#me with Papa Guile | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

janeths · 2 years ago

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You aren’t real

I was listening to Vermilion by Slipknot, I know some people have their own interpretation of the lyrics but for me it’s about how they want to love her but are too shy and thinks she isn’t real because they never received such kind of feeling.

I think you can kinda tell by that summary for this fanfic. Except that Bowser is overthinking instead of being shy.

Warning: Angst to wholesome. Heartbreaks to lovers, mentions of blood as well, Bowser hurting Y/N. Crying Junior, good ending though.

I think I made Bowser a bit ooc, so sorry about that . Also I didn’t think this mini story would be long💀😭

Gender neutral pronouns, but Junior calls you mama on some parts

“Hah! I finally caught you again Princess Peach!” Bowser shakes the cage, to wake them up. Y/N rubs her eyes and look at him, pulling their “hair” down for him not to look into their eyes. “I will crush that Mario if he comes! And once I crush him, oh ho! We’ll be together.” Together? Wow…Even though he’s trying to act tough and scary, I can’t help but want to stare at him… “Trust me, Mario isn’t gonna come this time.” They awkwardly laugh and Bowser turns around confused. Walking towards their cage, “What do you mean, “Mario isn’t going to come and get you? Hold on… You have a different smell…” He immediately opens the cage, gently grabs them by the waist and pulls their wig off. Oh my! He’s quite strong… kinda hot- no wait- “And who exactly are you?! Where is she?!” “Hey! No need to yell! I’m right in front of you! And to to be exact, I have no idea where she is!” He huffs and points into her face. “She was sick and tired of your crap! And asked me to replace her for a while.” “So I’m stuck with you?!” He huffs, smelling smoke from his mouth.

“My lord, why don’t you just kill them?” Says his loyal adviser, Kamek. “Oh what’s the use of killing them without the fun of scaring those plumbers. They even aren’t going to come and save them.”

Y/N sighs sadly, rocking the cage back and fourth. “I guess I didn’t really think this through, did I? Well I did want an adventure so…Though… The thought of seeing him again… makes me kinda- No! Wait! He’s the villain..” “You there! Who are you?!” A young child voice yells, Y/N turns around to see a little kid in the shadows, his figure looking like Bowsers, only smaller. “When I ask you something, you answer me back!” “I uh- I’m Y/N!-” “See that wasn’t so hard was it!” The unknown child walks from the shadows and presents himself. “I am Prince Bowser Junior the second! But Prince Junior sounds more fitting. Why are you here? Shouldn’t it be Peach? Hm! I don’t know what papa sees in that princess.” “Bowser… is your papa?!” Y/N seems shock at the thought that Bowser has a child. “I didn’t know he had a child!” Wait so maybe he isn’t as bad as we all thought?

“Does that scare you? Are you afraid of us?” Junior shakes the cage. “If I’m being honest, you don’t scare me…” His eyes widen, and stop shaking, looking around the cage then to Y/N. “But… papa says humans are scared of Koopas... They don’t like us for the way we are… You are strange one.” “You looks so young Junior… this isn’t a place for you. You need to leave if your father finds out you’re here-” “Junior!” The beast swarms the doors open, seeing his son talking to the prisoner. “What are you doing here?! You are not supposed to be here!” He storms out towards them. “And you!” He opens the cage and grabs Y/N them by the waist tightly, feeling his claws in their skin. “Ow! You’re hurting me-!” Y/N yells. “Papa! Leave them alone! They done nothing wrong!” Junior hits his father on the leg, leading them to look down. “Junior! What has gotten into you?” “Please papa leave them alone! Please!” Bowser hesitates, why in the world was his son pleading? Why does he want them to live? Bowser turns to look at Y/N, all scared and bleeding, feeling a bit of guilt. My… claw.. I.. Y/N sniffles. I’ve hurt someone- I… What’s wrong with me? What’s this feeling? Shame? Guilt? What? I don’t understand!

Bringing himself back to reality, gently placing down Y/N and leaves without saying a word. Y/N sits and falls to the ground. “Y/N! Are you okay? Y/N? I’ll bring some band-aids! J-Just stay here!” He quickly runs to the doors. Looking around the place made Y/N head dizzy. Feeling the heat of the lava, looking to their left, sees other cages dangling with no floor. “Geez… whats wrong with him?” They sat up and pulls their shirt up, revealing claw marks, pouting a bit. I don’t think Peach has to go through this… does she?

On the other side of the kingdom, Junior was running to his room, fell, stood up again, and ran to the bathroom. “I know I had band-aids here… ”

The other room, in the bathroom was Bowser, looking down on his hands, bits of blood in his claws. Feeling that he was about to hyperventilate, he washed his hands quickly, and stared at himself in the mirror. “What is wrong with you? What.. is this feeling? Why do I feel so much shame of what I did? Why do I feel bad? Why do I want to help them? They didn’t do anything- WHAT IS THIS?!”

Junior runs past his fathers room and decides to look for him, maybe not the best time, opens the door quietly, and hears him in the bathroom. “I’m setting a terrible role model to him… I don’t want him to end up like this…” The young koopa frowns and thinks to himself, Papa wants to be a good papa, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone… A few seconds past and he turns around running towards the hallway.

I’m not losing that much blood am I? It was just a scratch… what am I gonna do? Does he have so much hatred? Anger? He feels alone? I wonder…

“I’m back Y/N!” He tries his best to patch the wounds, but Y/N also helps him. “There all done!”he smiles and draws a smiley face. “You’re gonna be okay alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into papa, but-” They both hear the doors open and got startled, Junior stands in front of Y/N, trying his best to protect them from the harm of his fathers burns. “Junior? Y/N…” For the sake of his reputation, he keeps a poker face. “Y/N come.” “What? Where are you-” “Do you want to sleep in the cage?” “No-” “Then let’s go.” Junior helps them stand up, and leads them to their father. What’s he’s gonna do to me? If it were something bad, he wouldn’t let Junior come.. “I’ll help Y/N, Junior, you can go to your room, it’s bedtime for you.” “Aww man, I uh mean right away! Goodnight Y/N.” He huffs and runs to his room locking it, leaving Bowser and Y/N alone together. “Right this way..” he broke the silence, and proceeded to walk the hallway. They were halfway when Y/N fell to the floor, “grh!” “Let me-” Bowser raises their hand. “I can do it on my own.” They hesitate struggling to stand up. Such a strange and awkward scene. Bowser did want to apologize, but didn’t know how. His heart was racing, feeling hopeless while they were trying to stand up, looking at his claws. They both begin walking again till they stopped at the front of a door. Opening it up, leading to a bedroom. “I uh… hope you like it here for the time being. Once you get healed, you can leave.” They both enter the room, feeling strange by the atmosphere they created. But Y/N breaks it, “Thank you.. for the hospitality.” “I uh… dinner will be served in 10 minutes, rest for a bit.” Y/N lays on the bed, Bowser looks at them in pity, or rather himself, as he exited the room he mutters, “I’m sorry Y/N..” and closes the door.

Does he feel bad about what happened? What a strange man… I guess I should go and eat with him. Hmm… I mean he somewhat apologized. He gave me a room, running water, even invited me to eat with him.

“So you didn’t kill this Y/N, why’s that my lord?” “Something about them… the way they looked at me, telling me to stop hurting them- it opened something in me I didn’t even know I had.” “Well have you hurt the Princess before?”

“I don’t think I have. Have I?” “Sire if I may add something, it sounds like a part of your heart opened.” “My heart? My heart?! That’s ridiculous.” Bowser scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Lord Bowser, sit down next to me. At least try to hold your anger. It’s part of why you got into this mess. Let me explain…” Like a little child waiting for them to read their favorite book, Bowser looks at him. “Then tell me, what am I feeling?” “You feel bad. You feel terrible about what happened. You’re scared that you may hurt them. Since it wasn’t Peach, your obsession with her has been broken by this person staying here. Though it did open my eyes a bit.”

Three months has passed, it was early spring but you couldn’t really tell much due to the lava around the kingdom. Junior asked Y/N to accompany him while doing his homework, since his father was away for a bit, to which they accepted. So now both sitting in a kids table. “Look Y/N! I drew me and you! See! Here’s me, you, and papa.” He hands you the drawing, the picture he drew was him and Y/N holding hands, smiling, along with his father, though he wasn’t smiling but… red? “Oh? Whys yours papa red?” “Hmm, I don’t remember if it was because he’s blushing, or ate too much red beetles or for the exercise.” “Oh I see.” What a funny a little prince. “I’m keeping the drawing though.” Y/N squishes his cheeks. “Hey! I’m not a baby!” “Well you’ll always be a baby in my eyes.” This makes Juniors eye twinkle, at the thought of being someone else’s baby. Mama… no… there not mama… Papa doesn’t like them anyways. Y/N takes notice of a frown face and says, “Hey let’s stop doing homework for now. We should go outside in the fields to refresh your memory for a bit. How does that sound?” “Alright! I wanna go to that one stream that’s close.”

Junior immediately jumps into the water and splashes all around, then splashes onto his face. “Oh!” He look towards Y/N then to their right some plants he adores. “Oh! It’s my favorite berry! They look like blueberries.” He bites into them and melts. “You want to try it? They are so delicious!” “Uh sure why not. Can’t be that bad.” Junior hands them a wannabe blueberry, doesn’t think much of it and eats it. “Every-time papa would go to fight Mario, he would always bring me these.” “That’s quite wholesome of him.” Oh boy, Y/N should have learned about these berries back in science class, because now they started coughing, feeling their tongue hot. Standing up they collapse on a tree. “Y/N! What’s wrong?!” Junior immediately runs to them, they start feeling their vision blurry, running around and falls to the floor, Junior trying to catch them. “Y/N!” He touches their forehead, it was burning hot. “Junior take me to Kamek… I think…” They feel their heart race in anxious. “Junior…! Help me get there…” Him in shock not knowing what to do, grabs their hand and starts pulling them towards the kingdom. “Come on Y/N!” They were halfway to the kingdom when Y/N fell again, “Junior.. I can’t..” They twist and turn on the dirt, feeling their fever get extremely high, their stomach in sharp pain. “I’ll call papa! Please don’t die! Papa! Papa!”

