improve the system somehow that reflects public opinion.

"Rule 356: Royal inquiries are limited once per day." And stated as the reason is: because I long to be with the King more...? Could this Fyra's vote...? No. Of course not. She's not the type to be interested in love. Moving on...

"Rule 68: The King's aides are to forever serve at his side" Reason being: Thank you for all your hard work. You deserve a break once in awhile... Could this be from the King himself? I'm honored to have stood by your side all these years. And the citizens of this country are proud of your work. There's no doubt of it.

Note: After rigorous deliberation, "Rule 451: Consuming alcohol is forbidden during the daytime", the most voted for rule, was repealed.

Grimoire Weiss ver.1.224

My name is Grimoire Weiss. I am an ancient tome of profound wisdom. After awakening from my long slumber, I traveled the world with my most beloved friends. She was a woman lacking respect for her elders. She'd continuously talk down to me, calling me nothing but paper and even set me aflame. However... Her rash words were also the driving force that moved us all. He was a compassionate and gentle boy who loved his friends. His manor of dress was odd, but his kind words warmed everyone's hearts. This I know to be true. I wonder if he, too had felt any relief from his sins. He was a cheeky guy, but not one you could just leave behind. We've been through a number of rough times together. I'd tell ya about it, but... I'm running out of time. If... If only I had an arm... Then I could have...hugged...him...

Grimoire Rubrum

It's the silk of fate. Knowing you, I shall begin living a life of truth. It's the forbidden fruit. Protecting you, I shall sink into wisdom's abyss. Those are the flames of anxiety. Thinking of you, I shall endure eternity's darkness. That is a reunion of bitter tears. Who are they? Why is it not me who's besides you?

Kaine’s Dual Blades ver.1.224

I craved it. Blind violence and blood-thirsty carnage. And I found it. I finally found it. A vessel stained with anger and hatred, seeking vengeance for the murder of her parents. I possessed that woman and gave her "power." That power turned the woman into a beast. One swing of her blade was enough to cut through stone and her grazes healed in an instant. She began downing every foe before her in the name of vengeance. I was delighted to witness the fruition of my desires. The woman's destruction didn't end there. After having her revenge, she continued to exert her "power" for the sake of her friends. Along her journey, her anger and hatred showed signs of waning, however, I gave it no thought. All I desired was to continue bathing in her bloodshed. Because her body has reached its limit, her power has lost control. Still, in the midst of the clashing of blades, I could feel her desire to protect her friends. Yes, this is the violence and carnage I crave. But why is it deplorable and empty?

Devola & Popola’s Spear

Upon hearing an old lady from the village caught a cold, I immediately collected my medicinal herbs with some boiled water, and rushed out from the library. I nursed her and remained by her side until her symptoms calmed down. She was extremely grateful for it.

I read a picture book to a group of children from the village. It was of an old tale about a brave, courageous man who triumphs over evil. I watched their expressions alternated between joy to sorrow to the story's pacing. I'm glad they enjoyed it.

Devola and I performed a song for the people at the village tavern. In addition to the regulars who drank there, elders and children were part of the audience. At the end of our song, the entire crowd smiled and cheered.

Every day Devola and I have been staying late at the library thinking of a plan to make life easier for the villagers. They're indispensable "vessels" for the project, so we need to do what we can for them.

Letter to the Postman

I was in a dimly lit cabin when I met a kind man. He taught me how to write a letter. What should I write on a blank piece of paper...? ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

Apparently, a letter should start off with the name of the person you want to give it to. Of course, I'd want it to be his. I hope he'll be able to read my sloppy handwriting... ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

At the end of the letter should be the name of the person who wrote it. Of course, that would be the name he gave me. Is it odd my chest feels warm writing it...? ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Luiz ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

And in-between these two names, I'm supposed to write how I feel. And tell him what I want the most. I wonder if he'll be happy to receive this...?

―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans, Thank you　Thank you　Thank you Thank you　Thank you　Thank you　Thank you 　Thank you　Thank you. Luiz ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

[gravityunforgiven]

Right Where You Left Me (Kakashi x OC)

Pairings: Kakashi x OC, Jiraiya x Tsunade, Dan x Tsunade

Synopsis:

She was the daughter of a Legendary Sannin, He, a son of a disgraced shinobi. Fate brought them together but life tore them apart. Will they be able to take control of their destinies and find their way back to each other?

...Or will they be another victim of the cruel shinobi world they are both a part of?

Chapter Three

She was barely three when their paths first met. She had his attention for about ten minutes then that was it for the first meeting. It was because of her age and her last name. The Senju clan, nowadays, was only seen or heard in their history textbooks. Now there was one standing right infront of the class.

This is new. He remembered thinking.

They never really interacted because he was a chūnin a week later. She didn’t really notice his departure either. All she knew was the. class celebrated for something and the boy with the scarf was gone.

She stayed in the academy until she was six. She was hardly at school in her first year and the teachers didn’t question it. She was still young after all. She can take her time. She spent most of her days that year in the Medical Division of Konohagakure. She can learn ninjutsu from a lot of people but there was only one person to learn medical ninjutsu from.

Their paths crossed again when she was nine. Her mother just left. Jiraiya was knee-deep in his travels and she was stayed with her master, Inoichi Yamanka, before she moved to her own apartment. The Senju compound was too big for to live in alone.

Minato was teaching her a jutsu when the team he was leading arrived. This time he was able to introduce himself.

“Kakashi Hatake.” He said, almost too impatiently.

“Nice too meet you.” She replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

She stayed with them for the rest of the afternoon then tagged along for a couple of B-Rank missions. They never talked more than what was needed. Rin became good friends with her. Obito was amused to see the girls braiding each other’s hair.

Minato, along with Inoichi Yamanaka, took her under their wing. They said she was special.

More than me? He so carelessly thought back then.

He wouldn’t realize until years later that she was so unique she became dispensable.

Because of her training with Minato, Akira became close to his-then girlfriend, Kushina. Kakashi saw how close they became they were almost like sisters.

Akira became a permanent figure in Kakashi’s life. They mostly ignored each other’s presence but he got so used to seeing her in the takoyaki shop he half-expected her to be there everytime he walked by. She wasn’t always with friends, most of the time she ate there on her own, in the same spot every single time.

That was until Team Minato was pulled into a mission. When they came back, she was nowhere to be found. At first no one was really bothered. After all, they were all shinobis and when duty calls, they go. But then weeks turned into months and still not even Akira’s shadow was seen. Rumors began spreading in the ranks about her whereabouts. Some says she was in a long term mission in the Land of Rains, others say she was captured and was being held and even Kurenai, who was like her older sister, together with the rest of their batch had no idea where she was or if she was in a mission. He heard Asuma talking about how he asked the Third Hokage about Akira, however, much to their dismay, his lips remained shut and he simply dismissed his son from his office.

Finally, Rin gathered her courage and asked their own sense if he knew anything about this. Minato fought with himself for a while. It was classified information but seeing the look from his students even Kakashi was enough him to give in. He made them swore to never breathe a word of what he was about to say.

“She joined the ANBU Black Ops.” Rin gasped. Obito’s jaw hung wide open. Kakashi who always seemed to be unfazed struggled to keep his cold composture together. They didn’t see that coming. Not in a million years. Kakashi remembered how her name was so fitting for her. She was always so...bright. She was like the sun on a beautiful day. Wherever you go, or whoever you are she will always graze you with her presence like the rays of a sunlight. She lacked the darkness necessary to be an ANBU. She was the complete opposite of those people.

“The Third Hokage allowed it?” Obito asked. Lord Third treated Akira like his very own grand-daughter. After all, she was the daughter of one of his legendary students. It was only fitting that he looed after all while her mother was unavailable.

“ No. He didn’t.” Minato replied.

“ She joined The Foundation.”

—————

He didn’t see her again until Rin’s death. Once, he had asked Minato why Akira was always sent on dangerous missions. Missions they usually were not allowed to do until they were further into their career. This took Minato by surprise. He didn’t know Kakashi had been observing the girl since he usually ignored her presence and vice-versa. The time the two would acknowledge each other is through their relentless bickering due to the fact that no one wants to admit they’re wrong and often times than not, it ends in a full-blown fight between the two prodigies.

Minato eyed the silver-haired ninja. He was usually not bothered by anything that doesn’t have to do with abiding with the rules but the look on his face was clear enough for Minato to realize that this was not the case.

“Being unique isn’t always good.” Minato started.

“You know she uses Wood Release right?”

Kakashi silently nodded. That was common knowledge in the village. Even in the neigboring lands, her reputation preceded her.

“Villages seek power to protect their lands. Right now, Akira is one of the greatest threats to their lands that’s why we train her as hard as we possibly can. A lot of people wants to hurt her and use her for their own good. They want to use one of our own against us.” He remembered Minato saying.

During Rin’s funeral, he caught only a glimpse of her from where he stood by the trees. She was at the back despite being a close friend of Rin’s. She stood silently and kept her eyes firmly on the floor. Kakashi wouldn’t have recognized her if it weren’t for her golden hair that stood out among the sea of dark colored heads. She’s so different. Everything’s changed so much. After a few hi’s and hello’s, she was once again gone. But despite the dark hole Kakashi fell into, for some reason, the girl with the blonde hair never completely left the his mind.

—————

The first time she actually talked to him first, he just joined the ANBU under the Fourth Hokage’s Command.

