#no wonder he wears capes and loose robes a lot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

berryhobii · 1 year ago

Text

Thread (pjm x reader) Chapter 1: Recollection

Pairing: Ares!Reincarnated!Park Jimin x Goddess!Black!Female!Reader, Reincarnation AU, Greek Mythology AU

Word Count: 3,118

Synopsis: You were his oasis where the water never ran dry. He was the garden where blooms shone like diamonds. His lips were of the sweetest ambrosia that made you forget your sour past, your embrace a blanket that shielded him from the nightmare that was his life. Your souls were safe in the hands of one another. Nothing could ever separate you, the daisy chain you’ve woven entwining your fate and destinies until the end of time.

Even when the blade cuts the vine and the petals fall into the fire, he will always find you.

Warnings: reader is super sad and depressed and grieveing, so is Taehyung but they show it in different ways, feelings of being incomplete/hollow, mention of reader possibly being su*cidal(it’s really just an irrational fear Taehyung has and I implanted it in kind of a double meaning), lots of reminiscing, reader and Jimin were absolutely infatuated with one another, mentions of multiple rounds of love making, not a warning really but the reader in this has Vitiligo!

A/N: Hi! I’m here with Chapter 1! It switches back and forth between the present and memories of the past. I’ve just done the memories in italics. Taehyung will be representing Artemis in this. I’ve come to realize that I was accidentally subbing their Greek God names for their real names which is actually really confusing!🤣I’m so sorry and I’ve updated it now to make more sense. Thank you for always being so understanding.I’m always open to criticism so please feel free to comment or message me about anything! Hope you enjoy!

“y/n…….y/n……y/n!!”

You were startled from your daydream by the call of someone’s voice. You blinked a few times before turning to the sound of the voice, finding Taehyung’s worried expression looking down at you.

“Oh. Taehyung. I didn’t hear you come in.”

He pouted. “I’ve been calling your name but you were daydreaming. Are you okay?”

No.

“Yes. I’m fine. I’m sorry I worried you.” That didn’t even sound convincing to yourself. Words dry and soulless, your heart aching as you spoke. You were lying to yourself and to Taehyung. Why? You didn’t know. You guessed it was better to lie. Saying the truth just…….

Taehyung looked down to your lap, his eyes glossing over at what you held. “Is that…..?”

The grey fabric stretched out across your lap but it never touched the ground. You didn’t want it to get dirty. It was still perfectly maintained, not a spec of dirt or even signs of wear.

The only thing was that single row of stitching in bright pink thread.

The thud of Taehyung falling to his knees next to you caused your eyes to sting with unshed tears. He carefully picked up a corner of the cape, bringing it up to his nose to inhale the scent that still clung to it.

The scent he’s grown so fond of. The scent of familiarity and trust.

The scent of his best friend.

Tears fell from his eyes, the droplets wetting the cape and sobs coming from his mouth. At the sight of his tears, your own began to fall, quieter than his but still just as powerful and desperate.

“I miss you….” He whispered.

“Ares!“

Ares looked up from where he was sharpening his blade to find Artemis running towards him. The man wasn’t in robes. Instead in loose pants and a an even looser shirt, hair pushed back from his face with a headband. The smile on his face was blinding. Ares wondered just how he could always look so happy. What did he have to be so happy for?

Artemis skidded to a stop, leaning over with a hand on his knee to try and catch his breath.

“Whew, why is your home on the top of this hill? The bottom of it is completely empty.” He panted, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Ares placed his sword to the side, standing and walking over to the large basin of water that sat to his right. “It’s good exercise.” Was all he said, dipping his hands in the water and then splashing it on his face.

“Walks to your home should be relaxing, not exhausting.” He panted out, lungs struggling to pull in precious oxygen.

“Why are you here?”

At that moment, Ares noticed Artemis had been holding something. It was a small box, nothing really special about it.

“Here. I brought you something.” He tossed the box to Ares who caught it before slumping over to the water basin and dunking his entire head into it.

Ares looked down at the small box, flipping it over a few times. “What is it?”

Artemis came up for air with a gasp, hair dripping wet but there was a relieved look on his face. He lifted the end of his shirt to wipe his face.

“It’s a present. Your birthday is today, isn’t it?”

Ares tilted his head, trying to think of what day it was. It was his birthday? To be honest, he couldn’t even recall the last time he’s celebrated his birthday or received gifts. It was just like any other day to him. The battlefield didn’t care what day you were born; it barely cared what day you died.

“Oh.”

Artemis raised an eyebrow. He knew Ares wasn’t the most social person nor was he very responsive to affection and kind gestures. He wasn’t awkward, per se but you could tell he wasn’t really used to casual interaction with others. He wasn’t good at keeping conversation, often responding with curt answers or simple yes/no. He was just the slightest bit oblivious as well which Artemis found hilarious.

Regardless, he was still Artemis’s friend and he wanted to help break that wall Ares had strongly built around himself.

“Anyway, I got it for you. I had to fight the Hydra just to get it from a shipwreck.” He bounced on his toes, punching the air to illustrate how he fought the creature.

“You can’t swim.”

Deflating, Artemis huffed but quickly regained his cheery smile. “Open it.”

Ares carefully opened the lid, guard up just in case something popped out of the box. Not that he thought Artemis would ever do something to hurt him. Millennia of walking around with his guard constantly up made it hard for him to feel safe. Even in the comfort of his home in his bed, for some reason he always felt like something was about to attack him.

But he never felt like Artemis was a threat. The joyous man was like walking sunshine, always so kind and gracious to everyone he passed. Ares wondered how one person could be so happy all the time, his smile infectious and his laughter resounding. Ares felt a little strange being in his presence sometimes—why would someone so social and lively want to associate with a loner like Ares? Artemis had so many friends yet he insisted on hanging around Ares all the time. He didn’t dislike it but it was unfamiliar.

Inside the box, Ares found a golden brooch—two pegasi facing one another, their wings outstretched and mouths opened as if they were sending out neighs of battle.

A weird feeling settled in his chest. What was it? He’s been feeling that way a lot lately.

Artemis watched as Ares just stared down at the gift. He couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit nervous that Ares wouldn’t like it. It was his first time getting a gift for the war god and he didn’t have a lot to go off of. From his observation, Ares only seemed to like exercising and being alone. And exercising while being alone. And being alone while exercising. Oh and plums! He found out Ares’s favorite fruit a few months ago. Ares didn’t have a lot of favorites actually. So when it came to figuring out his gift, Artemis just went with something small but practical.

“It’s to replace the clasps you wear on your cape. I thought it would look nice. Do you like it?” He wrenched his hands together. He really hoped Ares liked it.

Ares lifted his head to finally look at Artemis. He had no expression on his face, nothing telling Artemis of if he liked the gift or not. It was actually causing some internal panic that Taehyung has only felt that one time he broke one of the strings on Apollo’s harp. He only wanted to try playing it but it turned out that the harp only responded to its owner. Good thing Apollo was so calm and assured him it could be easily repaired.

“Yes.”

Artemis’s smile was brighter than Helios’ sun, his feet bouncing his body in giddiness.

“That’s great! Why don’t you try it on?”