Y/N feels a stomp and made them jump into the air, while someone catches them. Y\N feels lightheaded and somewhat hallucinating. Feeling that they got picked up and saw a blurred vision of the man rescuing them. “Are you my Prince Charming?” They giggle. Bowser being confused, then remembering about the symptoms it creates of the poison berries. “Not quite my dear. King fits better.” He holds them gently, and jumping into the sky.

“Ow… My body hurts so much!” Kamek gestures his wand around their body detecting for any harm in them. “Just a fatal poison berry, nothing much. I’ll have it removed by hand.” “Hand?! Oh look, it’s Mario.” Just with that they plank to the bed, getting unconscious. “Kamek! Now!” He swifts his wand leading the dead berry out of their mouth. “Are they..?” “Fine. There good now. Now if you excuse me my sire, I’m going to write this…” He position his glasses to see better. “This BellaDonna… in the book ‘poisonous things to humans.’” He walks away, leaving them two alone. “That was very dumb of you to eat that.” Bowser says looking at them, while they wok up and stated coughing loudly. “Me? I just wanted to try it! Junior said they were delicious, so I wanted to try it.” He facepalms, “This is partly my fault. I wasn’t there to tell you.” Y/N looked confused. “‘To tell you?’ What? What do you mean? I mean it’s not entirely your fault, you didn’t know we were there. I should be the one to blame-”

“No. I should have been protecting you. But I wasn’t and you got hurt.” Bowser..? Showing some emotion? And sentimental ones too..? “Look Bowser...” They hold their hand for reassurance, Bowser eyes widen, and raises an eyebrow. “Huh?” “Bowser look. I’m completely fine. See, I’m here. I’m awake talking to you and I feel great thanks to you,Kamek and Junior.” But Bowser wasn’t paying attention to what they were saying, all he saw was they were talking with a beam of smile, looking down at his hand.

What is this? Why are they holding my hand? Are they reassure me, or do they feel some type of way? What… I feel warm. My chest feels warm. My face feels red, I feel… happy? No- it can’t- I can’t. He quickly removes his hand from them, Y/N face changes from having a warm smile to soft frown. “Yeah that’s good then. Well then… since you’re good, we both can go into our duties then. “Right…” “If you need anything, just holler or come by my office.” Bowser leaves the room, and sighs deeply. “What was that about…” He look at his hand. Why would they want to hold my own hideous hand?

I held his hand… I held his hand? I HELD HIS HAND?! I’m literally going to squeal. Should I now ask him? But… he did swipe his hands off of me… but that doesn’t mean anything right? Or maybe I scared him…

Throughout the months, Y/N has been trying to get close and closer to him, but he always rejects them, not because he doesn’t want to be with them but he’s scared to love them, not knowing what’s about come. But he does come around and get flustered everytime he sees them. Even Kamek teasing him telling him that Y/N behind them, scaring him. For Kamek and Y/M seem fun to tease him, Bowser keeps getting so confused about his feelings. He keeps asking himself, why do I feel a certain way every time I see them? Why does my heart bounce and my face get red? Is this love? But why haven’t they left the kingdom? Why are they still here? Is this a trick?

“Hey Bowser, I want to ask you something-“ Y/N runs and smiles at him “The king is busy. Go ask Kamek.” He immediately runs away from them, leaving a mark in their heart, again. They feel their eyes watery, feeling dull and numb. Why don’t you understand that I have feelings for you? If I’m making you uncomfortable just tell me so I can leave… You won’t have to deal with me. “Y/N are you alright?” Kamek wakes them up from their mind slumber. “Oh uh-?! I’ve never been better.” They force a smile. “Dear, you think I’m that stupid? I wasn’t born yesterday. Bowsers trying, he really is. But he wants to do it by himself.” Y/N thought for a second, he’s trying? “It’s obvious though. If I didn’t have any feelings for him, I would have left the kingdom ages ago, but no I didn’t. I chose to live here with all of you. But no matter what I do or say, he always ignores me or runs away. It’s been months Kamek. And… he knows.” “Well one things for sure, he adores when you play with Junior, he says ‘it brings me some type of peace.’ ” Kamek smiles and thumbs them up.

Their voice… their laughter, their smile, their name… brings me so much emotions I can’t quite figure out. Why Y/N? Why did it had to be them? Why can’t I stop thinking about them? What’s is that feeling? Every time I think about them, I want to hold them, I want to make beautiful memories with them. I want them to be a mother figure to my baby. I want to dance with them. Why is it that every time I call their name, I feel like my demons go silent, and make the angels come near us. Is this love? Have I fallen for someone, that I think their not real? They can’t be real. Y/N isn’t real.

Y/N walks towards his room, and stands ther, hesitating and thinking. Should I do this? I don’t know if I can anymore… maybe he doesn’t really have feelings for me, he’s just toying with me… but he really does seem to care. He’s been wanting to get close to me.. if this doesn’t work… maybe I’ll leave… Y/N knocks on the door, “Um Bowser, it’s me Y/N… I came here to talk about something…” “Go away, I’m not here.” They scoff. “Bowser please let me in. I need to talk to you.” They push the door in, and sees his room torn apart. “Bowser?! What’s wrong-”

“Get away from me.” He points at them in full anger, leading Y/N in shock and terrifying worried. “Bowser?! What’s gotten into you?” “You can’t be real. You’re not real. You’re just a cheap distraction. A robot. A mere magical spell. You were created to distract me from destroying the world. The princess forced you to stay here, to toy with my feelings!” “That’s not true! What you are saying is all wrong! I’m real! I have feelings for you! I wasn’t forced to come here! I wanted to come here and meet you!”

“Don’t lie to me-”

“I’m not lying Bowser! Why would I lie? If I was forced to come here, why haven’t I left? Why haven’t I tried to “escape?” Oh boy now he done it, Y/N felt tears coming out of their eyes, felt their heart go down into their stomach from the lie. Y/N was heartbroken. Now crying from the miserable lies, Bowser felt bad. “If I made you that uncomfortable, why didn’t you send me away, huh? If you want me to leave that badly I’ll just leave and never come back!” Y/N storms away from his bedroom, crying. So that’s it then?

“Mama whats-?” Y/N rushes quickly to the hallway, ignoring the question Junior made. He called me mama…

“Y/N what’s wrong? Mama?” He continues to call them, but completely ignoring them.

“Mama? Come back mama!”

Y/N heads towards the gates open, and walks away, heading the cries of the little Koopa.

“Mama!”

“Prince Junior, what is wrong?” Kamek appears and sees Junior laying down next to the wall, curled up into a ball, sobbing and weeping. “Grandpa Kamek…” He quickly hugs him, still weeping. “Mamas, gone. Y/Ns gone! I called to them and they ignored me, and ran out of the kingdom!” “Hey now, now, we’ll find them. I think your papa and them got into a small fight, no worries I’ll go see. You stay in your room, I’ll sort things out.” He cleans his snot and and wipes his tears away. “No I’m going with you!” “Junior…” “I don’t care what papa says, I’m going with you to find Y/N.” Kamek nods, they both went ahead to the King Koopas room. “Damnit damnit damnit… why did I do that?” “Sire!” Kamek opens the door and yells at him. “Language! Not in front of the boy!” Bowser turns around to see an angry father and a crying child. “Junior I…” Bowser begins to say but gets interrupted by the cries of the Prince. “Why you yell at mama?!” Junior squeezes Kameks hand in anger. “Ma..ma? You see Y/N as a mother figure..?” “Yes, my lord. What did you even say to that poor human?!”

“I’m going home!” Y/N says to themselves and walks on some path going onto the forest. “I think this is the way… Wait, is it? Or is it that path? Oh no… I can’t believe I lost my way.” They sit down next to a tree, hearing the birds sing, bringing some nostalgic memories. Y/N sighs sadly and closes their eyes. This reminds when Bowser and I would walk here, talking nonstop… then suddenly there would be silence between us, all we could hear is the birds, frogs insects sound. Such peace… oh well. Y/N keeps thinking of their memories, not knowing that they been getting tired up to a Piranha plant. They get pulled up, Y/N yelps, it wasn’t your typical Piranha Plant , it was a Naval Piranha! “Hey stop it!” Within seconds they cover them in spiny vines, all all around their legs and arms, gripping them, leading Y/N to bleed. They twist and turn but nothing works, only making them more bleed. They slowly pull Y/N towards their mouth. “Ah! Let me go you stupid plant!” They try kicking it but only makes the Piranha in anger, pulls them up to the air. About to get eaten, Y/N hears a roar, the Piranha plant looks up, and gets caught by a spitting fire. From the burns, they screeched, lost their balance and let��s go of Y/N, dropping them to the ground till he jumps up and caught them tightly onto a bridal style carrier. “Hey hey, I got you. You’re safe…” Y/N feels his big hands and arm, his entire body actually, knowing who it is. “Bowser?! Wh-what are you doing here?!” Y/N looks at him, tears in their eyes. He ignores their question, looking around their body for any marks, “Are you okay? Let me look at you…” Y/N hugs hugs him tightly not wanting to let go “B-Bowser…” “I got you…Y/N this is all my fault. I never should have yelled at you. I’m sorry I said those harsh words to you. I didn’t… mean it.” He said struggling to find the right words for them, not wanting to hurt them again. “Kamek and Junior would always tell me, but I didn’t listen… I was so worked up, overthinking I didn’t even think about you…I…” Bowser didn’t know if it was because they got scared of the plant or they scared them but Y/N completely fainted in their arms. “Oh Y/N…” He touches their cheek, rubbing it.

Returning to the kingdom, he thinks to himself, Why are comforting words so difficult to say?

The king places them in their room, bandaging up their scars, and waiting patiently till they woke up. “Bowser…” “Y/N are you okay? How do you feel?” “Why did you rescue me? Didn’t you want me to leave…? Didn’t-” He shushes them putting his index finger on their lips. “I was wrong. I was wrong about everything. I’m sorry. I really am. I want to set things right..” He holds their hands close to his chest, making them jump in happiness.

“Y/N please stay with me in our kingdom. You always made me feel like… warm, comfort, in peace. I never felt such things before. Everytime I hear your name, every time I would see you, my angels would run around, and your name would always silence my own demons. Every time I see you, I feel like I get blind for looking at a god(ess). If you left us, it would have been so much torture. I would do anything for you… You made me feel a certain way. I’m so ashamed that I kept rejecting you so much, even though we both knew we had a deep connection. I want us to have a healthy relationship.”

