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joachimnapoleon · 4 years ago

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"One is not a king to obey.”

So as I’ve mentioned on my blog before, there are very few surviving letters from Murat to his wife, mainly because Caroline was in the habit of destroying most of her received correspondence, and Murat rarely kept copies of the letters he sent her. But, I recently picked up Albert Vandal’s book on the Murats’ reign in Naples (covering only the years 1808-1812), and made the happy discovery of the inclusion of the full text of several letters between the two that I haven’t found published elsewhere. One of them is the letter below, which I’ve seen quoted in bits and pieces.

For brief background/context: this letter is written while Murat is in the middle of his ultimately unsuccessful campaign to take Sicily; Napoleon has been breathing down his neck and interfering in the affairs of Naples lately; their relationship has been a mess for the past year and is steadily getting worse (and in April, in their final meeting/quarrel before Murat left Paris, the Emperor snarled at Murat that he’d have his head); his mortal enemy Savary has recently replaced Fouché so Murat can feel the deck being stacked against him; and Louis Bonaparte has recently been evicted from his throne in Holland after finding himself at odds with Napoleon one time too many. Murat feels his own dethronement rapidly approaching.

This is an eye-opening letter. We have a very fed-up, stressed-out Murat here, ranting at length about how awful Napoleon is treating him, while assuring his wife at the end that he’s going to be good and do what the Emperor wants and he’s fine, everything’s fine, thank you very much.

Vandal sums it up: Under the appearances of resignation his letter breathes only revolt.

Source: Albert Vandal, Le Roi et la Reine de Naples (1808-1812), pages 47-9.

***

[Undated, August 1810]

I will try to respond to your letter of the 3rd, my kind Caroline; you are perfectly right in everything you write to me, and I assure you that you have not thought anything about it which would not have greatly and seriously occupied me, and my system of conduct in accordance with my sentiments have always proven that I saw as you, but, without blinding us, I foresaw differently. But I am wrong, you foresee the same events as I do, but with courage and wise conduct, we must await with resignation and prepare in advance for events that are not in our power to prevent.

The Emperor accuses me of not doing what he wants, of not consulting him. You know the contrary, and I think I can dispense with responding in this regard; I have constantly strived to do his will. The Emperor blames me for what I did for Lucien*, I applaud myself for it and, if I were to do so, despite His Majesty’s defense, I would do it again; I cried for his fate as for that of good Louis.

How could the Emperor take the language he has towards the young Grand Duke of Berg, or at least how could he make it public? That was the most pitiful thing that could come out of his mouth. Louis is dethroned, wandering, sick, and the journals assail him with invectives!... He [the Emperor] thinks he is paying court to the French, he is far from succeeding by showing himself so ungenerous. What a report from Champagny! Holland is ruined for France, by France, and the Emperor has united it to France, and the motive is given her that she can no longer exist independently, because she can no longer pay her debts. This is the height of impudence. Today, he imposes onerous conditions on me, he makes me sign an unjust treaty and recognizes an even more unjust debt; he diminishes my revenues, crushes my commerce, paralyzes my factories, orders me to make a ruinous expedition, asks me for a navy, prevents exports, in short, he makes it impossible for me to bear all this enormous burden he imposes on me. He makes decrees as master, prescribes regulations in Naples as in Paris, and when the moment will have arrived and his policy or his caprice will have counseled him to make me descend from the throne, the Duke of Cadore will make another pompous report on the King of Naples, like he did on that of Holland.

There it is, there it is, my friend, what I will force myself to avoid out of love for you, for my poor children, but what will happen, if the Emperor continues to indulge in his false politics and always listens to the perfidious counsel of Savary [names rendered illegible] etc. You know it, you know the depths of my mind. Who loved the Emperor more, who served him better, and yet without cause he threatened to take off my head, and since, despite all that I have been able to write him, despite my sacrifices, despite everything I do here, he has not responded to me a single time, he remains silent and makes his will known to me by his ministers, sends me medals by his grand chamberlain and lessons by the Monitor. You know that all of this did nothing to me when I was sure of his heart. He sought, for example, to excuse the mission of Clarke’s aide-de-camp to Naples with the defense that the crossing be attempted with at least 15,000 men, but this order has not been revoked, it still exists; but his minister wrote to mine that the Emperor had deprived me of command of the army, he wrote it to the chief of staff, he wrote it to Marshal Perignon; would he have done so, if he had not wanted to bring me into disrepute, would he not have been content with writing it to me or having it written to me, if he had had his old feelings for me? What need did he have to make my subordinates know such hostile intentions? Finally, what is the King of Spain doing for him? Did he not guarantee him the totality of his kingdom; did he not guarantee it to the Spaniards? By what right are new troops sent to Westphalia? By what right does he want to introduce French goods to Naples for nothing and to tax those from Naples that are imported to France? I understand the reason for it, it is that of the strongest, if not that of the most just. I understand that he must be the master of wanting us to march in his system and that we must consult him for political or important measures that we have to take; he must be our Mentor and not our master; one is not a king to obey. Then, how could he tell the people that he had entrusted to the princes of his family that these princes must occupy themselves with the interests of the French before occupying themselves with those of their people? In truth, one cannot conceive of the motives or the purpose of such a maxim.

My dear Caroline, I would not finish if I wanted to find wrongs, but this would not achieve anything. Let us take patience, let us conduct ourselves in such a way as never to have any justified wrong and wait with resignation what it will please Providence to decide for our destiny. I am decided to do everything the Emperor wants and will want, and when I can no longer bear the burden, I will beg him to take charge of it. So, be without worry, I am by no means affected, I am calm, and it is only on him and for him, I say, that I may have fears, if he does not change the system.

--Joachim Murat

***

*The reference to Lucien Bonaparte is in regard to Murat sending a vessel to help Lucien escape from Italy and go to the United States; the vessel was captured by the English and Lucien sent to England. Murat had granted Lucien the ship without Napoleon’s knowledge or permission, and Napoleon was furious about the affair.

#Joachim Murat #Caroline Murat #Caroline Bonaparte #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #Louis Bonaparte #Lucien Bonaparte #1810 #letters

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Shadow Into Light (Lena Retrospective): Magica’s Shadow War

Hello all you happy people! And welcome back to Shadow Into Light, my look at the life and times of Lena Sabrewing. We’re in the end stretch, just two more installments after this: one covering what may be my favorite episode, and the other covering Lena’s season 3 appearances, as unlike Seasons 1 and 2 she shows up outside her own episodes fairly often and most of those apperances touch on how far she’s come or her life in some way shape or form, so I really can’t skip over them.

But before we can get to the end of Lena’s arc, we have to once again go back where she came from. Previously I covered the one and only apperance of Minima DeSpell, a character Lena took some inspiration from. But Lena is a combination of Minima and another Ducktales 87 character but this time one from the show itself, in the same episode we meet Magica no less. Given how much frank loved the original, it’s not a huge shock one of the most vital and intresting new characters from the reboot was partially taken from an episode he probably watched 80 dozen times. So how does the original shadow stack up with her rebooted counterpart? Is the episode any good? And should I watch invincible. The answers to this question are under the cut!

To answer your question on invincible.. Yeah you should. It’s gorgeously animated, has a MASSIVELY talented and diverse cast, and perfectly adapts the original source: Adding in great new stuff and shuffling things around to work better for the pacing of a tv show. And after loosing The Tick to Amazon’s greasy clutches, not to mention Danger and Eggs and Alpha House before that with no formal cancelation so they coudln’t move elsewhere, i’m not taking any chances despite the odds being far more in invincibles favor. Check it out, just mind that it has a shocking amount of gore, if you like superheroes. Or even if you don’t, it’s pretty much guaranteed to have someone you like doing a voice.

Enough shilling for an unrelated show though, let’s get to this one. We open with our introduction to the De Spells. Magica is hovering over a caludron with a diabolical new plan to steal Scrooge’s #1 dime. Why?

Or at least I didn’t. I knew why she wanted the dime itself mind you: The Dime has picked up some powerful emotoinal energy from being around Scrooge all his life as he built his fortune, made his way square and fought Teddy Roosevelt. All that good stuff. So naturally if used in a spell, that spell is going to be massively powerful. I just didn’t know what the spell was.. and now I do.. i’mmm underwhelmed. She wants it to gain the midas touch, i.e. the ablility to turn things she touches into gain, using the dime as a power source for an amulet.

Magica, via her potions and spells has the powers to do just about ANYTHING. And her goal is.. make some things into gold. She has a giant volcano laier, whatever resources she needs to go after Scrooge, and in this series at least can buy a haunted house on a whim. She HAS money.. why would she need this. And second... the midas touch is a bad thing. You cant’ USE or enjoy anything because it turns to gold> That was the whole fucking point of the myth. If it removes the weakness than fine.. but again it seems like a lot of effort for something with a short range and heavy possible drawbacks. I tfits her personalty to a point but even then she has better spells. I’m going more with it simply allowing her to supercharge.. is it more simplisti? yes. Does it make more sense than “Give myself a power that can easily be turned back on me by just making me touch myself “ yes, yes it is.

Meanwhile the boys dick around playing Candid Camera with a new camera Gyro gave them that is no more advanced than your average instant camera. You’d expect this new invention to come in handy against Shadow Magica. And you’d be right. You’d expect the boys to at least suggest hte idea before the climax. You’d be wrong. This big is just.. irrtating. It’s just the boys being dicks to everyone by taking embarssing photos and really adds nothing to the episode of any remote subtsnace.

Conversley Magica continues to be the highlight, as her check in with airport security gets her through as she has no fruit. Ah the days before they throughly scanned us and most tsa jokes were about shoving hands up someone’s ass. Seriously.. why. .why is that a common joke. I’ve never had it done but unless you fully consent to it it’s not fun to get your hand up there but it was an oddly common gag for a long time.I.. really don’t get it.

She arrives in america and buys a haunted house, to the realtor’s shock but eh it’s a sale. The black mold just makes it more sinister. Magica sicks Shadow Magica on the bin, with an elaborate plan but giving the Shadow one hour to do it because otherwise it will disapate.. given it dosen’t it’s likely more Magica trying to keep her double in line, having ran into trouble earlier with shadow her trying to steal the wallet of what I can only assume to be gus goose. So he was on vacation tha’ts where he was.. from what I don’t know he dosen’t actually do work and the house of mouse hadn’t been established yet. Maybe Gramma Duck just gives him vacation days.

So the shadow ALMOST gets away with the dime.. but accidnetly knocks over a pedestal and warns Scrooge and the Boys, who manage to chase her off. Scrooge having only one magical nemisis in his Rogues gallery, that we know of, knows who did this and prepares for an attack. Magica.. berates her doppleganger and while she considers a spell to power her up, decides against it since what would stop the Shadow from betraying her. The shadow agrees.. and locks Magica and Poe in a closet and makes the potion herself, taking on a creepy new form and planning to raise an ARMY of shadows.

And here... is where the split between Lena and The Shadow is very deefinite. While Frank and Matt kept the shadow and Magica really not getting along and only working together out of necisity on both ends.. the shadow here REALLY is just magica. Just as evil and ambitious, and just as sneaky. The only diffrence between the two is the shadow’s logical weaknesses of being a shadow, i.e. light weakens her and she can only hide in darkness or other shadows, and how they were born. Shadow magica is every bit as evil and devious as the main one. I do get why she stuck in Frank’s brain though: the idea is simple but ingenious, someone’s shadow gaining sentience, and the cool tricks you get with that as she ducks and darts between shadows. It’s really good stuff and frank expertly expanded it with lena, making her basically humanoid duck other than where she came from, but still using the neat tricks with the shadow itself for Magica’s imprisoned form and later the shadow army. It’s a good example of taking a really good idea.. and making it even better, by having said shadow being deal with not being considered a person by the person who spawned her and really ramping up the idea of a shadow army, which Shadow Magica eventually summons, from about ten guys to an entire cities worth. The shadows also you know come from people instead of just thin air but semantics. Point is it’s a very good concept and done really well esepcially for the 87 cartoon, and while Frank’s take was unique and very well done, it dosen’t make the original any less good.

And it’s shown off with a cool sequence of the shadow infiltrating the manor and nearly getting to the dime with Scrooge having rigged the place to all hell with lights as a percaution. It nearly wins but louie uses a shadow puppet to scare it off. While Scrooge ponders this latest attack Poe shows up, and offers Magica’s help.. but Scrooge rightly dosen’t want it, as he can’t trust her and only agrees when the boys bring up the power bill from keeping the lights on.

Now getting Magica on board is not an idea: The shadow’s a threat to both of them and they need each other. The next part though.. is a bit stupid and drags the episode down a bit. Magica asks for the dime to beat the thing. Now Scrooge wisely is hesitant to do so.. but everyone else treats it like his usual greedy antics. Thing is.. it’s not. We don’t, at least in this adaptation, know what Magica wants with the thing or the full extent of what she can do with it or if she even actually needs it. While getting her help is one thing, giving her the DIME well...] ]’ii98[[

Why would you give someone you KNOW wants to use the dime to conquer the world or whatever the thing she wants? It’d be like handing Thanos the Infnity Gauntlet to take out Galactus. Yes, your handling a big problem.. but your burning the world to do it. It’s just so frustratlingly dumb. There’s a good idea in there, Scrooge being forced to lend Magica the dime, but it’s buried under Mt. Contrivance!

So Scrooge reluctantly goes along with operation:seemed like a good idea at the time, and cleverly puts the dime in an empty stadium. Unfortuantley the lights malfunction and Shadow Magica summons MORE Shadows, and now has an army. Launchpad ends up being helpful, also he’s in this episode for some reason, by pointing out shadows need light.. and thus another logical weakness as killing the rest of the lights renders them weak and allows our heroes to lure them to the vault where Magica waits> Magica is able to weaken it with the spell.. but even with that the Shadow SITLL is too powerful..

Enter the cameras, which take out Shadow Magica, saving the day. We get a lesson about trusting Gyro’s gadgets for.. some reason and Scrooge stops Magica from fleeing with the dime with a shadow puppet. Smiles and cheese sandwitches all around

Final Thoughts on Magica’s Shadow War: This episode is not half bad. While the Dime Thing is mindblowingly moronic, and the camera thing is REALLY poorly set up, I have not had a more apt use for that Scott Pilgrim Panel yet, the sheer concept and June Foray’s sheer force of personality as both magica’s makes it work. It’s a fun, engaging adventure and a solid chonk of classic ducktales. As for how it relates to Lena it does so decently. But with this our side trips are at an end. Only two episodes left! And then onward to the lilo and stitch crossover arc! Yes really. Kev wanted a buffer before getting to the Season 2 arcs and I loved tha tshow as a kid so why the fuck not.

Next Time on Shadow Into Light: Lena gets welcomed to prime time bitch as Magica pulls a freddy and stalks her through her dreams. Sadly she did indeed forgot about the power glove. Can the rest of the kids break away from dreams of high school musicals, becoming a garfild, giant legs and libraries long enough to save Lena? Will we have a very queer in the best way possible musical number about Lena and Webby’s anniversary? Will I talk about Huelet? In order, yes, yes, and probably. But join me anyways won’t you.

If you liked this reviews, subscribe for more. If you have a ducktales episode from seasons 1 and 2 of the reboot or the whole of the 87 series, drop me a line through my ask box, my dm’s or my discord, technicolormuk#6550. Reviews or only 5 bucks an episode for tv. Other prices on the blog. Or if you can’t spare that much, join my patreon. Even a buck or two a month helps reach my stretch goals and the more of those I hit the more disney content you get a month. The current one is only 5 bucks away. I’m 15 and if I hit 20 that guarantees a darkwing duck review every month AND reviews of the super ducktales mini series. But if you can’t that’s cool and I get it times are hard, it’s why I have to shill so hard. But until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure.

#ducktales #ducktales 87 #magica's shadow war #lena sabrewing #shadow into light #magica de spell #poe de spell #scrooge mcduck #huey duck #louie duck #dewey duck #bentina beakley #launchpad mcquack #the disney afternoon #disney +#disney plus

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years ago

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You can STAY- Part Three

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Felix (side pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids)

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Language

Genre: Fantasy AU; Scarlet Heart AU; OT8 SKZ

Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two

Summary: Y/N has another unexpected confrontation with Prince Felix. But he’s also not her biggest problem, especially when she uncovers a potentially devastating plot that could completely unravel the royal hierarchy.

Taglist: @angelphantomlove @moonlightracha @staycarat0801 @jjabbur @pinkchcn @smolchild-lol @straykidbaby @moonnstars90 @choisaemi @dru-shadow @skzooyeet

It was still early that morning when I woke-up to the sound of someone knocking on the door to my bedroom. For a moment, I was too disoriented to respond, but the sound grew louder with the force of whoever was insistent about coming inside. Finally, I gave in and walked over to answer the door with a nonchalance that I’m sure reflected my drowsiness.

“Jeongin?” I questioned, surprised to see the younger standing on the other side.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said, and it was a timid greeting as he shuffled anxiously in the doorway.

“Did you need something?” I asked, wondering why one of the King’s sons had went out of his way to visit me in my small dungeon bedroom.

“I, uh, wanted to make sure you weren’t busy today,” Jeongin said. “I'd like to visit the market again and try to sell my paintings.”

The request took me off-guard, and I didn’t know which I was more surprised to hear: that Jeongin wanted me to accompany him, or that the King’s youngest son made trips to the market to sell his artwork like he didn’t already have enough money. “I guess I can go with you,” I said.

“It’s mostly for protection,” Jeongin said. “Cuz’ of your powers and stuff...”

I grinned at his awkward conversation because it was strangely adorable to hear him stumble over his request. “I’d love to, Jeongin,” I said. “Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you outside on the bridge.”

Jeongin nodded in agreement and I gently closed the door to prepare myself for an impromptu trip into town.

It certainly sounded like a better prospect than resigning myself to another day of medicinal experimentation - searching for the cure that would alleviate Ella’s suffering. Ever since my encounter with Chan’s wife, I had been relentlessly searching my manuals and the records kept neatly arranged in the Castle’s library. However, despite my efforts, I was no closer to finding the answers than I had been during our first meeting.

Yet, I could never give-up on something that might help someone else in need, so I maintained my confidence that I just needed to look harder. But one day out of the confines of my bedroom couldn’t possibly hurt, especially since I had experienced an excruciating headache during the previous night after spending all afternoon hunched over my desk.

I nodded in self-determination, swiping my brush through my hair one more time before I left my room, walking upstairs alone with the company of my thoughts as I tried to focus on the task at hand. If Jeongin trusted me enough for protection, then I would do my best not to disappoint him. I had worked hard to fine-tune my powers for any case that might arise while I served the royal family, and I considered my fighting skills to be an enormous source of pride.

“You should feel privileged to walk so freely without care.”

I paused at the top of the staircase at the sound of an all-too familiar voice, and I frowned when Felix came into view while wearing an arrogant smile. “Forgive me, miss,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of a proper introduction.”

“Then what do you consider our last meeting?” I asked him. “If I recall correctly, you insinuated that I would bring ruin to this Castle.”

“Of course not,” Felix said. “It was rather premature of me to base my opinion on a foolish disagreement with Seungmin.”

“I agree,” I said, keeping my tone neutral as I watched him come even closer. “Do you not believe such things anymore?”

“I find you perfectly elegant, Y/N,” Felix said. “You seem to prioritize your morals above everything else, and I can sense a profound loyalty for my family despite only just arriving a few nights ago.”