“I guess we’re teammates now.’ She said removing a wolf-shaped mask. He looked up from the bench he was sitting on in the locker rooms.

A grin was plastered on her face.He immediately recognized her voice though it’s been years since he last heard it. She was twelve and he was just about to turn fourteen that day. But they were so much older and wiser than the kids their age. They had witnessed so many deaths to be called children.

It was the burden of being one of a kind.

They now worked often with each other since they are now both under the Hokage’s command. Gone were the days of bickering and throwing insults at each other. He now knew the burden of being an ANBU. He wondered how much worse she had to do while under Lord Danzo’s command. How many had she killed? Can she even count it at this point?

Minato, after being named Hokage, recruited Akira back from The Foundation to his own a little too quickly than the elders were comfortable with. But the Yondaime Hokage was adamant to have Akira back on his care knowing how much the irreversible damage The Foundation can cause to a person.

Even now, the changes in Akira’s disposition was easily seen by those who knew her before her time in the Root. She still smiled and laughed like she did before but her eyes no longer had the same shine they had before. She tried to hide it. But Kakashi wasn’t so easily fooled. She was just glad he never said a single word about it.

Kakashi and Akira were placed on different teams. She was already leading a group of three people twice her size when he joined but every now and then, when the circumstances call for it, they will be paired together. An unspoken rule was formed between the two. As the only living members of Team Minato (though she tagged along for only a couple of missions) they were to protect each other as best they can.

Though she didn’t need much protection, Kakashi kept an eye on her for old times sake. Just like a few years earlier, they didn’t really talked much during their time in the ANBU. He was too busy wallowing in his guilt and she was kind enough to leave him in in his own knowing it was what he wanted but not exactly what he needed. All she could do was keep an eye on him and make sure he knows that she was there if he needed her.

Their relationship didn’t change from what it was during the time of Team Minato but this time, they treated each other with the utmost respect. They were comrades now. Though the rules of the ANBU stated that the mission comes first, they both knew they had each other’s back. After all, among their classmates, the two of them are the only ones who understood the loneliness of being an ANBU.

Of being truly and utterly alone.

—————

He knew she was brave. She had proven it time and time again. He had seen it from their time together when they were younger, they had heard stories from the older shinobis who had worked with her, and he saw it again every time they were paired in a mission. There was no question that she was brave but that night during the Kyūubi Attack, he was almost certain she too was looking for an easy way to just die. He had a good reason. Unlike her, he was dispensable. He had no one. All he had was the nightmares that haunt him at night. The faces of his fallen teammates and the cold body of his father playing again and again like a broken record every time he closes his eyes. That was all he had. If he dies, people would mourn, yes, but they would move on and go about their life. They would eventually forget and he would always remain the ninja who killed his friend to others.

He had no real purpose. He doesn’t have anyone left to protect. Or to live for.

She was different. She was loved by everyone. She was alone most of the time but she still had Jiraiya who comes and visit every now and then. She had a purpose. She had a reason to live.

Or so he thought.

They were placed inside a barrier the night of the Nine-Tails Attack. The elders said it wasn’t their fight. They have to sit this one out so they could live another day.

Kakashi looked around the group that they have formed. Most of his former classmates were on the front of the pack together with a few other shinobis their age but as he scanned the crowd, he quickly realized Akira was not among them.

He knew she took her first day off in months today. She had deliberately worked during her time off in order to gain more experience and training. Kakashi always thought how Akira seemed to always seem to act as if she was running out of time and how she wouldn’t take rest until she was forced to by the injuries she acquired during her missions.

This time was no different. She came back from a mission in the Land of Lighting only a couple of days ago and if it wasn’t for the direct order from the Hokage to take a break, she would have been out for another one by this time. He was unusually aware that she was hardly in the village these days.

It was a few minutes later when Akira’s figure emerged from the woods. She stopped dead at her tracks halfway into the clearing. A look of confusion was visible on her face as she scanned the scene ahead of her. What the hell?

Kakashi watched as Akira stopped dead in her tracks and stiffened as she took in the scene in front of her. For a moment, their eyes met and almost instantly, the look of confusion was gone in her face replaced with outrage.

She shoved the two jonins on her either side then she was on the run back to the village. Her path was quickly blocked by more leaf shinobis assigned to keep the younger ninjas safe.

“Lady Akira, please.” Shinku Yuhi, Kurenai’s father, pleaded.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” She spatted back. Her eyes were full of rage. This isn’t where she’s supposed to be. She should be where the fighting is, not kept away from it. This isn’t what she’s been training for.

“We’re just followi-“ He wasn’t able to finish his sentence because Akira was on him. pinning him down with earth style.

Kakashi and the rest of the group inside the barrier couldn’t do anything but watch as Akira battled five jōnins at once. Their mouths hung wide open as they saw firsthand Akira’s proficiency in using the wood style. The group, excluding Kakashi, had never seen someone use wood style in person. Despite the common knowledge that Akira was a wood style user, she only uses it as a last resort knowing that it would only gain more unwanted attention in terms of her capabilities. She usually relies on other nature transformations as much as she can.

This was the first time for most of the people in the clearing see someone use wood style and handle it with such finesse and ease as well. They thought that her skills was on full display that night but Kakashi knew how much she was trying to hold back. He knew she would have defeated them if she wasn’t being as cautious as she is in making sure to not harm any of her comrades and if she wasn’t still recovering from her recent injuries.

Eventually, Akira was outnumbered by the seven jōnins who fought with her and they tackled her to the ground. Her cheek pressed on the dirt as they tied her hands behind her back and made sure she could not weave any more signs.

She could see her classmates staring at her in shock. They haven’t really seen her in action as she didn’t officially join any team after graduation. They had no idea what she can do. Or what I’ve done.

Once she was in the barrier Kurenai quickly untied the younger girl’s hand. Akira was still half a foot shorter than herself but she seemed so much older already.

Akira relentlessly pounded on the barrier. Her right hand was still bandaged but her hits did not falter.

“Listen, I know you have your orders but it doesn’t include me! I can help capture the nine tails with wood style! Don’t you understand that?!” She was practically screaming at her superiors standing only a fees feet away. She was trained to fight. To save the village. To not let anyone get hurt, to help the Hokage the best she can. That was what they drilled into her brain growing up. There was a reason she had all these abilities and she should use to help others. Being stuck inside a barrier wasn’t part of any plan.

“Lord Third specifically mentioned you, Akira.” Shinku replied. Akira was confused. She was the protector not the one who needed protecting. She would gladly lay her life for the billage but now, they’re asking her to sit back and watch the village burn just so she could remain safe?

“Akira, stop.” Kurenai was barely able to grab her arm mid-punch to keep it from colliding with the barrier once again.

“Damn it!” She gave the barrier once last hit and turned around. She didn’t saw it but the rest did as the barrier flickered and for a moment, a crack appeared from where punched the barrier.

Her abilities were one thing, her raw power were another.

“Just calm down, will you?” Kurenai was on Akira’s heels as she made her way to the back.

“Lord Third must have a reason of he wanted you here, Akira.” Gai chirped in attempt to help Kurenai calm the still seething Akira.

“Orders are orders, Akira. We can’t do anything about that.” Kakashi says. He wanted to fight as bad as she does. He knew Minato was out there fighting the kyūubi and having them in the field would be a great help for the village. Kakashi secretly hoped Akira could somehow break them out of this bubble so they could fulfill their duties instead of being forced to watch as the nine-tails burn their village just because they were not old enough.

“You know I don’t care about orders, Kakashi.”She snapped right back at him. She followed orders because it was the right thing to do, but unlike him, she had no problem on breaking it when push comes to shove.

Akira had already decided what she needed to do when Kurenai noticed. “No,no. Don’t even think about it.” Kurenai had grabbed Akira’s arm and gave her a stern look. She can’t do this.

“You can die.” Akira didn’t need any reminder. She was aware of the risks she as taking but she couldn’t care less about that right now. There were just some things that had to be done no matter what the consequences were.

“Only one way to know.” She said, already performing the hand signs for the jutsu. She’ll deal with the consequences for her action later, for now, she’ll do what she knows is right.

“Ghost Transformation Jutsu!” Akira’s body fell on the ground as her soul ascended. She was engulfed in a white glow as the others watched in awe. She didn’t waste any more time and disappeared in the sky like a shooting star to the direction of their village. She didn’t know if she can comeback to her body as she hadn’t mastered the jutsu yet and Inoichi had strongly discouraged in practicing without his guidance. She still haven’t got the right skill and the possibility of her being stuck in this form until her death was much greater than she would like to admit.

Kurenai watched as the girl’s body fell onto the ground as her soul left her body and into the night. She barely caught Akira’s head before her body collided on the soil. She was well-aware of the fact that Inoichi had barred Akira in practicing this jutsu without his guidance proving that the jutsu was more dangerous than what Akira could handle at the moment. It was no simple technique that could be undone in a matter of days. They were talking about life and death on this one.

The people outside the barrier were also alarmed of the what Akira had done. They were former comrades with her father, Dan, and they were well aware of the implications that came in using this jutsu. Even with Akira’s huge chakra reserves, she could still potentially ran out of it if she wasn’t careful of her actions.

They soon realized Akira was not being careful at all as blood soaked through her shirt and the land beneath her darkened from the massive amount of blood leaving her body.