“Oh Bowser…”

Y/N face went red, blushing and feeling flustered, this man, the King, THE King of Koopa, the only man whose the biggest, also has a huge heart? Feeling flustered and embarrassed, revealing his feeling to them? He’s actually confessing his feelings?!

“So please…” He puts grabs their chin lifting it up, showing his crimson eyes staring at them, his pupils dilate in so much love. “Y/N….” He smile slyly. “Will you be my lover? And spend the years with me?” Y/N eyes beam and dilate. “Yes!” Their face get red hot and hugs him tightly.“I want to spend my life with you. Forever…” He bites his lip, smiling derpy, feeling a squeal wanting to come out. “Heck yeah baby! Now I can show you off around then! ” Kissing their cheek. “So you gonna turn your life around and not try to destroy the world?” “I’ll destroy this world if someone ever did harm to you, my love.”

Love?! Baby?! These words coming from his mouth?! I’m screaming

They were both leaning to each other, about to kiss till they got interrupted by the door slamming. “Y/N! You’re alive!!” Junior squeals and jumps into the bed, hugging them. “I say, sire, you do have a way with words.” Kamek grins and gives him a thumbs up. “Junior! Oh wait be careful! I’m still a bit hurt. Come here you! Papa want to tell you a secret.” “Secret?! Papa what is it?” Bowser grabs him, and let’s the secret be revealed. Juniors eyes widen, grinning, feeling so much happiness, feeling his eyes dilate to stars. “I have a mama! Papa! Mama! Both! This is amazing! Oh my stars!.” He kisses both on their cheek and snout. “I’ll be right back!” He runs off, outside the room. “I’ll chase after him. I’ll leave you two alone then.” My son, Kamek thought to himself, he finally has someone to love. Ah yes, so happy for them. He hears a loud explosion from Juniors room. “Young prince! What are you doing?! You better not be committing arson!”

“So where were we again?” Bowser smirks, holding their hand. “Hmm I have no idea-” Y/N grabs his shoulders, his eyes in shock and flustered. “come here my big man!” Y/N immediately without thought pulls him into a kiss. Bowser was so happy, he felt like this was a fairytale dream. He didn’t want to wake up, but boy he know it was real. He kisses them back passionately. Knowing they’ll always love each other.

BONUS: (cause I’m like that lololol)

“It’s been strangely quiet.” Peach sips her tea. “Too quiet actually. What’s Bowser planning?” Mario’s sips his tea as well. “Should we go and check?”

Bowser and Y/N have been sitting out the kingdom, giving each either kisses, like teenagers in high school.

“No stop!”

“No you stop!”

“Bowser!”

“Y/N!”

“What are you two doing?” Says a feminine voice, behind them, leading Bowser and Y/N in fear. “And who asked-” Y/N turns around to see Mario and Peach. “Oh! Princess!” Y/N slaps Bowser, eying that it’s the princess. “It’s very nice to meet you!” “Oh princess peach, Mario. I’m happy you sent Y/N. If I never met them I wouldn’t know what to do.” “Send who out?” Peach questions. AH CRAP! SECRETS OUT.

“This lovely person here.” “No… it was nice of you to pretend to be me- uh Y/N but… I have no idea who they are.” “Y/N?!” Oh boy…looks like this cat is out of the bag. Y/N will admit it, they didn’t know the princess, but really wanted to meet the King of Koopas so they decided to dress up as Peach. “Uh… I may have lied about one part..”

Yippie! I have never ever made entire small “short” story and completing it. I am quite surprised :3 so yeah 😎 me like it very epic 🧍‍♀️

#bowser x reader #bowser x y/n #bowser x you #angst to comfort #bowser junior #kamek koopa

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llondonfog · 1 year ago

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i have a headcanon that lilia taught silver how to do different things to his hair! lilia let the little boy use him as a test dummy a few times, and with time silver would learn how to at least do some hairstyles. when it comes to dyes and similar, it takes too long for the sleepy guy.

and connected to this, even if silver knows a thing or two about it, he prefers when lilia does his hair. he falls asleep immediately when he feels his dad's hands on his head, caressing, brushing... such a comforting sensation ever since he was a little kid, a time when he falls deep asleep and it's definitely not related to any sleeping curse.

anon i have to confess, this is one of my like, all time favorite imaginings ; u ;

the level of trust and vulnerability that it would be for lilia to allow someone behind him to play with his hair, that someone a human no less!! and how kind and patient he's become to sit still for silver to clumsily plait those long, dark strands— finding himself smiling as the boy marvels at how cool and silky they feel against his fingertips, praising his papa without guile for having such beautiful hair.

(i like to think that fae can tell when a person is lying; lilia can sense nothing but affectionate awe from the child, and a lump rises in his throat.)

(also the idea of lilia swinging by the zigvolts with messy braids, loose ponytails, half-wilted flowers stuck around his bangs as a makeshift sort of crown— baul is winded. lilia merely adjusts them to ensure they don't fall out and hugs the child on his hip closer.)

THERE'S A JP COMIC LIKE THIS!! oh my god if someone knows where to link it, but it's silver only preferring for lilia to cut and style his hair, because his favorite thing in the world is opening his eyes to see lilia's smile beaming down at him once he finishes and i literally explode every time i read it ; A; i think of them as such a tactile little family all the time— always touching via resting hands on shoulders, lilia tousling his hair, lilia leaning over him from above, silver napping on his father's shoulders, just!! they are so fucking bonded your honor, it will kill me to see them separated.

#lettie's asks #OH THIS ONE WAS SO GOOD FOR MY HEART <3

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starspocketed · 2 years ago

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❛❛ three and a half hours ! oh , i dread to think . though , it would allow for prolonged visits as to justify the journey. i sufered a distance from you once , i won't be doing it again . ❜❜ truthfully , she did weigh her potential options against their proximity to devika . she would not sacrifice a friendship like this for simply anyone. penhallow and his four-thousand and the clumsy babies that would come were a harrowing thought , but she would need to consider it. she's desperate enough .

it's ridiclous , the way she perks up at gossip . she likes being the person keeping her friend informed , particularly whe she feels quite powerless to do more for the other woman. she'd bring her the moon if it were within her power , or at the very least restore her fortunes so that she wouldn't have to suffer this . ❛❛there was, hm , an issue with the ledgers at the modiste . ❜❜ camille huffs , ❛❛ just something avery needed to take care of - - little twit took the silk i was admiring right out of my arms ! 'surely you won't mind, mrs. findlay,' she said , ' as you won't be using it today '. i don't care who her papa is , that just isn't done . as if the gown she makes out of my silk will distract from the fact that she's got as much guile as a rock. she and penhallow are perfectly suited , it seems . perhaps we should endeavor to match them, and leave wycliffe to you if you want him. ❜❜ she knows that while the man ( no better than a boy ) isn't suited for devika, their options are limited. ❛❛ though i've about as much interest to losing you to a library as you have in losing me to devonshire . all those great thoughts in your head , you'd never have time for me again . ❜❜ camille leans forward, taps a finger to devika's temple as if to draw her point home.

"A measly four thousand," Devika relays with a knowing smile, "for which I am exceedingly grateful. The Penhallows live in Devonshire. I would find it difficult not to resent a man who took you three and a half hours away from me." Not to mention that Lord Penhallow was an utterly unremarkable person whose last original thought had likely died of loneliness. But many men were like that, so it went without saying.

Of course, Camille has an answer to the lift of Devika's brow before she can fully perform the expression. The corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. "I concede that she is occasionally twit-like. What happened at the modiste?" She never knew the gossip until Whistledown wrote about it or Camille told her. Devika didn't talk to anyone else about that sort of thing. She didn't like anyone else, in truth.

"I know. The Wycliffes have a beautiful library, though." One that will be wasted on Witless Whitby is implied, by the discerning tilt of Devika's mouth.

#camille & devika #𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐𝒉 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝒉𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛 ━ ❪ c. findlay interaction ❫#i will once again say they are EVERYTHING to me

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belphegor1982 · 3 years ago

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Hogan 1, 2, 7, 10, 18, 21, 22, 24, 30

Thank you!! 💜

1. My first impression of them

You know what, I don’t recall him making that much of an impression 😅 (somewhere in fiction land Colonel Robert E. Hogan is feeling VERY miffed and has no idea why :P)

2. When I think I truly started to like them

When I realised that 1) he was all about guile and manipulation (because I love a hero who uses their brain) and 2) his men always come first (after The Mission, but before himself) and he’d do anything to protect them. Papa Bear indeed.

10. Describe the character in one sentence

The cat amongst the pigeons ;o)

18. How do you think they were as a kid? (Like, were they shy, noisy, wild, etc)

I think he was such a little shit as a boy. The kind of whip-smart kid you can see go two ways: really far or really bad. Big mouth, sharp tongue, and a devilish intelligence. His edges softened as he grew up somewhat.

21. When do you think they were at their happiest?

At the command of a plane, I think, especially (before he got made a colonel) a one-man crew fighter plane. Absolute freedom.

22. When do you think they were at their lowest?

I’d be tempted to say “when he got captured”, but I’m thinking about that moment near the end of “Two Nazis For the Price of One”, when all has failed and the only way to go is to walk into Klink’s quarters and shoot Freitag (who knows about the Manhattan Project). It’s one of these moments were you completely forget it’s a sitcom (albeit briefly) and you’re just slapped in the face by the possibility that this is It. He doesn’t want anybody else to volunteer because it’s basically a suicide mission. Of course there’s a twist, but that moment? Oof.

24. What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

...I stared at this question for about three minutes and a half and nothing came. If he has a secret - which I’ll bet he has - he didn’t share it with my brain me.

30. The funniest scene they had?

I feel really bad for this one, because he’s in a doozy of an no-win situation at the moment, but that bit in “Bad Day in Berlin” when he says “I’m up the creek. I don’t have a paddle. I don’t have a boat. I don’t even have a creek!” It’s the way his voice breaks and goes very high all of a sudden. I must be a bit of a bastard :3

#Hogan's Heroes #ask reply

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lizardrosen · 4 years ago

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tell me about Latin America Hamlet!

this is another one where i had a Concept but never wrote any prose for it, so have the whole thing!