You placed a hand on Taehyung’s hair, trying to comfort him and in turn, comfort yourself.

After a few minutes of crying, Taehyung regained his composure, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” It was his turn to shake his head. “I know this time of year is hard for you.”

That was an understatement. It was more than just hard. It was painful, depressing, and soul crushing. Most days, you couldn’t even rise out of bed, your grief and sadness weighing you down. But even the bed felt cold without him next to you. You hadn’t slept comfortably in 4 centuries, exhaustion weighing at your bones but your eyes just wouldn’t close. If you did get rest, it wasn’t until you crashed from being awake for too long. And even those short moments did nothing to alleviate your exhaustion.

You couldn’t rest if he wasn’t by your side.

“Why are you still awake?” You yawned, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you stepped onto the balcony. Astraeus had laid a think blanket of night across the sky, delicately arranging each star on the dark canvas.

Ares was resting against the railing, his upper body bare and lower body covered with a pair of loose grey pants. You could spot the deep red scratches you had marked on his shoulder blades from your rounds of lovemaking. He had taken you higher and made you see brighter stars than the ones Astraeus laid in the sky. Your body was still thrumming, overfilled with the adoration of your lover and equally with the fading vibrations of your ecstasy. It had been your first time together and yet, it felt like you’ve been together for ages. His soft hands caressing your skin, his lips kissing every each of you as he whispered lulls of adoration and relaxation across your heated skin. You’ve never felt so safe and utterly enamored with someone in your entire life.

Ares was just…..everything.

He turned at the sound of your voice, smiling when he saw you. You had draped a robe over yourself, the belt tied loosely so he could see the expanse of your belly and the curve of your cleavage, all the way down to the smoothness of your thighs. Multiple marks and bruises laid all around, indentations of bite marks and bruises from where his fingers would dig into your skin. You were a vision laid out beneath him. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. There was no way someone as ethereal as you could be real, and even more so, be with him. He was infatuated with you, your happiness and pleasure his own. What a sight you were when you were overcome with pleasure—he was sure the image would be ingrained in his memory forever.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t feel tired.” He held his arms out for you to walk into, sighing when your warmth soaked into his skin. He hugged you close, nuzzling his cheek against yours.

You leaned down a little to press a light kiss on his exposed collarbone over a love bite you had placed there. The sight of the bruise just solidified that he was actually yours. Forever.

“You should rest. The last war stretched on quite longer than the others.” Your hands rubbed across the expanse of his muscled back, a shiver going down his spine when you graced over a few scars he had there.

He hummed. “I will. I can rest easy now.” You leaned back to gaze into his eyes—the brown irises; once cold and filled with a dull sheen had turned bright, filled with unspoken love that didn’t need to be voiced. When he looked at you, that perpetual sadness and void he carried disappeared, replaced by joy and an overwhelming yearning for you and only you.

He loved you. He was in love with you.

“So can I.” Your eyes shone brighter than the moon, deeper than Poseidon’s ocean and more captivating than a siren’s song.

He had to kiss you and he did. “Let’s go back to bed.” He whispered against your lips.

Your eyes glittered with mirth as you smiled at him. “Another round already? Aren’t you tired, my love?”

His hands ran over your waist and thighs, squeezing you lovingly and firmly.

“I will never get enough of you, my precious oasis. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of you on my palate, my hunger has only intensified.”

You and Taehyung sat in silence for a few moments longer, just basking in your memories of Ares, each one happy but with a deep seated pain underneath. How could either of you reminisce fondly when the center of your memories had left your side in such an unspeakable way? It was impossible.

You wiped your wet cheeks. “What did you come to tell me, Taehyung?”

“Huh? Oh yeah.” He rubbed the cape fabric between his thumb and index finger. “We’re getting ready to go out. Are you sure you didn’t want to come with us? It would do you some good to get out of the house.”

“I don’t think so.” You woefully smiled.

“I really don’t think you should be alone.” Taehyung was a good friend. You were grateful he was looking out for you and you knew he just wanted to help but it just hurt too much. You wished you could relax as well.

You reached out to cup his cheek, running your thumb cover his cheekbone. “I promise I’m okay. You go have fun. I’ll be here when you come back.”

He understood the double meaning behind your words. I won’t leave you too. It filled him with a warm melancholy.

“Okay….call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

After bidding Taehyung farewell and him promising he’d bring you your favorite snack once he returned home, you decided to take a walk by yourself. Taehyung was right. Being cooped up wouldn’t do much and you didn’t really feel like interacting with others. Perhaps taking a walk will help you feel a little less lonely.

The night sky was clear but there were no stars to sparkle around the full moon. Artemis must be in a good mood.

You inhaled a deep breath through your nose, the smell of crisp autumn filling your nostrils. The nymphs back on Olympus always painted the leaves in the most warm and vibrant colors of yellows, oranges, and reds. Apples were always the sweetest around this time as well.

“My love, look. I picked some apples from Artemis’s forest.” You placed the basket down on the grass in front of him. He had been leaning against a tree, eyes closed as he let the cool breeze flow over him. His eyes opened once he heard your voice, a smile gracing his features.

Your dark skin seemed to glow under the golden rays of the sun, the lighter spots reminding him of those patches of sunlight that shone through the trees and lit up the ground. Your orange robes fluttered around you making you look like the fallen leaves that cascaded down from the trees. You were more beautiful than Aphrodite. He was sure the Goddess of Love would curse him if she ever heard that but he didn’t care. He’d tell anyone any day that you were the most stunning goddess to grace this sacred land.

“Have you? They look delicious, my sweet.” He grabbed one of the crisp red apples, digging in his pocket to retrieve a small knife. He sliced through the skin with ease, perfectly cutting a slice and handing it to you. Your eyes lit up, taking it from him.

“You’re so good at that. You should consider cooking.” You bit the slice, humming as the sweetness hit your tongue.

He sliced his own piece, eating and chewing it. “I like to cook.”

“Really?” You dramatically gasped, turning your head so fast that your full hair bounced, the live butterflies that often rested on the curls fluttering from your certain movement. “Why have I never been dazzled by your culinary talents?”

The smile came so easily to his face. “You’ve never asked but I’ll be happy to astonish you with my skills.”

You scooted closer to drape yourself across his lap, your cheek resting on your folded arms. You closed your eyes, your different colored lashes brushing against the apples of your cheeks. He’s never wanted to kiss you so badly in his life.

“That sounds lovely. I’ll patiently wait until the day I can taste your cooking. I expect it tomorrow when I come over.”

He let out a loud “ha”, shaking his head is gleeful disbelief. “I’ll do my best.”

You could still taste that warm apple pie he made special for you on your tongue. Oh how you yearned to taste it again, to taste his lips after he took his own bite of pie. His lips just looked so appetizing and your heart was so full that you couldn’t help yourself.

You missed him so much.

Tears fell down your cheeks in endless streams as you walked, the pain in your heart numbing your body until you were just listlessly walking.

Why did that tyrant have to take him away from you? Zeus ruled from that throne, arrogant and commanding, demanding complete submission from every being on Olympus. And the moment any one tried to defy his power, he showed no mercy. He thought his word was law, that he could do no wrong. Taking accountability was like poison to him, even if he was wrong, he wasn’t.