No one knew what happened but a loud explosion was heard from where they were and the next thing they knew, Akira was just bleeding on the ground.

Kakashi was quick to react and firmly pressed his hands on Akira’s wounds on her midsection. There was just so much blood oozing out of her wound despite the pressure Kakashi was putting on. Kurenai was nearly in tears as she held the smaller girl’s head in her lap.

“It’s the jutsu.” Kurenai said when Kakashi’s clearly worried eye met hers. “Whatever happens to her soul also happens to her body.”

She was unconscious for two weeks. People wondered if another name was to be added in the already long list of the people who lost their lives that night.

What happened with her, the Third Hokage was the only one alive who knows.

Next Up: LOTS of Kakashi fluff.

Ask or Reblog for a tag!

[firebird-inkheart]

hahaha what if i asked you to do all 14 questions for honyo wouldnt that be crazy lol haha (unless thats too much in which case just the first 5!)

SDKLJFKSDFJSLJF all 14 at once is a little much because I WILL ramble lol, so I'll just stick with the first five, though you'll be happy to know I answered 8 9 and 12 in another ask

1 - what is your s/is most prominent personality trait?

Honyo actually has two really noticeable prominent traits: ANGRY and Loyal As Hell, and yes often times they will go hand in hand with one another. She loves her people fiercely and is so ride or die. Like, you mess with her people and she will be on your ass in an instant. These traits are half of the reason she gets the moniker "The Green Tempest", and in one special incident, the nickname Hollyheart from Ace.

2 - what does your s/i think of themselves? do they have low self esteem or high?

Linking this back to the first question, because both of those traits also play a massive role in how Honyo perceives herself.

As a kid she got into (and lost) fights quite a bit and as a result Zoro would have to step in and cover for her. It frustrated her because it made her feel weak and incapable of standing on equal ground with him, and she wanted to be as strong as him and as strong as her parents said she could be. But when she was frustrated she was nothing but a big crybaby, would get made fun of for it, would get into fights, would get Zoro to intervene yet again. She loved her brother, and knew he was doing it because he cared about her, but after a certain point it became too much and she ran away to be able to prove herself on her own.

She spent a long while building herself up and actually winning fights, managing to temper her anger to actually benefit the fight rather than be the downfall of one, and grew confident in herself enough to be somewhat cocky about it.

Then she makes it to the Grand Line and the place she lands is Arcadia. She meets Emiri and her family, grows undeniably close with them and cherishes them with her whole being. Then Emiri's put into a troublesome situation and she tries to get her out of it only to feel frustrated at how useless she is.

Then the Incident occurs and it. Shatters. Her. All that she had achieved for herself. All the strides she had made to meet her brother on equal footing. Everything her parents said she was capable of. Meant nothing in the end because she couldn't save what mattered to her.

These feelings of anger and loyalty make a determination to reach amazing heights, create positive pride in reaching goals, but when she fails and falls from "grace", it kills parts of her that make it difficult to recover from. And it's something she's going to have to overcome to keep herself from never being able to get up again the next time the cycle runs its course.

3 - do they have any close friends?

As a kid there was a boy in her village who gave her her first knife and let her run with his little gang. He was, at the time, her best friend.

When she was in Arcadia she was extremely close with Emiri and one of her sisters, Agapi.

And in future events, during the time skip, she gets pretty close with Robin and Sabo. I need to reread Ace's light novels, but I like to think she'll get along great with Ace's old crew as well.

4 - are they good at making friends? why or why not

On her part she feels really awkward and like she's not the best at it when it comes to making friends, gets a little tsun about it and all, yet funnily enough the people that make it a point to be her friend think that she's one of the easiest people to befriend lol

5 - what is their emotional weakness?

Her loyalty is as much her greatest strength as it is her weakness, as was covered in question 2. She will drive herself into the ground trying to avoid failing others.

[colourshot-draws]

Crossover time? Crossover time.

Thinking of making a tyo We Happy Few au because...the crossover of fans for both of those is huge and totally not just me /j But fr, I’ve been thinking about it. We Happy Few was a huge old special interest of mine and tbh I think I’m getting back into it so...time to mix the two (more under the cut).

**

Rick (Wastrel): I think he’d have a similar situation to Arthur; one of the posher Wellies who eventually gets his arse beaten and thrown into the Garden District. Except he doesn’t do it by choice, he just happens to get a bad batch of Joy. Poor him. It does happen to make him feel superior to the rest of the Downers though...which neatly leads us into:

Neil (Downer): He’s been a Downer since day one, how could he not be? Far from feeling bad about it, he’s quite happy to live in the Garden District. The rules of the Village were much too heavy for him anyway. He’s made a bit of a name for himself, much like Johnny Bolton...though not for being mad necessarily. You can come to him for the herbal medicines he’s managed to put together with the various plants or you can directly buy said plants from him. He has begun to worry about the lack of food and plague though...

Vyvyan (Bobby): Vyvyan is naturally a bobby and having a grand old time doing it. He’s really leaning into the whole “mindless violence” thing. He cares less about enforcing Joy usage and more about finding reasons to smash people’s faces in. Perks of the job and all. He’d be having much more fun if he didn’t have to now pay for his Blackberry Joy though. And he supposed he wouldn’t actually be opposed to...well...helping some Downers if it meant more chaos and violence. Catch him on the right day and bring a bottle of alcohol and who knows, you might be in luck. Also the Joy Doctors freak him out...a lot.

Mike (Wellie): Mike’s managed to work his way up to an administration position in the Parade District. Not cut out for bobby work, definitely not doctor material and not happy to stay a normal wellie, this seemed to be the only option. He is relatively happy most of the time, things are fine in his world. Although he can’t help but notice the sudden shortage of food...and their population ever decreasing while Downers have seemed to have spiked. But it’s fine, right? Yes it’s all fine. Has to be. Also I think he’s definitely run into some issues with the Plough Boys before, because of course Mike can’t avoid getting embroiled in the local gangs.

** Well there’s a few silly little ideas for this au. Hope you enjoyed reading and who knows, I might expand on it further sometime soon. It has a lot of potential for angst (and humour). All those good things. Thanks for reading all this!

[jacarandabanyan]

Deadlock

For Trope March Madness, Prompt: Soulmates and Sannin Week April 4 - Deadlock ( @sannin-central )

Orochimaru, in the grand tradition of mad scientists before him, tested his breakthrough jutsu on himself as well as on the assembly line of dull-eyed orphans Danzo had released into his temporary care. 

This treatment had been in the works for years- since Orochimaru had first landed a part-time research position as a newly-promoted chunin during the War, in fact. The dates on his meticulously-labeled files only went back perhaps three years, five if you counted the more multi-purpose bits, but Orochimaru could trace its development back through every captured enemy body he’d dissected and every experimental trial he’d done since gaining access to classified research labs beneath the Hokage Tower. 

First, he drew the coiling, precise seals on each test subject’s arms. Some of them offered their bare skin blankly and easily, like dolls moved by an invisible hand. Others had to have their arms strapped down to the table with thick leather ties. A few even had to be paralyzed with small enough doses from the light yellow bottles on the top shelf that they would remain conscious throughout the procedure. He took careful notes of which ones required what, in case in impacted the results. 

The ink he used for the seals was a special mixture, heavily chakra-infused and containing several drops of each test subject’s own blood added right before application to the skin. It hardened quickly upon contact with the cool lab air, and tiny spiderweb-cracks appeared almost immediately. He noted down the way such cracks tended to occur most densely in the area directly over the subject’s soulmarks. 

He painted the lines on with steady, sure strokes.

It’s important to be neat on the lines, Jiraiya had told him years ago on that mission to the Land of Waterfalls that seemed to drag on forever. If you smudge it, or if there’s a little waver or something and it doesn’t come out smooth, the whole flow gets messed up. In the case of an exploding tag like this, it’ll probably blow up in your pocket or something.

The dark ink sent goosebumps racing up his arm. 

First sealing layer so applied, he turned back to the test subjects. 

The next step would be laborious and chakra-consuming, but he was prepared for it. One did not keep up with Tsunade and Jiraiya by being a lightweight. 

Green chakra flickered into being around the fingertips of his right hand. With his left he made a series of modified one-handed signs. The sequence ended with his palm flat and all fingers extended. He paused a moment to let the yin chakra build up appropriately, then touched his left fingertips to the first test subject’s soulmark. The test subject jolted slightly. 

He introduced his green-tinged right hand, and began to cast the second half of the jutsu. 

This hands wove and danced around each other in circular patterns that enmeshed in specific ways with the seals he’d just drawn on. Slowly, the test subject’s chakra flow became more and more disrupted around the point on their wrist where their soulmate’s name was written. 

It’s important not to rush medical jutsu, a memory of Tsunade’s voice whispered in his ear. Speed is good, but doing something fast and doing it in a rush are two very different things. 

He kept the timing of his movements precise and the rotation of his wrists smooth. Only when the disrupted area covered the whole kanji sequence of the soulmark did his fingers come to a halt and complete the jutsu. 

Quick as a striking snake he jabbed the soulmark with a thin lance of chakra. 

The test subject, a young boy who had been very cooperative up until that moment, jerked in place so strongly that their wrist flew out of Orochimaru’s hands. The boy went tense all over, then visibly forced himself to relax and offered his wrist again. Orochimaru smiled and patted his head. He always appreciated when the test subjects did their best for him. 