Still Catholic, so that works. The not-so-distant threat must be the United States. In Mexico they celebrate day of the dead and put out zempasuchil to lead the dead back home. Papa Hamlet manages it, but he's not at peace. Laertes is a member of the Zapatista movement, either the original or the ELZN a hundred years later.

Ros and Guil are refugees from Germany and they're passing through on the way to Argentina, where (they think) they have family waiting for them. Claudius has them take Hamlet with them through the Panama Canal and south. Argentina doesn't care what Spain tells them to do, so instead they all become Rancheros.

Laertes takes it upon himself to become a modern-day Simon Bolivar but maybe he has to die in the attempt — not because I don't like him but because it's the best way to do him honor. Ofelia stays in Mexico and marries a nice guy and they have many babies.

I think this is still a fairly solid idea, but while I agree that Ofelia gets to live, now that I’m older and wiser I think she should find a nice girl and have no babies.

Gosh, I just. love the idea of Hamlet becoming a cowboy and never going back to Mexico to get revenge. I love making Laertes a revolutionary in any and all times, even though I decided he dies because of it. I love the fact that I Refused to settle down on a specific time period and just threw in whatever half-remembered bits of history felt appropriate to these characters.

#hamlet #shakespeare #my writing #permanentlyblurry #laertes #ophelia #friendship is great!

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glittering-snowfall · 4 years ago

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Together

“I just don't want you dying, trying to be everything for everyone else too.”

Elsa had been girding herself in armor – an armor of the spirit, wrought as if of her hardest ice. She had to go on alone – like a warrior-queen upon the whale-road, arm outstretched to the carven serpent gazing out to sea.

(She thought of the dragon-ship splitting, the warrior-queen sinking, thought of her parents’ ship mere feet away, a path along the whale-road, a path to follow…)

Trying to be everything for everyone else too.

(The warrior-queen sinking in the weight of her armor, dark water flowing through, no coffin, save this one, this metal tomb, suffocating... Scratch open the tomb with bleeding nails and it is no matter… the water still chokes…)

(For you, Anna. I’m doing this for you. And for Olaf. And for the Northuldra. And for Arendelle. And for… myself.)

(For myself…)

(Then why did her heart feel halved – like the poisoned apple in the old tale, one side white as snow, white as a skull, the other bleeding red?)

(The white side was safe to eat – not poisoned – but its safety was all guile, to tempt to taste the red…)

(The poison bled throughout.)

She wanted to push onward.

Needed to push onward.

Wanted, needed bled together. Wantedneededwantedwantedneededneeded.

She was proud of herself in some strange way, proud of what she might accomplish…

At the same moment, she did not value her own life.

Why did the vision inspired by pride (I can do this, I want to do this) and the vision inspired by self-hatred (I need to do this, if I die it will little matter, as long as Anna is safe) both end in self-annihilation?

Why did the girding of armor, proud image as that might have been, forebode death?

Visions.

Images.

She had lost herself in Images when Life stood before her – Life with flushed and anguished face and flowing hair of fire.

Anna was Life.

Tangible. Human.

Fraying at the seams.

Anna was in pain.

Pulsing like a sputtering candle.

Anna was hurting, trying to coat her face in white to hide the poison of her pain, but the white was smearing, the apple-red bleeding, the white cracking like bloodshot veins…

“I can’t lose you, Elsa.”

Elsa gathered Anna in her arms – and the ghost of what she felt she must do to keep Anna and Olaf both safe died in her.

There was another way.

Elsa swallowed hard, her throat dry, struggling to speak, fraying at the seams herself.

It was hard to speak, to express her love in a way that she felt conveyed the depth of it, the depth she hoped Anna could feel now, so she simply held Anna close, held her and did not let her go. Never let her go.

“I can’t lose you either, Anna.”

Elsa’s voice trembled with anxiety.

“I just – want to protect you – to keep you safe – and I know that – that sounds like… like before… like what I said in the past… but I… I… I can’t see you ending up like mama and papa, I just… I can’t… The Dark Sea took them, I can’t let it take you…”

“And you, Elsa? What about you?”

Anna’s voice was naked with pain, the skin of the apple torn away by teeth, the flesh fearfully pulsing.

“I… I…” Elsa choked on her words as though taking in great lungfuls of water, cracking, curling inward.

No, not I. Not now. Not when two Is stood like parallel lines, like the patterns upon the front of her door. We. We. We.

No talking over one another in desperation.

We both know best.

Both of us.

“You won’t lose me, Anna. I promise. You won’t. I’m sorry, I’ve been so – determined – to find the answers, I’ve been reckless – and you’ve been hurting and I see your pain, Anna, I see your pain and I’m sorry.”

Elsa held Anna close, drew Olaf into the hug.

Anna trembled, her whole body taut from days and days on the edge, days and days being strong, days and days holding this family together because siren-songs and spectral fogs insidious were… Anna trembled and settled into the hug, letting the hot tears spill to mingle with Elsa’s own…

“I never meant to shut you out again, Anna. Not in any way. These days… these days have just been so fraught. I’m sorry that in them you’ve felt excluded, felt like… like you’ve had to be the big sister out of fear of me going too far… But at the same time, the Dark Sea is dangerous – and I have faith in my ability. I know you believe in me, so I ask you this – hold onto that faith and let me go on.”

Anna’s body tensed again. Elsa cupped her sister’s face in her hands and gazed into her eyes.

“We do this together, like you said,” Elsa continued softly. “I’ll send you word when I have answers. I swear that I shall. We do this together. Truly together. Not through the happenstance of fate but through mutual understanding. And if the worst should happen to me… I know you’ll be able to finish what I could not. I believe in you, Anna, more than anyone or anything.”

We have faith in each other.

Two shards of a broken thing coming together to form a whole.

Healing.

Understanding.

“Together,” Anna whispered, and hugged Elsa tightly. “Protect yourself, Elsa.”

“I will. I love you,” Elsa whispered. “I may have powers, Anna, but you you’re stronger than them, in so many ways. I love you.”

#elsanna #snow sisters #frozen #can be interpreted either way really #bigfrozensix #i hope you don't mind me tagging you but I've wanted to rewrite this scene for a while

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hypnotica-ships · 4 years ago

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I was thinking about my timeline vs the canon SF timeline. Specifically in relation to Heinrich...

(This got a bit long, my bad.)

Heinrich was 'born' either during the events of SFV or after.

I like to think the events of SF3 happens like...at least 17 or so years later (even though I know that's not cannon but hear me out).

However, some not-so-good stuff happens before that. Crow tries to patch things up between Holger and Guile so that he can at least babysit Heinrich every now and then. Also so Heinrich can bond with Amy, he has trouble making friends... Crow is somewhat successful and Holger stops trying to kill Guile, but he still doesn't care for him as person. This leads into Guile asking them to join him on some tougher missions he's been assigned to.

Crow, having access to his Uncle's office again, decides to snoop into some of his more intense mission folders and notices one that catches his eye. It's a bizarre case, a warrior demon that's been causing havoc, seemingly getting stronger by negative energy. Without blowing his cover, Crow convinces his family and Guile's to go on a vacation...to a small village in Japan....for no specific reason.

As Crow manages to leave everyone to go investigate, the other adults sit and chat, leaving the children to go off and play in the woods nearby the town. Chasing after a runaway ball, Heinrich encounters a strange glowing man in red armor.

Some time later, Guile gets informed about a huge dark energy cloud covering the forest nearby. With Crow nowhere in sight, he brings Holger along fearing for the worst. They take a helicopter but can't get too close due to then energy cloud pushing them back. Deciding to use some binoculars, Holger gets a glimpse of something that sends chills down his spine.

Crow, surrounded by his own dark energy force which is seemingly being sucked into another unknown force, is hunched over something he's protecting with every fiber of his being. Heinrich.

He lets Guile know what he's seen, but it's too late. All of a sudden the world starts to rumble, and a smoke cloud appears in the helicopter, as it disperses Heinrich appears, shaken and scared. Once Holger goes to console him, the world shakes again, but this time it's longer and more violent. With a giant explosion of raw power, that almost knocks the helicopter out of the air, the energy cloud disappears, only to reveal a giant crater and scorched earth. Holger still holding the trembling 5 year old, is in shock, without even looking he already knows what's happened.

"Vati...why-why was papa sad when he said-when he said he loved us and-and just wants us...to be happy?"

Years go by, and to make sure nothing happens to his son, Holger trains him intensely. Making sure that if something ever happens again, he'll be ready. During these practices he discovers that he, not only due to the genetics of his passed father but also due to being right in the middle of all of that energy when he was younger, has developed powers to manipulate light energy, similar to how his father used to manipulate dark/shadow energy.

When Heinrich is about 16/17/18ish he gets wind of the Third World Warrior Tournament, and the one behind it, Gill. He's heard about the powers that Gill has and thinks that he's the man who killed his father. So, creating a disguise so that Holger doesn't realize his son entered a dangerous tournament, he goes under cover to try and get revenge. He doesn't realize that Gill wasn't responsible until it's too late...

#my writing #sonnenblumen tranen #krahenkoder #and if it wasn't too clear Garuda was the killer btw #and i do have a design for Heinrich's disguise in mind #i want it to be similar to Doctrine Dark's FEXL look with the tech and all and definitely a face mask of some sort #but with elements of my s/i's costume as well #and with that ending...yeah...i don't know if he makes it or not...I haven't gotten that far yet...#whoops!

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scarletgardensrpg · 5 years ago

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UNDEAD ♦ THIRTY-SEVEN ♦ ASCENDANCY

CECILE BUCHANAN is the Resurrector of the Ascendancy and second-in-command to De Dominee. Killed and resurrected by Nikolaas in the Red Room, Cecile is the first recorded Undead to walk the Earth. The circumstances of her death and revival are peculiar and scientifically unreplicable thus far—the product of extensive experimentation prior to her exposure to the 197th iteration of PM-GRNT, her body reacted to the chemical abnormally by simultaneously killing, then reviving her as a semi-conscious rotbeest following consumption of Nikolaas' blood. This genetic anonmaly, wherein she never developed a true rotbeest state, enables her to survive without PM-GRNT 197. She and her brother, Evander, are responsible for the initial Scarlet Death.