And due to that narcissist, your love had been snatched away from you. Why did either of you deserve to be punished simply because Zeus refused to see any reason past his own nose.m?You could still remember the day after Ares was struck down. The images vivid in your mind but too painful to think about.

You continued your walk until you reached a small pond. Sitting on a bench, you stared out into the still waters, tears still falling.

A tickle in your throat brought out a song— Ares’s favorite song. You’d sing it to him when he’d return from battle, ragged and fatigued, he’d come to rest in your arms. You’d run him a bath, singing your lullaby to him as you cleaned his hair, whispering words of poetry to him that you had thought of in his absence. As your hands massaged his scalp, your lips brought him solace, each word strengthening the already overwhelming love he held for you.

When you finished your song, your heart felt ready to burst, the pain too much for your body to handle. You couldn’t take it anymore. 4 decades had passed without him and you think this would be the year you just completely give up but you knew you couldn’t do that. That would leave Taehyung alone and you had made a promise to him but….

“I miss you so much, my love. What I wouldn’t give to have you by my side again.”

“That was a beautiful song.”

That voice….you knew that voice. You knew it so well. You’ve spent a century ingraining that voice into your memory, being able to recognize it even in a room full of screaming banshees.

There was no way……it was impossible.

Slowly turning your head, you met a pair of eyes that you’ve stared into for hours—those eyes that had a fiery passion behind them when you two were in the throes of bliss, those eyes that squinted into crescents whenever they were happy, and those eyes that looked at you with such devotion and fondness the day he got down on one knee to ask you to be his for the rest of your immortal lives.

Ares….

He was standing right in front of you.

#bts #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x black reader #jimin fic #bts fan fiction #bts x reader #park jimin

32 notes · View notes

bloodpacks-archive · 5 years ago

Note

i meant to send this like an hour ago but how about ‘gezellig (dutch, adj.) - cozy, nice, inviting, pleasant, comfortable; connoting time spent with loved ones or togetherness after a long separation’ because that is BEAUTIFUL 🥺🥺🤍

alksdjkl this ended up being a lot longer than expected but ENJOY

reunion - obi-wan kenobi x reader

It’s been many months since he’s last seen her. He’s passed many moons, slept amongst many stars, and still, every one of them reminded him of her. And of course, there were nights when he couldn’t sleep. On those nights, he simply wished for her to be next to him, her voice just a whisper in his ear and her touch just the brush of her fingers against his skin.

Living on a ship, it’s never easy. Going out to battle, unable to know if any word or any breath will be your last is—of course—terrifying. And after the many months of being away, he still remembers the last words she’d said to him before he left.

Come back to me, she’d whispered, her lips next to his ear, the morning sun just beginning to shine through her curtains.

And as he left, het let the words repeat in his mind, until eventually, the sound of her voice was engrained there. If he thought enough, he could hear her laughter, could see her smile.

Those things, however small, brought him comfort.

And although now those memories feel as if they now only exist as phantoms—partially disappeared and systems away—they’re enough to lull him to sleep most nights.

And on days when that isn’t enough, when the toll of war is too much, he looks to the stars, and he remembers. He remembers the freckles on her back, he remembers the sparks in his eyes, and he simply remembers this: She is somewhere out there, made of stardust and love, she is out there.

And by getting through on those sentiments, he finds himself on the other side of the five months. There’s new scars on his back, new burns across his shoulders, and new memories he’d rather not think of, but soon enough he would be home. On Coruscant. With her.

Finally, they’re being sent back. The aid had been successful, and he could breathe. And what a lovely thing that is. Anxiously waiting to see his love again, yet feeling as though any stress had finally been lifted.

And so he waits, eyes falling shut every now and then, and simply lets himself feel as the ship moved.

And when they finally land, when he can finally feel the buzzing energy of Coruscant around him, he feels his shoulders drop.

He’s finally okay.

He’s finally come back.

On the tarmac, he can see a small crowd of people waiting. Senator Mothma, Senator Organa, Padmé, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, and, of course, her. He tries to keep himself from letting his gaze settle on her for too long, instead focusing on the way Anakin and Ahsoka quietly bicker next to her.

He has to suppress his laughter, only letting the beginnings of a smile come upon his face. Of course, that smile becomes much harder to suppress when he finally lets his gaze drift to her.

She looks as beautiful as ever, her hair falling around her face, loose strands blowing as the wind catches them. She wears a black jumpsuit, dark enough to contrast Senator Mothma’s pure white, with a cape hanging gracefully off her shoulders, catching the wind almost as much as her hair.

He has to remind himself to keep walking, to look over at Senator Organa or Ahsoka because he cannot control the way his smile looks in this moment.

But then she speaks.

And it’s steady, her voice smooth and professional and everything he’s missed.

“General Kenobi,” She says, “It’s nice to see you again.”

His eyes look over at her once more, and there’s a smirk on her face, one that no one would notice if they didn’t know her, but of course, Obi-Wan knows her. More than most people.

“And you as well,” He replies. He bows his head, and then turns to Anakin.

“May I ask why I have a greeting party?” He asks.

Anakin laughs, Ahsoka grinning up at him. She really does admire him, Obi-Wan knows. He wonders if Anakin thinks the same of him.

“Your presence has been requested, along with ours, at a Senate meeting. You’ll be attending with Senator Mothma while Ahsoka, Rex, and I attend with Senator Organa and Senator Amidala.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flick over to hers, and she offers him a smile, her eyes beginning to soften from their normal professional look.

“Well then, I suppose we should head off,” He says.

As they leave, Ahsoka slows to walk next to him.

“We’re all glad you’re back,” She says, her voice quiet, “I think Anakin missed you.”

“And you didn’t?” He replies, a smile plastered on his face.

“Oh, certainly not,” She retorts. But there’s a smirk on her face, and she bumps her shoulder with his before she walks ahead, returning to her spot next to Anakin.

And when he’s sure there are no longer eyes on him, he lets his gaze settle on his love. Simply watching as she walks, dramatic cape billowing behind her.

He notices the dots of white along her cape. Sparkling in the sun. He wonders if she realizes just how fitting that is.

—————

It’s another late night when he finds himself sneaking into her quarters. He knocks three times, softly, and then she’s standing in front of him.

And here, Obi-Wan realizes, is where he can finally, truly, deeply breathe. There are no eyes on him, no one except them. It’s a peace that he hasn’t felt in months.

She pulls him inside, and before the door’s even closed, she’s got her arms wrapped around him, face buried into the crook of his neck.

“Obi,” She whispers, muffled by his robes, “I missed you so much.”

His arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer.

And that’s all she needs to know he feels the same. Without much other thought, she leads him towards her bed, letting them both lay for some much needed rest.

Obi-Wan sheds his robes, revealing the new scars that lay across his back, and he feels as her hand raises, delicate fingers coming up to trace them. And then he feels the weight shift in the bed, and she’s sitting behind him, her lips pressing kisses to his shoulders.

His hand finds hers, and he closes his eyes, allowing himself to be enveloped by the feeling of comfort and home and absolute love that surrounds him.