A quick examination found that the boy’s soulmark, which had previously been the flat black of an unfulfilled bond, had turned a light grey. 

He absent-mindedly copied down the kanji on a notepad.

To finish the process, he extended an arm to snatch a small pot of ink and a tiny brush. He double checked the label on the bottle to make sure it was the correct ink- a different mixture than the first one that was equally exhausting to prepare- then began drawing the second set of seals onto the test subject. The thin lines of red ink almost looked like precise surgeon cuts. He made a note to himself to investigate the possibility of seals carved into the body. A vague memory of reading of such a practice in old Uzushio fluttered in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite remember where…

No, this was no time for distraction. 

He worked quickly to complete the seal before the area of disturbance in the subject’s chakra flow stabilized itself. 

When at last he’d finished the last mark, he took a moment to savor his triumph. No other test had gotten this far into the process without failure. Simply reaching the final sealing step was an achievement worthy of a glowing report for Danzo-sama. And if all went as he believed it would, then tonight he would achieve what shinobi villages had been searching for a way to do since their founding. 

He laid his palm reverently over the test subject’s soulmark and activated the seal. 

When he drew his hand away, the test subject’s wrist was blank. 

Orochimaru laughed. 

“So, Tsunade, Jiraiya, I have surpassed even you two in knowledge of the nature of these bonds.”

With a satisfied smirk, he glanced at his own double soulmark.

“And soon, I will tear asunder our bond and finally escape this infernal deadlock of ours.”

[kilesplaysthings]

Halloween in Cradle!

Let’s imagine Halloween is a holiday that was introduced in Cradle by the first Alice and the people decide to let celebrations coincide with the harvest festivals like the “Land of Reason” does. How would "Alice” spend it with the boys?

(first time doing an IkeRev thing! some characters’ stuff will be shorter since I don’t know much about them yet! Put in a Read More since it’s LONG lol)

Lancelot: 

It’s become a tradition that the rich and elite of Cradle attend an evening Halloween masquerade ball. The ball is only lit by candlelight and everyone dresses in black for an added spooky elegance. Red wine is served and haunting, but elegant music is played for dancing

Lancelot, of course, attends and invites you to be his partner. It’s the first and only time you’ll see him in black (you know, being that he’s the King of the Red Army) and he looks absolutely regal in his black suit, cloak and full mask with gold trim.

As the two of you dance and enjoy the evening, he explains the traditions of this party. It seems that the Central Quarter’s ballroom is, in fact, haunted by the ghost of a woman in white. She died a tragic death on Halloween night; people found her amidst the dancing, sprawled at the foot of the grand staircase, swathed in her pure white dress. As such, everyone who attends dresses in black to be sure that they can spot her before someone is “spirited away.” Red wine is served because it was her favorite drink and her favorite music is played to let her know she is welcome.

As he tells you this and the two of you continue to spin around, you think you catch a glimpse of white out of the corner of your eye. Lancelot squeezes your hand at the look of apprehension in your eyes and smiles at you, pulling you closer.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I’ll make sure no ghost spirits you away tonight.”

Ray: 

Halloween for Ray is busy just like any other day, but he’s always willing to help decorate the barracks to make them spooky! 

Both armies like to have fun with the public and open parts of the barracks up for visitors for a fun spooky evening with games and fun haunts.

Insists on plenty of black cats everywhere. 

Black cats are not bad luck. They’re good luck and ensure that Halloween will be fun and safe! (that’s the legend he’s determined to spread). Is not ashamed to wear black cat ears for the night either lol

He’s the head of security for the autumn and Halloween festivals that happen in the neutral Central quarter’s town square and the two of you walk around together having fun as he oversees the safety of everyone.

After the fun is over and the night is winding down, he’s happy to cuddle with you by the fire with a cup of warm apple cider - most likely with a black cat or two snuggled on your laps.

Jonah:

Not much of a Halloween person, tbh thinks it’s too childish

thinks the sweets are too much of Edgar’s type, not his own

the morning of, however, he invites you to a nearby café for brunch to show what delicious autumn delicacies they have

is happy to tell you about the different things he and Luka would get up to on Halloween when they were kids.

the two of you laugh over the stories he tells when he “defended” little Luka from a person dressed up in a ghost costume when they went guising as kids. Won’t admit that he ever got scared, (though he did)

Sirius:

This time of year is one of his favorites, because it means lots of autumnal baked goods that he can make!

Pumpkin pies, pumpkin cake rolls, pumpkin doughnuts, apple pies, apple crisp, pumpkin apple crisp! You name it, he’ll bake it. 

It’s his baked goods that are always around for any harvest or Halloween festival

While he’s cool with Halloween, he does prefer the harvest aspect of he month more, mainly because he likes autumn decorations

Will invite you to help carve pumpkins with him. Or rake leaves. He’s actually quite good at carving and makes some fantastic faces and designs! And expect some fun leaf shenanigans with Chutney involved too

the two of you like take a walk together on the nearby trails to admire the beautiful autumn colors before the harvest dinner.

Edgar:

To your surprise, he quite likes Halloween

Mainly because he gets to scare and prank people and no one can judge him for it this time. Also CANDY

You can bet this guy has TONS of candy everywhere

Is ready to go out guising like all the kids do for the candy, even though Jonah keeps berating him for being too old

“You don’t even have a costume!!!” “I do so have a costume. I’m going as a Red Army soldier.”

Can also carve pumpkins quite well. makes some scary faces on them

Since he’s forbidden to go guising, takes the next best thing, which is to take you around the Halloween festival in search of treats to buy and win

Is a pro at all the games. Takes GREAT pleasure in the dunking booth, and is a great shot at it

“Here, Alice. I won this special candy just for you. Don’t eat it just yet. Let’s wait till we’re alone. Then we can share them, together~”

Luka: 

Like his brother, is just meh about Halloween

But he enjoys the harvest festivals

Invites Alice to join him in going to one that’s on a farm just outside of the city. Together the two of you have a blast! Going on hayrides, looking at the different pumpkins in the pumpkin patch - and picking some out for later Halloween decorations -  as well as picking out the juiciest apples for later baking and sampling some delicious apple cider

You pick out matching scarves with him at the farm’s shop that sells hand-knitted clothing perfect for fall days like this one and wear them for the rest of the day

You can be sure that harvest time means some delicious food made by Luka, as he gets along with the farmers who offer him their best produce

The nights are colder, so he makes sure he warms up a cup of tea for you before you both snuggle down together for bed.

“Going to the farm with you was so much fun. Let’s make it a tradition to go together every year!”

Kyle: 

This time of year, our boy is on the lookout for colds. He’s prepared for visitors coming far and wide seeking treatments for them and has his office well stocked with medicine and herbs to help treat coughs and sore throats

He can get into the Halloween spirit too and decorates his office with a sort of “mad doctor” vibe to it. hOw OrIginAL

You can be sure he offers every kid that comes to him a Halloween treat when they leave his office (he’s a doctor, not a dentist lol)

basically Halloween is a chill day for him with just a flavor of spookiness. 

likes to chill at Dalim’s bar in the evening for a quieter Halloween night

Fenrir:

This boy does NOT do Halloween!!

He’ll do anything to avoid celebrating it. Too busy with work! Gotta train! Has guard duty at the barracks! He has DESK WORK to take care of! 

The other officers admittedly like to prank him this time of year because of it and it never fails to work

He’s touched when your make him his favorite meal to comfort him after a prank got him good

he tells you that his dislike of the holiday and his fear of ghosts both started when he was kid. his family threw a big Halloween party one night and late in the evening, when everyone was sitting together telling ghost stories, there was a banging in one of the rooms upstairs and the fire went out suddenly, leaving them all in the dark. People said it was a ghost coming to visit them. for a boy of only six, he said that night stuck with him for years and he still remembers how scared he was.

you’re touched by this rare moment of vulnerability from him and promise that from now on, each year, you’ll have your own “un-Halloween” celebration together

Zero:

He likes the idea of guising but knows he’s too old for it

Instead, he enjoys participating in the Central Quarter’s Halloween festival

He helps the local candy maker in his booth and the two of them make candy for people to buy during the festival

is not above dressing to get in the spirit of the night

Makes you your own special candy when you visit him in the booth

you share a candy apple together when he gets time off and can walk around the festival with you

Seth:

Ultimate Halloween prankster of the Black Army. 

Has been the chief scarer of Fenrir but never goes too overboard -just enough

Halloween is in part about dressing up in costume, so you can be sure he’ll want to dress Alice up in every princess, witch or vampiress costume he can get his hands on

matching costumes is a win-win situation for him. his favorite is vampire and vampire bride. will get into character for it too

“careful Alice, I just might bite that pretty neck of yours if you keep acting so adorably~”

Loki: 

Will 100% want to go guising with you

dresses up in a black hoodie with cat ears. “Look! I’m a black cat!”

the two of you hop around the villages together, you in a white sheet as a ghost, and him as a black cat, carrying sacks to get candy

back at the house, the two of you will sort out your booty together and trade treats, offering some to Harr if he wants any.

the night will end with bobbing for apples, some spooky games and tales and Harr admonishing you both not to eat too much candy before bed

you both may or may not decide to play a fun, innocent prank on Harr later on in the night

Harr: 

For Halloween, you and Harr decide to take it easy. Maybe eat a big dinner with some celebratory cake and play some games together at the house

but then Loki comes up with a daring idea: late night exploring in the Old Ruins that lie deep in the Forbidden Forest

the idea is kinda scary, but also thrilling! Plus, Loki reasons, they’ll be with Harr, so there won’t be any danger

Harr (secretly pleased that he’s trusted so much) finally agrees.