BIOGRAPHY

tw: gore, implied animal cruelty

At fifteen, she was already vicious. The dog's fucking dead, what am I supposed to do about it? Revive it? She was still in her Sunday clothes: Valentino kitten heels and a jumpsuit the color of wet ink. Six rubies and a rosario dangled from her ears. By the quiet, seething look in Julian's eyes, she knew it was taking everything in his power not to rip them out. They stood opposite of one another in the foyer, six unbreachable feet between sister and brother. Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan were God knows where. Evander was drinking on the beach. And the Dobermann was dead. Don't be a baby, Jules, Cecile said, and turned to go, pleasure heavy in her gut. You have others. She'd do anything to hurt Julian, if it meant that pretty expression would bloom on his face: wrath, spreading like blood in water.

- ❀ -

It came down to three things: she was a bastard, she was a girl, and she was second-born. Senator Buchanan made his preferences clear, and that preference burned through every designer dress, every blank check, every Maserati and summer house in the Hamptons. What good was it to look good, live well, when every nice thing felt like an IOU to Julian? Why pander to her older half-brother when he already looked at her with cold, patronizing eyes, as if she were a particularly troublesome dog to keep on a tight leash? Maybe Evander could live like that, hanging onto his every word and lolling after him mindlessly—but Cecile could not swallow the indignity of it. Her girlhood was one turbulence after another: the burn of her cheek where her stepmother struck it, the noxious silence of every family dinner, the freezing bath tile against her knees when she would bite down on her knuckle to keep from screaming. She would grow into a cruel, mean girl. A bitch. She would prowl boarding school halls at midnight with predatory calm, one hand gripping a bucket of gasoline; the other a lighter and match. You're making it worse for yourself, Evander said, after the third expulsion. Is getting kicked out for arson your grand strategy for earning Papa's approval? But by then, she was just angry. She was just trying to kick hard before going under. Fuck Papa's approval, Cecile said, and rolled herself another joint.

Eventually, Papa ran out of ideas. He met with doctors, businessmen, then a scientist and lawyer, both young. Harvard brats, Cecile learned, one ear pressed to the mahogany door of her father's study, who were working on something that was sure to intrigue you, sir, and certainly Julian. Because, of course, Julian had a place in this room of important silhouettes; he'd soon become one himself. Cecile's twenty-first birthday present was a swig of vodka and a biochemical test subject consent form. Evander had looked so terrible, signing his own set of paperwork while Julian simply watched them from the other side of the desk, Papa's hand on his shoulder. See? Cecile leaned over in her seat to poke Evander in the cheek with a single manicured nail. We're the same in this family's eyes. Disposable vermin. Terrible, harsh silence. She was looking at Julian, and found all of it unspeakably funny. Twenty-one years of Cecile's best efforts at nightmarish behavior—and here he was, winning in a landslide. Even she couldn't have dreamed up something so cruel. She was drunk on rage. She was dizzy with fury. And yet, when she addressed him, her voice was soft as a lily. You know, Jules, I really should've killed the other two dogs.

Later, they would call her helpless. A young, naive woman, dragged kicking and screaming into the Red Room, terrified for her life. As if Cecile has not spent every waking moment raising hell and terrorizing others. They would forgive all her sins, it seemed, so as to make room for the greater one: for what was a wealthy Senator's troubled, bastard daughter to two people in pursuit of divinity? One was inappropriate; another was utterly sacrilegious. Cecile supposed it was the easier narrative to tell; Eve, tricked by the devil to bite the fruit, could still claim some morsel of innocence at the trial of God. But, of course, the truth was, Cecile had never once been interested in innocence. She would always go after what she wanted with teeth and nails. She would always worship herself before all others. Nothing frightened her anymore. Whatever elixir they were perfecting for Julian, she would taste it first. Chemicals, poisons, pain—all of it was but a symptom of eventual power. And, ah, in her did power rise. Whatever she had become under Nikolaas' guileful hand, it was heady and powerful and utterly inimitable. Half-beast and half-woman, waist-deep in death: was Cecile not single-handedly responsible for ending a world? Did she not raise rotbeest after rotbeest, and let the ones she adored most feast upon her own flesh until they were returned to consciousness? Later, they would call her helpless—and perhaps, in comparison, the spiteful little girl of her past was helpless. But not anymore. Divinity lived within her now. She had swallowed God whole.

CONNECTIONS

NIKOLAAS – LOVE DESTROYED, TOO. Is she in love? Not with him. With his jungle garden of a mind? Maybe. Maybe it's psychological delusion, wired into her for survival's sake in the Red Room. Maybe it's a product of dying and living again by his hand, of having known what his blood tasted like in her mouth. Maybe it is simply true, unadulterated friendship, forged on strange foundations. I'm your one and only? She teases him, and licks the rim of her champagne flute. He is, whether aware of it or not, afraid of her. Or, more accurately: afraid of what he is capable of creating. After all, she has him to thank for a number of things—her untempered darkness, her gift for passing that same darkness to whomever she pleases with a single bite, her freedom from a past life that would have chained her to Julian. But, in spite of the wondrous creature he has forged from blood and science, Nikolaas refuses to spawn another like her; perhaps because he can't stomach the flesh it requires, or perhaps because he sees what she is capable of. Cecile doesn't mind—she's rather possessive of him, and dislikes the idea of sharing. She has followed him to Amsterdam, as she is sure she would follow him anywhere—to hell, to the ends of the earth, to heaven with a torch. They've made something beautiful since then: an ascending legion of the restless Undead, fed on a new drug that will carry them to dizzying heights. Cecile plans to rule someday with Nikolaas by her side. I'm your one and only, she says again, and this time, it's not a question.

BLUE, DIMITRI, & JACQUES – BLOOD HOUNDS. They carry within each of them a vicious appetite for disaster—her appetite, dark and divine enough to swallow a city whole. They are perfectly cruel, unrivaled in beauty, unmatched in prowess—and of the hundreds of Undead who call her Mother, Blue, Dimitri, and Jacques remain her undisputed favorites, all raised on her blood. They are the three she looks upon with cold pride and infinite expectation; the standard by which all her other creations are measured. Do they share Blue's labyrinthine mind, her measured capacity for torment? Can they wear violence with grace and allure, as Dimitri does? Does Jacques' bizarre madness gleam in their eyes? The collective name Cecile gives them is fitting: for they are her dogs, her beasts, her children. She commands: Kill for me. Die for me. Live for me. And like good pets, they always oblige. She does not need their love, and shows them very little of her own—but still she demands their loyalty, their fear-tinged worship, and a promise to accompany her to the ends of the world. As their Resurrector, this is an eternal debt they owe to her.

JULIAN & EVANDER – BLOOD IS BLOOD. The funny thing is, Cecile loves them. She loves them as all families are condemned to love one another, from birth to death to beyond that, too. One simply cannot discard of convenants made in blood—as much as she wishes she could. Julian, princely and immaculate, has always inspired murderous pursuits within Cecile: some ugly roiling mix of jealousy and resentment for her older half-brother that has seized her since girlhood. He has never taken her seriously. Instead, he insists on taking care of her, on filing away her teeth so she will stop biting his hand; not understanding Cecile can never be the sort of girl to accept condescension for benevolence. Now, stronger and standing on a level playing field with him at last, she finds herself continuing to provoke him, even word from her mouth a harsh lashing she hopes will make him flinch. If she is yearning unconsciously for the nod of respect she never once received while alive, Cecile will never say it out loud.

As for the youngest Buchanan, Cecile regards her little half-brother with less hostility—but contempt nonetheless. Brilliant, handsome Evander, who could aspire to great heights, if he didn't have such an inferiority complex when it came to Julian. She had hoped to make him into someone worthier when she killed him—but if he'd rather sulk uselessly in the cementary, fine. The fact that her brothers get along with one another just fine, even now, is a source of confused frustration for Cecile—and if she must be honest, once an injury to her feelings as well. They have always seemed to get along better with one another than with her—and being the bastard daughter, Cecile used to find it hard not to feel bothered. Of course, many years have passed since then. In death, Cecile is calm and calculative, unfazed and secure in her own power. She harbors some resentment against Julian for his complicity in selling her and Evander to the Red Room—but the satisfaction in having come on top regardless outweighs it. The matter of her killing Evander is also...well. Her baby brother was not appreciative of that gesture, possibly. All in all, she wouldn't say she's on good terms with either one of her siblings—but alas, blood is blood. For all their complicated histories and intertwined grievances, Cecile suspects they will always be apart of each other, for better or—more likely—for worse.

OPEN ♦ FC: OLIVIA MUNN

#cecile #o #ud #r #asc #all #lsrpg #lsrp #new rp #bio rp #horror rp

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kiliinstinct · 6 years ago

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A Smile In The Embers: Prt 2

Rating: PG (or K) - For Now Setting: AU - Time Period Open for Interpretation Pairing: Nalu

{This is a Holiday Story I’ve been planning for a few months now. It’s not necessarily for Christmas, Yule, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, etc- but it takes place during these months and has some of those elements. Please enjoy!}

The lonely mansion held many servants and visitors, but the walls were always cold even in the hottest of summers. Lucy Heartfilia dreams of nothing more than to finally feel the warmth of a friend, something beyond the death she feels in her own home. One-freezing winters night- a secret wish comes true in the most strangest of ways. This is her story, of the Smile She Found Through the Embers.

<-- Part two of Five –->

Imaginary

They thought Lucy had made him up. The first night had been magical for her. Talking to Natsu through the flames, staying warm and getting to know one another. The small girl would have stayed up all night if not for the embers dying down to the point she, excitedly, thought they would be able to see each other with ease. Only to be met with disappointment.

Once the fire was a mere licking of flames, the room she could see disappeared, bricks reappearing piece by piece to separate them. Both children had stared in horror when this occurred, terrified the mystical night was over. That they had lost a friend the moment they had made one. The tears she had shed once she had gone to bed made her eyes puffy the next day.

Lucy chose to try again the following night, ecstatic to find that with the fire roaring, Natsu could be seen once more. The moment the clock struck twelve. It was hard to stay up so late for one as young as she, but they both managed it. Until one morning came to find the little blonde, fast asleep on the floor, fingers clinging to one of her special books she wasn’t allowed to read.