“I thought of you every night,” He whispers. She leans her head against his back.

“I thought of you too,” She replies.

Silence hangs between them. He can feel her breathing against him, can feel the kiss of her lashes against his skin.

“When all of this is over,” He says, “Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

“No,” She says, “You’ll stay here on Coruscant, and I’ll find a place here with some Senator.” She pauses, letting her hand run up and down his arm. “You’ll stay with the Jedi.”

“I don’t want to leave you like that again,” He replies.

She presses a kiss to his shoulder once more.

“I know, my love. You won’t.” Her arms wrap around him. “I’ll always be here.”

That night, when he looks out at the stars, he doesn’t have to think of her, yet he does anyway. Her head lays next to him, her arm thrown lazily across his chest, yet he still thinks of her laugh as he looks out at the stars.

He doesn’t know if that habit will ever end. Some part of him hopes it doesn’t. The stars are a constant reminder of who she is. Her brightness, her beauty, her ability to shine light onto others.

And there’s a wonder about her. He turns his gaze to where she is, sleeping soundly next to him.

I’ll always come back, he thinks.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fanfic #obi wan kenobi blurb #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan fanfic #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x y/n #datapads #sav answers

138 notes · View notes

another-blog-bites-the-dust · 6 years ago

Text

Lap of the gods.

Summary: Two gods from different worlds prove that opposites really do attract.

Warnings: a lil bit of angst but nothing major, ughhhh sweet Roger melts my heart 😭💖

A/N: I still can't believe how much you all are liking this series! Thank you all so so much!! 😁😘 I'm sorry this part is a tiny bit short- I was going to incorporate the next part into it but I felt like it didn't flow as well. But I hope y'all enjoy! 💖

Part 3.

——————

"HERMES!" You screamed out into thin air, the god appeared before you in a matter of seconds. "I need you to fetch someone. The person who sent the flowers. He wants to visit the underworld."

Hermes coyly grinned "Ahh you met with him then. What did you think of Persephone?"

You narrowed your eyes "I think it's none of your business!" You hissed. "Just fetch him!" You tossed him a coin and Hermes bowed with a sigh before vanishing. You sat waiting patiently with Cerberus by your side.

Roger paced in his room waiting for Hermes. He wondered if you had been lying- that Hermes wouldn't come and that Roger wouldn't get the chance to see you again. He wouldn't blame you, he could see how much the other gods had chipped away at your trust. He hated that they had done that to you.

"What are you doing?"

Roger yelped and jumped, the voice had startled him. "Don't you know how to announce yourself?"

Hermes smirked "I don't need an announcement..." he narrowed his eyes at the god. "But seriously, why are you walking back and forth about your room? It's weird."

Roger glared at the messenger "I'm just...passing the time."

Hermes hummed, unconvinced "Passing the time or worrying about going to Hell for the first time and breaking your underworld virginity?" He laughed and shook his head. "The only thing you have to worry about is Hades and saying things that won't make her kill you."

Roger let out a shaky breath "She can kill a god?" His lips and fingers trembled.

"Of course she can!" Hermes incredulously replied. "She's a killer queen..." he stepped into the centre of the room and held out his hands for Roger to take. He pulled them back with furrowed brows when he took a good look at what Persephone was wearing. "You're not going to wear that down there, are you?"

"Why?" Roger narrowed his eyes "What's wrong with it?" He looked down at his outfit. He didn't see anything wrong with it.

Hermes rolled his eyes "Are you serious? You're going to the most depressing, ghoulish, macabre, unhealthy-"

"-Okay I get your point-" Roger uttered.

Hermes continued "-gruesome, grisly, grotesque, ghastly, horrible, unwholesome place to ever exist...and you're wearing white with buttercups in your hair." He added, mockingly.

"You're wearing white?!" Roger shrieked and motioned to the messengers outfit.

"Yeah, but I'm special," he flashed a pearly grin. "Plus you're going to be there for a lot longer than me today so..."

"Fine!" Roger slapped his thighs, growing impatient. In a flash his white robes changed to all black with specks of gold and dark ivy in his blonde hair. "How's this?"

Hermes smirked, jokingly "The black looks more like a dark grey but alright..." Roger opened his mouth to give him a piece of his mind but before he could reply to the messengers comment, he found himself in a dreary cave next to a river and a boat with a hooded figure in it. Persephone looked at Hermes. "This is a rarely used gate- it's not as brutal to look at as the main gateway to hell. You'll still have to go across the river Styx, however. Since you're not dead I don't know how this will pan out but pay the man anyway." He tossed Roger a danake coin. "Just give the lovely Charon here," Hermes jumped in the boat and playfully shook the disgruntled figure at the end of it "Your coin and he'll take you across the river of hatred to the palace. I have special access to the palace so I'll meet you at the end of your trip." Hermes stepped out of the boat and pushed Roger towards it. "For the love of all things impure, don't fall out of the boat and into eternal damnation." He clapped Roger's shoulder.

"What do you mean-" Roger cut himself off, Hermes had gone. "Eternal damnation...?" he uttered to himself before turning to the hooded figure at the top of the boat. Roger placed the coin down on the wooden seat in front of him and Charon slowly dragged it towards him and into his palm. The boat started moving.

"He's on his way," Hermes announced to you. Your eyes were fixated on the hundreds of flowers still in your throne room. "Hades...?"

"What?" You snapped out of your trance. "Oh, yes. When you collect him bring him in here," Hermes nodded and was about to walk away but you spoke up. "What did he look like?" You asked and Hermes turned slowly on the spot with a raised brow "When he saw the passage?"

"Scared." You felt a twang in your chest "Yet curious...I think he might pleasantly surprise you today. He made an effort for you." Hermes tightly smiled and bowed before leaving. That eased you a little...yet worried you at the same time. Why did you care so much about how the pure, angelic, beautiful god felt?

"Beautiful...?" You murmured to yourself and looked down at Cerberus feeling conflicted. You had never thought such a bold compliment about another god before.

Roger felt like he had held his breath for every antagonising second he had been on the boat. He didn't know what he was more nervous about- falling out the boat, the fact that he was in hell or that he was about to see you again. The screams were making his blood curdle and the heat was making his cheeks bright red. You were only scratching the surface in regards to how you described the place- it was much worse than Roger expected.

The boat came to an abrupt stop and Roger glanced up when he saw a figure. "You survived your journey then?" Hermes chuckled. "C'mon...she's waiting for you." Hermes put an arm around Roger's shoulders "And whatever you do...don't piss her off because I won't be there to help you out." Hermes pushed Roger into the palace. The naive god was in awe of everything. Persephone never knew such a magnificent palace could be in such a dismal, depressing place. It was black and red with gold gilded everywhere. Diamonds and precious crystals were oozing out from every area Roger scanned his eyes over. Then he smelt the flowers. That was a good sign- at least you still had them and hadn't burnt them to a crisp yet. Hermes stood in front of two large doors and cleared his throat. "May I present to you," he opened them and Roger felt the air rush from his lungs and his heart race. "The queen of the underworld."