The Old Ruins are rumored to be haunted, Loki says, as the three of you creep in. The door makes a painfully loud creaking noise as he tugs it open

Armed with a lamp fueled by magic crystals, Harr leads the way in as the other two huddle around him. the building is dark, decrepit, and quite dangerous in some places as the walls and upper floors are caving in.

“We shouldn’t stay here too long,” Harr warns, worried about the instability of the place. A sound is heard in a nearby room adjacent to the foyer.

“Let’s check it out!” Loki suggests and he heads in the direction of the noise.

You don’t find anything but continue to hear noises, noises that seem to be coming from the upper floors...

After a while of exploring, Harr suddenly decides to put his foot down. “Let’s go. Now.” He tells you.

You both don’t argue against the tone in his voice and head back to the house, Loki excitedly talking about their adventure. As he does, Harr takes your hand and holds it tightly.

“I’m sorry we had to leave so suddenly, but while you both were looking around, I saw someone watching us from above on the third floor. The last thing I ever want is putting you in harm’s way. Stay with me tonight so I know you’re safe.”

Blanc:

He can remember when the first Alice introduced Halloween to Cradle. In fact, he helped in forming the traditions of the holiday to what they are today.

He organizes and is in charge of the Halloween festival alongside with Dean. He also likes to host a costume party in the Garden, free for anyone who wants to attend

He dresses up as a white rabbit knight hOW OrIginAL

Cliched costume aside, he looks cute so it’s all good

You are his special guest and he ensures that your first dance of the night is with him 

Oliver:

His favorite part about this holiday is the costumes

He makes lots of costumes and items for kids who want a super cool look for Halloween

in his kid form, he reluctantly agrees to an early afternoon of guising with you, but insists on wearing a mask he made for himself so no one knows it’s him

don’t be surprised if he pulls some pranks on you throughout the day to get back at you for making him do that in his kid form

never goes to Blanc’s costume party. prefers to join Kyle at Dalim’s bar instead for a more laid back celebration

Dean: 

Teams up with Blanc in organizing the Halloween festival

Is a huge folklorist and can tell you all sorts of weird and creepy stories about Cradle’s history

owns a whole library about it, actually

being a teacher, he does fun things throughout the day for his students to get them in the Halloween spirit

his students put on a play for the Halloween festival that is usually about some Cradle folklore

He’s a good storyteller, so be prepared with a blanket and some hot cocoa when you both sit by a fire and share ghost stories

Dalim/Dum:

Halloween or not, the bar’s gonna be running. Doesn’t mean he can’t get in the spirit of things, though

decorates the place with candles and fog and all

keeps things quiet for those who want a calmer holiday

concocts special drinks for the occasion. Kyle’s favorite is the White Lady, based on the ghost that haunts Central Quarter’s ballroom

Will keep visitors entertained with weird and creepy stories that he’s heard from customers over the years

Mousse: 

Halloween is just another day for him

Candy is whatever. He’d rather be given cheese. Prefers harvest festivals since there is cheese in abundance.

has to attend the different public gatherings as a Cradle official

ghosts don’t scare him. doesn’t believe any of the legends to be true

likes to drink warm cider and will fall asleep in front of the fire if he’s at a party

[thegreenmeridian]

Ok, a lot of people have heard of the Dyatlov Pass Incident. But have you ever heard of “The English Calamity”?

In 1936 a group of 27 grammar schools boys aged 12-17 went hiking in the Black Forest in Germany, under the direction of 27 year old PE and German teacher Kenneth Keast. The oldest boy, 17 year old Douglas Mortifee was a prefect and assisted Keast in leading the group.

By most reports, they were poorly equipped for the challenging route chosen, especially given the wintery conditions in April. Some were even wearing sandals and shorts. The only map they had was a 1:100,000 scale map lacking terrain details, provided by the “School Travel Service”.

The plan was to cross Mount Schauinsland, starting at the village of Freiburg and finishing in Todtnauberg. When warned by the tourist office in Freibergof the weather forecast, Keast’s response was a blythe “the English are used to sudden changes in the weather!”.

After getting lost in the deteriorating conditions, they happened across an inn where again, a local woman warned them against continuing. The paths and signeage would be buried beneath snow and given that they’d already become disoriented once, surely continuing would be dangerous.

Again, Keast didn’t seem to grasp the seriousness. They would brush the snow off signs if need be, he said. And so they continued. Two woodcutters retreating from the worsening weather warned them off continuing, and a postman, Otto Steirt, even offered to guide them to return to the village or guide them to a mining hostel. This was at 3.15pm; they had left Freiburg in the morning. Keast turned the offer down.

Keast did question the state of his boys, most reporting at least some degree of misery from the cold and wet, but nonetheless, Keast decided it would be better to press on. Partly as a result of his map: at such a scale, the map showed only major routes and gave no indication that the next leg of the hike would be over particularly steep inclines, including he gruelling 600m 70% gradient stretch known as Kappler Wand.

The first boy to collapse from cold and exhaustion was Jack Alexander Eaton. The school’s boxing champion, healthy and fit, fell to the ground and was offered three things: a piece of cake, an orange, and the advice to “buck up.”

At last, they reached the ridge. Now they were facing the threat of full exposure to the winds, and it was here Keast made a terrible mistake. Had they turned eastward into the howling winds, they would have reached the summit station that lay less than a mile away. Instead, and understandably, they turned west. Disoriented, bedraggled, the boys continued on. Eaton and another boy were by now unable to walk and had to be carried, another three weren’t far off.

At last, they heard the 7pm church bells from the distant village of Hofsgrund. Knowing they would not make it off the mountain without help, Keast sent two of the healthiest ahead while the others remained behind to try and revive their fallen friends. The two sent ahead took more than an hour to reach a farmhouse on the very edge of the village. Farmer Eugen Schweizer, was in the process of bundling himself up to leave his house to catch the bread delivery when up to his door stumbled two half-frozen boys in shorts. Through chattering teeth and in broken German, they managed to give their message.

Zwei Mann, krank am Berg. Two men sick on the mountain.

Herr Schweizer ran at once to the village in to gather a rescue party. With skis strapped to their feet, the men set out and what they found was a disaster. The boys were spread out across a wide area by this point, some stumbling towards the village and some collapsed. Schweizer nearly fell over two unconscious boys nearly buried in the snow. One boy, Stanley Lyons, was discovered collapsed only 10 metres from the village inn, already dead. Keast was found with two unconscious boys. Rescuer Hubert Wissler climbed alone for 45 minutes to reach three boys suffering exposure. The rescue effort carried on until every boy had been found, lasting until almost midnight.

A doctor who was by chance holidaying in the area rushed to help the worst cases, while the boys in less severe condition were treated by the locals using the time-tested method of beating them with brooms to get their circulation going, lest exposure to the heat of the large wood stove in the inn send them into shock.

Despite the villager’s best efforts, four boys were dead. Eaton, who had fallen first, 12 year old Francis Bourdillon, 13 year old Peter Ellercamp, and 14 year old Stanley Lyons. Two more, 14 year olds Arthur Roberts and Roy Witham, remained in serious condition and were sent to hospital the following day. Witham was never to regain consciousness.

(Jack Eaton)

Dazed and barely able to comprehend what had happened, the boys were returned to Freiburg to await their journey home.

Where the story gets especially tragic is how it was used as Nazi propeganda. The leader of the Hitler Youth rushed to telegraph the British Ambassador to inform him that wreaths “from the German Youth” would be placed upon every coffin sent back to England, and that a Hitler Youth sentinel would watch over the coffins until their transportation. Newspapers in both nations carried pictures of this vigil, with coffins draped in Union Jacks against a backdrop of swastikas. As the local Youth leader gave a speech about the “will of understanding and peace” between British and German “comrades”, older Youth members took the surviving boys out to play football and on omnibus rides.

The hike has begun on a Friday; on Monday, the nation celebrated Hitler’s birthday. The coffins of the boys were not except from the celebrations. In a parade lead by local Nazi dignitaries, hundreds of Hitler Youth, Union of German Girls, and Freiburg schoolchildren, the coffins were escorted to Freiburg train station. The survivors boarded the train accompanied by 20 Youth.

The Nazi propeganda machine had already begun spreading the tale that the rescue had been a Hitler Youth effort, and the Reich’s Youth Press had issued a statement claiming the boys who had died had done so in the service of “further[ing] the open, honest friendship between nations”. The mayor of Freiburg even wrote to the father of one of the deceased boys, speaking of how his son had been “sacrificed” and become a “standard bearer for the important aspects of understanding between our two great nations”.

The excitement did not stop at Freiburg; thousands of Germans came out to watch the train on its 330 mile journey from Freiburg to the Belgian border, many throwing sweets for the survivors as they hung out of the train windows to watch the spectacle. Several parents of the boys personally wrote thank you letters to Hitler to thank him for the grand send off, and to the German state train company for waiving the £60 fee for conveying each coffin.

When the coffins at last returned home, they bore wreaths from the Hitler Youth, the British Ambassador to Germany, and Hitler himself. More floral tributes, bedecked in swastikas, arrived for the boys’ funerals.