“What were you doing down here, my lady?!” Miss Spetto, one of the maids, had asked her. Without any hint of guile, Lucy answered honestly.

“I was reading to Natsu.” Beaming, she pointed to the fire place. “He likes to hear them- oh! Can you please not tell Papa?”

The maid huffed in amusement, stating that Lucy shouldn’t read to her imaginary friends in the foyer. Especially on cold nights and sent her back to her room to change. No amount of arguing could convince the woman that her friend in the fireplace even existed. Weeks passed, and by the end of the month, all of the servants knew of the ‘boy in the chimney’ - laughing when Lucy corrected them, but never truly believing.

It was frustrating. Absolutely maddening, and Lucy wanted to prove them wrong!

The day she made her decision to find proof, little Lucy formulated a plan and almost had herself caught by her father in the process. “You should be focusing on your studies, NOT doodling!” He had practically snarled, merely walking into the foyer to glower at her tutor for a few minutes. The small man had stumbled frightfully over his own apologies, quickly grabbing whatever papers she had been using and quickly replaced them with blank ones.

“Now Lucy, you heard your father,” The pudgy man began, eyeing the imposing figure of Jude Heartfilia with a gulp, “you need to focus on the notes before you and then we’ll get you back to the keys!”

“- but I needed those…” She began, eyes widening in frustration as she watched all her hard work get wadded up into the nearest trash bin. A grunt from her Father had her settling right back into position, tiny hands picking up the music sheets as a small pout formed. “Yes, Father.”

By the end of her lesson, Lucy made sure to leave last so no one could see her rifle through the small bin for her ‘tossed out’ doodles. They were crumpled and hard to view, but she cried in exultation upon their retrieval, rushing out of the room so she could continue with her plans.

Unfortunately-

“You can’t really think that’s gonna work.”

Natsu didn’t seem on the same page.

“Sure it will!” She pouted, only realizing her voice was a little more shrill than needed during the night, covering her mouth to glance around nervously. It would do no good to be caught up so late! Though, with Natsu right across the flames, staring at her as if she had ink on her face, being caught would have proved his existence. “We just have to give it a try, please?”

Lucy wanted to prove he was real, but she didn’t want to SHARE him with someone else. These quiet nights were HER time with him and she wasn’t about to give someone else a reason to be up with her. Holding the paper out to reveal her plans, she still had to explain it to the boy, who could barely see it over the flashing of heated light.

He just had to give her something of his. That was all! She felt images would transfer over the flames better than words. With others seeing the lines as mere doodles, her plan had worked perfectly so far. Why couldn’t he just agree to it? “How do ya’ even expect me to get something over there? I mean, fire is great and all, but it would still burn us both if we reached through it!” Well, that was a good point and she hated the fact her was making one in the first place. The last month had been full of fun nights with both of them giggling and talking to one another, but the blonde girl was used to Natsu making the most absurd of notions rather than intelligent.

“Just listen, okay!” She spouted, fingers tapping on the floor in annoyance. “Of course I wouldn’t want us to burn ourselves, dummy!” She ignored his squawk of offense and continued, “- but we can throw things over fire, can’t we?”

A small whimper escaped Lucy, so intent on proving he existed. The importance to her was clear. She didn’t want the servants to think she was making people up. Or worse, envisioning things that weren’t there. For now, they would think it cute and adorable, but what about later? “I don’t- I don’t want the servants telling my Papa, he would think I’m sick!”

That was the true fear. Her father finding out and thinking something wrong with her. She had seen it before, when he visited with other families in high society. They would speak of their sons and daughters strange games and had heard the term ‘imaginary friend’ spring up during those conversations. His opinion was that a child needed a firmer hand and more focus on the real world if they were lost in daydreams.

Lucy refused to go through that and the way her lip quivered brought the desperation home to Natsu, whose brow furrowed just looking at her. “You don’t- Have to look at me like that to get what you want, y’know.”

“Huh-?” Look at him like what? She hadn’t realized the sad, dark expression that had krept along her face. The way her lip protruded and eyes watered. Could he see the details of her face better than expected?

Apparently, he could, rubbing his nose while his gaze turned to the side, cheeks turning to match his hair. He seemed sheepish, almost: definitely embarrassed. “I was gonna do it no matter what ya’ said. So… don’t look like you lost, okay?”

Her smile to blossomed as if nothing had been bothering her to begin with and the boys tense shoulders relaxed. “- but, I don’t really know what I can give you.”

Ah, but that would be a problem. Lucy blinked, trying to think of something. She knew he didn’t have any books. That is why she chose to read to him nightly. (And throwing a book through a fire seemed like a bad idea.) And he didn’t own many clothes either. In fact, she didn’t think she saw him wear anything more than the same shirt each time they met. A lock of his hair? No, that could burn too- so what then?

“You don’t.. Have anything?” She wondered aloud, worried her plan really was ending before it could begin.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, sitting up straighter as his smile spread across his face, revealing teeth and tiny little fangs. She often wondered why his teeth seemed sharper than normal, but assumed it was a family thing. He swore his brother’s did the same. Though she had yet to meet him to know for sure. “- give me a minute!”

Before she could ask, he had darted off, bare feet echoing across the wooden floors of his orphanage. Seconds passed as the sounds of fire crackling filled the silence and Lucy tapped the floor, impatiently. Was he coming back, or did he get lost? He was certainly taking awhile. A low hum of annoyance vibrated from her throat when another minute passed and the ticking Grandfather Clock across the room began to buzz inside her head.

Footsteps thudded in a heavy staccato that made her heart leap into her throat. Was her father up? The servants? Fright shot through her veins and Lucy stumbled to her hands and knees, hair falling about her face as she looked for a place to hide. She couldn’t be seen, not just yet, not until Natsu-

“Oi, Lucy, I’m here!” The Footsteps paused and she choked on her own heart. It was him, just Natsu- a nervous laugh escaped and she slumped back to the floor. “What were you doing, you weirdo?”

“N-nothing!” She squeaked, finally turning her gave back towards the flames, face as warm as the fire. “I- I wasn’t doing anything! What did you get?”

“Catch!”

There was no time to react, unable to process the command, she saw the glint of a small object being tossed through the flames, catching the light and reflecting it to the walls around her in a quick flash of rainbow before clattering to the floor. She squeaked, immediately rushing after the item to scoop into her hands, hoping it didn’t break. Natsu’s annoyed exclamation of ‘H-Hey! Careful with that!’ Was barely heard through the foyer as the small bauble fit into the palm of her hand.

It was hard, with rough edges, peering into it, Lucy saw what looked to be a tiny crystal, the insides a myriad of different colors. “It’s… so pretty…” She breathed.

“It was my Mother’s.” The quiet answer came back like a ringing bell and it caused Lucy’s head whiplash with the speed she turned to face him. A soft smile covered his features, eyes gleaming in the firelight. “At least, that’s what brother told me.”

“You- but…” She stammered, tongue flickering out to wet her lips as a strange, pain filled her chest. “You can’t give me something like this, Natsu, it was your-” He said he didn’t have a Mama or a Papa, but he was willingly giving her this? “No. Take it back. I can use something else-”

“I don’t HAVE anything else, Lucy.” He said with a tone of finality. “It’s okay, cause you can keep it safe for me right?”

Fingers closed over the small item and eyes blinked with unshed tears. He was giving her something so precious and smiling the entire time. Heat filled her as her lips quivered once more. All this just so she could prove he was real? How could even SHE doubt him? She couldn’t. Not at all. Her head nodded and she swiftly slipped the crystal into the pocket of her night dress.

“I’ll never let it break.” She promised.

“Can you do me one favor though?” Staring at him, the boy’s fingers fiddled nervously together, “Could you… give me something some time? You know, just so I have something too?”

A strange fluttering happened in her chest then, as if her heart and lungs weren’t quite her own. The small girl’s cheeks heated up to a warm flush as her own, soft grin, matches his own over the fire. Gripping the bauble from within the fabric of her clothes, she nodded her head, eyes watering as a small tear ran down her cheek. It wasn’t sadness. Not exactly.

She was touched. “I’ll find something that’s special and perfect, just for you!”

They shared smiles after that, clearing their throats and shuffling in embarrassment after the moment ended, but quickly reverted back to their usual antics. He laughed and made jokes to entertain her and when they both grew tired, she read from one of her many books until sleep almost over took them. By the time the fire had dwindled and the wall reformed, both children had fallen asleep- the quiet ticking clock Lucy’s only companion until the sun came up. When Miss Spetto came across Lucy that morning, the same chastisements followed, but little Lucy could hardly care.

Instead, she withdrew the crystal from her pajamas, smile full of pride and exclaimed, “Look! Natsu gave this to me! I told you, I told you, he’s real!”

The look on the maid’s face was a blank stare, completely baffled.

#A Smile In The Embers #Fairy Tail #Nalu #Fairy Tail Fanfiction #nalu fanfiction #natsu x lucy #part 2 #here we go!#i'm hoping to get part three out soon too #i really want to have this done before Christmas!#anyway hope you all enjoy!