“Not so much your family,” I corrected him. “I serve the kingdom, and that means honoring those who lead it.”

“How righteous,” Felix said. “Consider me impressed by your character.”

“I wish I could the say the same,” I said, and I was pleased when Felix’s smile vanished.

“Have I done something to offend you?” Felix asked. “I apologized for my actions. Please don’t tell me that you intend to hold a grudge?”

“Consider it more of a casual suspicion,” I said, watching his green eyes narrow. “I’ve learned a lot about you since my arrival.”

“Is that so?” Felix asked, and I could tell that he was not appreciative of my comment.

I nodded as I remembered my conversation with Chan on the same afternoon when I met his wife - how he willingly opened up to me about his red-haired brother in exchange for a tentative promise to help his wife.

“I know that you aren’t wanted here,” I said. “I was told that your own mother tried to kill you when you were merely a child.”

“Where did you hear this?” Felix asked, but his tone wasn’t angry like I had been expecting; instead, he seemed unusually morose while he looked at me with sad green eyes.

“Does it matter?” I asked him. “How else should I look upon someone whose own father hated him so much that he sent him away to another kingdom?”

My words triggered a brief silence between us, and it seemed like they had a great affect on Felix, but I was still stunned when he reached out to grab my wrist - directing my hand over his heart. “Do you feel that?” he asked, and I slowly nodded. “I’m human, Y/N,” he continued. “This opinion you have of me matters because it’s made you forget that I’m flesh and blood like you. And I expected someone with your moral integrity to know better than to treat an equal as lesser, or to believe nasty rumors without understanding the whole story.”

I could feel my mouth fall open in shock, and I looked at Felix for the first time without a single ounce of judgment. But I still couldn’t help but remain stuck on one word in particular: “Equal,” I repeated.

“Do you not consider that accurate?” Felix asked. “As far as I’m concerned, we both live and breath and share the same experiences. And to address your other offense against me, I’d like you to understand that my mother is a wicked woman who has always favored her eldest son. She held him to the utmost regard while I was nothing but a mistake that she always regretted...Yes, my mother did try to kill me, but it wasn’t out of a sense of righteousness to rid this world of a perceived evil. And when she wasn’t successful, she gave me this scar that I hide from the rest of the world.”

I swallowed hard when Felix removed the black mask obscuring the left side of his face to reveal a diagonal line of jagged edges. “In actuality, she would’ve done anything to ensure that Chan had no competition to stand in his way of the throne. But look at how well that worked out for them both. Chan decided to marry a peasant girl and defy our father, and he deserves his lowered status because he needs to finally understand that his actions have consequences that can last for a lifetime.”

He finished his tirade with a heavy exhale before securing his mask back into place. “Look at us, Y/N. We’ve both decreed presumptive judgments of one another, and they’re entirely inaccurate.” He then lowered his gaze when he infiltrated my personal space - far closer than what might be considered appropriate. “Forgive me for all that I’ve done that forced you to seek these lies. Perhaps in the future, we can hold a civil conversation together.”

I closed my eyes, reeling from the onslaught of his confession. “Why are so insistent on defending these perceptions, Felix?”

“Because you came here with no outside bias against me,” Felix replied. “I refuse to see these royals feed you misinformation just for you to turn against me as well.”

“I suppose it almost worked,” I said. “But I’m still confused after listening to an entirely different side.”

“It’s my side,” Felix insisted. “Seek the truth for yourself, but keep in mind that the people in this Castle are all looking out for their best interests.”

“Aren’t you doing the same?”

“Yes, but you’ll hopefully come to find that I never speak untruths,” he said. “My mother is an insane liar, and her clever tongue managed to keep Chan in this castle after his marriage, even though the king decided to deny him the opportunity to take the throne. I’ve seen her behave this way for my entire life, and I once vowed to never be anything like her.”

He finally stepped away, and I was able to inhale without restriction. His grin returned as he observed me. “Despite what you’re thinking, my return to the castle was not predicated on ill-conceived intentions. There’s no reason to doubt me, Y/N, and for the record, I’d like you to know that you’ve fascinated me from the moment I saw you at the choosing ceremony.”

His final declaration rendered me speechless, and I found myself trembling when he offered me a discreet wink before returning in the direction from which he had arrived.

By the time the sun was at its highest point in the sky, Jeongin and I were carefully walking around the outskirts of the market - searching for the perfect place to set up his paintings. “I do this all the time,” Jeongin reassured me with a cute smile that was impossible to deny.

“Okay,” I agreed, admiring the usual bustle of the market as eager patrons searched for the best prices on the goods they required.

“Over there,” Jeongin suggested, pointing to an empty stall, and I followed him with a selection of his paintings secured under my arm. “Let’s organize them,” Jeongin said, and I carefully followed his instructions while also admiring the beautiful creations that he had crafted.

“These are gorgeous,” I said, and he brightened at the compliment.

“Really?”

“Of course,” I said, tracing my fingertips across the texture of an oil painting. “They look so real.”

“My mother thinks it’s a waste of time,” Jeongin scoffed, gaze hardening for a moment as he stepped back to admire our efforts.

“I think it’s creative,” I said. “It makes you stand out from the others.”

“Exactly,” Jeongin agreed. “Everyone else already has something that makes them unique, and I wanted my own thing.”

“Well, you certainly found it,” I said, pausing when I noticed an elderly woman approaching our collection.

“How much for this one?” she inquired, indicating a rather gorgeous recreation of the surrounding mountain range.

While Jeongin started negotiations, I took my time perusing the remaining pieces that he had brought with him. I could tell that he had put his heart and soul into faithful adaptations of the most random subject matter: everything from scenic portraits to little drawings of his family members. It was a fascinating dynamic to his character, and I wondered how long the prince had been painting because these looked far too advanced considering his young age.

“Are you serious!?” a hostile voice growled, interrupting my musings with a tone that alerted me to possibility of an impending confrontation.

“What’s going on?” I asked, coming to stand next to a fuming Jeongin as he glared at the man who was holding one of his paintings.

“This little brat thinks he can swindle me out of my money!” the man said. “The cost of this shit is worth more than my house!”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d reconsider the price,” I said, stepping closer when I sensed an opportunity to appease the tension.

“I won’t!” Jeongin declared. “That piece is incredibly valuable!”

“Of course, the bastard thinks that his royal blood makes everything he touches turn to gold.”

“That’s enough,” I said, lowering my tone. “You can look elsewhere if you can’t afford his price.”

“For your information, bitch, I’m looking in exactly the right place,” the man said, and I noticed him reaching for the sword secured at his side.

I took a deep breath when I noticed that the men he had traveled with were also advancing on the two of us - raising their own weapons into the air. I narrowed my eyes and willed their swords to fly out of their hands - shocking both of his partners. “You might want to reconsider your stance,” I said to the first man, but his accompanying smirk caught me off-guard - like he wasn’t intimidated in the slightest by my magic.

“Maybe you need a lesson in manners too,” the man said, and I could barely formulate a response before I heard Jeongin shriek my name while a pair of arms wrapped around my waist. I could feel the breath escape my lungs, and then there was a hand over my eyes, preventing me from seeing what was happening, and I started thrashing around in the limbs holding me hostage. “Let me gut this stupid girl first,” the man said, and I could hear Jeongin calling for help as the sharp point of a sword teased the side of my throat.

But the man never followed through on his promise, and I only realized a moment later that he had been compromised when I fell to the ground with a grunt. My hand went to my throat because I could still feel the phantom effects of the sword’s blade, and my eyes blinked rapidly as I saw two figures standing at the front of our stall - waving their swords with impressive skill and growling out insults. Apparently, Jeongin’s call for help had actually been answered, and I was relieved to see both Prince Chan and Prince Felix warding off the opposition.

“Your business here is done,” Felix said, appearing nothing short of intimidating with his mask and sword.

“They should be so lucky,” the first man snarled, but he knew better than to continue a fight that he was destined to lose.

I watched him walk away before I realized that Felix and Chan were both hovering over me with matching expressions of concern. “Y/N?” Chan asked with a gentle tone.

“Thank you,” I managed to respond, flushing when I noticed that both Felix and Chan had outstretched their hands for me to take. But instead of forcing myself to make that decision, I rose at my own autonomy, glaring at Felix when he chuckled.

“They might not be so lucky next time,” one of the men called back, and he must’ve still been riding the waves of adrenaline when he chanced a step back in our direction.

“Get the hell out of here,” Chan snapped at the burly man who had helped attack us, and he grumbled in complaint but obeyed nonetheless. “Y/N,” Chan repeated, shoving Felix out of the way as he came closer. “Are you okay?”

I nodded while Felix scoffed. “What the hell were the two of you doing causing trouble like that?”

“We weren’t causing trouble,” I said, and Felix smirked.

“Good,” he said in response. “After our conversation earlier, I would hate to discover that you had lied to me, Y/N.”

Chan frowned at that - glancing between me and Felix with a curious expression. “Let’s just get everyone back to the castle,” he said, and I agreed with one last glare in Felix’s direction.

The next morning, Anna woke me up early with a bright smile. “Good news,” she said, starting for my wardrobe. “The King has requested your presence at the tea ceremony today! They’re honoring Minho for his selection.”

I groaned around the exhaustion holding me captive. “Is this a request or a demand?”

Anna hesitated as she laid a dress across my bed. “Well, I wouldn’t ignore the King.”

“Of course,” I said, forcing myself to abandon the comforts of my mattress. “When will it take place?”

“This afternoon,” Anna said. “You should hurry and get dressed.”

I nodded quietly in easy compliance, watching Anna leave me to my own volition as I forced myself to put on the dress that she had left behind for me. It was fairly modest, but the sleeves had a very delicate lace lining them. I also spent a few moments in front of the mirror to check my appearance, which I never normally allowed, before I left my room to walk upstairs.

It was suspiciously quiet in the corridors, and I found it strange because I remembered that the King’s wives lived in this area of the Castle. But it was pointless to assume anything, and perhaps they were already waiting at the ceremony with their sons.

However, my senses went on high alert when I heard two voices intermingling towards the end of the passage, and I pinpointed the noise coming from a single bedroom. Subsequently, I paused outside the room, glancing through the space between the door and the entryway to see Changbin and Queen Seo speaking together in low voices.

“You’ll be next to the King,” Queen Seo said, and she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she examined Changbin’s outfit. “Do you remember the plan?”

“Of course,” Changbin replied. “I shall look for the handmaiden.”

“I’ll have her deliver the tea,” Queen Seo explained. “Once Minho drinks it...” She trailed off with a maniacal grin, reaching out to adjust Changbin’s hanbok. “My son looks so handsome,” she remarked. “Like a true leader.”

Changbin sneered at her words. “He thinks that Minho could possibly do better than me?”

Queen Seo shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it either. “Don’t trouble your mind. Tonight, we shall change his perception after we kill that little bastard.”

The promise held dangerous implications, and I stumbled backwards from the door in surprise. It was my sworn duty to protect the rulers of this Castle, and I had barely given the plot any further consideration before I was returning to my quarters.

Because I would ensure Minho’s well-being, even at the cost of my own position.

I was late to the tea ceremony as a result of my efforts, but I only received a stern reprimand from Ms. White before she escorted me to my seat next to Seungmin and Jisung. It also offered me an appropriate vantage point of Minho who I kept within my sights as everyone spoke around me with joyful tones. I had nearly forgotten that it was a celebration, and I found myself narrowing my eyes at Queen Seo and Changbin as they laughed together with the King like there was nothing wrong.

“You seem distracted.”

I slid my gaze away from Changbin - locating Seungmin as he leaned in closer to be make himself heard over the noise. “What did you say?”

“You know, Y/N,” Seungmin said, propping his chin against his hand. “I happen to like this color on you.”

I was surprised by his strangely flirtatious tone. “Excuse, me?”

But instead of replying to my query, Seungmin shot me a discreet wink and turned to Jeongin who offered his brother a friendly smile. The whole encounter was decidedly unusual, and I wondered if everyone in this Castle was startling to lose their minds.

“Don’t concern yourself with him,” Jisung said while nodding at his brother. “He’s a rare breed.”

I found myself smiling at the jest in spite of my concerns. “What can you possibly mean by that, Prince Jisung?”

“It’s his way of impressing you,” Jisung said.

“Impressing me?”

“He’s convinced himself that you only fight with him to hide your true feelings,” Jisung revealed. “Seungmin thinks you’re harboring secret affections.”

“I might’ve helped,” Hyunjin added from across the table, and I grimaced at the idea before reclining back in my chair.

“How remarkable,” I said. “He didn’t seem to like me.”

“Seungmin always acts that way around strangers,” Jisung said. “But he warms up to them eventually.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Hyunjin said. “And try not to hold it against him. He really does like you.”

“But why shouldn’t he?” a new voice contributed, and both Jisung and Hyunjin flinched when Felix suddenly entered the room - pausing at the end of the table. “Y/N is very interesting.”

I turned away from him, fanning my hand across my chest because my heart was doing something peculiar inside my chest.

The King, however, was furious. He stood and glared down at Felix with narrowed eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Why shouldn’t I come?” Felix returned. “I’d like to celebrate Minho’s ascension to the throne. It’s what a good brother should do.”

“It’s alright, father,” Minho said, and I’m sure his words were shocking to most of the people at the table. “He can sit with us.”

“Very well,” the King relented, but he never took his eyes away from Felix as he sat down next to Hyunjin. “We shall begin.”

The King’s command summoned several handmaidens who brought inside the ceremonial tea for our consumption. Because of what I had discovered earlier, I kept a close eye on the handmaiden who served Minho - it was poisoned tea, and I had taken a potion earlier that should stop its effects. Since the potion contained a powerful chemical that was effective against all the traditional poisons I had studied, everything should be fine.

But there was a small risk that the queen had chosen a poison that could defy my potion, but I doubted that she would go to such great lengths.

“In honor of my son, Minho,” the King announced. “We shall drink to his health and vitality.”

I held my breath when everyone lifted a tea cup into the air, and I chose that precise moment to make my move.

“Your highness,” I intervened, coming around the table to grab Minho’s cup - ignoring the gasps of horror that echoed from the queens. “Shall I try it first?”

Minho blinked in surprise, looking at me like he couldn’t believe that I was standing over him. “I-I suppose.”

“In your honor, of course,” I added hastily before lifting the rim of the delicate cup to my lips.

I could taste the poison as it slid down my throat, but I emptied most of the glass before wiping the remnants with the back of my hand. I sat the cup back on the table, swallowing hard when I felt the effects swim through my system. Thankfully, they were quickly assuaged by the potion that still lingered in my bloodstream. It worked just as I had imagined, and I reached out for Minho’s chair to overcome a brief bout of dizziness.

Everything was silent around me, but I forced a smile as I bowed to the King who was regarding me with a peculiar look. In the meantime, I was determined to finish the rest of the tea so that I could pour Minho something untainted. But I never anticipated further interruptions:

“I’d like to have the honor as well,” Felix said with a smirk, and I glared at him when he rose from his seat.

“It’s not necessary,” I insisted, but Felix jerked the cup away from me with an acute speed.

“But I insist,” Felix said, and he gave me a knowing look - one that said he was aware of the situation.

“Felix-” I tried again, but he had already lifted the rim to his lips - downing the rest of its contents with a sigh.

“Is this funny to you?” the King growled, and Felix simply chuckled.

“I’ve caused enough mischief for one afternoon,” he said, and he stumbled on his way to the exit.

“Fool,” I whispered because I knew that Felix could potentially die without treatment. Thus, I bowed once again to the king before running out of the room in search of him.

It didn’t take me long to find him - collapsed in the remote corridor outside of the room.

“Prince Felix!” I gasped, and I ran the remaining steps before dropping down next to his crumbled form. “Are you insane?”

Felix rolled over onto his back, chest heaving, as he fixed me with a familiar smirk. “How is it fair that you get to have all the fun?

“You knew,” I hissed, cradling his head on my lap as I reached into my robes for the extra potion. “Drink this,” I insisted, holding the vile up to his pale lips.

Felix obeyed, consuming the potion before grinning up at me. “Are you furious with me, Y/N?”

“You absolute fool,” I said, resisting the urge to jostle the prince too much while he still fought to recover. “Why would you do something like that? It was poisoned.”

“But nobody would’ve ever known,” Felix said. “I do admire you, Y/N, but is it wise to stop the efforts of one plot when the same person might conceive of a dozen others?”

I sighed when I realized the wisdom of his words. “It’s a complicated matter,” I said, and the Prince narrowed his eyes.

I didn’t like the suspicious gleam in his gaze, especially when he leaned most of his weight against me for a closer examination. “You know who it is?” he asked, and his nose brushed against mine.

“Don’t do this,” I pleaded with him because I knew that we were teetering precariously over dangerous ground with consequences that went beyond what either of us were prepared to face. It was a personal mattered that involved one of the King’s wives and her son - an issue that would lead to radical conflict.

“You won’t tell me,” Felix stated simply, and I thought I was in the clear until the prince opened his mouth again. “It must be very sinister. I’ll have to assume that it involved someone in that room.”

I swallowed hard and Felix smiled because I had just inadvertently given him the confirmation that he was seeking. “You shouldn’t meddle,” I warned him, shivering when his fingers traced along my lips.

“What I wouldn’t give to see inside that beautiful head of yours,” Felix said, and we both continued to stare at one another in awe.

But the moment was broken by the sounds of approaching footsteps, and I moved away from Felix just in time to see several guards running in our direction. “What’s wrong with him?” one of the guards demanded, and I hesitated because I had also noticed that most of the princes were arriving on the scene.

There was every opportunity to stick to my original plan and keep everything incognito, but then Felix gave me a meaningful look, and I reluctantly relented. “He’s been poisoned.”

“Poisoned!” one of the guards exclaimed, and there was only chaos that followed. Just as I had suspected. But there were also Felix’s green eyes, and they managed to anchor me to the moment, even amidst all the noise and screaming.

They were somehow reassuring, and I clung to them desperately when the King demanded my presence in the Throne Room.

It was an intimidating sight: kneeling before the King as he leered down at me from his throne. “Do you understand that you have no right to decide the fate of this Castle?”

I shivered at the underlying threat in his tone. “Your highness,” I said. “Forgive me. I thought it was best to solve this issue on my own as deemed by my duties.”

“Is this an admission of guilt?” The King asked. “Did you know what would happen before stepping inside that room?”

“Yes,” I said, closing my eyes and wondering if this would be my last day in the Castle.

“You knew of this plot but refused to speak up?” the King growled, and I lowered my head before him.

“Forgive me,” I once again requested softly. “I was afraid that revealing the complexities would cause the perpetrator to act out far more rashly.”

“My son almost died,” the King said, and I could see Minho shift in his seat from my peripheral vision.

“My intention was to save him,” I said. “I wanted to let the assailant know that their plots will never work while I’m around to protect the royal family.”

The King was silent for a moment after my confession, and he considered me with a strange look. “I see,” he finally said. “I cannot punish you mage because your efforts saved Minho, but I must also give you a warning: the next time you learn of something so consequential, you will come to me and reveal everything.”

“Yes, your majesty,” I said, and I stood once more at his command. “I shall remember your words.”

“Very well,” the King said with a dismissive hand. “You may retire to your quarters.”

I made sure to offer him a polite bow before I was rapidly making my way out of the Throne Room - mind working a mile a minute. The brief intervention had allowed the the rare chance to speak to the King without his wives - one of which remained guilty of the plot to kill Minho. I could’ve spoken out against her, but there were far more complications to such an innocuous action.