Keast remained in Germany for another few days as a guest of the Hitler Youth, and a British tabloid newspaper ran a photo of him sitting in an open-top car with a Hitler Youth representive and a local Gestapo member.

Plans for a memorial were raised publicly for the first time by the official Nazi newspaper around a month after the disaster. The Hofsgrund villagers, perhaps annoyed at the Hitler Youth claiming the rescue efforts as their own, lobbied for an inscription that would have acknowledged the locals who had risked their lives to bring each boy, dead or alive, from the mountain. It was, however, the leader of the loca Hitler Youth who was eventually given control of the project.

While the original plan by the Hofsgrund villagers had been a rock with an inscription, the Youth leader wanted something far grander, going so far as to bring aboard renouned art professor Hermann Alker to create a design for a project he was keen to stress was of special interest to the Führer. The final design consisted of two huge slabs of Black Forest granite inscribed with the names of the boys, with a third stone bridged atop bearing a Nazi eagle and swastika.

(The monument today)

The inauguration was due to be attended by a member of the British royal family and Lord Baden-Powell, founder of the Scout movement. However, the monument’s completion date, the summer of 1938, was shortly before the Munich Agreement which gave Germany control of the Sudetenland, and the atmosphere between Germany and England was no longer one in which such an event would take place. There were even calls to tear the monument down, though nothing ever came of them.

Another, smaller monument exists. Commissioned by the father of Jack Eaton and created by a Freiburg sculpture, the lone granite cross sits just 500m from the grand Nazi sculpture. Another memorial sits at the entrance to the Hofsgrund church yard, erected by the parents and thanking the locals for their help.

(Eaton’s memorial)

Eaton’s father, also named Jack, lead his own investigation into the events, going so far as to travel the route himself just days after the disaster and interview rescuers and witnesses with the help of a solicitor and interpreter. He discovered the inadequate map used by Keast and handed it over to the local prosecutor’s office, vowing not to rest until a public inquiry was held to determine how such a tragedy could have happened. Eventually releasing his own 10-page report on the events, Eaton Sr. believed that had it not been for the church bells, every boy likely would have perished. He also claimed that Keast’s “open dislike” of Germans resulted in his refusal to take any warning seriously, concluding that it would have been “degrading for him to accept a German’s word of advice”. His understandable anger towards Keast was such that he originally intended his memorial to his son to contain the words “their teacher failed them in the hour of trial”, though the local authorities refused to allow it.

No investigation of the matter was ever seriously considered and Keast returned to work at the Strand school, along with his surviving pupils, not long after. He even went so far as to plan a ski trip to Austria just eight months after the tragedy, though this was stopped after threats to the school made by Eaton Sr.

This was not a singular incident; Eaton Sr. frequently harassed Keast at the school and at his home, and often railed against older boys on the trip whom he accused of cowardice in letting harm befall the younger students. Eaton Sr.’s anger was such that he hung a sign in his shop charging Keast with his son’s death, and shouted at a student in the street for wearing the uniform of the school that had caused his son’s death. The trauma of losing his son caused him to become the tragedy’s fifth victim, dying in a psychiatric hospital after several years spent desperately fighting for justice.

Keast continued his career as a teacher, eventually moving to a different school and living in comfortable obscurity until his passing in 1971. His actions immediately following the tragedy were seemingly those of a man unable to comprehend or accept what had happened - the report given to a German investigator completely omitted the severity of warnings offered by the locals and on his return home, he went quickly on holiday to Bournemouth where he had a brief but intense romance with a teacher met there. A letter sent to her, barely a week after four of his students died, thanks her for restoring him to “whatever sanity I can hope to approach” and also makes the claim that “in spite of everything,” his time with her was “the happiest day of his life”.

The English Calamity is practically unheard of outside of Hofsgrund and Freiburg, and the official, albeit false, story of Nazi heroism made it an uncomfortable one to remember. But it is worth remembering, not least as an example of the dangers of arrogance in the face of danger.

[henryobsessed]

The Widow and the Witcher  Chapter 4

Summery, Budding friendship, A wedding and possibly something more

Word Count: 2600

Warning: Fluff

A/N Thank you for the amazing engagement and encouragement  

Chapter 4

4 weeks had past and the household of Julia of Wolnosci was full of excitement. Julia had begun to feel like she was getting closer to finding a place of peace. Her clients were beginning to see the changes in her, causing her clinic to begin to make a name for itself again. The estate was also thriving, each of the new servants were adding there skills to the benefit of the family.

Geralt had begun to feel like he was gaining his strength back. He had been working hard with his sword training and was finding working with the horses very therapeutic. Each day Julia continued to work with him in the spring, and using remedial massage to help aid his recovery after each training session. Julia was sure he was well on the way to a full recovery, there were still some scars that were healing but they would fade in time.

Every evening Geralt would come and visit Julia in her library. Some nights the room would be silent as they were both lost in the worlds painted in their books. Some nights the room would be filled with animated discussion debating monsters, politics, and everything in between . The surprising part for Julia was that a real bond of trust and friendship was growing between them. Many night the servants could hear as they went about their chores, deep discussion and laughter coming from the library.

Today there was an air of expectation on the minds of every member of the estate as preparations for a grand wedding celebration were in full swing. Tobias and Renee would be man and wife in just under 3 hours, followed by a huge celebration. The first one to be held at the estate since Wilfred had died. Julia once again looked at the great room, this time the colours were of soft pinks, rose gold and white, Renee's favourite colours. The columns were wrapped with green Ivy and white roses, the tables adorned with pink silk, white and pink roses, rose gold goblets and rose gold and white crockery.

Julia narrowed her eyes and gazed around the room critically looking for anything that was out of place. Just one last look, although knew she didn't really need to. She knew that it had been  lovingly done by the servants for their favourite couple, and as she suspected it was perfect. Julia was so grateful for Renee; she had come to be invaluable at the estate. She had refused to return to her family until yesterday. Only leaving to full fill the tradition of her Husband coming to claim her before the ceremony. Not only had she endeared herself to the servants, but she had become a great friend to Julia. They shared many similar passions, hospitality, reading, and Renee had even shared a longing to learn the art of healing from Julia. The unnamed God surely had a hand in bringing Renee to her family, not only for Tobias, but for her as well.

As the sun hit the room a rainbow danced across the wall reflecting off one of the crystal vases. It was only a small rainbow but it was enough to trigger a wall of sadness in Julia, as if a cloud had moved over the sun, suffocating her joy making her heart ache. Her mind remembering the last party she and Wilfred had shared with the village. He should be here. Wilfred would have loved this; He would have loved seeing Tobias married to such a beautiful bride. Allowing herself to dwell on the grief of one more thing that had been stolen from them, Julia began to silently weep.

Geralt was heading to the kitchen to get some apples, his favorite food to give as treats to the horses. As he passed the great room he spotted Julia standing in the middle of the explosion of flowers and finery. Something caught at his heart as he noticed Julia was weeping. Without a thought he quickly moved into the room, and without a word pulled her into his arms. Julia stiffened for just a moment then melted into his chest sobbing as Geralt held her tighter.

After a few minutes her sobs turned into small hiccups, and then she calmed. They stood in each others embrace for what seemed a lifetime. Geralt did not want to let her go, he was surprisingly enjoying the feel of her body against his. Julia also felt surprised, her body enveloped by the warmth of his body and security she felt in his arms. Eventually, Julia pulled back and looked up into his now softened eyes "Thank you" she whispered unsure of what she was feeling she stepped away.

Geralt felt the loss of her body. An ache he had not felt for a very long time spreading through his chest caused him to want more.  Silently he reached a hand out to brushed a stray tear from her face, before saying with a low whisper "will you be ok? I sense today might be hard for you." Julia overwhelmed by the compassion this man was showing her, and amazing that he had read her emotions so accurately stood silent. "Mistress?" Tobias stood at the door a bunch of flowers in the crook of his arm. His words broke the spell over Julia, stepping away from Geralt she turned to Tobias answer. "yes my boy?"

Tobias had been nervously pacing the gardens, his task was to make the perfect bouquet to present his bride. This evening when he went to claim her from her father, it would he his gift to her. He had found a beautiful array of her favourite flowers, baby's breath, gardenias, and roses in pink and white. Their beautiful aroma's filling his nostrils, all that was left was to find something special to bind them together. Julia would have just the right touch to make it perfect had been his thought as he strode towards the house. Moving down the corridor, he heard the sound of Geralt's voice coming from the grand room, and on inspection had seen him hovering over Julia who looked like she had been crying.

"Mistress?," he voiced with concern, Julia turned away from Geralt looking at him and replied with a soft voice, "yes my boy?" that endearment never grew old filling him with a familiar warmth. Not sure of what had transpired he entered the room intent of protecting her. "are you ok?" he looked at Geralt who now looked at him with a stony stare. "yes, Tobias I'm ok, I just had a sad moment and Geralt came to my aid. All is well now." Julia wondered at the change in Geralt's face the softness had disappeared replaced with a hard frown, but she decided to ask him about it later. For now, her faithful servant, her Son, had an arm full of flowers, and if he was seeking her out it could mean only one thing, he needed her help.

Tobias sat tall on his horse; he was dressed in the finest ivory silk suit his dark brown hair curled atop his head. In his arms, the bouquet of flowers sat now tied together with an ivory ribbon with two crystals hanging from the ends. Even though it was a cold night Tobias was oblivious to it, his body full of nervous energy right now. All that was on his mind as he kicked his mare into a gallop was that he was going to fetch his bride.