Roger stumbled forward with his mouth gaping seeing you on your throne, the room was incredible but you were breathtaking. "Persephone," you stood up, a long train flowing behind your jet black dress. Your fingers shone with jewels and gold and a black lace cape cascaded down your back and arms- a bedazzled golden crown sat on top of your head. Roger swore he could see fire in the rubies. "Hello..." you approached him and dismissed Hermes with a glare.

Roger fell to one knee in front of you, the action made you eyes widen and brows raise. "Hades..." you weren't sure if it was the flames, but Roger had a twinkle in his eyes. "My queen." He pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

That really shocked you. For one- he didn't wince at your warm touch, secondly- he was on one knee kissing your hand. But the thing that shocked you the most was that he called you his queen. You slowly pulled your hand away, almost unwillingly. His skin was softer than the finest velvets you dressed in. "I hope you've prepared yourself," you said and Roger looked up to you "I'll be taking you for the...tour."

Roger smiled, the dark ivy in his hair only brought out the blonde more and the black fabric against his skin sent a chill down your spine. Hermes was right, he had made an effort for you- an impressive effort. "Cerberus!" The god grinned, extending his arms out and your hound from hell ran over with a happy expression on all the three of his faces. "Oh hi!" Hi good boy!" He cooed, laughing when the dog licked his face. "Such a handsome boy! You look much better this way! I missed you!"

A genuine smile appeared on your face, Roger saw it and he stopped petting your dog. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in all his life. When you noticed Roger looking at you with a toothy grin on his face your smile fell and you became stern again. "Cerberus," you called for him "By my side." He huffed and walked over to you.

Roger stood up and brushed himself off "So," he grinned "Where to first?"

"We'll go to the realm that isn't as bad as the others- Elysium." You said and walked alongside Roger out of your palace. Your boat was waiting for you and you extended your arm out to let him on first.

"This is a lot fancier than the boat I came to the palace in," his lips curved upwards and he held his hand out for you to take. You gladly took his hand and he helped you onto the boat.

You sat across from him and crossed your legs on the ornate seat. "This is one of my personal modes of transportation," you explained. "You don't think a damned soul would travel in a boat kissed with diamonds, do you?" You asked with the slightest hint of amusement in your voice. As soon as you said the word 'kissed' Roger's eyes flickered to your lips, they had a bright shade of crimson on them making the rest of your stunning features pop. "Elysium is the place for the especially distinguished. It isn't as strenuous on souls as the other parts of the underworld are. They have it easy there...too easy..." you added, almost annoyed. Roger smirked and the little puff of amused air leaving his lips intrigued you.

"Why is there a place like that here?" He chortled.

Your eyes looked off into the distance, your fingers clasping together loosely. "Even a wretched place like this deserves some beauty...the darkest of places will always have glimmer of light." Your eyes flickered to Persephone who was looking at you with that same twinkle you saw in his eyes earlier.

Roger kept asking you questions and you were happy enough to answer them, he was immersing himself in the experience well. Even when you took him to the more gritty areas he seemed unfazed- probably because he was looking at you half the time. "I tried to find out more about you, mainly from your father," you stopped waking and sharply raised a brow "Dropping subtle hints here and there but..." Roger sighed "He mainly talked about your two brothers."

"Of course he did," you said in a completely unsurprised tone and continued walking. "My wonderful, amazing brothers!" You faked your praises. "One a god of the skies and the other the sea. Although, Zeus and I have rulership over over some areas of the seas. Mine is the darkest of abyss'. The very pits of the ocean. By my fathers request." You lowly spoke, staring off into space. "I think he's afraid of me..." you murmured to yourself but Roger heard. "Well, here we are," you walked back into your palace to your throne, sitting down on it and looking down to Roger. "I can send for Hermes to take you back. I hope your visit wasn't too disappointing."

"It wasn't," he grinned and pet Cerberus again when he approached the him. "I actually hope to visit you again."

You didn't answer him for a moment, he was engrossed with petting the hound. The sight gave you that tingling feeling in your chest again. "Perhaps you can." Roger stopped petting the dog and looked up to you in shock. You tossed him another coin "Maybe you'll even reach third time lucky and I'll give you special access- then you won't need to cross the river, you'll end up right here."

"I'd like that...I'd like that a lot." Roger grinned and stepped forward towards you. Cerberus didn't even let out a growl, you knew that was a good sign. It meant that your guard dog found him trustworthy and unthreatening. He pulled out a flower from thin air and handed it to you "Because maybe you needed one more," he softly spoke, his eyes fixated on your facial features.

You looked up from the ice white flower to Roger. He went to step back but you reached out your hand and grabbed his wrist in a moment of sheer madness. Roger's eyebrows almost few off his face but he smiled at the warm contact. "Why?" You seriously spoke in a dark tone and his smile fell ever so slightly. "What are you trying to gain from being here? Is this some sort of act of defiance against the other gods up there?!" Your voice raised slightly and you stood up. "You provide so much happiness, vegetation, flowers, life..." Your voice cracked ever so slightly. "So why would you come to a place that is barren?!" You questioned. "Those things do not and will never exist here so why come and why want to come back? What could possibly bring you joy here?!"

"You!"

You stumbled back a little in shock- completely taken aback by his response. Then Hermes arrived, looking between the two of you and feeling the tension. "Are you ready to leave, Persephone?" He asked.

Roger looked deep into your eyes. 'No'. "Yes."

You nodded to Hermes and in a flash the pair of them disappeared. You sat back on your throne and admired the rose in your hand, it managed to make you smile.

•••

Hermes kept a pair of narrowed eyes on Roger when they arrived back his room. "Why are you so infatuated with Hades?" He asked. "And don't try to deny it- I see how much you're trying to impress her."

Roger shook his head, he was back in his normal robes gazing down and wondering what you'd be doing and if you'd be still holding the rose he gave you. "She's...different," he smiled. "I don't know what it is but I feel alive being with goddess that lives in such a dead place. And I made her smile!" He longingly sighed and placed his hand to his heart while biting down on his lip. "Ugh that smile! I wish I could make her do it more often because it's just so damn beautiful- even more beautiful than all the flowers I've created!"

Hermes folded his arms "I see..." was all he said. He did see. He could see how much the poor god was falling in love with you. But maybe that was a good thing. "I best be off."

"When you you come and get me tomorrow?" Persephone asked.

"Tomorrow?" He repeated with raised eyebrows. "What do you mean by 'tomorrow'?" Roger showed the messenger the coin you had gave him. Hermes was shocked. You very rarely had guests, let alone invite anyone back twice- especially the very next day. Hermes blinked and slowly nodded "U-uh..." he let out a laugh as he breathed out and scratched his head "Okay...alright, tomorrow."

"What is it?" Roger asked, putting the coin away in a safe place. Hermes didn't reply- he just held out his hands with a smirk and then left. Roger huffed but looked down through the clouds again, his mind drifting back to you.

———————————

• Part one • Part two • Part four •

Tags- (if you'd like to be on the tag list just let me know! Also sorry if I've accidently forgot to tag you!)