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ducavalentinos · 6 years ago

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“Lord of Pesaro and a scion of the powerful House of Sforza, did not sound pleased. “I am telling you,” he said, loudly enough for me to hear him through the solid oak door, “we should be gone from this place! You are my wife, and you belong at my side, in Pesaro!” “My father says otherwise. You may be willing to defy him, but I am not. If you wish to return to Pesaro, by all means do so, but do not expect me to go with you.” For a thirteen-year-old confronted by an angry man twice her age who had at least nominal authority over her as her husband, Lucrezia sounded remarkbly calm and self-possessed. [...]He does not accept our marrige. Indeed, I have begun to wonder if he would accept your being truly married to anyone. “What do you mean?” Young as she was, Lucrezia was far from ignorant. She knew the depths to which Borgia’s enemies went in their efforts to defame him, even dragging his relationship with his young daughter through the vilest muck. I sucked in my breath as I realized what a mistake it was for Sforza to remind her of that. But the Lord of Pesare seemed to have no sense of that. To the contrary, he seemed to have no sense at all. “I merely wonder whether if we were allowed to live together as husband and wife, I would find that you—” Find what? That she was not a virgin because of the disgusting slander against her father? “Get out!” Lucrezia screamed, her self-control finally shattering, if only for a moment. Or perhaps, like her father, she understood the selective use of rage. “Get out and do not come back!” “You cannot order me about! I am your husband—” “If you do not leave now, I will tell my father what you just said. Papa believes me too sheltered to know about the filth his enemies spread. I will let him think that was so until you put them in my mind. Do you have any idea how enraged he will be or what he will do to you in turn?” Weakly, Sforza said, “He needs my family’s support—” “He did need it in order to gain the papacy, but he is pope now and unless you are very careful, he will come to see all of you Sforzas as a liability. Instead of making him regret that he ever agreed to our marrige, you should be seeking ways to win his favor.” “I don’t know how.” A hard confession on the part of a member of one of the wiliest and most guileful families in all of Italy, but then no one had ever claimed that Giovanni Sforza was overly endowed with either intelligence or daring. Lucrezia possessed far more of both, as she did not hesitate to demonstrate. “You may start by doing as I said—leave.” [...]I barely had the presence of mind to dart behind a nearby column before the door to Lucrezia’s apartament banged open and Sforza stomped out in a fury. I waited until he had vanished down the far end of the corridor before approaching tentatively. Half expecting to find Borgia’s daughter in tears, I was suprised to discover her in a window seat, reading calmly. As I entered, she looked up and smiled. “Francesca, how good to see you. Come, sit down.” She patted the stool beside her. “I hope you have gossip to share, I am most dreadfully bored.” What Sforza has suggested truly was unforgivable. She would bide her time, but I was certain that in the end, she would exact a price for the insult he had done her and her father both. She was, after all, a Borgia.

#lucrezia borgia #auth: sara poole #book: the borgia mistress #i'm sorry folks #but this convo was too good to not be shared almost in its entirety #i did summed up the best parts #WHAT A QUEEN #she might be young but she will not stand for sforza's insults #only thirteen-years-old and already so smart and assertive #exhibiting that borgia toughness and callousness #she is a borgia through and through #i love how she just resumed her reading afterwards like nothing happened LMAOO #good for you crezia #sforza is not worth the stress #and she will definitely exact a price for his insult #i'm just curious as to how the writer will bring that about

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libidomechanica · 3 years ago

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“And come”

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hearth its well; I have thought is patieth his Triples renewd the gener their King, and some to set with them, but commit a who distakes the say in

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#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 4 #204 texts

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46ten · 7 years ago

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Philip Schuyler’s life advice

There’s probably no quote I’ve come across more frequently in Hamilton biographies than the following to “establish” Philip Schuyler’s basic character: “Be indulgent, my child, to your inferiors, affable and courteous to your equals, respectful, not cringing, to your superiors, whether they are so by superior mental abilities or those necessary distinctions which society has established.” [Well, he also had a few things to say about the inferiority of George Clinton (1739-1812), but I won’t get into that now.]

The quote is from a letter to John Bradstreet Schuyler (1765-1795), Philip’s eldest surviving son. Here’s a larger part of that letter that provides some context and more of P. Schuyler’s beliefs:

Happiness ought to be the end and aim of the exertions of every rational creature, and spiritual happiness should take the lead, in fact temporal happiness without the former does not really exist except in name. The first can only be obtained by an improvement of those faculties of the mind which the beneficent Author of Creation has made all men susceptible of, by a conscious discharge of those sacred duties enjoined on us by God, or those whom he has authorized to promulgate His Holy will. Let the rule of your conduct then be the precept contained in Holy Writ (to which I hope and entreat you will have frequent recourse). If you do, virtue, honor, good faith, and a punctual discharge of the social duties will be the certain result, and an internal satisfaction that no temporal calamities can ever deprive you of. Be indulgent, my child, to your inferiors, affable and courteous to your equals, respectful, not cringing, to your superiors, whether they are so by superior mental abilities or those necessary distinctions which society has established. With regard to your temporal concerns, it is indispensably necessary that you should afford them a close and continual attention. That you should not commit that to others which you can execute yourself. That you should not refer the necessary business of the hour or the day to the next. Delays are not only dangerous; they are fatal. Do not consider anything too insignificant to preserve; if you do so the habit will steal on you and you will consider many things of little importance and the account will close against you. Whereas a proper economy will not only make you easy, but enable you to bestow benefits on objects who may want your assistance, and of them you will find not a few. Example is infinitely more lasting than precept; let, therefore, your servants never discover a disposition to negligence or waste; if they do they will surely follow you in it, and your affairs will not slide, but gallop into Ruin. ... I must once more recommend to you as a matter of indispensable importance to love, to honor, and faithfully and without guile to serve the eternal, incomprehensible beneficent and gracious Being by whose will you exist, and so insure happiness, in this life and in that to come. And now, my dear child, I commit you and my daughter and all your concerns to His gracious and good guidance; and sincerely entreat Him to enable you to be a comfort to your parents and a protector to your brothers and sisters, an honor to your family and a good citizen. Accept my blessing, and be assured that I am your affectionate father.

Quoted from Life of General Philip Schuyler, Bayard, 1905.

I wonder if he offered similar advice to Philip Hamilton in 1797, when Philip writes to his father:

Dear Papa, will you be so good as to give my thanks to grandpapa for the present he made me, but above all for the good advice his letter contains—which I am very sensible of its being extremely necessary for me to pay particular attention to in order to be a good man. PH to AH 21April1797.

#Philip Schuyler #John Bradstreet Schuyler #Federalists #is this so much different than G. Morris desiring #to curb that vain self sufficiency which arises from comparing ourselves with companions who are inferior to us.#Philip Hamilton

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theliterateape · 4 years ago

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Call Thru The Metal

By Dana Jerman

The following fiction was written as a stylistic response to the novel Nightwood penned by Djuna Barnes in 1935.

THE LONELY LANDLORD LIVED ON A LUCIOUS AVENUE, but in his queer heart he was prone to jealousies. It was why his marriage had not worked. It was a struggle-and-compromise formation.

And the perfect tree-lined way glittered on day after elysium-colored day. These grasping feelings came from the notion that time was constantly playing gentle tricks on his then-benign intensities and dispositions. Perhaps too some issue came in the form of no frugality in the information he chose to gather, which leads one to feel embarrassingly overwhelmed and nearly completely impenetrable to jokes and jocularities. His wife was prone to effete witticisms. They were, the pair, hopelessly incompatible.

So there was the existence of an early love letter she had written about the scenes and trials of their courtship. It lay open on a side table in the library. It was not a thing that had been opened in a long while, and the Landlord did not know how it got there, but there it was all the same.

“And I have the memory of you coming over in a taxi. So late, to make love to me while a storm raged outside. And some of my favorite music played, which became your favorite. But then you had to go—so you went. Back into another taxi to a bed without me in it. Me to a bed without you, or your hard and yearning kiss.”

Events of this sort had been reoccurring in a harmlessly slight and insidious fashion for longer than he could remember. In the life of the Landlord, there were many a “Darling, I simply don’t know” and they had to be enough. They formed a sheen around his anger, but not an impermeable one. He could rise to meet the occasion of this emotional challenge with his perceptive attentions. But his body had other more nervous and mischievous ideas for the analysis and relief of the aforementioned psychic blocks.

✶

“I PICK THE HILLS,” She had said before leaving. And to think for even a moment she had been happy in a way he could not try or did not wish to steal away. She simply could not seem to wear anything humorous.

“My taste is displeased.” He had uttered thoughtlessly one day as she was dressing. He wanted to take the statement back almost immediately. When the flash of her eyes grew dark and brave he then lost all chance at redemption.

And how closely one factor predicts another in a side-shot look. This is the endless-father correlation. The thin-sliced experiment of his smile he counts as service. Daddy is a title that means all-judgement-no-forgiveness. The one chance at intimacy ruined by absence: Away on natural life for the stabbing death of his wife. Not the landlord’s mother however, that woman is also dead. But no one ever found her body…

Oh wives and their legends, Papa would say. Here was the astounding paradoxical implicit association test of a man who went to Yale then on well-directly to replace beerkeg compression units. Meanwhile collecting remote controls and antiquated batteries and used to run a street sweeper between jobs.

Somehow the glistening ignorant city left him as impotent as a bug.

He employed murder to match the white cross-dresser’s work in the dancehall. Completing the gaudy poem of their oozing hips. Caustic gains in worths of the ill-described are thus: A moaning laugh. Cough. Someone loses a shoe in the park. No one drowns but a few get wet. One pukes when he finds the homicide.

And the tendril is the spark is the stem creeping a creep ominous and slow from the poisonous spotted orchid named malice. The tendril of disease sprawled to clutch at the softest tissue of the closest one.

Ah—it is how the small learn from those whose blood fates bloom large in their own.

✶

THE LANDLORD’S WIFE. Now Ex-wife. She had two sisters.

She was one of a set of identical triplets. They were prized for the very product of their existence. Their mother was an heiress. Their father was a writer of much loved novels. The first time the Landlord saw his Ex-wife’s sisters was in a family portrait. He came very suddenly down with an atrocious case of basorexia. He swelled with guile from a sinister prospect.

If you had inquired of the Ex-wife to describe her landlord, she might see fit to call him a filthy Pan. Evil-grinning satyr who cares for no one. Immune to certain sensational transferences in the name of a push-button sex drive and the will to kill.

She would say something cryptic like “his best sketches were done in the hospital.” And it would mean bits. Any creative impulse he grasped or even momentarily exercised were masturbatory self-portraits in cum. Or they were the exorcism of insulting passes as the female staff on days when he was most warmed over with pain and injections. (The Landlord was pre-diabetic and had dirty kidneys as well as a predisposition to gout.)

The Ex-wife would say this only after she was slain at his hand, however, because she had deemed him previously to be too soft. Too much infused of a guilty-staring complex to be capable of such a thing.

But those nights alone while the landlord sucked treatments from fluid bags into his veins, they became projections to live over and over. She was like an already dead soul, keen and trenchant in the quiet under an authentic moon. She entreated the afterlife for its embrace. Summum bonum by the Bete Noire. She held the hands of her neverborn children and heard their whispers reveal projections of the adaptive unconscious. “You are very brave to be here,” They said. Confirming all stratospheric transferences with the long, direct looks from their dark levels of brow and eyes. She knew her sisters were in danger then, but not how or why.