Standing at the doorway to her house Renee stood ready, she too was adorned in a beautiful ivory silk dress that was edged with rose gold satin. Her headdress dripped with crystals across her forehead securing the long shear Vale that covered her face and hair. She held her lantern up peering into the distance, not knowing the hour that Tobias would come as was custom but hoping with nervous expectation that it would not be too much longer.

Her feet tapped the earth in an expectant rhythm, her mind filled with thoughts of the night to come when she felt an soft hand on her arm. Her mother's smile calmed her beating heart as she heard her whisper, "Peace my child. The waiting, the giving and the sharing will all be over in the blink of an eye. So cherish each moment. The waiting is important, there will be many times in your life when you will be waiting for him to return, learn to be content in the waiting." She knew her mother was true, the life of a merchants wife was filled with waiting.

She could hear her father chuckle beside her mother "listen to your mother my daughter, she speaks wisdom from experience." He drew her mother into his arms and kissed her cheek, the love between them was tangible and she hoped that when she and Tobias were their age they would still cherish each other in the same way. Together they waited enjoying the peace, it was her parents who would hand Renee to her betrothed tonight, signifying their agreement of the joining of the two in marriage.

As Tobias approached the city he slowed his horse to a walk. His heart hammered in his chest as he began to see the streets lined with their friends and family. Each holding a lantern to light the way, he smiled at each one until he could see her. Even from a distance she stood out from the rest. There she was holding her lamp a symbol of the love she had for him, it glow illuminating her satin gown creating a vision the brought him to tears. His beloved was waiting for him.

He dismounted and walked to her father and kneeling at his feet, lowered his head and asked "I have come to humble myself before you and your wife. I love your daughter, and ask that you give us your blessing to become husband and wife" He felt a hand reach under his chin and lift his face up, so he could see her father's eyes shinning with tear as he gazed at him replying. "Tobias of the house of Wilfred and Julia of Wolnosci, we have watched the way you care for our daughter. We have seen your character as you deal fairly in the marketplace, and we have witnessed your compassion and loyalty to your mistress, and to the people of this town. Yes, we gladly give our blessing to you and our precious daughter. We welcome you as our Son" helping Tobias to his feet Renee's father brought him to face Renee. "Daughter, do you take this man to be your husband. To love him, and honour him no matter what life's difficulties bring to your house?"

Renee peered up at Tobias through her vale, she could see his handsome face staring at her with a soft look of love, and tears shining in his eyes. She had no doubt in her mind that she would love this man for the rest of her life. So with a strong voice, she said "yes". At this, the street erupted with celebration as Tobias lifted her vale and kissed her sweetly on the lips. Releasing Tobias from the kiss Renee turned and hugged her Mother and Father, as did Tobias then together they walked to his horse. Tobias lifted her into the saddle and jumped up behind her. Together with the rest of their family and friends began a procession back to the estate.

Julia shivered as she stood at the archway to the estate. The road to the house was lined with the servant's, lanterns in hand. Standing in place of Tobias's mother it was her job to accept and welcome the bride and groom to her estate. She had spent the evening with Hannah and Ruth "getting pretty" as Wilfred had called it. She wore a lavender silk dress adorned with crystals that caught the lantern light. Her hair, curled, was half up and half down covering her shoulders with a ring of crystals in her hair. She knew this night would be a wonderful celebration, and she would be happy for this beautiful couple, but there was still an element of sadness.

As she shivered again, Julia felt a warm hand place a shawl over her shoulders. Looking up she found herself lost in a warm gaze of amber-yellow eyes looking down at her. The softness she saw in his eyes caused a quivering in her stomach. An awareness that this man was becoming more to her than she was ready to accept. She shifted her eyes as the intensity of his gaze was becoming unnerving moving to his body. She could see he had washed and his white hair was pulled up into a bun at the back of his neck making him look even taller than his 6ft 1inch height. He was dressed in a simple black outfit that befitted his station and made his silver medallion of a wolf even more prominent on his large chest.

Geralt sensing her discomfort leant down to her ear so only she could hear, "I can leave if you want, but I would prefer to stay by your side tonight. One because I sense you need it, and two I am not great in crowds and would prefer to be near someone I know." Julia felt it took a lot for Geralt to admit this, and realised she was actually comforted by his close presence. Returning his quiet statement with her own whisper "No, don't go, I would be happy for your escort tonight. Thank you for the shawl, I didn't realise how cold it was."

Emboldened by her words Geralt wrapped one arm around Julia pulling her into his side, a soft smile forming on his lips as he teased, "it's even warmer here." Before she had time to protest, she heard the sound of an army of people singing and laughing, she looked into the distance seeing an ocean of glowing lanterns following a lone horse with its two riders. Stepping out from his warmth Julia walked forward in anticipation of greeting her Son and his Bride.

Julia walked to Tobias as they dismounted, her heart bursting with joy as she spoke "Son of my house, I welcome you and your bride to this estate, I pray blessings on this union" Lowering her head as she took each of their hands, she prayed "to the unnamed God, we ask you bring many blessings to this beautiful couple, may you bring them peace and many years of joy" with tears in her eyes she kissed them both on the cheeks, turning together to walk the illuminated road she felt Geralt come up to her side, his presence felt right, filling her with a foreshadowing of something new uncurling in her heart as they walked with the bride and groom to the main dwelling.

Tobias and Renee were standing on the balcony of their apartment at the estate. The sound of music and laughter floating up to them as the celebrations raged on. The love Julia had shown to Tobias and his bride had touched him deeply. The evening had been more than he could have ever imagined. Now with Renee tucked against his side he felt complete, as they looked at the stars. This was their favourite place to be, and it helped to calm his nerves being in this familiar embrace . "are you happy Renee, is this how you imagine it would be?" turning to face Tobias Renee reached up and cupped his face her thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone as she spoke softly. "I would have been happy if we were in feed sacks and it was just my family and yours downstairs. But this" her face held an overwhelmed awe.

"This was beyond any expectations; Julia truly loves you and  it has been made even more evident by how  lavishly she had blessed us." Tobias smiled down at her chuckling at the dimples the were deepening as her smile echoed his "I think she also loves you; I have seen how close you have gotten over the last few weeks." Tobias tucked a strand of her sandy hair behind her ear, his pulse racing at the intimacy he felt as his voice deepened "and I am glad for it. For whom could not love my sweet and beautiful wife" at this he bent and kissed Renee softly, she responded gently at first then deepened their kiss with more intensity, together they moved to the bridal bed both nervous but happy to explore this new journey together.

Back at the celebrations, Julia found herself lounging against a very warm and firm chest, as the night had progressed, and the wine had flowed she had found herself becoming more and more comfortable with Geralt's touch. So, when he saw how tired she was and suggested she rest against him there was no hesitation. Feeling snug and secure she looked around the room with satisfaction. Once again, her house would be known for its celebrations, and it warmed her heart to see the happy faces, people dancing to the minstrel's tunes, and people lounging engaged in discussion. Contentment filled her heart as her body began to slip into unconsciousness.

Geralt was relaxed, and thanks to his gentle coaxing he had Julia in his arms. He could smell her honeysuckle scented hair as her head rested just below his chin. His eyes strayed allowing himself to look closely at the woman in his arms. Julia didn't seem to know what her very presence did to him. Her hair tonight was a mass of curls, and it took all his self-control not to reach out and play with it. Her dress hugged her figure in all the right places, and ..... What was he doing? He pulled his mind back from where his thoughts were headed. The last time he had allowed himself to get close to a woman other than the ones he paid for was Yennefer. She was like night and day with Julia. Where Julia was compassion, warmth and peace. Yennefer was passion, anger and chaos. Could he, would he risk opening his heart to Julia? subtle as it was her relaxed body now snuggled even further into his chest, and if he judged her weight right, she was falling asleep.

Knowing that the celebration would continue till sunrise he shifted his body so he could pick Julia up in his arms. Carrying her down the marble corridor to her room he placed her on the bed. Tucking her in he went to move away but she captured his hand. "stay with me, I'm cold" Julia whispered. Not sure if she would feel the same way in the morning but not willing to ignore such an invitation Geralt took off his sandals and slipped in beside her pulling her close. She buried her back against his chest and sighed before even breathing showed she had fallen asleep. Geralt, however, did not sleep for a long time. Holding this precious woman in his arms was comforting and at the same time torcher. In the still of the moment watching her sleep he decided she was too special to ignore, tomorrow he would tell her how he felt. Mind made up he fell into a deep sleep.  

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[pretimasafghanistanlitblog]

“Ten Interesting Afghani Novels”

1. Under the Persimmon Tree by Suzanne Fisher Staples

Intertwined portraits of courage and hope in Afghanistan and Pakistan Najmah, a young Afghan girl whose name means "star," suddenly finds herself alone when her father and older brother are conscripted by the Taliban and her mother and newborn brother are killed in an air raid. An American woman, Elaine, whose Islamic name is Nusrat, is also on her own. She waits out the war in Peshawar, Pakistan, teaching refugee children under the persimmon tree in her garden while her Afghan doctor husband runs a clinic in Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan.