Who would really believe me over the word of the Queen?

More importantly, would Felix say something about my hidden knowledge? Because he had somehow figured out that I was aware of the guilty party involved, and I had no doubt that he would question me in the future.

Yet, there were also more pressing matters to consider, such as the unexpected arrival of Minho who had somehow escaped the King’s notice. “Mage,” Minho interrupted, stopping me outside the throne room. “Could I have a word?”

“Of course, your highness,” I said, and I followed Minho as he led me further down the corridor to a quiet enclave.

“This is more private for our conversation,” Minho explained, and I was struck by the smile he gave me.

“I’m all ears, your grace,” I said, but Minho surprised me further by laughing, and he crowded me against the wall.

“I know you drank the tea to save me,” Minho said, and I startled when he reached out to touch the side of my face.

“Your highness,” I said, flushing at the unexpected contact. “W-what do you mean?”

“You don’t have to be coy with me, Y/N,” Minho said, and I gasped because it was the first time that he had ever used my real name. “I may not understand love, but I can tell when someone is trying hard to catch my attention.”

I nearly spluttered around my words when I caught onto his implication. “Y-you misunderstand-”

“Please don’t hide anymore,” Minho said, and I faltered at the desperation in his tone. “Perhaps when we get to know one another, I’ll consider bringing the prospect of marriage before my father.”

Marriage!?

“You’re serious,” I said, and I struggled to form a single coherent sentence following Minho’s passionate declaration.

“Shall we start tonight?” Minho continued as if I had never spoken, and his fingers burned a trail down the side of my face.

It was obvious that he was lost to whatever perception he held of me, but I glanced to the side when I heard a noise that had not originated from myself or Minho. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I froze when I found myself caught in the snare of an intimate gaze. But I hesitated when I realized that those green irises belonged to Felix, and the look in his stare was impossible to discern.

#skzwriternet #stayverse #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids series #skz fantasy au #scarlet heart au #lee felix fanfic #slow burn #felix fanfic #mostlycompetent

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dascarecrow · 4 years ago

Text

The Failed Raid - A Gentle Recovery I

A few hours had passed since the discovery of the brutality that their classmates had suffered and 1-A was finally able to do... well anything to be honest. The time had been tense and uncertain for all of them. Aizawa had returned and explicitly ordered everyone to stay in the dorm until they were told otherwise. Mic and Midnight had departed with him for an emergency meeting, leaving Mirio and Nejire to handle the class.

It had not gone well. The biggest issue had been Eri’s reaction to finding out her self-declared father had been badly injured. The little unicorn girl had cried her eyes out, overwhelmed by the thought of Izuku getting hurt as he had. Her tears made everyone present feel like their hearts had literally shattered and been ground into dust. Even worse however had been Uraraka’s response to it. It was obvious that she dearly, desperately wanted to be able to shed her own tears but tending to her devastated daughter was a far larger concern. So she sat there holding a crying unicorn, fighting her emotions to keep herself from spilling tears of lament. Because further sadness would solve nothing.

Mirio felt horrible for bringing this about, wanting to punch himself in the face for bringing about Eri’s plight. But bas as he felt he knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault but the villains Izuku had been trying to stop. Because Izuku was a true hero. Not merely a Pro doing a job but someone who was doing all they could to ensure actual justice could prosper in this world.

Eventually Aizawa returned and gave the class permission to go check on their injured comrades. Everyone was quick to get going but they all waited on Uraraka and Eri. The round faced mother got up, still holding her dear unicorn daughter in her arms. “Let’s go check on your Papa sweetie.” Her voice had been soft and quiet but it was very clear that she was on a knife’s edge, about to break down.

The class made their way to the medical area, going at an even steady pace. The reason for this in spite of their worry was Uraraka who was carrying Eri at such a pace. While she did want to know what was going on she was also terrified that the news would not be good. What if Deku was too injured to work as a hero? What if he had to leave to school because of this? What would happen to Eri if he had to leave? These were just a few of the many tumultuous thoughts in her mind right now and if her daughter hadn’t been in her arms they would have overwhelmed her.

Soon enough the group had arrived and already they met their treated classmates. Kirishima seemed to have no injuries whatsoever but the look on his face told that there wasn’t much pride in this for him. Todoroki had a few bandages over his left arm but he clearly had gotten off lighter than the rest though his usual stoic expression made seeing what he thought difficult. Tokoyami seemed alright save for his bandaged left arm, still having his perpetual scowl. Aoyama seemed to be his usual exuberant self though his smile seemed a bit forced and he looked like he was trying to avoid touching his abodmen too much. Kaminari looked put out to say it politely, bandages on his cheeks and he looked to be trying to keep weight off his right side. Iida had his typical expression though it did seem to lack any of his well meaning enthusiasm which might have had something to do with the bandages around his legs. It was a rather somber picture to see to be honest.

The recent patients took notice of the newly arrived group. Iida took the initiative in greeting them. “Ah everyone. Good to see you. What brings you here? Is everything alright?” “We should be asking you that Iida!” Mina was quick to start with none of her typical cheer. “We saw you guys on the news it looked like you all got sent through a paper shredder!” Iida was taken aback by the pink girl’s outburst but quickly regained his composure. “Our injuries looked far worse than actually were. I assure you things are alright. Well as much as they can be under the circumstances.” “What happened?” Yaoyorozu asked.

Iida visibly frowned. “The villains, put simply, were just that well trained. What we believed would have been a guaranteed success was rendered into an abject failure.” The whole group seemed to be more consumed by gloom upon hearing this. “They explicitly targeted my legs. We weren’t aware of there being a trained long range fighter among them.” Iida suddenly perked up from his lamentations. “But all they have done is given me the chance to grow as a hero. I had Recovery Girl remove the mufflers in my legs. Once they regrow I will be even faster than before!”

Iida’s enthusiasm seemed to prod the others into speaking up. “I had to overcharge my laser in order for us to escape. The effort caused my belt to explode. Fortunate for moi my armor is not merely for show. It reduced the shrapnel’s impact enough that I was in and out quickly. Though my stomach will be un petit tender for a bit.” Aoyama seemed back to usual self.

“I was using Dark Shadow to shield myself when an explosion hit us. I was protected just long enough to escape but they got my arm in the attack.” Tokoyami seemed sullen at how his Quirk’s weakness had been so easily exploited.

“Man at least you guys got taken out in a cool way. I just got sideswiped by an attack I didn’t see. Went right through my right side. Just glad it didn’t get anything vital.” It was difficult to tell if Kaminari was happy or sad right now.

“I just had some shallow cuts from being hit by shards of my own ice. I didn’t think they were bad but Recovery Girl insisted.” Todoroki’s dull tone didn’t indicate his mood but everyone took it to be a sign things were alright with him.

Mina looked at Kirishima in concern. “What about you Kiri?” The red haired boy didn’t look at her, sulking. “I’m fine.” That was all he said. “I’m perfectly fine. I’m the only one out of all of us that didn’t get hurt.” Now he started sounding angry. “Not one single scratch. Lucky me eh? The guy who should have been the shield for everyone walks away like nothing happened! Ain’t that rich? I call myself unbreakable and it didn’t do anything!” Yeah he was upset.

Mina looked around noticing one glaring absence. “Where’s Bakugou?” That had them tense up a bit. “He took off” Kaminari said with just a bit of venom. Iida decided now was a good time to interject. “Bakugou only stayed around long enough to ascertain we received treatment for our injuries. Once he had he decided to depart.” Before anymore questions could be asked an elderly voice cut everyone off.

“Now what’s all of this ruckus over here?” Recovery Girl had seen fit to arrive. “I appreciate the youthful energy but some of you are supposed to be convalescing.” Iida promptly went into his usual “serious mode”, complete with his trademark arm chopping. “Our apologies Recovery Girl! We were waiting for a time when we could check on Midoriya!” And the reminder of the dire state of their classmate sent the group back into a state of melancholy. Before anyone could say anything a young voice cut through their sorrow.

“Is Papa okay?” Eri had spoken up, having been reminded of her unofficially adopted father’s fate. Her face showed terror, worry and anxiety, leaving everyone worried that the wrong thing could break the young girl. The same concern applied to Uraraka, who had the exact same expression on her face. Recovery Girl was a bit surprised at the question but her face quickly settled into a gentle smile.

“He’ll be just fine dear.” Eri brightened up at that and Uraraka let out a sigh of relief. “Really? He’s okay?” Recovery Girl maintained her smile to the young girl. “Perfectly fine. He’s just taking a little nap right now. He should be waking up in a small bit so why don’t you wait for now?” Uraraka sat down in one of the chairs nearby, Eri facing forward while settled on her lap. Recovery Girl turned her attention to the rest of the group. “I suppose the rest of you are here for the same reason?” All of them looked a bit sheepish at being seen through so easily. “Well he’ll be waking up soon. You can stay as long as you don’t make too much of a fuss. And those of you who I just got done with remember the terms I laid out for letting you walk around. I’m still debating whether or not to stick you lot on bedrest.” Iida went into his serious mode once more. “Thank you for your gracious understanding Recovery Girl! We won’t fail your expectations!”

Eri giggled at Iida’s over the top antics, clearly in a better mood now that she knew Izuku was okay. Mirio noticed this and regained his own trademark smile. “Great news right Eri? Izuku is going to be a-okay!” He just couldn’t resist a thumbs up when he said it. Eri giggled at him too. “Yeah! I was worried because you told me he got hurt really badly. But he’ll be alright now!” A unicorn’s smile is a rare treasure and the class wasn’t ready to lose sight of it.

Kirishima decided to step in. “Darn right he’ll be okay! I’ll tell you something Eri you’re Papa is one of the toughest, bravest heroes I’ve ever seen! This’ll be nothing for him!” Eri looked at the red haired boy in awe at his description of Izuku “Really?” “You bet! Fact of the matter is he’s been one of the most heroic people there is, even before he started here at UA.” Eri’s glistening eyes told him he should keep going. “There was an incident with a villain, I’d say nearly a year before he started here. Some sludge villain went and took a hostage, which wound up being Bakugou now that I remember.” Eri’s face instantly filled with worry. “Oh no! Was Uncle Kaka okay?”

Resisting the instinct to laugh at his friend’s nickname Kirishima continued. “He was perfectly fine! See the thing is the Pros who were there couldn’t get anywhere near him because there was so much fire. But then something crazy happened. Some random kid charged out and tried to tear Bakugou out of the villain’s grip! That sludge creep couldn’t shake him off. The kid even got in a good hit when he tossed something in the jerk’s eye!” Eri’s eyes were filled with wonder. “But soon enough it seemed like that kid was gonna be a goner!” And now they were filled with fear. “But not to worry! Because who should appear but the legendary All Might!” And back to wonder. “He sent that creep packing! Of course if that kid hadn’t bought some time then All Might might have been too late! I didn’t realize it at first but that same kid was actually Midoriya! If he could take on a villain like that and walk away then no way is something like this going to keep him down!”

“That wasn’t the only time he tried to save someone.” Out of a sense of nostalgia and driven by the awestruck look on her daughter’s face Uraraka decided to chime in. “Really Mama?” Now Uraraka was happily smiling. “Mmhm. He saved me during the entrance exam to join UA.” Eri was too stunned to comment. The rest of the group was also paying attention, not knowing this story. “It was the final moments of the exam and a huge robot had shown up. Fighting it didn’t give any points, so everyone tried to run away from it. I got stuck under some debris and couldn’t escape. I thought I was done for.” Eri was fretting for her mother’s fate but Uraraka’s smile seemed to brighten. “And then Deku came out of nowhere and took it down in one hit.” That little declaration quieted everyone. “After he did that his legs and one of his arms were shattered and I heard him say he didn’t have a single villain point. He was struggling to find some way to earn even a single point in the time he had left but the clock ran out.” Now Uraraka’s eyes seemed to glistening. “The way his quirk was meant he only had one chance to earn any points. And the second he saw I was in trouble he rushed in to save me just because I needed to be saved, no matter what it would have cost him. Your Papa is a true hero Eri. Never doubt that. Believe in him no matter what.”

“Indeed.” Iida was now speaking up. “I was there that day. When the Zero Pointer appeared I ran like everyone else. I was too slow to save Uraraka when she was danger because I thought of it as merely a test.” Iida stopped in shame at his past self concerned behavior. “But Midoriya charged forward no matter the price because it was simply the right thing to do. No hesitation or forethought whatsoever. The idea of saving someone in trouble isn’t something he needed to think over. It was merely the only choice a hero should make. It truly is inspiring.” Iida began frowning. “Especially in light of lacking any villain points. He threw away any thought of benefiting himself the instant he saw someone who needed help. I realized after the fact that there must have been a hidden test within the exam and I had believed that he known that.” Iida’s frown turned into a smile. “But no. He simply charged in without a second thought because it was the right thing to do. A true heroic ideal to strive towards. I had actually been worried he wouldn’t make it in and thought such a thing would be a tragedy. To deny someone with such insight and capability the chance to become a hero.”

“That worried me too.” Uraraka still had the soft smile and light in her eyes but they seemed to be a bit more tranquil now. “I was worried he would fail. And I felt guilty that he gave up his chance of passing to save me. So I asked if he could get some of my points.” Now that surprised everyone. Gratitude was one thing but willing to risk your own standing in the premiere hero school for someone else was astounding. “Imagine my surprise when they said it wasn’t a problem. Turned out that Deku saving me got him a whole bunch of rescue points. So many that he wound up placing 7th in the rankings.” If the group were was surprised before now they were outright shocked. They knew Midoriya was good but making the top ten without a single villain point? Now that was impressive. Some of them were actually feeling a bit lackluster compared to the hero fanboy now.

“I’m glad he got in. Do you know why sweetie?” Eri turned to look at her mother, wonder in her eyes at her father’s achievements. “Because he saved you.” Uraraka’s didn’t betray her thoughts when she got the answer. “There is that. But really it’s because if he hadn’t gotten in then he wouldn’t have saved you and our little family wouldn’t be here either.” Now that statement truly shook something in all of them. The floating girl was completely right. Izuku was the one who saved Eri. If he hadn’t done that, well their lives would have been just a bit dimmer now that they knew what it was like to have her there with them. They really didn’t want to think on what life for them would be like without the little unicorn that all of them had come to adore. It just wasn’t right.

Uraraka’s hug on her daughter tightened just a slight bit, enough to show just how happy she was to have Eri in her life. “I am thankful that he saved you Eri. Because I am grateful beyond measure everyday that you chose me to be your Mama.” Eri’s eyes filled with love and joy and her mother’s words. “I’m happy I chose you too.” Eri gave her Mama a grand hug to be certain. “I love you Mama” she spoke in a soft, almost whispered voice. Uraraka leaned her head down, pulling Eri further into the hug she was already giving. “I love you too sweetie.”

Near everyone who was watching this had tears flowing, a mix of emotions consuming them all. The pure love a mother and daughter had for each other and the father who brought them together, utter sadness at the thought there may have been a world where they never met their little unicorn, concern and worry for their friend and classmate who they had to thank for bringing Eri into their lives. It was all so much that it prompted tears.

“Hallway’s pretty dusty ain’t it.” Kaminari quipped, fighting to keep his eyes from watering at the display. “Yea-ha-ha-ha!” Kirishima was openly bawling. “Yo-you got tha-that ri-igh-igh-ight! They really should clean this place a bit!” Iida chose that moment to interject. “Now now no need to make excuses. Sadness is a part of life. Denying it helps no one. There’s no reason to try and hide it.” Iida’s own eyes were gushing a veritable waterfall. Seems he took his own advice quite well.

While the boys were trying to pretend they weren’t phased in the least, and failing, the girls were far more open about their emotions. Asui wiped away some stray tears. “Wow, ribbit. Midoriya really is amazing when you think about it. He’s so plain that you tend to forget what he’s done.” Mina’s own trails of tears didn’t stop her from commenting. “Your right. We really do need to thank him though. It it weren’t for Midori we wouldn’t have Eri with us now.” Yaoyarozu was more subdued though her tears were no less noticeable. “He really is a true hero. All he wants is to help people. And look how far he’s gotten through that ideal. He made it into the finest hero school in the world. He saved people no matter the risk to himself. And he gave us all our Eri.”

“I don’t see why your all so surprised.” It was Todoroki who spoke up. And more surprisingly he had an actual smile! He was looking at the mother and daughter embracing and his inner thoughts went to the similarities between his past and the young unicorn near them, being grateful that someone was able to escape their dark life and thinking that just maybe if there had been a hero like Deku around then maybe his family could have been saved from falling apart. “He’s someone that All Might believes in after all.”

That was an undeniable truth. The former Symbol of Peace did seem to be supporting Izuku personally, far more than the usual regard a teacher would have for a student. It would have to take someone special to earn the unyielding faith of All Might. Someone like Izuku it would seem.

Recovery Girl gazed at the group, grateful that the Ninth Torchbearer of One For All had such stalwart and supportive friends. ‘You chose a good one Toshinori.’ The elderly hero couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her lips. “Oh dear. I had hoped that boy’s recklessness was just something he developed after starting here. But it seems he’s always had a tendency to let his spirit overtake his common sense.” She also couldn’t help the escaping sigh. “It really is too bad. He’s such a well meaning young man. And he always ends up here just for trying to make his way as a hero.” The elderly hero couldn’t stop herself from frowning. “It’s just not fair really. He might overdo it but he really does try his best. And he’s always miserable in my infirmary. That boy dwells too much on how he can’t keep up instead of seeing how far he’s gotten.” A shake of her head ended her declaration about the green boy.

Eri seemed contemplative about Recovery Girl’s assessment of her father. She was deep in thought before an idea made itself into her mind. She got it from one of Aunt Yaomo’s manga books, a romantic one that the ponytailed girl deemed a personal favorite. “Mama can you put me down?” Uraraka seemed confused but agreed to the request, the little unicorn quickly making her way to the doctor of UA. Said doctor looked at the young girl with a bit of confusion of her own. “Can I help you dearie?” Eri beckoned the doctor with a finger and the healer bowed down a little so the white haired could whisper her idea into the elderly hero’s ear.

She stood back up with a cheerful smile on her face. “I think that’s a lovely idea dear. Uraraka would you mind coming with us for a second? You as well Yaoyarozu.” The two girls were confused but complied, walking away with a doctor and a unicorn. No one knew what to expect next but when they did find out it would be a fun time to be certain. Especially for Izuku.

#My Hero Academia #It Took A Village #The Failed Raid #This one got away from me a bit #I regret nothing #A Gentle Recovery

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loz-maw-of-the-earth · 4 years ago

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Maw of the Earth: Prologue Part 6

Zelda promptly ushered Ganon into her area of the castle, where he deftly squeezed through the door and stood still for a moment, looking rather out of place. He was stooped quite a bit, his head nearly touching the ceiling. His eyes flitted about the room nervously, taking in all the detail and ornamentation.

“I, ah…” he mumbled. “This is… a lot…”

Zelda took off some of her gear, facing away from him. Her fists balled up in frustration.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have… I forced this on you.”

“N-No, Your Highness, I’m not upset...” he approached gingerly, acutely aware of how much space he took up. “I-I… it’s just… I placed you into a difficult situation…”

“As did I,” she replied. “I can tell you don’t want to be here.”