@rrrogah-tayluhh @rogerofmylife @phantom-fangirl-stuff @pyrotechnic789 @deacytits @mercurys-bike @happy-at-home @mhftrs @dannydelay @queenismylifenow @whitequeen-blackqueen @stateofloveandvedder @blondyfel @wolverinesbeer @11mb0 @the-tales-of-ck @mespetitestortues @dearestdeacy @wingardiumlevidonewithlife @sweetdayme4427 @maiauniversetime @the-garnet-rain @obsessedwithrogertaylor @marequeenii @gizellexxi @chromealchemist @truthdaze @xtrashmammalstefx @killerqueenbucky @trickster-may @annemanzano @mydogisthebest @makapaka11 @silvver-rose @stielchewi

135 notes · View notes

kyliehorsegirl · 6 years ago

Text

All’s Fair in Love and War (Duncan Shepherd x Reader)

A/n: O wow the elusive Kylie comes out from hiding, is it spring? I am so so so sorry I have been MIA. School, work, life and writer’s block.

This was a request I got a month or so back for a Duncan x reader romeo and juliet style. this is very long and very fluffy. I hope you enjoy!!

I will get back into the swing of things! Fear not, love you all.

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

The Shepherds and the Underwoods were the most elite group of families in the Country. After several generations of war, the two parties decided to come together in union. The current reining families would marry off their children to each other. The Shepherds presented their son, Duncan while the Underwoods presented their daughter, Y/n. In one year’s time, the two were to be wed, ending the years of war between them.

Y/n was a young and beautiful girl, always adorned in the finest gowns, money could buy, at least that’s what her parents wanted for her. Despite what her family wanted, she was a simple girl. She spent her time wandering the forest and drawing things in nature that made her happy. Y/n was very found of music, taking up the piano, violin and the clarinet. Her talents were beyond the recognition she got for them. Most people didn’t know she was Perficient at multiple instruments and no one knew she could draw.

Duncan, an extremely handsome man was secretive and mysterious. He was a bit of a rebellious youngster. He would argue the system, causing difficulty for his parents. He had taken up poetry as a small hobby, of course, his parents would think it was something rather un-masculine. Instead of letting the world know of his hobby, he would take charge in organizing his family’s events and galas. Some of Duncan’s other hobbies consisted of playing the cello and painting portraits.

Both families were made up of extremely talented members. The Underwoods currently reigned in the region, while the Shepherds were Dukes and Duchesses of the highest order. It only made sense for them to come to a union. Their decision of a union came on the day of Y/n’s 21st birthday, when she truly became a woman. Duncan, who was a few years older was notified of the union on the same day.

“Mother, I don’t see why I have to wed the Underwood girl.” Duncan said, making notes for their upcoming gala, Y/n’s birthday to be exact. The kingdom was invited to the Underwood castle for Y/n’s 21st birthday, which was being held the weekend she turned of age. The day of her real birthday is when The Shepherds announced to their son of his new engagements. King and Queen Underwood along with Duke and Duchess Shepherd, had been discussing the union for quite sometime now. It wasn’t until now that they announced to their children that they were soon to wed.

“Duncan, watch your tongue. You should be honored to wed the princess for a union. She will be a good wife as you shall be a good husband.” Duchess Annette said to him, sipping her wine as she gazed out onto their balcony. They had a beautiful view of the Kingdom, the Underwood castle painted into the view.

“I barely know her mother. We barely interact, I haven’t seen her for quite sometime now anyway.” Duncan had rolled his eyes, undenounced to his mother. He continued to write out plans for the gala’s festivities.

“Oh, Duncan don’t be crass. It’s not uncommon for our kind to be arranged, but this arrangement to unify our two regions. This is crucial for the kingdom. You know how long our families have been at war, we are trying to be better than our ancestors.” Annette sighed and walked over to Duncan, her long garnet robe glided across the marble floor. She sets her wine down on the oak table and rests a hand on Duncan’s chair, leaning down to give a kiss to his cheek.

“Yes mother, I know, but do I not get a say?” He sets his pen down and turns to her, waiting intently. She smiles with a small chuckle.

“No, love you darling.” She picks up her wine once more, exiting the room. He leans back in his chair and roughly runs his hands through his hair, groaning in displeasure.

“Mother! You can’t be serious! The Shepherd boy?” Y/n threw her hands in the air, pacing the room as her mother sat at one of the thrones with her legs crossed and a bored expression on her face.

“Oh, please Y/n, this is no time for childish behavior, Duncan is a handsome boy, he will make a fine husband.” Claire said, shaking her head at her daughter.

“A fine husband? I don’t even know him! Who cares how handsome he is? What’s the point if I don’t even know him?” Y/n stomped throughout the room with anxiety.

“You are being ridiculous. This union has been in the works for quite some time now. Joining our regions is good for the kingdom. Our previous generations made the mistake of fighting with the Shepherds. This will prove beneficial to the trade market and war alliances.” Claire got up to stop her daughter’s pacing form. She grabbed her by her shoulder, making Y/n faced her.

“I just turned 21 Mother. Why can’t I just live my life?” Y/n asked her mother with defeat. Claire searched Y/n’s face until her eyes were at attention.

“Because, aside from the obvious Y/n? You are a princess and it is your duty to help better your kingdom.” Her mother’s advice gave no reassurance. Her head hung in defeat. As her mother let go, she made her way to the balcony, the beautiful forest a greenery painted her vision like a piece of art and off in the distance was the Shepherd Manor.

The eve of her birthday gala, Y/n sat in her boudoir being pampered by servants. She tried to shoo them away, insisting she could take care of herself.

“Milady, please let us serve you, not only is it your birthday gala, but it is what we are her for. To serve.” One of the girls said, smiling genuinely. The poor thing only knew the servant life. Y/n wished for nothing more, than to treat the girl herself, or at least give her the means to leave the servant life.

“Dahlia, please. You’ve done so much as it is, I don’t want to bother you.” Y/n looked at her reflection in sadness, before turning her gaze downward, suddenly more interested in her lap.

“It’s your birthday. We live to serve you princess, it is our purpose.” The girls excitedly prepared her for an evening of festivities. They painted her face, up did her hair and dressed her in the most exquisite gown.

She looked at herself in the floor length mirror. She was wearing deep ocean blue dress, strapless with a sweetheart neckline, attached to the back off the dress was a royal blue chiffon cape. Her hair was curled in a half up half down do with a small tiara, placed ever so precisely atop her head. Her eyes were dark like the night sky and her lips were as nude as her skin. Y/n stared at herself, so long that the girls asked if she was ok.

She didn’t recognize herself. She was simple. If it were up to her, she would wear a loose-fitting top and some comfortable pants. Her maids help escort her to the top of the stair case, in preparation to descend into the ballroom.

Duncan was casually sipping a strong liquor, waiting in boredom for the princess’s appearance. All of the subjects of the kingdom had mingled casually. Claire and her husband, and Annette and her husband, interacted to pass the time.

Two men stood at either side of the staircase, they blew their trumpets to acquire the attention of everyone in the ball room. Their conversations silenced. Bodies turned and eyes gazed up upon the staircase.

Another man appeared in the middle, dressed in a tailcoat and breeches.

“Presenting, her royal highness, Princess Y/n Underwood.” He bowed and moved to the side as the trumpets blew once more. Y/n appeared at the top of the stairs, audible awes bounced through the open air.