Najmah's father had always assured her that the stars would take care of her, just as Nusrat's husband had promised that they would tell Nusrat where he was and that he was safe. As the two look to the skies for answers, their fates entwine. Najmah, seeking refuge and hoping to find her father and brother, begins the perilous journey through the mountains to cross the border into Pakistan. And Nusrat's persimmon-tree school awaits Najmah's arrival. Together, they both seek their way home.

Known for her award-winning fiction set in South Asia, Suzanne Fisher Staples revisits that part of the world in this beautifully written, heartrending novel. (goodreads.com)

2. Words in the Dust by Trent Reedy

Winner of the Christopher Medal and a "heart-wrenching" Al Roker's Book Club selection on the Today Show.

Zulaikha hopes. She hopes for peace, now that the Taliban have been driven from Afghanistan; a good relationship with her hard stepmother; and one day even to go to school, or to have her cleft palate fixed. Zulaikha knows all will be provided for her--"Inshallah," God willing. Then she meets Meena, who offers to teach her the Afghan poetry she taught her late mother. And the Americans come to her village, promising not just new opportunities and dangers, but surgery to fix her face. These changes could mean a whole new life for Zulaikha--but can she dare to hope they'll come true? (Amazon.com)

3. A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

A Thousand Splendid Suns is a breathtaking story set against the volatile events of Afghanistan's last thirty years - from the Soviet invasion to the reign of the Taliban to post-Taliban rebuilding - that puts the violence, fear, hope, and faith of this country in intimate, human terms. It is a tale of two generations of characters brought jarringly together by the tragic sweep of war, where personal lives - the struggle to survive, raise a family, find happiness - are inextricable from the history playing out around them.

Propelled by the same storytelling instinct that made The Kite Runner a beloved classic, A Thousand Splendid Suns is at once a remarkable chronicle of three decades of Afghan history and a deeply moving account of family and friendship. It is a striking, heart-wrenching novel of an unforgiving time, an unlikely friendship, and an indestructible love - a stunning accomplishment. (goodreads.com)

4. Swallows of Kabul by Yasmina Khadra 

Since the ascendancy of the Taliban the lives of Mosheen and his beautiful wife, Zunaira, have been gradually destroyed. Mosheen's dream of becoming a diplomat has been shattered and Zunaira can no longer even appear on the streets of Kabul unveiled. Atiq is a jailer who guards those who have been condemned to death; the darkness of prison and the wretchedness of his job have seeped into his soul. Atiq's wife, Musarrat, is suffering from an illness no doctor can cure. Yet, the lives of these four people are about to become inexplicably intertwined, through death and imprisonment to passion and extraordinary self-sacrifice.

The Swallows of Kabul is an astounding and elegiac novel of four people struggling to hold on to their humanity in a place where pleasure is a deadly sin and death has become routine. (goodreads.com)

5. The Pearl That Broke Its Shell by Nadia Hashimi

Afghan-American Nadia Hashimi's literary debut novel is a searing tale of powerlessness, fate, and the freedom to control one's own fate that combines the cultural flavor and emotional resonance of the works of Khaled Hosseini, Jhumpa Lahiri, and Lisa See.

In Kabul, 2007, with a drug-addicted father and no brothers, Rahima and her sisters can only sporadically attend school, and can rarely leave the house. Their only hope lies in the ancient custom of bacha posh, which allows young Rahima to dress and be treated as a boy until she is of marriageable age. As a son, she can attend school, go to the market, and chaperone her older sisters.

But Rahima is not the first in her family to adopt this unusual custom. A century earlier, her great-great grandmother, Shekiba, left orphaned by an epidemic, saved herself and built a new life the same way.

Crisscrossing in time, The Pearl the Broke Its Shell interweaves the tales of these two women separated by a century who share similar destinies. But what will happen once Rahima is of marriageable age? Will Shekiba always live as a man? And if Rahima cannot adapt to life as a bride, how will she survive? (Amazon.com)

6. Shooting Kabul By N.H. Senzai

In the summer of 2001, twelve-year-old Fadi's parents make the difficult decision to illegally leave Afghanistan and move the family to the United States. When their underground transport arrives at the rendezvous point, chaos ensues, and Fadi is left dragging his younger sister Mariam through the crush of people. But Mariam accidentally lets go of his hand and becomes lost in the crowd, just as Fadi is snatched up into the truck. With Taliban soldiers closing in, the truck speeds away, leaving Mariam behind.

Adjusting to life in the United States isn't easy for Fadi's family, and as the events of September 11th unfold the prospects of locating Mariam in a war torn Afghanistan seem slim. When a photography competition with a grand prize trip to India is announced, Fadi sees his chance to return to Afghanistan and find his sister. But can one photo really bring Mariam home?

Based in part on Ms. Senzai's husband's own experience fleeing his home in Soviet-controlled Afghanistan in the 1970's, Shooting Kabul is a powerful story of hope, love, and perseverance. (goodreads.org)

7. Green on Blue: A Novel by Elliot Ackerman 

Aziz and his older brother Ali are coming of age in a village amid the pine forests and endless mountains of eastern Afghanistan. They are poor, but inside their mud-walled home, the family has stability, love, and routine. One day a convoy of armed men arrives in their village and their world crumbles. The boys survive and make their way to a small city, where they gradually begin to piece together their lives. But when US forces invade the country, militants strike back. A bomb explodes in the market, and Ali is brutally injured.

To save his brother, Aziz must join the Special Lashkar, a US-funded militia. As he rises through the ranks, Aziz becomes mired in the dark underpinnings of his country’s war, witnessing clashes between rival Afghan groups—what US soldiers call “green on green” attacks—and those on US forces by Afghan soldiers, violence known as “green on blue.” Trapped in a conflict both savage and contrived, Aziz struggles to understand his place. Will he embrace the brutality of war or leave it behind, and risk placing his brother—and a young woman he has come to love—in jeopardy?

Green on Blue has broken new ground in the literature of our most recent wars, accomplishing an astonishing feat of empathy and imagination. Writing from the Afghan perspective, “Elliot Ackerman has done something brave as a writer and even braver as a soldier: He has touched, for real, the culture and soul of his enemy” (The New York Times Book Review). (barnesandnoble.com)

8. Caravans by James A. Michener

First published in 1963, James A. Michener’s gripping chronicle of the social and political landscape of Afghanistan is more relevant now than ever. Combining fact with riveting adventure and intrigue, Michener follows a military man tasked, in the years after World War II, with a dangerous assignment: finding and returning a young American woman living in Afghanistan to her distraught family after she suddenly and mysteriously disappears. A timeless tale of love and emotional drama set against the backdrop of one of the most important countries in the world today, Caravans captures the tension of the postwar period, the sweep of Afghanistan’s remarkable history, and the inescapable allure of the past. (barnesandnoble.com)

 9. A Cup of Friendship: A Novel by Deborah Rodriguez

From the author of the “bighearted . . . inspiring” (Vogue) memoir Kabul Beauty School comes to a fiction debut as compelling as real life: the story of a remarkable coffee shop in the heart of Afghanistan, and the men and women who meet there - thrown together by circumstance, bonded by secrets, and united in an extraordinary friendship.

After hard luck and some bad choices, Sunny has finally found a place to call home - it just happens to be in the middle of a war zone. The thirty-eight-year-old American’s pride and joy is the Kabul Coffee House, where she brings hospitality to the expatriates, misfits, missionaries, and mercenaries who stroll through its doors. She’s especially grateful that the busy days allow her to forget Tommy, the love of her life, who left her in pursuit of money and adventure.

Working alongside Sunny is the maternal Halajan, who vividly recalls the days before the Taliban and now must hide a modern romance from her ultratraditional son - who, unbeknownst to her, is facing his own religious doubts. Into the café come to Isabel, a British journalist on the trail of a risky story; Jack, who left his family back home in Michigan to earn “danger pay” as a consultant; and Candace, a wealthy and well-connected American whose desire to help threatens to cloud her judgment.

When Yazmina, a young Afghan from a remote village, is kidnapped and left on a city street pregnant and alone, Sunny welcomes her into the café and gives her home - but Yazmina hides a secret that could put all their lives in jeopardy. As this group of men and women discover that there’s more to one another than meets the eye, they’ll form an unlikely friendship that will change not only their own lives but the lives of an entire country.

Brimming with Deborah Rodriguez’s remarkable gift for depicting the nuances of life in Kabul, and filled with vibrant characters that readers will truly care about, A Cup of Friendship is the best kind of fiction - full of heart yet smart and thought-provoking. (Amazon.com)

 10. In the Sea There Are Crocodiles By Fabio Geda

What would you do if, when you were ten, you were left to fend for yourself, and, in order to survive, you had to undertake a harrowing journey all the way from Afghanistan to Italy?

In early 2002, Enaiatollah Akbari’s village fell prey to the Taliban. His mother, fearing for his life, led him across the border. So began Enaiat’s remarkable and often publishing five-year ordeal—trekking across bitterly cold mountains, riding the suffocating false bottom of a truck, steering an inflatable raft in violent waters—through Iran, Turkey, Pakistan, and Greece, before he eventually sought political asylum in Italy, all before he turned fifteen years old.

Here Fabio Geda delivers the moving true story of Enaiat’s extraordinary will to survive and of the accidental brotherhood he found with the boys he met along the way. In the Sea There Are Crocodiles brilliantly captures Enaiat’s engaging voice and humor, in what is a truly epic story of hope and survival, for readers of all ages. (barnesandnoble.com)