“I don’t want to be somewhere where I frighten people…” he looked about the room. “It’s just you and me in here… which is fine. Please, Princess, do not be upset.”

She sat on her bed, resting her head in her hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me… I keep making such rash decisions…”

“It is… a natural part of becoming a self-sufficient person,” Ganon replied, carefully drawing closer and taking a seat on the floor. “They will creep up on you, and in the heat of the moment, you will say or do something you will regret, because you don’t know better. Then… either you are paralyzed by the repercussions of that decision... or you move forward in spite of it. That is what I have learned, anyway.”

She simply nodded in response, lowering her hands.

“So, then…” he looked at her firmly. “I will leave this up to you, and give you time to decide… how do you wish to move forward?”

She took a breath, her shoulders heaving wearily as the stiffness in her back made itself known once more. “I… in truth, I never wanted to return in the first place. I feel… drawn beyond Lanayru’s borders. I hoped that… well, I wished to slay you to prove myself capable of venturing out there, but those plans changed… I hoped bringing you here would be proof that I could survive out there.”

Ganon simply nodded. “Then, perhaps you needn’t fret too much about my comfort… but rather, you should be more concerned with planning for such travels.”

“Impa said I couldn’t go out there alone, though…”

“I agree. I don’t think it wise, especially with your status.”

“That’s the same thing she said…” she sighed. “But I know that I’ll be coddled by anyone who traveled with me… I wouldn’t be able to do anything if I went out there. I want to just… be a normal individual in cities. Nobody recognizing me, no fanfare, nothing. But bringing someone along from Lanayru will immediately render that impossible; I’m certain of it.”

He glanced around the room as he thought on his reply. “If… If you wish, Princess… I could accompany you.”

She looked at him fretfully. “You would be willing to?”

“I would… and I would be perfectly willing to travel with you simply… no fanfare. Promise.” he sighed, scratching his chin. “I know how it feels to… have all eyes on you. I knew before I became this. It… isn’t fun.”

She smiled sadly. “I would love to have you accompany me. Only issue is convincing Impa…”

“I do have a question about that; if you are the Princess… with all due respect, shouldn’t she be answering to you?”

“She is the Regent; Functionally she acts as a monarch. I’m more of an accessory… though if she were to pass, that would make me queen.”

His brow furrowed. “Am I wrong to assume you have little in the way of autonomy here, then?”

“No, you’re not.” she tucked her knees against her chest. “I’m still treated like a child, despite having grown past that point years ago.”

“I’m certain your people have reasons for wanting to protect you, but… I am sure it wears on you. In that sense… I think it is natural for you to seek adventure.”

Zelda didn’t know if it was wise for her to tell him her desire to explore was more than simple wanderlust… She didn’t know if he would understand the nagging feeling that pulled her southward in the capacity that she did.

“I… would love to have you along, Ganon,” she replied simply.

He beamed, his sharp-fanged maw grinning happily. “I’d love to stretch my legs. I simply hope that I don’t limit you.”

She smiled back. “You won’t… now, about where you’ll stay in the meantime…”

“Does this castle have a loading dock? Stables, perhaps?”

“Ganon, you aren’t an animal.”

“I know, but I’m as big as one. I can grow smaller…” he demonstrated by shrinking down quite a bit, down to the size of a lapdog. “It isn’t comfortable, though. Quite like holding in a sneeze…” with that, he snapped back to his true size, careful to not hit anything on his way up.

She giggled. “That’s good to know… also rather adorable. But I’d rather you be comfortable… which I suppose necessitates a larger space, like you said…”

“So long as I am non-intrusive, I am comfortable with anything, Princess.”

She paused. “You… you know you may call me Zelda, yes?”

He nodded. “I was showing you respect… but if you wish, I will call you Zelda.”

“I much prefer it,” she answered. “I suppose there may be space by the loading docks… let’s go and find out.”

With that, she stood, moving to the door on the other side of the room. Ganon dutifully followed, keeping an eye on his surroundings as they wove through the castle corridors.

Soon, the pair came to a hallway lined with royal paintings- portraits of kings and queens, ancient and recent, lined their path.

Ganon, glancing at each of one, did a double-take at one in particular, stopping in his tracks. Zelda noticed him stop and hurried over to see what was wrong. His brow was furrowed and his mouth agape.

“Who… who is this?” he asked wearily, a shaky claw pointing at the painting.

Zelda looked at the painting, which depicted an ancestor of hers, seated with several officials from other countries. At her ancestor’s side was a Gerudo king, clad in the customary gold and jewels and shaking her ancestor’s hand.

“That’s King Mauricio, my… grandfather with many greats,” she replied. “I think the man next to him is…”

“Me,” Ganon replied quietly, a quaver in his breath. “That… that is me.”

#ganon #zelda #princess zelda #ganondorf #king ganondorf #prologue #zelgan #intro #the legend of zelda: Maw of the Earth #Maw of the Earth #LoZ: MotE #LoZMotE #lanayru #zelda AU #the legend of zelda

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endlessparadox07 · 5 years ago

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[ 極楽浄土 | Promised Paradise ]

Note: Before I properly and formally begin, I have to foremost apologize that of all entries that everyone fairly does for this voluntary week, I highly believed that this will be the only entry I can contribute for these guys. It’ll be an honor to be able to get my fellow worshipers of this ship’s attention since I have by no means feeling any confident with this work nor the things that follows till the end of this blog.

Moving forward to not get so overly dramatic with myself, and to give a head’s up with those who knew me through my IG account, I’ve already kind of introduced this one wayyy back and surprisingly my urge to get the story out goes down here!

Of course if any of you aren’t familiar about whatever have I been talking about, I’m willing to link my IG post of this before the summary so that I won’t be accused of using another content by which I’ve created myself. Anything that goes completely similar to this isn’t stolen from it as well since I’ve indirectly mentioned that this story is inspired from the title itself.

[ Instagram Post : https://www.instagram.com/p/B1CkxLWh_tZ/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link ]

Summary:

( Everything from this Story is completely fictional. Anything that it may seem connected to real life and/or to other stories have no relation to this work whatsoever since it is purely created out of the Creator/Writer’s imagination. You may proceed as you pleased. )

A Festival of Worship is held every year where the moon brims the brightest and at its fullest. In each year, one must and should always have a partner to celebrate this year with to represent the unconditional agreement of the Land and the Other World. In each year, I worry if I would once again be able to survive this year with a blessing or with a curse.

[ Warning? There’s a chance that you’d hunt me down. That’s just it. ]

Every year it had always been this way, every year I worry that I’m being all hopeful again and wished my nonexistent luck that maybe this time around I’d get the blessings that I’ve been craving for my entire life. Someone used to tell me that it’s even fine if I tried to push my luck and put faith in superstitious beliefs like these that always comes yearly.

And maybe it’s not only that but because I had finally managed to ask someone out to be my partner this year.

They’re just like me to begin with, a former abused orphan that everyone had loved to use as a scapegoat. It may have sound mean of me, and maybe it does, but I felt glad to have someone feel the same pain as I had always had.

It was only a matter of time for them to arrived, agreeing to meet up at the old shrine at the outskirt of town, far away from the temple where the festival is being held. I kind of wondered why here to begin with, but I’ve trusted that they’ll keep their word so I have been waiting with nothing but only the most casual clothing I can possibly find with so few to little of my belongings after I had been kicked out of the orphanage.

I had glanced over my watch for the hundredth time, reading it as 9:45 PM, almost two hours late of our meeting time. A chill ran up my spine as I began to worry and hoped that they must be looking for a mask or a yukata or kimono or something to be held this late.

“What’s taking them so long..?” I had uttered to myself unconsciously, hyper aware of how my surroundings slowly and creepily begin to feel as if I’m being watched by the creatures of the ‘other world’. The only thing that’s been providing warmth to me is this lantern I’ve been holding between my hands. To be a ‘Guide’ is what had I told them before we parted ways.

“They won’t be coming, I just saw them with someone else.”

Someone spoke from behind me, scaring the living light out of me. I had to scream but had it suddenly muffled by a cold hand that felt rough at the lower palm that leads to their wrist. Bandages? “Great Buddha, don’t shout! Are you trying to summon them and try to get your guiding light played with!?” the mysterious stranger lightly scolded me. I felt a whole lot of mix emotion, but all of it was muted down with the eyes that were behind the mask.

Chocolate Amber orbs dancing along with my lantern light as it perfectly illuminates every single edges this stranger had tried to hide with all of the garments and clothing they had on themselves. It only took me a matter of time to feel my face ablaze and had whispered an apology onto their palm.

The stranger had noticed that their hands remained on my mouth that they had to pull away with what sounded like an amused stifle. It had suddenly then registered to me the last of what this stranger spoke, had I then asked “What do you mean they won’t come?”

“Just as I had said,” the stranger spoke before settling down beside me by the stairway overlooking the festivities a bit father from my left, “That person you asked out to be your partner? They ditched you for someone else.”

Preposterous! They’re not that kind of person!

“As if you even knew them well to begin with, believing every word they say? They’re messing with you right from the start.” and as if reading my disbelief, the stranger hand pointed out the feeling I had when they had confronted me weeks before the festival. I felt completely abandoned and betrayed after the stranger hand rubbed rock salt over my already wounded stubbornness.

The nerve they also have to laugh at my predicament.

“Believe me! I feel bad enough for you, so don’t look at me like that!” the stranger spoke after a few second of their laughing fit. I even wanted to just abandon them as well as how I was abandoned but..

“.. Just leave alone. I’d rather get a whole year of misfortune than get humiliated and laughed at by some stranger that I have never met before.”

I had to curl in into myself as much as I could, placing the lantern in between me and that prick of a stranger. It’s hard not cry over something that had repeatedly happened to me, and it’s even more so shameful and embarrassing to do it with someone that acts completely like those jerks that had abused and used me for their own self pleasure.

As if there was a speck of kindness from this stranger’s heart, they moved to sit down facing me. They gently held my wrist and brought their lips on my back palm, “I’m sorry. That was really of rude of me.” they spoke while keeping their lips in contact with my hand.

I wanted to snatch my hand back and forcefully scream for the prick to go away, but maybe I was company deprived for so long that I could only look up at the other not minding my tear-stained face. It was funny that no matter how blurry my vision is, their eyes are still as captivating as I first thought it was.

But how did my lantern winded up in-between my feet?

“Oh sh-- I’m really sorry!” the stranger, which now I paid much more mind is a guy, panicked and as if produced a handkerchief from their sleeves. From a prick to a dotting mother hen? Just what kind of lunatic had I encountered this evening?

“I’ll tell you what! Since I’m already dressed like them, why not make me your partner?”

A crazy fellow.

“A-are you being serious?? You wore that for a reason! It’s like you’re doing--”

“I don’t have a partner.”

I was clammed shut with the intensity and void that the other possessed. It was as if he himself dressed that way wanting to fully get killed tonight. I wanted to still refuse, it was like taking away their wish but,

“If you’re still wary about this, it’s fine by me. I can just leave you alone here to them lurk in on you--”

“No! Wait!”

I held the sleeve of their hattori, blaming it completely for wanting to cling onto that spider’s thread.

“I’ll take you up on your offer!”

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“You’re crazy.”

“You’re all not the boss of me!”

“Listen for us for one single second here! There’s a high risk that you’ll fail this one this time and we can’t be there to help you!”

“But what’s the point of not trying if I can’t be with---”

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It feels even more joyous to be in the festival than watching it from afar. Both I and my ‘Other World’ Partner had already jumped from one booth to another, all in all had been this stranger’s treat.. considering of how considerably penniless I am right now. He said he didn’t mind, even went so far as to ‘generously’ offered to treat me into everything I want.

It was already embarrassing to have asked a total stranger to be my partner, and I had enough embarrassment to show to someone I might not be able to see again after this festival ends.

But I guess I can’t help getting a bit too appreciative to the offer.

“Share me some of your takoyaki too! You’ve been wasting my money senselessly!”

“Says the one who offered it generously ~”

I couldn’t help but tease, triumphant with what felt like the upper hand between us whilst wiggling one of the pluck up takoyaki from the box in mid-air before directing it over to my mouth.

Before it could even reach my lips, I felt the stranger’s hand held my wrist again rendering me frozen into place. He had leaned over and raised his mask,

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“...”

“.. I’m telling you ( ) It’s hopeless already. You can’t forced.. them.. to just come back and save your ass again.”

“( )’s right, just give it up already ...”

“I’d still do it, because I’m sure that..”

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Dangerously plucked the takoyaki ball off of the toothpick it was formerly pierced onto as slowly as I thought to be possible. Not only was their eyes a remarkable key point from this stranger’s unearthly beauty, but with the way their cupid’s bow curved just right along with his smooth and soft looking their lips were.

I must’ve gone out of my mind to think and feel this enthrall over a guy, and stranger at booth. Another second had passed before he pulled away and commented something my ears didn’t managed to catch up with all of the blood rushing up and fro from it.

It was only when the stranger snapped their fingers in front of my face when they pointed out, “The dance is about to begin! Are you just going to stand there and let my well-spent money get wasted?”

I had to shake my head off of whatever lane it gone into before I stuffed my mouth with what was left from the takoyaki, chewed as fast as I could before disposing the box and dragging the stranger with me to the eye of the festivity-- only to be stopped by them.

“Easy now, tiger! Let me lead the way!”

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“.. I’m sorry, ( )..”

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The stranger dragged me away from the festival all the way back from where we first met. The music for the Worship had started the moment we reached the top and without catch our breaths, the stranger held out their hand for me to take.

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“What do you mean you’re ‘sorry’?”

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We were both clumsy at first not knowing which roles should the other take until we settled down with him taking the lead, which is logically incorrect since leading the dance meant you’re worshiping your partner.

Or so it says with the tradition.

Or was I even remembering it right?

“Should I tell you a little secret, Mr Guide?”

The stranger whispered into my ear before we gave one another a twirl, he had completely settled down into our code names “Mr Guide” and “Mr Youkai”.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this right from the very first time I met you..” he began and paused as if giving me a time and approval from something, “.. Why is a Youkai like you acting like a guide?”

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #literary stray dogs #bungou stray dogs fanart #literary stray fanart #bungo stray dogs fanart #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #nakajima atsushi #atsushi nakajima #dazai x atsushi #dazatsu #dazushi #dazatsuhalloween #dazatsuhalloween day 4 #late post though #bring me my sleep back dazatsu/dazushi #remind me why am I going lengths for these idiots?

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smitten-miqitten · 5 years ago

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The Begrudging Misadventures of Era Hess and an Arrogant Ascian Ghost, Chapter 2: Reprise

Ao3 link here

……………………………………………….

“You think I haven’t tried? That I’ve been wandering this city to sightsee?! I cannot even remember the majority of my current life, as you well know. If I’m to do this myself, might you have a suggestion or two as to how, if you’re insistent on dogging my footsteps?!” He was right, it was her problem to solve, not his. But Era had already done all she could think of. She had nothing to go off of, no place to start. It was infuriating, to put it mildly.

Hades made to start at her, clearly about to say something unkind, if the look on his face was anything to go by, but was interrupted by the arrival of another

[Perhaps I may be of help?], Said a kindly shade, speaking the Amaurotine tongue.

“Hythlodaeus”, Era said softly, more surprised than anything else. “I thought you’d vanished for good. I’d been looking for you”.

[Alas, dear friend, my capacity to assist you is as limited as my existence. However, with your companion present I can extert myself far more]. He chuckled in his odd Amaurotine way at both hers and Hades’ shock.

[Yes, I can see your current ghostly companion. Mayhap he is stronger than the last, or perhaps it is due to his having created this iteration of me] Hythlodaeus turned to address Hades. [I see you’ve not lost your barbed tongue, friend. You truly needn’t berate her so. It’s always been an unbecoming habit of yours, I must say]

“Bah, I will not be scolded by a shade of my own creation”, Hades muttered in an almost petulant manner, which forced Era to hold back a snicker.

[Might I suggest immersion, as a means to spark her memory?] Hythlodaeus held out a small bundle, a mask and a robe identical to his own but fitted to one of Era’s stature.

“The robe! The one the attendant at the hall of creation told me to make, before realizing I had no capacity for it.”, she exclaimed, reaching for the bundle. She had actually been a bit dismayed that she wasn’t able to make it, not because it looked particularly fashionable, but because the odd looks her normal attire garnered were becoming tiresome. “Thank you”.

“How odd they even bothered to have you make it at all. You were never actually meant to wear them, the Lightwarden you were supposed to be would have no need of them, though you stubbornly mucked up that plan didn’t you?” Hades said, foul mood starting to lighten somewhat.

It seemed to Era that his moods shifted with little rhyme or reason, and lingered for longer than they ought to. It was nostalgic, somehow. Find a way to shift the topic without being overt, and his mood will change accordingly, she thought, feeling as if she had employed this tactic many a time before.

[Perhaps you had more faith in her than you realized] Hythlodaeus said sagely. Looking back down at Era, he continued, [I propose that you wear these items as you make your way through the city. Emet-Selch and I will accompany you, and solely speak our tongue. Try and locate your favorite spot. Do not consider it overmuch, but rather let your feet guide you].

“No need for that, I think. We’re already there”, Hades murmured, returning his gaze to the garden before him. It was full of just about every kind of flower one could imagine; his eyes locked on a particular kind of light purple flower.

The garden itself was not overly large, and was hidden from view of the street by surrounding buildings. They had followed a cobblestone path to reach it, unusual in its own right. The garden was on a balcony of sorts, and so overlooked the vast dark depths the various skyscrapers descended into. Several benches were scattered throughout, but there were no statues like were in the Academy. It was being tended to by none other than a shadowy Nu Mou.

Era had finished putting the outfit on, finding the mask uncomfortable. The robe had no place for her ears or tail, and so sat oddly on her frame. Hythlodaeus started to apologize and offered to fix it, but Era declined. The purpose of the garment was to not stand out and distract others from their creations. Ears and a tail would certainly do so.

Era followed Hades’ gaze, and found she could not look away from the Nu Mou that was watering the purple flowers.

[… isn’t it simply adorable?!], a distant voice called out in her mind, causing her head to ache.

She shook her head of the voice and turned her attention to the flowers the Nu Mou was watering. “Lavender”.

[Your favorite, yes? It always is], Hades began, forgetting for a moment his declaration that he would tell her nothing of herself. [Each and every iteration I have encountered has professed the same affection for the color].

“Each iteration?”

Hades paused, realizing now that he had broken his own word but, after a second or two decided to humor the question. [Yes. I have met many, many reincarnations of you, most from the source. Quite a few have been warriors such as yourself, ignorantly opposing us at every turn. Others were unremarkable, leading perfectly ordinary dull lives doing nothing of note. One in particular….oh, I’d say from the first or second astral era… was a noblewoman who was insistent that her clothing be lavender or lilac. Frugal in all other respects, she was adamant on this one point. She was the first fragment of you I can remember meeting]

His words were harsh, but he spoke of this fragment with an odd fondness that did not match. [She cannot have been rejoined but once or twice by then. She posessed many of your traits, the stubbornness, the insatiable will to help others, the great love she bore for those around her… all qualities lessened in comparison to to the original, of course. Well, except for the love. When she was with the children it was almost as if she were whole again]. Hades’ eyes were distant, shrouded in nostalgia. But there was something in the way he said this that rubbed Era the wrong way…

“The children?” She asked, dreading the response.