She began descending the stairs carefully, her head held high despite her current feelings. Duncan’s eyes were wide as he followed her every move down the steps. ‘Has she always been this beautiful?’ He thought to himself. She was absolutely gorgeous. He found himself speechless at the very sight of her.

She nodded and greeted everyone that came up to her, wishing her a happy birthday, what a great gala. She made her way to her parents and the Duke and Duchess.

“Y/n darling, don’t you look wonderful.” Annette smiled at her giving her hand a hold and a kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you, Duchess, that means a lot coming from you.” Y/n’s smile partially fake and partially real.

“Oh, please Y/n, no need for formalities I’m going to be like your second mother soon!” She exclaimed giddily. Y/n did her best to hide the grimace on her face.

“Speaking of Duncan, where is your son? I wanted to tell him what a marvelous job he’s done on the gala.” Claire said, bringing Annette’s attention to her.

“I thought I just saw him, he- “As if his ears were burning, Duncan appeared at his mother’s side.

“Hello, I’m sorry to keep you all. I was just checking on how things were going.” His deep voice right at Y/n’s ear, sending a shiver down the back of her neck. She kept her head down, not looking at him yet. Being in-tune to each other, Annette and Claire cleared their throats at their children in sync.

Y/n caught her mother’s correction, lifting her head to meet his eyes. Also understanding his mother’s minimal warning, he grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it.

“Princess.”

“My Lord.” They bowed and curtsied to each other before retreating quickly. The high families made their way to the head table. The Queen and Duchess seated in the middle, followed by the King and Duke and ending with Lord Duncan and Princess Y/n.

The subjects enjoyed their dine, before Queen Claire stood and clinked her glass several times alerting her company that she had something to say. The sound of metal clinking against the fine china plates was put to a stop as all the attention was now on her.

“My dear subjects, as you know we come together tonight to celebrate the 21st birthday of my daughter Y/n. Well, that is not the only reason we have gathered you all here tonight.” Y/n looked down, avoiding the looming gaze of hundreds of eyes on her.

“For quite some time, the Underwoods and the Shepherds have had a historical quarrel. Times have changed, in effort to better our country as well as the kingdom and to move forward with alliances, Lord Duncan Shepherd, son of Duke and Duchess Shepherd, is to wed my daughter, Princess Y/n.” Annette stood up with Claire, grabbing her hand and raising it in the air.

The subjects stood in applause and cheered. Y/n’s cheeks were pinched with a rose blush of embarrassment. The King and Duke stood as they ushered for the children to do the same.

Upbeat classical music played, thanks to the talents of a live orchestra. The subjects danced in an outlined circle, while Y/n and Duncan’s parents ‘forced’ them to take their first dance as a newly courting couple. Duncan grabbed her hand, a little roughly holding it up in the air, as they made their way to the center of circling couples.

He turned her to face him as they acknowledged each other. An opposite hand touched one another, walking in a circle. They faced once more, their hands clasped. His free hand to her waist and her free hand to his shoulder. They danced for quite some time before speaking.

“You look beautiful tonight.” Duncan’s deep voice caught her attention.

“Thank you, you did a wonderful job on the gala.” She offered a small smile.

“Thank you.” Silence overcame them once more. What was there to say? Hello future husband, let’s talk about stuff? As simple as that seemed, it wasn’t for either of them. When the song ended, they pulled away from each other. Offering each other a smile.

The party had ended and Y/n was keeping her distance from as many people as possible, especially Duncan. The servants had already started cleaning the ballroom as the Shepherds and Underwoods retired to a large sitting room. The parents were sitting at various lounge seats, sipping their wine. Duncan was standing at the balcony, drinking his liquor.

Y/n was in her room, removing her tiara and dress, finding something simpler to wear. She chose a soft grey dress, nothing to heavy or fancy. She made her way into the sitting room.

“Ah, there you are darling, we need to go over the arrangements.” Claire spoke up once Y/n entered the room. Y/n sighed and poured herself a drink.

“Duncan come here, obviously this involves you too.” Annette spoke up. Duncan’s grip on his glass tightened, letting out a sigh he makes his way to sit at one of the couches.

“Now, you two will be wed one year from now, until then you will court each other.” Claire said. “One month from now, Duncan will come to live with us. You two will be given your own wing in the castle, separate rooms of course.” She finished.

“Duncan, it will give you enough time to gather your things and for Y/n to have time to get adjusted to your arrangement.” Annette spoke.

“Do you two understand your duty to our country?” Claire spoke in all seriousness, the softness in her voice, gone and now stern.

“Yes, mother.” Y/n said quietly.

“Yes, your majesty.” Duncan says deeply.

“It’s settled then. We look forward to your residency Duncan.” Claire spoke

“Thank you, your majesty.” No one caught the bitterness, except Y/n. She knew he hated this just as much as her. Yet, she still felt a pang in her chest. Of hurt? Perhaps.

The Shepherds began entering their carriage, the royal family waiting respectfully outside the castle, bidding them good bye.

Y/n had gone to the stables for a late ride, in need of clearing her head. As she reached the long barn, she went to the stall that housed her black Friesian stallion, Allocer. She had spent time grooming him and braided his long mane. She threw her saddle on him and trotted him out of the barn before taking off at a gallop into the woods.

Allocer was one of the fastest horses in the land, he was an import from the Netherlands, he was her pride and joy. She clicked to him encouraging him faster. The trees flew past her as his heavy hooves thundered against the forest floor.

She didn’t realize she was crying until her salty tears stung the scratches on her face, whipped at her from the tree branches. She had eased him to a easy walk, patting his heavy shoulder. His thick breath was clouding up the air.

Why did she have to be condemned to a life of solitude? In many ways, she was much like the servant girl, a servant to her people, to her country. The Underwoods and Shepherds had been at war for many years. Why now was there need of a Union? Why was it expected of her to marry a man she doesn’t know? This burden should rest on the shoulders of her parents, for they were the King and Queen as she was just a Princess.

She took a longer trek home as she allowed Allocer to move at a steady walk, although, with his long stride he still managed to cover ground.

After she had put him away, she retired to her room. She laid in bed, thinking of what is to come.

It was the day that Duncan was to come live with them. Y/n paced throughout the castle with anxiety.

“He is here Y/n, settle down and come greet him.” Claire called from the front door. Y/n slowly made her way down the steps. Duncan had been welcomed in by Claire, who embraced him in a hug. His servants were bringing in his luggage, heading up to Y/n and Duncan’s wing.

“Hello Duncan.” Y/n smiled at him. He offered a small smile back.

“Hey.”

“Why don’t you show him to the room he will be staying in.” Claire gave a pointed look at Y/n.

“Right this way Duncan.” He followed closely at her side.

“This is your room, mine is just down the way.” Y/n all but mumbled.

“Thank you.” He bid her a goodnight and closed the door. Y/n stood just outside his door, staring, wondering, is this her life?

Day after day, it was the same routine. Breakfast, lunch dinner. Y/n and Duncan would sit awkwardly across from each other. Her mother and father would discuss the agenda for the day. Duncan and her hardly spoke to each other.