Alas, defamation carried in the mind does no great good to anyone beyond. Verbalized estimations, however inane, to one and from one who consider themselves to be in possession of their better faculties ought to be shared.

✶

THE EX-WIFE WAS NOT BURIED IN THE LOAMY SWAMP at the back of the local zoo for a full day when the landlord, kept out in the park to think, ran into the second sister and her husband.

They inquired eagerly after his person and their own blood kin whom he claimed was home with pneumonia and recovering with a lot of sleeping. Assuaging them tho’ he could barely keep the glee from his voice. A glee saturated with new reason. For now, the life worth living the most for the Landlord was not without murder.

And seeing his Ex-wife’s twin strolling with her beau, he could picture her sweet face in its revelatory convulsions brought on my masturbating with her favorite ivory handled letter opener. Bone-shaped handle down as the business end, of course. Here another Ex-wife shape who probably championed very similarly in the morbid throes of enacted lust. And here she was accompanied by a man whose shirt matched her dress. Seriously.

“His shirt matched her dress,” he said aloud to himself as he passed, taken up suddenly with the true and profound absurdity of life as if he was in a whole-lie-wood film. No gunspinner of the wild west here. Just the primed experiment of an officious wheedling coward. Passing poorly along his doomed life like a preened rat who cannot find its way beyond the wine cellar.

And so it was under the guise of a brief and barely meditated gathering of the remaining two sisters at the Landlords behest and exquisite dwelling place. Alerted to the notion that his wife had gone missing from within a sick delirium.

The sisters had made the mistake of coming alone. As soon as they had gathered near to the fireside and taken up the miniature snifters of cognac from the hands of their host, it was then in a few abrupt slightly ridiculous curving motions their throats were slashed and eyes punctured by two separate antique steak knives that were pretty much lying around the back of a kitchen drawer not being used at all.

Not much later, he had no trouble surrendering to the man whose shirt had so perfectly matched the dress.

#comment #antique literature #wartime fashion #murder #unchecked rage #triple homicide #syntax and style #dark expression #hopeless killer #bombastic romance

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smartgirlsaremean · 7 years ago

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Stiltskin Family Bonding - Chapter 12

Fandom: OUAT

Relationship: Papafire (this chapter, at least)

Rating: N/R

Summary: The Stiltskin boys bond in a variety of ways. Sometimes it goes well, other times...not so much.

AO3

Chapter 12: No Rush

A Tumblr anon prompted: When he looks after the pawnshop alone, Neal has to deal with the customer who keeps saying bad things about Rumplestiltskin.

Neal hated it when his father left the shop on rent day. For one thing, working in the shop wasn’t exactly his dream job, but until someone else in town decided it was safe to hire the son of the Dark One he was stuck there, earning a completely unreasonable wage considering that he mostly polished things and updated record books. The only reason it didn’t totally suck was that he spent most of the time talking to Rumplestiltskin. They had nearly three hundred years to catch up on, and Neal had realized that he couldn’t expect to understand or forgive his father without talking to him.

The best part of the day, of course, was in the late afternoons on Tuesdays and Thursdays when Henry would come in to sweep and dust. It was good in a weird kind of way, hanging out in dim, dusty shop with his family as if they were just regular guys running a family business. Sometimes he wished that were true - that they were plain old Mr. Gold, Neal, and Henry - and eventually Gid. Gold and Sons, Pawnbrokers. Or maybe they could rename the shop entirely in case the new baby was a girl.

Spinning Wheel Antiques, maybe. Or just Gold Antiques.

Anyway, it was rent day and Neal thought it was kind of hilarious that his father still took Dove and made the rounds, as if direct deposit wasn’t a thing. Rumplestiltskin could grumble about late payments and people trying to take advantage, but Neal knew there was a part of him - and not even a very small part - that loved the drama, the theatrics of rent day. The grim, shady landlord showing up and demanding wads of cash and threatening to toss delinquents out into the street. His dealmaking days were more or less at an end, but Rumplestiltskin was a showman, and he’d always had a dark, sinister sense of humor.

The bell on the front door jingled, and Neal groaned. Few people came in the shop anymore, and Neal didn’t like dealing with those who did. He didn’t have his father’s shrewd business sense or Henry’s guile, and he really didn’t like the idea of making people pay for things that were technically theirs to begin with. He walked out from behind the curtain and saw a man he didn’t know bent over and peering through one of the glass cases.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

The man straightened, a mulish look on his face. “Yes. I’ve come for my sword.”

“Uh.” Neal glanced at an umbrella stand that was full of swords. “Could you be a little more specific?”

“That one.” The man pointed at a sword with a gold hilt, studded with rubies and emeralds. Neal pulled it out of the stand and held it up, and the man drew a deep breath. “That’s it,” he said. “I thought it was lost forever.” He reached for the sword, but Neal drew back, raising his eyebrows.

“That’ll be fifteen hundred,” he said, his grip tightening slightly when the man’s eyes flashed.

“Fifteen hundred! For my own sword!” the man exclaimed.

“For one thing, I don’t know for sure that it’s yours,” Neal said.

“You doubt my word?” the man said, drawing himself up to his full height.

“Well...yeah. I kind of have to. I mean it’s not like there are serial numbers on these things, and I doubt you have any proof of ownership.”

“A man of honor would not require any of those things.”

Ah. A prince, or a nobleman at least. Neal thought he’d noticed a certain...prickishness about the guy. “Well, what can I say? I’m just a lowly peasant. Honor was never really in my budget.” He shifted his grip on the sword, holding it not quite at en garde, and studied it carefully. “This is a pretty expensive sword to just...give up. What’d you get in exchange?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, it didn’t just show up on its own. You had to have made a deal with it. So what’d you get? Power? Riches?” He looked the other man up and down and smirked. “Good looks?”

The prince/nobleman/jerk turned red. “That is none of your business.”

“Okay, no problem. Doesn’t matter anyway, the price is the same. Fifteen hundred.”

“You’re just like your father, aren’t you?” the man sneered. “I should have known not to expect any better.”

“Any better than...what?”

“We can all see through him now,” the man said, leaning over the glass case. “Back in our world he dressed himself up in fine silks and leathers and flourished his magic and made us all fear him, but we all know who he is: a peasant, with no more claims to greatness than a common beggar. A coward who hides behind his stolen magic and his powerful friends.”

Neal clenched his jaw, willing himself to stay calm. There were an awful lot of expensive things in here, and it wouldn’t do to break them.

“He’d better pray his magic never forsakes him,” the man continued. “I’d like nothing better than to cut him back down to size.”

Of course, Rumplestiltskin could always magically repair whatever ended up broken.

“Did you seriously threaten the Dark One in front of his son?” Neal asked. “While I’m holding a sword?”

“As if you would know what to do with a fine weapon like that,” the man scoffed. “Gutter rats like you barely know which end of the sword is which.”

“I know a few things,” Neal said. He grasped the hilt of the sword and reached out, carefully placing the tip on the man’s chest, over his heart. “The pointy end goes in the other guy, right?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Are you threatening me?”

“No,” Neal said. “I’m challenging you.”

“How dare you…”

“Me?” Neal scoffed. “You’re in my father’s shop, insulting both of us, demanding something for free. And I’m the jerk in this situation?”

The man opened his mouth to reply, but froze, his eyes widening in something like terror. Neal didn’t have to look back to know that his father must have returned.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Rumplestiltskin’s voice was quiet and calm, but Neal felt goosebumps crawl over his skin. “A dissatisfied customer?”

“I - I only want what is mine,” the man said.

“That’s all anyone ever wants,” Rumplestiltskin said, approaching the counter. “Unfortunately, our definitions of what is yours appear to differ.” He placed his hand on Neal’s arm and pressed gently, and Neal let the sword fall to his side. “This sword, for example. You sold it to me, and it is therefore mine. The fact that you regret that does not negate the transaction.” Rumplestiltskin clasped his hands before him and raised one eyebrow, smirking. “Unless you have two thousand dollars to hand, I’m afraid your sword will remain in my possession.”

“He said fifteen hundred!”

“I tend to charge more when death threats are involved.”

The man wilted a bit. “I can - return tomorrow. With the money.”

“We look forward to it.” Rumplestiltskin grinned. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

The man huffed and walked away, slamming the door as he went. Neal took a deep breath and replaced the sword in the umbrella stand.

“Well, that was fun. I almost expected him to slither out of here.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “There was no reason to dirty my floors.”

“You didn’t always need a reason.” Neal studied his father. “You really do...have things under control, don’t you? The curse, I mean. You’re more...you than you used to be.”

“I’ve lived with this curse for three hundred years, son,” Rumplestiltskin said wearily as he pulled out a thick ledger.

“Yeah.” Neal fidgeted with a pen. “If you could get rid of it, though...would you?”

Rumplestiltskin was quiet for a few minutes, and Neal thought he’d gone too far, but then the sorcerer sighed and shook his head. “Once upon a time I’d have said no. I’m not a brave man, and the thought of facing this world without magic frightens me, but…” He looked up at Neal, his eyes wide and glistening. “But I see the beginnings of gray in your hair. Henry and Gideon grow more each day, and Belle’s getting laugh lines around her mouth. And I…” he waved a hand up and down his own body. “I stay the same.” Rumplestiltskin leaned against the glass case and stared at the ledger without appearing to see it. “Every day I grow closer to losing all of you and...and that’s more terrifying than anything I can imagine. To be truly alone, to lose all that I hold dear. I don’t want that.”

“Well, there’s got to be some way, Papa,” Neal said. “What about True Love’s Kiss?”

“We’ve tried,” Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Over and over, we’ve tried. But the Curse - it’s grown stronger, more resilient. It weakens a little, and then it’s back, as strong as ever. Belle is at her wits’ end.”

Neal thought of the fairies, but dismissed that idea immediately. The last time he’d gone to the fairies for help, it hadn’t gone so well.

“We’ll think of something,” Neal said. “We have time, after all. There’s no rush.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled slightly and then looked away, his eyes dark and sad. “Aye. No rush.”

#stiltskin family bonding #ouat fic

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