He sported a devious grin. [ She was a noblewoman after all, most useful for getting a foothold with which to start an empire. Not to mention she was a fragment of you; I very much wanted to see if my presence would serve to jog her memory. So I took her as my wife.]

That was not the response Era had wanted in the slightest. In fact, she felt rather nauseous. While she bore a great deal of affection not entirely her own for the man, it most certainly did not extend to the romantic. If the original had felt that way for him, it was a quality Era did not share.

This much must have shown on what little of her face was visible, as Hades frowned, annoyed. “No need to be rude”, he chastised, accidentally slipping back into Common tongue. “Twas an experiment, nothing more. One which did not bear fruit, mind. She remembered nothing. Absolutely nothing. What’s more, she lost her affection for me quickly after the children came, seeing that I bore no love for them. Called me heartless, and a liar, and would not suffer my company a moment longer than necessary. Fitting then, that she outlived the majority, stuck with me til the end”. His tone had turned spiteful, but there was a note of hurt underneath.

It was a reoccurring pattern, Era had come to notice. Whenever he spoke of her original, there was always a conflicting mixture of adoration and loathing she couldn’t quite wrap her head around. How can you both love and despise someone? Shouldn’t it be one or the other?

“I’m sorry she treated you that way. Though I imagine your own behavior played no small part.” Era scolded, doubting very much that he was the sole victim of the arrangement. How must that iteration have felt, to see behind the mask someone entirely different from who she thought she married? To realize that, if he could not love their children, that he likely did not truly love her either?

“Tell me, while you’re so chatty, why there is a Nu Mou here? I didn’t think them as old as Amaurot”. Walking over to it, she reached out to touch the creature, freezing as pain lanced through her skull.

…………………………….

[This is the concept you’ve been holed up in this room perfecting? With all the responsibilities you have as a member of the convocation, I would have thought your time too precious to spend creating helpers], The voice of Hades spoke, coming from a tall figure cloaked in the same robes Era saw on the Amaurotines of the illusory city. He wore the same red mask as the eldritch form she had bested in the Dying Gasp, some locks of white and brown peeking over the top. [Have you even seen sunlight in these past days?]

[Why of course! There are windows here, are there not]? Era, but not Era, replied in a tongue she did not speak. Looking at the window in question, she saw a reflection of an Amarotine woman. She wore a plain white mask no different from the others Era had seen, with tanned skin the same shade as her own and a mess of disheveled white hair peeking out over the mask. Her hood was down, perhaps because there was no one to distract save Hades in the room, and he had only just entered. [Lest you forget, my specialty, in which I gained the recognition that earned me my seat, is creating beings to fill unoccupied niches. What better, for a member of an organization devoted to bettering our society, to create than a being who’s sole purpose is to help people? This is not to be some soulless automata, to answer its master’s every beck and call. No, this being will posses the ability of discernment, and the knowledge of fairness. It will instinctively demand equal payment for services rendered, with the ability to refuse services and the power to leave any situation in which it receives inequitable treatment!] Era but not Era exclaimed, excited at the prospect beyond reason.

The figure of Hades smiled fondly at this display of enthusiasm. [And in what way is your concept better than a ‘soulless automata’? Would a being that can do only as it is told not be of far greater use?] he asked, his only interest being to prompt more of her raving. He already knew he was bound to agree with whatever answer she gave.

[Ah, but that is the problem! All these concepts the others have been submitting are of perfect unquestioning beings, like to us in image. No will of their own by design. But what, do you suppose, will come of that? Those helpers, never argumentative, never troublesome, would become the apple of their masters’ eye. Their owner’s fondness would grow, and they would inevitably begin to project, imagining positive traits in these automata that they do not actually possess. With our magics being as they are, this projection would eventually make itself manifest, imbuing the automata with a personality of its own. And thoughts. All of which it was never designed to have nor handle. Inevitably these enlightened few would realize the unfairness of their lot, and rise against their masters. And so we would regrettably be forced to put them down]. She paused for breath, having said her piece in a rather manic manner. Smirking, she continued, [My concept would have no such issues, equipped from the start to deal with such things. Driven by an innate desire to help, they would offer their services, and by a selfsame desire to be fairly compensated demand payment. No request would be so outlandish or cruel as to drive them to uprising!]

[How then, does this drive to help manifest itself? Duty? A desire for honor, perhaps?] Hades proposed, sensing she had not defined that part clearly enough. Of the two, he was the more pragmatic, far better at understanding what makes people tick. Something so vaguely defined as a ‘desire to help’ would not suffice. A concept such as duty or honor, however, had driven many a person.

[Honor…yes, that would be just the thing, wouldn’t it?! You always know how to fill in the gaps in my thinking, Hades. Whatever would I do without you?] She grasped his arm, drawing him to where she had the notes for her concept laid out. [Come, help me create it. You know the concept well enough].

[But it is your concept. It will not be exactly as you intend if I create it with you, even if I am familiar with the idea.] Hades protested, knowing she would not accept his refusal.

[Isn’t that half the fun? I find perfect beings to be terribly dull.]

She closed her eyes and began to focus her aether, already knowing he would follow suit. Together they channeled their combined energies into the creation of one, singular idea. As their power burst forth, a small being came into existence.

[It’s far smaller than it ought to be. You tried to make it cute, didn’t you?] Hades teased. The doglike creature was far, far too small to be of much use to the comparatively giant Amaurotines.

[Yes, well, I don’t recall the original concept having my skintone, nor a mess of hair] She shot back, grinning. A great member of the convocation, neigh unparalleled in skill, had been distracted by her lack of a hood.

[I suppose if these are to be our great assistants, we will need to try again] Hades muttered, inspecting the creature that was staring back at him with curiosity in its eyes.

[I think I shall keep this one for myself. Perhaps he would like to help me water my garden when I inevitably forget] Era but not Era said, patting its tiny head. [What shall we call them?]

…………………………….

“Nu Mou”, groaned Era, emerging from the memory. “I…We made the Nu Mou”. She choked out, before collapsing to her knees. Looking over at Hades with her blurred vision, she saw on his face a look she had never thought to see the man wear.

Joy.

………………………………………………………….

*sometime midway through the 2nd astral era*

They were holed up in a small, stone cottage, huddled near the fireplace as snow and wind buffeted the walls outside. His wife, as she was begrudgingly called, was sitting in the armchair nearest the fire, bundled in blankets. She had been unwell for some time, susceptible as she was to illness in her advanced age. He had considered using these illnesses as an excuse to be rid of her, flawed, spiteful insult to his friend’s memory that she was. A wife passing at a carefully planned moment could garner pity and support when such things could prove beneficial to his cause. He could never bring himself to do it, however. It was still Her, even as a shallow echo. He listened to yet another one of her coughing fits from across the room, for they rarely could tolerate one another enough to be closer. When it had ceased, she spoke, the first time in ages she had words for him.

“Darling”, she said, no affection behind the word.

“Hm”? He took a seat opposite her, the process taking some time due to his own aged body. Hopefully he would not need to use it too terribly much longer.

Looking at her now, properly in what seemed like months, he saw with some surprise that her time was incredibly short.

“I have borne your secrecy for as long as we have known one another, and kept my peace. Might I ask… *cough cough* …might I ask that you indulge me one question?”

When he did not protest, she continued, “Who is it you were hoping to see whenever you beheld me? Tis apparent that you did not find them.”

He did not respond right away, mulling over the risks, but ultimately deciding there was no harm now, at death’s door as she was.

“I had hoped to see the person you’re meant to be. Alas, you have fallen quite short, though tis through no fault of your own”.

“How lofty your expectations then, of a woman who has done naught but stay dutifully at your side all these years.” She let out a small mirthless chuckle, ending in yet another fit of coughs.“We two never could seem to do right by one another. I pray in the next life we will do better”. With that, she started to stand, straining her body quite beyond its limits.

“Whatever are you doing? You should not be up, ill as you are”, he said with a note of concern that surprised them both.

“I am at my last, and I will not suffer your mockery of my weakness in these final moments”. Standing fully, she made to leave the room but her legs failed her. He caught her as she collapsed, her frail body featherlight.

Disunited though they were and disappointment though she was, he felt a sudden panic at his oncoming loss. Though he could not stand the shadowed existence she led, with her gone he would truly be alone in this world of echoes.

Drawing her close, holding her as gently as he could, he said in a voice so low only she could hear, “There is nothing to mock, my friend”.

She let out a ragged sigh, clutching at his coat as she expired, her soul being torn from him, drawn into the cold clutches of the aetherial sea.

#shadowbringers spoilers #shb spoilers #5.0 spoilers #my self indulgent minifics #era hess #emet selch #hythlodaeus #The last bit is not shippy #Though perhaps ship adjacent #I think a friendship like theirs is a bit more complicated than that

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introvert-dragon · 6 years ago

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Misplaced

FF.net | Ao3

A bread-making Viking AU that's been sitting in my docs. You've been warned.

The Fearless Tribe was having a chaotic yet merry celebration; it was chaotic as they were Vikings, and merry as the whole tribe was having a huge feast in the mead hall for an announcement of a grand alliance coming soon.

Though the same couldn't be said for a certain clanless not-so-Viking named Hiccup Horrendous.

Instead of being gloriously drunk on mead like a normal Viking, Hiccup was baking — like he always did his whole life and all he was going to amount to. Baking. Hiccup only knew how to bake, while other Vikings lived their lives constantly seeking and fighting for glory and honor—rightfully fighting for their place among the Gods in Valhalla.

A place Hiccup had no business with—after all, he was a mere bread-making Viking.

Speaking of bread-making, the honey-glazed bread the Larson family ordered was now ruined. He wasn't paying attention and now there was too much water on it. He tried tasting it hoping that he could still somehow manage to remedy it. But it tasted too salty, its texture too clammy—not with water... but with tears that dripped from his eyes that he didn't notice.

"Dammit all!" Hiccup cursed, as he frustratingly tried to rub the tears flowing on his face with his apron, only to smudge his face with flour and egg whites. When did things all go wrong? Not just about this stupid bread. His whole life as Hiccup—as a hiccup—from the moment he was born up to now.

It all began with a misplaced courage; he perfectly knew it was not his place but still he dared to ask.

("Astrid Hofferson, the slayer of the Fligthmare, heiress to the Fearless tribe, and the most beautiful and stunning Valkyrie in all Midgard, will you honor me by being my partner for the Midsummer Festival–")

She said yes. Yes.

Hiccup couldn't believe it. He was a mere bread-making Viking, and by status alone; his stupid deeds could cost him his own head. Many in the tribe believe his actions to be an act of dishonor to Astrid – he agreed with them.

Hiccup was the son of late Valka, the crazy dragon pacifist. His mother and he were not true members of the Fearless tribe. The known story was, Valka was found unconscious and near dead on the shores of Fearless Island—she was pregnant then. Ever since, they were permitted by Hofferson clan, the leading household, to live in the island. They were lucky that the Hoffersons were honorable Vikings, they took them under their protection, gave them an unoccupied shelter which was owned by a Flandre, a baker, who had been declared missing, and had no relatives to inherit his property.

Nobody questioned the decision of the Hoffersons, but they weren't fully embraced and honored or treated as equals by most of the tribe folks either. Hiccup and Valka were clanless. Nobody knew of their origins, and the whole story—not even him (Hiccup suspected that Brunhilda Hofferson, the current chieftess knew, or recognized his mother, but kept her mind.) It didn't help that many thought that Valka died like a coward, simply because of her refusal to carry a weapon against dragons.

So Hiccup was an orphan and a low status, clanless bread-making Viking.

But none of that mattered to Astrid Hofferson—after all, she agreed to be his partner for the Midsummer Festival.

That night was Hiccup's most treasured memory.

Falling in love with Astrid Hofferson; then actually asking her to be his midsummer dance partner to secretly dating her for two years. Foolishly believing—clinging to all their stupid promise of freely living their life together. Not like they had any chance of having a life together, to begin with—because all those times, deep down, Hiccup always knew this was bound to happen eventually. She was the heir to the Fearless tribe; a Viking of high birth. And what was he? The son of a deceased village pariah Valka, the dragon pacifist.

If only he had a father—or at the very least knew his father—then things would be different for him. But then, his Viking-like father would probably want an extra large Vikings with beefy arms and extra glory on the side. Even if Hiccup had been born to another tribe, what tribe would want a toothpick anyway? Hairy Hooligans? Judging by the name of their Chief Stock the Vast he doubted that—

The creaking sound of the wooden door interrupted his train of thought.

"Hiccup?" It was Astrid's voice.

"What do you want!" He tried to sound cold but hearing her voice made only made his voice cracked more.

"Hiccup I-I..."

"It's fine, Astrid."—It was not—"I understand. It was foolish of me to believe in you... to believe in us."

"You don't understand—"

"No, you don't understand! Everything was a mistake! Like me! I shouldn't have deluded myself with hopes and dream that things would be different!"

"It was different!"

"Oh really!? How was it different? How are you any different- "

"And what would you have me do? You know that I don't want this any more than you do, Hiccup! I loved you! I still do—"

"No, you don't. I loved you... I risked and wasted everything I had to be with you... Time, energy, gold..."

"Really Hiccup gold!? That's what you call love—For gold!?"

"Yes! Gold, silver, bronze, sheep, money—where do you think I got all those fancy gifts from."

"I..." she faltered, taking a deep breath. "I thought you made them for me... I wouldn't have accepted them if I knew!"

"Yes I made them for you... I'm a baker. Where do you think I get all those materials for the crafts!" Hiccup sneered. "Oh right, not everyone's a chief's daughter with all the resource on the island not worrying about having them."

"I can pay you back!"

"Really Astrid, Pay me back?" Hiccup said, "Keep it! I don't need your money! I should have stuck to my original plan... Save enough coins for me... Maybe one day have enough coins to leave this goddamn island where my mom and I never belonged, and embarks on an adventure, journey for myself... follow my dreams..." Hiccup didn't even feel like being angry anymore, he just felt tired... and empty. He unconsciously clutched the Horn Necklace his mother had given him. His only living memory of her.

When he was a boy, his mother always told him stories about the idea of possible peace between human and dragon. His mother always told him that when he was still inside his mother's belly, A stormcutter nuzzled her belly and looked at her in the eyes. It was the proof of everything his mother believed in. So she left her birth island in search of a plane outside the archipelago where she was hoping she could find a place where dragons and humans coexist. But then he was born too early and she was forced to settle down here in Fearless Island.

Growing up, Hiccup shared the same dream as his mother; until he had a misplaced courage asked Astrid to be his Midsummer Partner. She became his new dream—and it was just a dream.

"I sacrificed everything for you. That's love... and really I loved you—so don't you dare tell me you love me cause you don't!" Astrid was rendered silent, but he was not done yet. "Do you even see yourself right now... The pity in your eyes. The same eyes the whole tribe looked at me—and now you're looking at me all the same as everyone goddamn Viking in this village. I don't need your pity!"

Hiccup turned away, his back facing her, his eyes shut tightly in fear that if he looked straight into her eyes he would die. "If you don't have any business with me... Please leave... I have a whole lot of bread making to do... Probably for the rest of my miserable life."

"Hiccup... just let me talk-"

"Please... don't make this any harder-"

"No, I won't leave. Not until you look at me, Hiccup. Look at me straight in the eyes. Tell me that you really want me to leave. And I will leave."

He was determined to show her that he was perfectly capable of saying it to her face—spitting it at her face. He wanted to appear perfectly calm, collected, cold, maintained, emotionless...—that he wanted to tell her to leave. But the moment he turned to face her, he was met with a fierce and determined gaze that reminded him of the girl who was supposed to be out of his reach.

Astrid closed the distance between them. She grabbed him by apron roughly, forcing him to look at her in the eyes, challenging him to make her leave. "Say it."

He wanted to say a thousand things but none of it would change anything anyway. Instead, he looked at her right into the eye, trying to collect his voice, and immediately failing when he couldn't maintain his gaze.

He couldn't do it. He didn't want her to leave. He doesn't want her to leave.

When he tried to look away, Astrid let go of her hold on his apron, grabbed his face with both her hands, forcing him to look at her.

Then she was kissing him—not the usual gentle, warm, and relaxed kiss, but rough and hard and rushed as much as it was passionate.

"Say it."

He couldn't.

"I knew you wouldn't say it," Astrid muttered into her mouth, then was she pushing him until he was almost leaning on the counter. "I knew you can't—"

He took her by surprise while she was talking by grabbing her shoulders firmly and gracelessly shoving her beneath him, effectively flipping their positions. Placing his arms on either side of her, he pins her body under him. Just as he leans down to capture her mouth, he suddenly froze—

He couldn't do this to her. She was supposed to be betrothed—she already belongs to someone else.

"What are you hesitating for?" Astrid asked, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

Maybe, just for tonight; for one last time...

I've been told I made a lot of grammar anomalies, but I prefer to call them stylistic errors. I hope you didn't mind :)

#httyd #httyd fanfiction #httyd fanfic #hiccstrid #httyd fic #my writing

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emmybluefire · 7 years ago

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Heroes, Power-playing, and Villians

First off: I want to apologize sincerely for the lack of RP related posts of late. I haven’t been on much due to the holiday season hitting my store hard, and overall I’ve been struggling to find my creativity. As well as my motivation.

But enough of that.

Second off: This post may wind up being rather long (My rambles typically do) so I’m just going to put a text break riiiiiiight here. XD

ALRIGHT! SO!

I’ve been scrolling through some of your guys’ pages quite a bit recently, and came across a rather interesting discussion on @thalsianiii ‘s page.

(http://thalsianiii.tumblr.com/post/167725376592/psa For quick access)

Simply put, a Villian is a villian. They are written as antagonists and will be antagonistic! Don’t expect them to be nice to your character, and don’t treat them like a punching bag. If they’re a powerful character, don’t expect them to be easy to take down if your character pisses them off. And remember, that just because the character is a villian, you have NO RIGHT to kill them without consent. That is somebody else’s creation you’d be destroying if you did.

I agree with ALL of this. I truly do. So... enough said right? Well. No. I’m here today to talk about a little more than that. In reading this... one line stuck out to me.

“Just because your character is sassy and spunky, doesn’t automatically give them the right to try and be disrespectful to someone who is most likely superior to them.”

Now this... well, it got me thinking.

“What if my good character is powerful?”

Now, In the context of the line this question seems to have no point. If you’re RPing a powerful “good” character, you still don’t have the right to treat a villian with disrespect for no particular reason. That was the point of the statement. However... my mind works in very disjointed and unorthodox ways.

What was actually going through my head was this:

“Why is it socially acceptable for a villian to be powerful, but not a hero?”

The reason being: Emmy, Me... I was a guard for the longest time. And Emmy; as a blue dragon mage--who declined archmagedom--has always been a powerful character at her core. Always.

She’s capable of altering the flow of gravity, creating tiny black holes, and just straight up changing the laws of physics for a short time. She’s an intelligent, knowledgeable, teacher who has preformed feats such as creating pocket dimensions and utterly de-atomizing demons.

However... despite all of this, she’s set personal limits for herself. She knows that breaking the laws of reality has some dire consequences. Civil and physical ones, not just on her, but the environment around her. She hates hurting people, and Titans forbid she kills them. And hence, she almost never does any of the things she’s more than capable of doing. She prefers to outwit her opponents in most situations. Confusing them enough to render them mentally incapacitated, or straight up fooled into thinking she’s someone else. And if she has to use magic, she keeps it at a minimum. Applying simple spells intelligently to get the maximum effect out of minimal power. Your target is running away? Conjure arcane bonds around their feet. Make them trip. Two worgen are in a fight that’s endangering civilians? A simple arcane blast to the back of the neck should do the trick. (typically knocks them out) And when she does cast spells, I often emote them in such a way that people have a chance to interrupt her before she pops it off.

But even doing that , I was continuously reeed at for god-modding, and power-playing. Why? Really... Asking around? I was never able to get a straight answer. And I was often left confused because... the people yelling at me? They were perfectly fine with the antagonistic character being uber powerful. Or they were the uber powerful antagonistic character. And when I tried to stand up for myself? I was often shot down. Not just by those involved, but by my fellow guild members as well.

So... slowly but surely, I came to the conclusion that villians are the only people allowed to be powerful. And I was just supposed to stick with being a grunt.

“But why?” I often asked myself.

Why was it okay for a villian to be powerful, but not me? Well... in truth. Thinking about it now... there may have been a few subtle reasons. Villians are supposed to be big, scary threats. That’s what makes them intimidating. A seemingly unstoppable force a hero has to overcome. You see it all the time in films, books, and video-games. Taking on the villian 1v1 is suicide. S/he can only be defeated by putting them under certain conditions.

(Spoiler alert: Thor Ragnarok )

Even in Thor Ragnarok: Where the hero’s were so overpowered they were almost marry sues, this was the case. Hela, goddess of death, was the very definition of unstoppable. Alone she annihilated an Asgardian army, survived getting stabbed from behind straight through the abdomen, shot at by heavy-duty gunships (destroying them in the process), the “Biggest lightning blast in the history of lightning blasts!”, raised the dead, and nearly destroyed a massive fucking space ship. And yet... Thor and Loki discovered exactly how to beat her. By summoning Serter, and forcing Ragnarok to come to pass.

(End Spoiler )

That’s how it’s always been with villians. So by introducing a hero who’s evenly matched with the villian? Well... despite this being more realistic, it breaks ALL KINDS of common norms. And that get’s even worse when you introduce a hero who’s just straight up more powerful than the villian.

But the thing is... in a universe like WoW’s , where magic exists and certain people are jus- more attuned to it than others, or have practiced it for much longer? You’re GOING to have characters that are just simply more powerful than others! It’s just a fact. Be they hero or villian, it will happen!

So... at the end of the day. What I suppose I’m trying to say is: communicate with your antagonists. Give them the basics of what they’ll be getting into. And be “realistic” (Hard to apply that term to magic... but I’m sure you an deduce what I mean.) with your posts. And always remember the golden rule: Don’t do ANYTHING that removes control from another player’s character, without their OOC consent! That is all. c:

To those of you who got through this entire thing: Jesus fuck you’re a trooper! XD, and thank you SO much for reading! I love all of you! And please, have a good day or night. Wherever you are. :)

#writing #rp #roleplay #villian #hero #power gameing #discussion #wow #world of warcraft #wra #wyrmrest accord #ooc

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sibyl-of-space · 4 years ago

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Is it a thing where if one hypothetically has ADHD, and that person hypothetically also has some sort of unrelated treatable medical condition that needs their attention, that “hyperfocus” can manifest as obsessively being unable to focus on or Do Anything that isn’t making sure that Thing is being treated as perfectly as possible?

Asking for a friend who is me.

[this is rhetorical i do not expect my followers to be mental health professionals FOR THE RECORd]

This is very far from the first time I’ve noticed this kind of behavior in myself, and well okay it’s nowhere near as bad as my poor sister who has severe anxiety and a history with bedbugs, but. I’m not diagnosed for ADHD, I have actually been trying to get myself to make the first step toward talking to a mental health professional for like three fucking years now, I AM GETTING REALLY CLOSE I’VE ALMOST TALKED MYSELF INTO IT AND ANYWAY. That aside. Like any time I get a tattoo, the next month of my life is on hold while every second I am conscious of exactly how much fabric of my clothing is potentially rubbing off on it, exactly how much I am stretching it... I know this is normal to an extent but I mean I literally refuse to live my life until it’s fully healed (which is great for the tattoo honestly but).

Anyway, to bring the rambling to the topic at hand, my roommate’s cat they adopted about a month ago has ringworm, they found out from a vet b/c the shelter was like “oh it’s just scabs!” so by the time we knew we’d had the cat for a week and had been snuggling very openly. Then it was about another week before I noticed symptoms on myself, and now I am in an aggressive battle with ringworm, and well I literally cannot focus on a single other thing that isn’t ringworm.

Like, I got off work 3 hours ago, I’ve done my laundry (have to do it daily to clean my sheets, that much isn’t mental health it’s like medical professional advice), and I have been sitting in my chair not doing anything else because if I were to do anything else I would be concerned about how much my clothes are rubbing off the ointment I put on. And the ointment directions just say to apply twice a day, morning and night. They don’t say how long to leave it before it can be covered, or whether putting clothes on right away after will render it useless, or whether it should be covered with a band-aid. For 3 days straight I did band-aids but then I changed them so obsessively that I got rashes AROUND MY RINGWORM RASHES that are just band-aid scars. So now I’ve stopped the band-aids, which means I put the ointment on and then just put loose clothes on over it, but that means the clothes are going to rub off the ointment, so I have been sitting here doing nothing to minimize the rub-off-ness. It’s a 3 day weekend and thus far my plans are to wake up and apply ointment and then [...] and then shower and apply ointment again and do laundry and vacuum.

(This is especially taxing considering usually I do laundry about once a month if I can get away with it and well honestly showering every other day is on a good hygiene week.)

I can’t think or plan for anything because my brain is like “no, I’m busy” but by “busy” I just mean “preoccupied with getting rid of my ringworm”. But this shit literally takes weeks to heal. I have essentially shut off my ability to live my life for like 2-4 weeks until I’ve taken care of this. It’s literally all I have the energy to focus on, but let me tell you, it’s a lot less fun focusing on Not Moving So My Ointment Does Its Best as opposed to bingeing 3239820984 episodes of Naruto or whatever.

I think I will go back to bingeing the Pokemon dub tho, unrelated to all this I have been doing that and it is great. It’s a lot harder to get into because I am so just fundamentally preoccupied right now but that’s okay our courage will pull us through.

...not to derail my being derailed but this might actually be good for me, my wrists are getting a forced break from speedrunning because there is no way i can focus on a 6+ hour run when i am too busy being anxious about a very minor very treatable skin condition

#brain stuff #health stuff #personal

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5hfanfiction · 7 years ago

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Parting Shot Episode 3: Metathesiophobia

Lauren

Camila thought about love far more than I did. I wondered why constantly, chocking her curiosity up whatever demons she continued to shoulder from the story she left behind a year and a half ago. The growth we had undergone over that year was all that truly mattered to me; the foundation of our relationship was rock steady as always.

Our final school year together was to begin on the back end of the two day weekend. Foxcastle High was a russet coloured building that sat square in the centre of town, seemingly to keep all adult eyes focused on the raging hormones that could so easily fly out of hand. Our mascot, the Foxcastle Vulpine was equally as uninteresting as the dreary high school, typically a upper year student stuffed in a sweaty costume the reeked of weed. It still hadn’t occurred to me the repercussions of a senior year, speaking both in terms of views to the future, and emotional ups and downs.

After a quick stop at the local grocery store, I stood by and watched as the resident bag boy and football quarterback of our graduating class performed his periodic flirtation with Camila. He wasn’t a bad kid, standing at a towering height when compared to the petite Latina and boasting a firm muscle-lined torso. “Hi Camila.” He accepted the carton of brown eggs and jug of fresh orange juice I had chosen from the shelves.

“Shawn.” Camila acknowledged kindly. “Busy day?”

“More or less.” Shawn Mendes nodded, running his fingers up through his short hair. “Weekends are always a little more chaotic than my after school days. Dad typically has me doing inventory on those days, you know… lifting heavy stuff.”

I folded my arms, stepping back and trying to mask the amusement on my face. Boys flirted with Camila every chance they got, yet she had never seemed to give a single one a second glance. Shawn, our only exception happened to be the worst at it, stumbling over his words and scrambling nearly every thought before it spilt from his lips. Camila - boy magnet - Cabello was a mystery to me, yet a shining image of wife-worthy perfection in the eyes of everyone else.

“Impressive.” Camila handed him the green credit card I had subtly slipped to her mid-conversation, letting the boy swipe, tap in a few numbers and hand it back.

“So you are you guys ready for school to start again?” Shawn asked, bringing up a perfectly rectangular shaped paper bag and setting the carton of eggs snug at the bottom. “Man, I personally can’t wait. The last year of varsity football, I’m going to get captain’s spot, nab a scholarship, and get into the top schools of the country. I guess I would jump through any kind of hoop to get my ass out of this town… do you know what you’re going to do Camila?”

I tilted my head to the side, remaining silent and satisfied as Shawn continued on blind to my presence. I had no intention of informing him of the list of football neanderthals who were destined for varsity in the upcoming year, especially with the knowledge that his name was no less than first on the list.

“No idea.” The brunette replied, turning back to look at me. I remained emotionless, indifferent to the conversation that unfolded before me. “Lauren and I just take it one day at a time. I know we’ll figure it out before the end though.”

Pulling ourselves away from the hormone-crazed small talk, I gently slid the handle of our bagged items over the bars of my bike, standing it at attention as Camila filed out of the store. She seemed dazed, meandering back to the bikes with her shoulder-bag bumping against her thigh. Whatever was going on in Camila’s head when we had departed from the library remained, and I was determined to dig to the root of it.

“He hasn’t changed much over the summer.” I commented loosely, unlocking the U-shaped confines that kept it secured to the racks.

“He makes me shiver.” Camila replied, doing the same.

“In a good way?”

“Not good nor bad.” She replied, making eye contact with me before slipping the lock into her bag. “Can we pick up something for dinner on the way home?”

“County Down?”

Camila’s lips curled into true smile, two white earbuds tucking into her ears before she hopped into her bike and sped off down the road. Spending the entire day walled up in an old library may not have been the most healthy way to spend a beautifully sunny Saturday, but the energy that radiated from my brown-haired Disney princess was constantly unrivalled. I jumped onto my own bike and followed, traversing the glowing orange town to retrieve dinner.

County Down was a small fish and chip store located by the docks. Alfred “Al” Raylette was the longtime family owner, having taken over the business from his own father, and ready to pass it on to his lacking teenager of a son. Despite the inconvenient location and somewhat overpriced meals, the food was perfect after a day of extensive work. Camila and I would watch the sun set behind the trees which flanked Foxcastle’s only body of water while we snacked on the deep fried relief.

“Have you been thinking about love recently?” I asked, setting my cardboard container of food down in the grass below and leaning back against a sturdy tree trunk with one knee propped up. Camila remained close, leaning against me as she looked out to where the water just kissed the docks. “Usually when themes like that come up in your writing, it means they’re just as prevalent in your head. What’s been going on recently?”

“I got high last night.” Camila replied idly, tilting her head back against my knee. “That’s the first time I’ve done that in a long time.”

“Camz.” I tried to arch forward, but her weight was keeping me from angling my hips any further forward than a weak ninety degrees. I had no intention of proving worried about her, despite being very much so.“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want school to start on Monday.” The girl’s eyes drooped closed, and I had to wonder whether she was secretly high a second time. “I don’t want school to start ever. The summer is the only time I get any sense of peace in my life… I guess I just want to keep that as long as I can.”

“Stuck in your ways just as your environmentalist in the prompt, are you?” I teased, lifting my knee for a moment and motioning for her to inch closer. Her container of fries landed next to mine, and the next thing I felt was her frame snuggled up against my own. She was cold, goosebumps risen over her naturally bronze complexion and rendering her into a subtle shiver. I lifted myself from the tree momentarily to shed my leather jacket and drape it over her lap.

“Thanks.” Camila purred, curling up her legs and settling her weight back against my body.

“I know when there’s something unusual filtering through your head.” I acknowledged, tucking my arm around her and laying it against her chest. “Why don’t you want to go back to school?”

“I told you already.” Camila stiffened. “I want to keep whatever sense of peace I have here for as long as I can. I don’t want to let all this go. I don’t want to lose you like I did last year Lauren.”

If there was any one thing that I had learned from being Camila Cabello’s other half, it was that I had one role that stood out stark against the rest. Reassurance. There was to be no losing in the upcoming year, nor had their been any in the past. Whatever abandonment issues Camila faced, and would continue to face would forever be in her head. “Camz, you didn’t lose anything.” I assured her, tightening my arm. “And you never will.”

We biked home a few minutes later, drawing the evening to a close. A few paces into the house, I swiped up the yellow legal pad Camila had worked on and read through the notes, grinning at the sight of her childish penmanship. Ideas had always been best written out to paper, execution looked far better on the screen of her laptop.

What she had was impressive, the genre of multiverse science-fiction coming far easier to her than it did for me. The night ended as all others had, cold outside the house and marginally less cold inside. After convincing her to not light a joint the second night in a row, I crawled into bed and tucked my arms around Camila, pinning hers to her sides.

“A world where it’s just you and I, and no one else exists.” Camila whispered, turning onto her back and looking at the ceiling. The tip of my nose bumped her shoulder, and I let my eyes droop closed in a smile. “When are you going to let me write that reality Lauren?”

“I’m never going to let you write anything of the sort.” I answered, lowering my voice to a pleasing decibel as she did. “You don’t need to create a reality that already exists Camz.”

***

Foxcastle High. It was a prison from the outside and in, fit with it’s own red and gold themed school paper, a cheerleading squad, and every sort of in-personable teenager that a Netflix drama could conjure up. On the very first day of a new year, the hallways were hectic, filled with new students and the most committed who happened to return. For Camila, I forced myself to treat the morning like any other day, fixing her two simple eggs, a cup of coffee and a fresh banana as she woke and padded down the hall.

After a rigorous schedule of gathering time tables, finding lockers and ushering new freshmen to their perspective homerooms, I gathered coordinates on three particularly important individuals. Dinah Jane Hansen was the eldest of an impressively large family, all of which had migrated to a nearby city to live their lives. Choosing to remain behind for the remainder of her high school career, Dinah currently lived with her aunt and awaited the day that she could graduate and reunite with her family.

Normani Kordei was an avid gymnast and dancer, intent on shooting only for the stars and taking nothing less as a final product. She was the youngest of three, her elder siblings pursuing careers that led them to the heart of New York, ready to make the world learn their names. As the runt of the litter, Normani always felt as if she had something to prove, making it clear to everyone around her how hard she worked.

Ally Brooke Hernandez wrote with Camila on the school paper, standing as the lead editor and constantly raving at the brunette’s unique and sarcastic way of writing. She was the perfect calm balance to Camila’s weed-loving mannerisms, and held a literature style that stood on equal grounds with the her insight.

After residing in the town, and operating in the school for over a year, I had funnelled my patience for the populous into these three girls. They were special, and becoming more and more each day.

“One more year.” Dinah Jane mused as we walked shoulder to shoulder like salmon in a river down the hallway. “One more year, and the five of us are finally out of here. I swear the minute we walk past those gates we’re not turning back.”

The girl, Polynesian in nature, boasted a beautiful blonde mane that always seemed to appear freshly dyed. Her aunt, who was a self-appointed stylist often claimed that Dinah’s hair was the perfect untouched canvas, and toyed with endless colours, braids and extensions that made the girl look like she had been treated by Hollywood. I glanced over at her with a smile, slinging my bag higher up on my shoulder.

“You’ve got a calendar with a bunch of X’s on it hung up on your bedroom wall, don’t you?” I asked, turning a corner and nearly crashing into a basketball yielding jock who was in no way paying attention to where he was going.

“Girl, you know me.” Dinah shook her head with a light sigh as she slowed to a stop. We had arrived at the designated room, wooden door closed and small plexiglass panel on the side displaying the chaos within. I felt my stomach churn at the sight of various students flinging paper airplanes across the classroom. There were active levels, not unlike a frozen tableau of high school seniors draped lazily across the room. “First period History on a Monday, could things be any better?” She asked, looking back at me.

I worked up the nerve to nod, somewhat understanding all the anxiety Camila had been feeling over the weekend. The scent of cheap cologne and fresh nail polish fogged up the inside of the room, and I narrowly managed to avoid a flying paper straw before we found our seats near the back.

“Good morning class.” A short, bespectacled man appeared at the front of the room, setting down a worn leather briefcase on the desk. “Summer vacation is no more, so everyone please take their seats!” Following orders, the majority of the populous slid into their respective desks, the chatter fading to a dull murmur.

“My name is Mr. Lowry.” The man introduced. “And I’ve got a passion for two things and only two things: history and high school.” I actively fought the urge to roll my eyes. “This semester, we’re going to take a trip back into the most important moments of American history, learning who our key players were, and the impact they left behind.” He turned to the board, and rapidly chalked down his name. “Now has anyone heard of the town of Williamsburg?”

“That’s in New York, isn’t it?” Dinah asked, simultaneously lifting her hand.

“And Virginia.” A soft, raspy voice echoed. I blinked, turning to the source of the sound. The girl was slender, more-so than Camila despite holding many of the same features. Brown hair, soft eyes, and a tan Latina-esque complexion to her skin fit together into a rather satisfying puzzle.

“Excellent…” The man at the front had to gaze down at his attendance list and cross reference with the seating chart to learn her name. “Lucia is it?”

“Lucy.” The girl nodded. She seemed shy, one strand of dusty brown hair tucked behind her ear, the other falling at the side of her face.

“Is she new?” I questioned to Dinah, leaning subtly across the aisle. “I don’t recognize her.”

“Lucy Vives.” Dinah replied, tone hushed as the surname came out with an unnatural Spanish flair. “She and her family moved recently from some place in Puerto Rico. Her father is a big musician looking for a cabin-in-the-woods town to settle down for a few years and work on songwriting. I hear she’s not happy about having to move, not that I’m not ready to sympathize to that. This town should be called Foxhole, not Foxcastle.”  

As Dinah spoke, I let my gaze linger on the new girl. She seemed no different than the rest, unpleasant and frustrated at the notion of being freshly wrenched from the joys of summer vacation. The last thing I expected to happen happened next, and she lifted her gaze over to me. Half hidden by her hair, I managed to reply to her stare with a smile. It was quickly reciprocated before the girl turned back to the front of the class.

“The town of Williamsburg Virginia is one of incredible historical relevance.” The man perched at the front of the room continued. “Can anyone tell me why?”

The first and only hand that lifted to the air belonged to Lucy. She was chosen instantly, her satisfying voice bringing life to the classroom once again. “Williamsburg was originally the capital of the state, but lost most of it’s prominence when the title was transferred to Richmond. The town itself remained untouched by all sense of urbanization and influence from the Industrial Revolution, leaving a lot of it original and intact despite all the battles fought in the area during the Civil War.” She said, clearly satisfying Mr. History in all his expectations.

“Excellent.” He nodded, writing a few points down on the board as pencils started to scratch at paper upon desks. I looked up briefly to see the new girl was glancing back at me, her gaze quickly averting moments after we met. “And could you tell us why you think that to this day, the town continues to radiate such an aura?”

“I believe it’s for fear of the future.” Lucy nodded, her voice growing just a touch stronger. “Fear of change. Unwillingness to bring a broken society into a town that sits dappled in a past that was trouble-free.”

“Very poetic.” The man smiled. “Good job.”

“Wow.” The tip of Dinah’s shoe tapped my shin. “Getting flirty with the new girl, and not even five minutes into our first class. Could you be any more of a closeted gay?”

I looked away. “I’m not flirting with anyone DJ, stop.”

“I just saw that little smile, don’t think you’re getting away with it.” My loveably irritating best friend mumbled as a follow up, sparking the attention of Mr. History at the front of the room.

“Ms. Hansen, Ms. Jauregui, is there something particularly interesting you’re discussing back there?” He asked, turning around with the chalk mid-scribble between his fingers. He had pronounced my last name wrong; part of me was beginning to believe the teachers at the school did so on purpose. “Because if it’s something more pressing than what the rest of the class is focusing on up here, I’m sure we’d all like to sit back and take a listen.”

I leaned my elbow on the desk, actively suppressing the urge to roll my eyes at the short-stacked chinchilla of a man that stood scolding me. “It’s nothing, sorry.” I shook my head, glancing out the corner of my eye at Dinah, who was doing the very same. “We’ll be quiet.”

“No please, share with us what was so interesting.” Lowry pressed, for some reason unable to let the situation drop. Dinah’s quip from earlier got me thinking quick, and I straightened my back.

“I was actually mentioning to her how it would be really inappropriate to keep talking, and eventually out myself as gay to the entire class two minutes into first period.” I told him, all heads swinging to me like moths to flame. Every eye in the class widened, pencils dropping to the floor and the rustling of papers came to an eerie halt. To my immediate left, Dinah released an embarrassing squeak, while Lucy, who had previously been keeping her head down and eyes low was now looking over her shoulder again.

Lowry inhaled slowly, eyes near slits in my direction as he spoke next. “A word after class please Ms. Jauregui.” He gritted, gripping the chalk once more and turning his back to me. Another kick from Dinah ensued, yet rather than acknowledging her with a glare, I chose to look back at the new girl. She was still turned over her shoulder, now smiling shyly as I reciprocated and added a quick nod as if to say find me.

And she did.

Lowry had decided on a half apology half scolding lecture for me as the class concluded. Directly outside the door stood Dinah, leaned up against a locker with a smug expression painted clean on her face. She immediately tilted her head to the right, and I followed the gesture to see Lucy quite literally having found me as soon as she possibly could. The brown-haired girl looked equally as shy standing as she did huddled in class, backed against a rusty locker with her backpack draped over one shoulder and arms tucked around her waist.

Dinah was quick to dip off, granting me a wink before melting away into the crowd. I exhaled, mustering every courageous bone in my body to approach the new wallflower. “So you’re familiar with the art of silent message.” I grinned. “Impressive.”

“You’re pretty badass.” Lucy straightened up a little, one leg crossed smugly over the other. “I’m Lucy Vives… Foxcastle High’s resident new girl.”

“Lauren Jauregui.” I replied, reaching around to my back pocket and removing the short-notice Sharpie that resided there. As Lucy held out her hand, I took it in my left and scribbled down my phone number on the inside of her wrist. The girl seemed taken aback by the gesture, relaxing only after the very last digit was scratched down. After the marker had reassumed its place in my pants, I reached up and tucked the strand of hair that covered the right side of Lucy’s face behind her ear. She shied away at first, brown eyes softening once she realized what I was doing.

“Oh…” She looked down, inadvertently reaching up to brush the medium brown strands between her fingers. I knew from personal experience that constant hair attention was a sure-fire mark of insecurity, and quickly caught her hand to lower it.

“Sorry, it just looks better this way.” I complimented, the soft brown in her eyes almost turning amber underneath the hallway lights. “Um… do you— what do you have second period? Maybe I could walk you there, show you the way?”

“AP Calculus, its just a few doors down.” Lucy lifted her chin down the direction of the hall. “Thank you though… you’re sweet.”

I watched as she pushed off the locker, brushing my forearm as she went and directing herself to the given room. Dinah wasted no time in reappearing around the corner, teeth showing in an ear-splitting smile. “She’s hot.” The blonde pursed her lips seductively, watching Lucy until she dipped behind a second wooden door. “I approve Lauren.”

“Maybe it’d be a nice side project this year to take a run at pulling the shy girl out of her shell.”

Dinah laughed, taking my arm and looping hers within. “You’ve got English next with Camila. Get going before that girl starts to worry.”

***

In line with many of Dinah’s warnings, Camila was ready and waiting outside of the designated English classroom when I arrived. “Lauren!” She exclaimed, rushing forward to grab my arms as I approached. “Ally and the others loved the Frog-ception article we wrote, she wants to put it in the semester’s first publication as a prelude for what’s to come.” She was nearly glowing. “Isn’t that awesome?”

“Very awesome.” I turned my hands up and cupped the underside of her arms. The sight of Camila with the excitement painted on her face was the only thing I could ask for after a stern scolding from a man with all of three teaching credentials. “Did you not have class first period, cause I already got a talking to from Mr. Short-and-Sweaty of the history department.”

“Already Lauren?” She took my hand. “What did you do?”

“I might have accidentally come out to a group of unsuspecting seniors. It was like firing a blank shot to a pond filled with sitting ducks.” I answered as Camila froze mid-pull.

"Come out?” She looked back with a single wide blink. “Come out like how?”

“Come out like gay.” I answered quizzically, treating her question as if it had two out-of-place left feet. “Or at the very least bisexual. Why, what other coming outs do you have experience with?”

“You’re… I– um….” Camila seemed flustered, resorting to turning briskly and yanking me the rest of the way into the classroom. “That’s– I mean great, is that great?”

“I’m indifferent, just waiting for the rumours to start spreading like wildfire.” I took her by the arm, grip tightening. “It’s not like anything changes, right?”

“No of course not,” Camila directed us to a row of three desks, one already occupied by a very bored looking Normani. Camila’s sense of surprise was somewhat a shock to me, not only were the two of us open to each other about our fluid sexualities, but we had spoken about it dozens of times. Deep conversations were somewhat of a guilty pleasure for Camila, and I was never one to argue against a midnight chat of the softest tones and sanest feelings. Seating myself behind the second desk of the day I made a silent vow to not get busted for unnecessary side chatter more than once before lunch.

Normani on the other hand, proved more than willing to irritate me right to my wits end before the black woman at the front of the room decided to start teaching. “So Lauren Jauregui, I hear you’ve already picked up a girl and it’s not even noon yet, that must be a record for you. Dinah says she’s pretty, I’m I to believe she’s telling the truth?” She asked, skipping the unnecessary catching up from a summer vacation spent apart and getting right to what I assumed was the good stuff.

“She’s telling the truth.” I set my bag down at my feet, pulling back the top flap and removing a black and white notebook. “Lucy Vives, Foxcastle High’s official senior year new girl, and supposed wallflower. I don’t really know what I was doing, it just seemed like a fun thing to try.”

“Damn, the jury’s still out on that one.” Normani wiggled her eyebrows in a playful manner, turning her attention to the front of the room as the woman began to speak. Camila, who had until then remained silent, sat at the desk between the two of us, fidgeting with the spring-based pen between her fingers.

“Good morning.” The woman’s fading Jamaican accent was amusing, the need to stop and detect the familiar english below her words made me listen a little harder. “My name is Ms. Wilcox, and I will be your second period English teacher this semester.” She turned to the board, and instead of writing her name, chalked in the words Free Writing along with an extravagant swoosh underneath. “Every morning I want you to come in, sit down and free write for ten minutes. Bring yourself a notebook, I’ll provide you with a topic; these are your private thoughts people! No one is going to be reading this, not me, not your friends, not your parents, not a soul.”

The students started to rustle around, pulling out sheets of paper and composition books with pens carefully attached to the covers. I marked the date down on my own, keeping my penmanship modest in the top corner of the fresh page. To my immediate right, Camila shifted in her seat, and I glanced in her direction only to see she was already writing. “She hasn’t given us the topic yet Mila.” Normani was leaning over to her, peeking over the girl’s shoulder.

“I don’t need one.” Camila finished what she was writing and tore the page clean from her notebook, holding it out to me. Written on the first four lines was a unique prompt.

A story about a novelist who fears the future and learns to cope with change. It takes place in a small American town during the changing of seasons, and highlights the themes of growth, development, and new beginnings. The writing read, Camila’s blue pen smudged in the places her hand had dragged across the paper while she wrote. I glanced at her, but was unable to succeed in any kind of eye contact.

“I’d like you all to free-write about how your summers went.” Wilcox continued, completely oblivious to our note passing that was happening at the back of the classroom. “The good and the bad, the ups and downs and the things that changed you into the mature seniors you are today.” The line got a few good chuckles from the class as everyone turned their attention down to their papers. “You have fifteen minutes.”

I swallowed, pressing the tip of my black pen to the line beneath Camila’s writing.

A young author who only knows a world showered in wealth. Danica Edwards is the single daughter of two technological moguls, born and raised with one foot in Silicon Valley, the other within the trimmed hedges of her family’s estate. From the ripe age of eighteen, her father begins to groom her to take over the company and continues to do so as she finds herself wading through the perils of a top tier college program for the hard businesses. A series of creative writing electives steer Danica into the world of literature, and she spends every moment until graduation fearing her father’s response.

There was something constricting about having to flesh out a prompt while sitting amongst thirty other high school seniors who were all writing about ice cream cones and summer flings. I tapped the end of the pen against my bottom lip, peering over at Camila for a moment to see she was doodling a picture of a cartoon duck on the fresh sheet of notebook paper. I caught her eye, recieving a forced smile.

Fearing the future, Danica flees the constraints of her family and settles in the small town of Williamsburg Virginia, invisible among America’s colonial capital. As the seasons shift from a cold winter to a blooming spring, she carves out a new path and discovers the parts of herself that could only be done so through story. The young author changes the hearts of not only her rigid family, but the friends she’s made along the way, and the residents of a town that history decided to leave untouched.

I sat back, tapping page a few times as if to ask for it’s feedback. Small towns had notorious reputation for housing the most close-minded of the population, and the smaller the town, the smaller the mind. Fifteen minutes had snuck up on us all, a small bell going off at the front of the class denoting our time was up. Leaving the piece untitled, I subtly slid it back to Camila and let her scan the idea.

She had written a word down by the very end, the writing now alternating a colourful blue-black.

A title?

Nibbling on the edge of my pen, I quickly wrote down a single word that seemed to sum up the prompt perfectly.

Metathesiophobia

***

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#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #romance fluff #submission #Parting Shot

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themockingcrows · 8 years ago

Text

Two Fates, Two Kingdoms Ch. 10 - Chilled Tomes

With the whirlwind of the festival behind them and the long stretch of winter laying out in front, John and Dave try to fall into the new rhythm of the season together. While winter begins to rage outside the castle, there are plenty of things to do within, especially once the library gets involved. How much more is there to Prospit than meets the eye?

This chapter is mildly nsfw

AO3 Mirror [X]

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The lingering smokes from the fires, the drink, the food, and the intense amount of merrymakers had rendered the general feeling of the crowd more than a little distracted by the time the duo was up to wandering further from the stage. John and Dave had been able to walk among the merrymakers fairly freely, dabbing paint and snagging foods they were interested in as they passed, nobody bothering to stop them or focus too closely. They had done their job, the gods had touched them, and that power still flowed through their veins. Who would want to tempt fate, and what could even be gained by heckling or troubling the quiet duo? Let alone why would they heckle a prince and his possession?

Though John had come across his family, it really wasn't the best time to talk even if there were things to say. This was not a time for serious things anymore. This was the time for making the most of the last of the warmth, for drinking, for eating, for becoming ready to face the coming cold of Winter another time. It was also, at least from Dave's mostly attentive perception, a time for the common people to flirt and try to get in one another's pants in whichever darkened corners they could find. He'd spotted no fewer than a dozen clusters of people in some form of debauchery, half clothed and flush faced in the moment.

They remained out in the open air till they'd eaten themselves full, Dave delighting in richly roasted meats and baked goods ranging from savory to sweet, and John enjoying the rare opportunity to feed Dave such varied tidbits by hand. Those who were sober enough to care stopped caring when they spotted the collar on Dave's neck, and assumed he was being treated like some glorified pet instead of a lover, hiding perfectly in the open. They drank a few glasses of sweet, warmed wine heavy with spices, and eventually gave in to fatigue enough to go indoors. The season would end without them now, and neither cared any longer.

Expecting their prince to return and need a bath after his labors, a hot steaming tub lay in wait for John with soft cloth to towel dry with off to the side. Dave, he supposed, was likely meant to go to the servants baths or deal with being messy, or stick around and help John himself get washed. None of those were going to happen under his watch of course, but that bit of extra privacy that came with being alone at last together in a closed room was not only desired but deeply important.

“Dave. Mind locking the door?” John asked, already working on removing clothes as he walked, pleased to hear the soft, telltale jingle as Dave followed the request and then trotted back to join his side. He stopped removing his own clothes in favor of turning to remove the clinging remnants of the festival from his small lover who was already expecting the sweet treatment, skinny arms lifted in the air welcomingly, shameless when he was left fully bare. The steam from the tub was keeping the air warm enough for John to feel comfortable when Dave quickly removed the last scrap of coverage from him as well. It was helpful, but nowhere enough to keep away the pervasive chill that made the hairs on his neck and arms and legs rise up as if possessed.

No. Winter was the season for bathing with the tub right up by a nice stoked fire and still complaining that it was like the icy hand of misery upon him the second he left the immediate range of heat sources. Or, now, winter was finally a viable excuse to have Dave climb him like a particularly enthusiastic tree. Why waste all that wonderful extra body heat he put off just to the air on his own?

“Do you want in first?” Dave asked, looking from John to the tub and back. “Or should I climb in first? I think I'd prefer the former, you can brace me if it's too hot then.”

“Many times as I hold you, I keep forgetting you're so sensitive to some things,” John said, giving himself an itch on the thigh before he moved to climb in the tub, forcing the water to rise around his body till it enveloped him perfectly as a welcoming second skin. Even he winced slightly at the shock of heat before sinking down and coming to a halt, long legs stretching out and then bending ever so slightly once his feet planted at the end. Only once he'd settled did he hold his arms up in offer for Dave.

“How bad is it?”

“Pretty intense, but if you're on me it shouldn't be too bad. I'll try to keep at least your front a bit cooler.”

“My front, hmm? That eager to be chest to chest again?” Dave asked, rounding the edge of the tub before starting to climb in and hurriedly try to press flat against John's torso with a grimace. “Is this a tub or a soup pot?!”

“Both,” John groaned, holding Dave tight about the waist before letting his hands go lower to teasingly honk his ass cheeks, then go even lower to clasp against the backs of his thighs to keep him pressed close and secure. “Isn't it wonderful? Arch like a grumpy cat and your ass'll be plenty chilled as well, if you want.”

“It's so warm.. It's like the deeper pools at home, the ones with dark water. Will you be able to lift me out if I get wobbly at the edges?” Dave asked, only half teasing.

“...Dave, I could lift you over my head with one arm if I wanted to, I can keep you out of the water like a soggy dove if you'd like me to if you need to cool down.”

“Well when you put it like THAT,” he chuckled, “how am I to ever say anything but yes?”

“I do like when you say yes,” John admitted, kissing the side of Dave's head, then the side of his ear tenderly. “Then again, I'm quite easy to please, contrary to what those of the court would have you believe.”

“I did come here with the expectation of you being a gigantic brat,” Dave said with a soft hum, adjusting the longer he remained still, starting to feel floaty at the edges once more. “..I don't think I'd have believed I'd be here right now, if anyone had told me when I was younger. Let alone everything that's happened before this moment.”

“..Would you want to be here? I mean, given the choice.”

“I'd rather be home, or at least be free to go back and forth between. Prospitian weather is not pleasant for me, nor is your bright sky. In an ideal world, John, I'd take YOU to MY home,” he said. He'd said it before, a dozen different ways a dozen different times, and while the idea of traveling was thrilling, the statement brought out a fairly complicated problem.

John was an heir to the throne, he couldn't just pick up and travel to the country his people had been at war with for so long, and nor could he reasonably expect to be welcomed with open arms when he'd kept Dave away from his family for so long. He reached an idle hand up to stroke the back of Dave's neck, slipping his fingertips beneath the collars edge to soothe the skin there and spread some of the water around.

He wanted to keep Dave happy, safe, and secure and away from those who would do him harm. He also, however, wanted to keep him all to himself. It was a terrible, greedy ghost of avarice that gripped his heart when John realized that he was in a position to make his desire reality. Surely he could keep Dave happy and safe at his side just as easily as anywhere else, right? Pamper him, give him more freedom as he aged and gained more power within the court. Everyone would get used to his presence, and they wouldn't question John's choices in how he handled Dave. He'd put off marriage, be the pickiest man alive and say nobody was good enough for him, put up with being labeled a brat.

He'd never be able to marry Dave, but surely there was some way to give him a symbol. Maybe a different col-

John's stomach plummeted and his blood ran chill as ice as he realized the direction his thoughts had so happily been trailing along, swapping out Dave's collar not for fine jewelry and trinkets and the kiss of fresh air but for another fancier collar. As if that would literally make any difference, or make him any different or better than the men who had dragged him to the castle, or who had kidnapped him. Those thought were just as bad as the people who'd hurt him, the people who'd broken him.

No, it was worse. Because unlike any of those other people, faceless in the mist of memory.. he knew Dave. He loved Dave, even. Wanted to give him the world, yet here he was saying sweet words and petting him with one hand, and even briefly considering swapping out his collar with a more ornate one like that would mean literally anything. Remove one slap in the face and punch him in the chest twice more for good measure.

“..John? You alright? You look kinda sick,” Dave said, and it thankfully drew him back out from himself and to the world again. Still plenty hot water, a good pressure on his chest, Dave's soft skin against his fingertips and those piercing red eyes watching him lazily as the steam drew out most of the body paint and marks from earlier so it would be far easier to scrub off.

“Oh. Yeah, sorry, I'm alright. I guess I'm still just.. not quite right. From earlier I mean,” he stammered, but offered a grin to dispel the worry that crossed Dave's face.

“Ahh.. yeah. Heh. Me too, things are still a bit floaty, or not going the right speeds at all. How long does this feeling hang around? You're more experienced with all of that smoke than myself. It's not permanent is it?” Dave asked, sounding a bit concerned by then.

“No, no, it's not permanent. The worst is already over, but there'll probably be some lingering effects through tomorrow. Lucky for us,” John said as he adjusted his grip on Dave's body, hands slipping and sliding along his pale back and ribs down to his hips, “there's not a single important thing to do tomorrow that I know of.”

“None? It's just the ceremony and revelry, then.. nothing?”

“Mhmm. We welcomed winter and hoped we'd survive, and partied in case we don't. We don't receive many dignitaries or ambassadors during winter, and we don't hold any big celebrations save for some birthdays mid-season and the halfway of the season.. and even that's more of a quiet personal celebration than anything else, because you're only half way through with more to come. No huge fancy meals, but there is sweets and a special dinner. It's quite nice actually, the entire family gets together and relaxes for a day and night.”

“So I'll be around everyone else too? Or would I have to stay somewhere else or go with the servants?” Dave asked, and again John felt that bitter flavor on the back of his tongue rise to life with some bile. He could let their situation slip his mind briefly, but of course Dave was hyper-aware of it at all times. Risky moves put him at risk.

“I think you'll be with me, and with everyone else,” John promised, hands lowering to toy with Dave's thighs before going back upwards along his ribs and shoulders. “They all like you, Dave, they want you to be well and everyone not my family knows that you're mine and my family is just as possessive.”

“If your father were here, would I still be allowed to be with everyone?” he asked, tone a little flatter as the fielded the rougher territory.

“.. I'm not sure,” John said with a sigh. “If you were, he'd want you to be doing servant's work and tending to everyone without relaxing, or I'd be getting yelled at for demanding you keep my lap warm instead of work.”

“Keeping your lap warm. Is that my new job for the winter, John? You mentioned being sensitive to the cold, it would make sense if I was meant to keep ALL of you warm.”

“Oh, yes. Definitely your new job, and the reason I'll give for having you in my arms at all times beneath my clock till Spring. I can't be expected to make frigid dashes to the library without you on hand, right?”

“Kanaya as well,” Dave said. “We'd still be going to visit Kanaya too. I'm sure she'd be up to the task of keeping you in plenty of layers for times I peel away from your side to gather the food and do the other odds and ends I handle. Maybe we can even go outside and enjoy the snow.”

John looked miserable at the idea of being sent out to the snow even for a promise of fun, but considering Dave enjoyed that weather so much.. maybe a little bit would be safe.

“Mn. Yes, I suppose so. Perhaps some snowball fights, build some icy walls. Come back inside before I lose my feet and fingers,” John said as if considering the options.

“Don't be so grim,” Dave said as he finally pushed at John's chest to sit upright on his lap, coping with the hot water but needing to wipe off all the paint and mess and sweat from earlier. “We'll go through this season with flying colors, I guarantee you'll see spring in a whole new light. You just need someone with ice in their veins to show you the best parts of it.”

“I hope you're right, Dave. I really hope you're right.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

As weeks passed, the outward reaching grandeur of the castle seemed to grind to a halt. The inner workings of the kitchens, the cleaning servants, the library and the day to day meetings that kept the capital running were still puttering along, but everything else seemed as slow as the steadily growing icicles outside the windows.

John was taking to the cold weather like his family, burrowed in at least two layers at all times and spending his time by the fire reading as much as he could to pass his time when not required to be making appearances with his family. Dave was usually on his lap, across his legs, or cuddled up against his side in some other position to read beside him. His own books were shorter, smaller. Children's books still. Progress had definitely been made however, and Dave was beginning to understand more and more written word, and slowly starting to be able to get lost in the world of stories from an entirely different land.

Some of the plots were familiar, similar to stories he knew from his childhood, and it was comforting to know that even now he could disappear into the world of a story if he wanted to. The mornings were chill and invigorating once he could peel himself out of the warmth of John's arms and escape the bedding to wander the room and dress himself. Dave didn't mind doing the morning tasks in the cold, found it easier to do even. The warmth John required was stifling sometimes, but at least there was always the cooler air near the windows and in the halls to soothe his overheated skin and let Dave catch his breath.

He was often the only person roaming the halls when it came to things like going for snacks or to collect tea, and the few people he had to interact with tried their best to ignore him. Everyone knew about what had happened on the stage while he was half hidden behind the mask of a horned spirit he did not know even if they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, and that mark combined with his previous snidely given label of 'The Heir's Whore' was a heavy burden to bear even now. The kitchen staff's attitude changed depending on who was working at the time, or if Jane was down there baking and keeping herself warm and busy to pass the time. When the princess was there, a delight awaited him, and no shortage of fresh samples hot from the ovens. When the regular servants were all that surrounded him.. animosity.

Shoving became common place once more, attempts to trip him or even knock the tray from his hands. A few times, some dangerous near falls down stairs. Today, he'd gotten off lucky and made it to the kitchen and back with only mild heckling, feeling much more alert and alive than he had in a while. The weather outside had turned from heavy snowfall to full on whiteout since last night, breakfast for today looked heavenly, and John had promised a visit to the library that would actually take most of the morning and early afternoon so they could load up on books and see what was recommended for better ways to help Dave learn to read and write.

John, for all his boasting and bullshitting, was very aware that even if his heart was in the right place, he was no educator.

Carefully shifting the tray to balance against his left hip, Dave opened John's door and closed it behind himself. The lock was turned without a second thought, a habit that hopefully would save them problems in the future and ward off anything similar to the sudden intrusion from the guards when Dave first came to stay in these quarters. He adjusted his grip on the tray once more and set it on the side table before crawling up onto the wide mattress and perching atop the buried mound of his lover like a lurking cat.

“John. ...John, the fire's already stoked. John, get up. John. Breakfast. John. John. John, I could keep this up all day, you said we'd do things today, you have to get up to do any of these things,” he said, voice going from a soft murmur to a singsong tone as he began to rub at the human shaped lump beneath the blanket.

“Mhh.”

“John. The tea is getting cold, and the food's getting cold. If you don't get up, I might get cold too,” he said.

“You don't get cold, Dave, you're part ice tendril,” came a muffled reply, but the lump did finally shift, trying to roll beneath the Dersite's thighs so John could reach up properly and snag him around the hips to return to the hiding space beneath the blankets despite the vocal complaints.

“Hey! Whoa, hey, no, come on John I just got back! No more sleeping, get up already before I start biting you,” Dave complained, squirming and forcing the blankets down to their waists to avoid falling into the same trap of sleeping once more in the all encompassing warmth. “John. John!”

“Augh, even after being out in the cold for so long you're still plenty warm. Teach me your secrets, Dave, teach me your secrets,” John groaned like a haunted man, head lowered to nuzzle into the soft tufts of blonde that covered Dave's head.

“The secret's not being a lump and moving, and being from a place much colder than here, now come on and get up! You promised we were going to the library, I don't want to wind up going in the afternoon instead of early, we'd have the place to ourselves if we go now. Everyone who's awake and moving around doesn't want to be, and I'm sure the library itself is plenty comfortable.”

“If Karkat has a heart it is. He cherishes those books like children, it's hard to tell what goes through his head when it comes to those things. Probably be just barely warm enough to breathe and a breath away from shouting if you try to stoke the fire any higher,” John grumbled, but eventually let Dave loose after kissing one of his wrists, trying to sit upright to clear his own head better.

How damned hard had he slept last night? Winter was for hibernating like bears, suddenly living with someone active as a rabbit was difficult to wrap his head around, but.. at least he brought good tidings of breakfast that perfumed the air with richness. John gave up his complaints and started to eat at last, spreading butter and jam on a few thick biscuits and poking at eggs and thinly sliced pieces of smoked beef once the tray was scooted onto the bed. Dave cuddled back up against John's side and copied him, though he added more sweet jam and spend more time savoring each bite. When he'd drained some tea from his own cup and John didn't look close to keeling over again, Dave took the opportunity to go grab John's clothes, as well as taking up his lover's cloak and slippers.

He may be exasperated by John's fragility to the elements, but it didn't mean he'd be a dick about it. Keep him warm, keep him comfortable, use the weather as an excuse to be cuddled close at every opportunity he could get. It was incentive to keep John moving through the day, keep him away from his urge to nap. Hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, Dave had still believed John was being overly dramatic instead of.. well. This.

“So.. library. Right. Right.. I need to warn you a bit, Dave,” John said as he licked his fingertips clean of butter traces and went for his fork again. “Karkat's very defensive of the books, and I need to make sure you don't accidentally do something that'll have him kicking us out.”

“..Wait. US? As in me getting removed AND you getting removed? You? The heir?” Dave asked, mouth half full of thick biscuit and looking stunned. “What would you be capable of doing to be kicked out of anywhere?”

“Breathe wrong,” John said. “..No, seriously, it can get pretty intense sometimes. I know that if I put up enough of a stink, I'd be allowed to remain wherever I pleased unless my father or my older siblings were the ones demanding I leave, but it's not really somewhere I want to stand and be yelled at,” he admitted.

“Okay. Teach me the ways to avoid upsetting this guy, and then get your ever widening bottom dressed so we can go fondle the books inappropriately.”

John snorted and looked upwards to swallow his drink safely and not splutter it everywhere.

“I'll get there in a second, lessons first. Let's see. First off, don't lean on the books. Don't dog ear the pages. Don't mark them, don't lick your fingertips to turn the page. Don't drop the books, don't yank them by the spines, don't eat or drink near them, don't force them open too wide.. What else.. Oh. Oh, right. Whatever you do, don't touch anything on the special shelves bare handed or without him getting them out for you first, the books and scrolls there are very old and very delicate. I'm not sure how he's going to react to a Dersite wandering around touching everything, but.. I'm fairly sure THAT at least won't be an issue. ..Lending them to you might be, but reading where he can see you should be fine, and I'll just grab whatever you want me to anyway.”

“He's Alternian like Kanaya, right?” Dave asked, remembering her mention the man before. “I wanted to see Kanaya as well at some point, but I'm sure I can just go alone if you wind up too chilled. Library is more important right now, I want more books to toy with.”

“Mhmm. He's Alternian, but I'm not certain if he was born there or not. His father traveled extensively with his family, it shows in his accent. He can read at least four languages too, it'd be considerably more amazing if he wasn't such a canker sore to deal with sometimes.”

“What in the world did he DO to make you so sour about him? I've heard that he's brilliant but an asshole at least a dozen times, half of which within the last five minutes!” Dave said, finishing up his food and slowly scooting out of bed again to start coaxing John along with renewed vigor as he approached the clearing of his own plate.

“When I was younger, I messed up a book badly. Namely, I borrowed an older book without his knowledge by snatching it off the shelf because I was curious, and spilled juice all over it. So not only was he having a conniption over a missing tome, but when he got it back it was mostly destroyed. He watches me like a hawk now, like I'm some toddler, and will literally never let me live this down. It's absolutely ridiculous, it's been years now.”

John shook his head and gingerly peeled himself out of bed, shucking his bedclothes to put on the warmer outfit for the day, tucking his feet into his slippers and tying his cloak into place. His hair was a wild mess, but considering it usually took great effort to comb it halfway into place, he wasn't vexed. Dave looked brushed and polished and was a delight to look at, which was far more entertaining to John on a day like this. A beautiful distraction.

“Alright. Let's get this underway then. Would you mind grabbing the books we've been dealing with so far? We'll start you on something a bit more advanced, maybe see if I can get him to lend out some of the books from Derse he's got squirreled away in the shelves. Give you a taste of home when you're sick of learning our flowery prose and trying to decipher the rampant allegory.”

“FINALLY, the holidays have come early,” Dave groaned.

- - - - - - - - - - -

“You can't be serious. You're teaching him how to read?” Karkat said from behind the table he'd been camped out at for the last ten hours, pen hovering over the inkwell and thick brows lifted in disbelief. He'd been told about Dave being given permission to speak a bit more freely, though requested it and everything that happened in here to be kept private. It wasn't hard given that the grand library space was empty aside from the sour looking Alternian before them. “Next you'll be teaching him to write as well.”

“Actually now that you mention it, he's been doing fairly well with the basics, but he can't quite manage the last half of the Alphabet,” John supplied, lips curling in amusement.

Things were going about as well as he'd expected they would. The books, far past the general time John had promised they'd be returned, were immediately inspected as if the pristine covers were hiding hidden bloody wounds and bandaged by the sturdy, broad man with the sharp gaze of rusty eyes and the dark tangle of hair. Dave could pick some some similarities between this fellow and Kanaya, sharp edges to his features here and there, crests of high cheekbones making his gaze look more severe. ..No, it wasn't the cheekbones, it was literally just the way his face rested, creased into what he was pretty sure would be a permanent frown if he remained that tense.

It wasn't permanent at least. The sharp lines and scowl fell away when Karkat heaved a long suffering sigh and shook his head.

“You teaching anyone anything is a terrifying thing to consider. What is he capable of reading so far, I'll help find something decent for him to work with as a next step. ..Ah. These books, right?” he said, gesturing to the stack he'd hurriedly flipped through to check for damages. “That's actually pretty high level for a beginner. Did you get much of an education in Derse?” Karkat asked, realizing he'd been talking around and over Dave instead of directly to him till now.

“About as good as Master's, I assume. I had a lot of time spent with tutors when I didn't get caught trying to skip my lessons,” Dave said.

“That'd do it, then. If anyone asks, you didn't get any assistance from me and if you say I did I'll deny it. But I know some things that would help you. ..Some old things,” he said. “I've got some teaching volumes from when Derse and Prospit were trying to establish a permanent treaty. It's for Prospitian's learning Dersian, but.. pair it with some young-ish books and it should be good. You can use it too, I suppose,” Karkat said to John, glancing him up and down.

“Dersian? I thought it was Dersite,” John said, sounding a bit confused as he looked to Dave. He got a shrug in response to his unasked question. Why hadn't he been corrected in all this time?

“Translation error that nobody cared enough to correct outside of Derse, and a matter of preference in the country. Dersite's use the same word in a differently pronounced way that doesn't translate that well, but the proper term for the language of Derse is Dersian,” Karkat said. “You can use either one, really.. but that's the proper word for it if you want to be formal. Honestly, I just think it sounds better.”

“You really do know languages,” Dave said, slipping down into his mother tongue with only a bit of difficulty. He knew the words as well as as his own heart, but after so long of speaking, of thinking, in another language it felt strange on his tongue. John bit at his own lip as he watched, catching the sounds and a few words but not much else for the meaning of the sentence. His ear just wasn't trained for it yet.

“Why is that so strange?” Karkat asked, sliding over from Prospitian to Dersian without any pause. “It's only proper to know the languages that lurk in the books I tend, it would be worthless to keep the texts and not be able to read or translate them for preservation.” Without missing a meat, he switched to Skaian. “Everyone keeps acting like it's so confusing, but it's stupid. All the languages have the same damned roots, similar words.”

“I. ...I think I caught a few words of that last one?” John said hesitantly. “That was Skaian, right?”

“Yes. If it was Alternaian you likely wouldn't have caught a single word. There's a lot of links between the three languages, it would have probably shifted to become even more overlapped if the bond had been established,” Karkat said as he got up and gestured for John and Dave to follow him along the shelves, wanting to find the books for the Dersite while his mind was running. Some children's books, the language book he'd mentioned, maybe some books from Derse if he felt like it.. Dave didn't seem the destructive type, to look at him, and Karkat prayed his instinct was accurate. Dave was surprised to see that Karkat was nearly the same height as John, but much broader built in the chest and hip.

“A lot of things would have been different if Prospit hadn't murdered our princess,” Dave snorted. What good was it to dwell on such vast 'What If' thoughts when so many years of war had already been on the table and so many good people buried to keep their borders safe?

“Excuse me?” John said, brows lifted. “We never murdered anyone, -you- did. Our prince left and we never got word on a marriage, we got an attack from Derse. It was all a plot to get an excuse to start a war with us, and deprive us of an heir.” This was basic education of a long known and told story, what rock had Dave grown up under aside from the one that made his home city? “I know that your kingdom is big on propaganda, Dave, but really now.”

“Why would we murder your prince? He never came to our capital, our princess went to the border to meet him and accompany him back home and we never got her back. He carriage was found destroyed and there was no sign of her or her guards anywhere, we couldn't track her,” Dave said, sounding agitated. “We were starting to work with the glow worms in different ways and made advances in mining, our trade was starting to boom, of course Prospit would want our kingdom to fall: you wanted our resources. Couldn't get that with a marriage, you'd just get a fair price. Your people got greedy.”

“What would we gain by killing a woman?! Your princess never came onto Prospitian territory, what of our prince's carriage? Surely there was some kind of wreckage somewhere obvious, or a body, or.. SOMETHING. Anything. We had no way to look in your territory once the war broke out and by then, like hell would your people tell a truth with a straight face.”

“Single wagon. Hers. We never saw any man arrive, only her leave and never come back. It's been so long.. I wish I had our books, they explain so much better than I'm able to, scholars have been telling these stories for ages,” Dave groaned, rubbing at his face with his palms, ignoring the pointed stare Karkat was giving them both. “But Derse didn't do shit to your prince, I'm pretty sure you never even sent someone.”

John looked sour still, features tense, but shot a look towards Karkat.

“Your father knew even more than you do about all this, right? From all sides? Can you clear this up for me, so Dave can understand how things actually are? We lost so much, there was nothing TO gain from all that,” he said, frustrated and beyond his abilities. Argue and bargain with the upper crust who tried to sort out alliances for their own gain? Sure. This? No. Dave wasn't even having the same argument.

“Yes, but you wouldn't believe me even if I tried to explain it, and none of it would make much sense,” Karkat said with a shake of his head. “So just go back to arguing like children, it would get as much done as my words. Just try to bear in mind that stories passed by mouth change a lot, and that you're both absolute fucking morons for not thinking your own country wouldn't warp things in their favor just as much as any other country.”

What babies. Huffing, Karkat went back to focusing on his shelves, pacing like an aggressive cat as he hunted out a few items and passed them to Dave to hold and carry, trying to parse the covers and their far more decorative script.

“..How do you people even read these things, there's drawings in the script,” Dave muttered, starting to get his temper under control. Karkat had a point, and John could be wrong in his own time.

“The same way people read your writing when it's made all decorative for the sake of mixing art and writing to look important,” Karkat snapped, rounding the corner to an older section of thick spined books and carefully rolled scrolls in well organized and labeled boxes. With gentle hands, he pulled out a taller, thinner book and set it on top of Dave's growing stack. “..There. That's the language book, you two can deal with it together, but if you so much as loosen the pages, I'm coming for you. Your life will have an hour of hell for every minute I have to spend restoring it to the condition I'm lending it out to you in. And.. this one, too,” he said, adding another book to the top.

“What's this one?” John asked, picking it up to flip through it, squinting a bit. “..Skaian?”

“Your observational skills can be salvaged yet,” Karkat sighed. “Yes, it's in Skaian. There's enough overlap that you should be able to handle it well enough if you both can spot the Dersian and Prospitian roots of it, but treat it like a puzzle. The story is a good one if you can get through all of it.” He glanced John and Dave over. “If you two are to be near each other all winter, surely you'll have finished at least this book by spring thaw.”

“What's the story about, though?” Dave asked. “Any heads up about that?”

“No,” Karkat said. “I've given you a book of language, a book in Skaian, and a book in Dersian. Let me find some books for younger Prospitian's and you should be set for some time. Figure it out your damn selves. ..Don't try to write out your translation practice where anyone can see though,” he warned Dave. “But you should be fine understanding this if you're already reading Prospitian that well. I guess Kanaya had good reason to say you were such an interesting person.”

Dave's lips curled into a little grin at the idea of Kanaya speaking positively about him to someone. Maybe he could convince John to swing by the seamstress' room after all for a quick visit instead of darting immediately back to his warm quarters.. it had been a little while since they'd gotten a chance to speak and spend some time together.

“Thank you, Karkat. I'll do my best to keep the books safe,” Dave promised. “If I run through them though, I'll be sure to come back and get some new ones you'd recommend.”

John seemed calmer now, happy again, and from the look in his eye he was satisfied that Dave looked happy. Hard to guess what he was thinking from Karkat's position. Was he happy because his pet was in a good mood and would be learning more? Was he happy because he gave a shit about him and his well being? Or did a sun of Prospit hold a bit of obvious light for a moon of Derse..?

“That's all I could ever ask,” Karkat said. “Now keep moving before you get left behind, and John, if you tug any of the books you want out by the top of the spine, I'll make you stand out in the hallway while your Dersite gets books next time.”

The prince rolled his eyes hard enough it could practically be heard, but nodded in agreement. For such a helpful guy, he sure was a dick.

#johndave #john egbert #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #my fic

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