One week, two weeks, one month went by. Still, hardly any words were spoken. Y/n know nothing about Duncan and Duncan knew nothing about her. Until late one evening.

The day had been particularly difficult for Y/n, Duchess Shepherd and Queen Underwood bombarded Y/n with ideas on the wedding. What should the color scheme be? What flowers should they get? Question after question.

Y/n clenched her jaw, humming along never giving a real answer. Claire and Annette talked as if she wasn’t there. It was her wedding, but it couldn’t even be her wedding? It was all so overwhelming. She didn’t know or even talk with her fiancé. Neither of them made an effort.

Duchess Annette bid her son farewell and left. Duncan had retired in to his own room and Y/n’s parents left to their room as well.

Her jaw clenched and unclenched with every step up the staircase. Her eyes watered, blurring her line of sight. She made her way to her room, quietly. She shrugged off her dress, throwing on a flowy top and riding pants. As she exited her room, she rubbed her eyes of the tears that burned them and grabbed a cloak.

Duncan lay mindlessly on his bed, his balcony doors open wide, allowing for the cool evening breeze to kiss his skin tenderly. He is pulled from his thoughts as he hears a commotion down below. He gets up and makes his way to the balcony’s edge. He looks down seeing a large black steed running down the path into the woods, the princess atop him.

Duncan was curious, he didn’t know she could ride, he had never seen her ride before. He promised himself he would stay awake until she was to return. He wanted to know about the horse and her riding.

Allocer’s large hooves carried her fast along the path. Her eyes burned as fresh tears raced behind her. She slowed Allocer, hugging his large neck. She tangled her fingers in his long black mane.

“I wish we could just leave this place Allocer.” She patted his large neck, sitting up straight. She walked home slowly as she had done in the past, dreading the return.

She dismounted Allocer and walked him into the stable. She had put him away in his stall, when she heard a voice behind her.

“I didn’t know you could ride?” A deep voice spoke. She screamed and turned towards the voice, hand clutching her heart.

“You frightened me, what are you doing here?” She back up against the stall door.

“I could as you the same. Why are you out so late?” His blue eyes twinkled with wonder. She looked him up and down, her brows furrowed.

“I, I needed some air.” She locked the stall and walked towards the tack room, replacing the saddle and bridle in their spot. Duncan followed closely behind her.

“Are you ok? Is something wrong.”

“Why are you talking to me all of a sudden? You haven’t spoke this much to me before.” She questioned.

“I heard a commotion and looked out the balcony to see you riding into the woods.” He titled his head with curiosity. “I ride too, we could ride together sometime?” He waited patiently and nervous for her answer.

“I, that might be nice.” Y/n stared at him, confused. She turned and began to walk away. He trotted up next to her and held an arm out to her. She looked at it cautiously before she held the arm given to her.

He stopped at her door.

“Perhaps we could do something just the two of us tomorrow?” He looked at her with a new light. She was truly beautiful. She was rid of expense dresses, wearing her riding gear. He would never deny that he always thought she was beautiful.

“I would like that.” She smiled carefully at him.

The next day, Duncan had planned a picnic in the garden. Servants brought a picnic basket to them as they sat atop a soft blanket in the middle of the garden. Rose hedges surrounded them and shielded them from everyone else.

“So, I guess we should get to know each other?” Y/n asked as she took a bite of a strawberry.

“Might as, well right?” He countered. She hummed in response.

“Do you have any hobbies?” She started off.

“I do, a few actually. I play cello, paint and don’t tell anyone this but I write poetry.” A small blush crept up his cheeks.

“Poetry, really?” A small smirk played on her face.

“Hey now, don’t make fun. What about you?” He smiled at her.

“Well, I play a few instruments and I draw here and there.” She grabbed a piece of cheese and took a sip of her wine.

“What instruments do you play?” Duncan took a sip of wine as well.

“Piano, violin and clarinet.” Y/n smiled at him.

“That’s amazing.”

Their bond grew every day. Every day they found out more and more about each other. They always made plans to go outside and enjoy nature. One day she asked him to paint her and several hours later, there she was, her beautiful face painted onto a canvas.

She found herself drawing him in her spare time. His features prominent in her sketch book. She found that he was rather funny and entertaining. He wasn’t the stoic and boring person she thought he was He made her laugh more than anyone had before.

When Y/n came out of her shell, Duncan was quick to notice and he loved it. She was smart, beautiful and funny. She was such a strong person, she just needed time to shed those layers of insecurities and nervousness.

They adored each other more and more with each passing day. This didn’t go unnoticed by Claire of Annette.

“You know, your Duncan has really started taking a liking to Y/n.” Claire said with a genuine smile, taking a sip of her wine.

“I’ve noticed. Of course, he doesn’t say anything to me or my husband, but we’ve noticed. It makes me happy.” Annette graced a smile herself.

“I had felt bad for them initially, we never ask or want to be arranged, but in the end, we fall more in love with a person chosen for us rather than someone we find ourselves.” Claire said remorsefully.

“I agree, I was very skeptical when I was arranged to the Duke. After lots of time, we got to know each other and grow together.” Annette looked off into the distance.

Play “The Piano Duet” from Corpse Bride”

Annette and Claire made their way to the ballroom when hearing a beautiful sound echoing off the walls.

Y/n sat at the piano in the large ball room. She began to play a melancholy tune. Duncan creeped in, he sat next to her and smiled, she gave a smile back. He played a few tunes of his own. She eyed him playfully, her fingers danced along the keys once more.

They bounced off each other’s moment before joining together their fingers fought for dominance on the piano.

Annette and Claire’s warm expression aimed at their children, their hearts enlightened at the sight of the two playing together.

Nothing made the two mothers happier than to see their children grow closer and closer together. Duncan and the princess played until their fingers were tired. They smiled and laughed at each other as they played and played.

The sound of the keys echoed beautifully in the ballroom, it was as if they were playing in a music hall.

The two moms looked to each other before leaving their kids to themselves. When their song finally finished, Y/n sat there with her hands in her lap, smiling at the piano.

“You know, that was really fun, you’re really good.” Y/n looked at him with a glint in her eyes, something different. Duncan’s blue eyes never left hers.

“You, are incredibly beautiful. Your talent never ceases to amaze me.” Duncan smiled as he reached for her hand, holding it in his own. Y/ne looked to their hands, bringing her eyes back up to his.

Y/n saddled up Allocer while Duncan tacked up a white Andalusian mare Nyx. They galloped out of the stable and into the forest.

Duncan and Y/n raced the horses through the trees, fighting for first place. She laughed at him as she raced past him, the look on his face was priceless. He smirked as he urged the mare forward.

They slowed the horses to a stop.

“Ok, you win, your horse is very fast.” Duncan laughed, giving Nyx a heavy- handed pat on the neck. She shook her head as her long mane flipped back and forth.

“Allocer is one of the fastest horses I know, but Nyx is a very close second. They both mean the world to me.” Y/n smiled, leaning down to give Allocer a hug.

“I can see that, they are both beautiful animals. I am honored to be able to ride her.” His smile reached his eyes, warming Y/n’s heart.

“Come on, I want to show you something.” With that she took off at a gallop.

“Hey, wait!” Duncan urged Nyx to follow. They ran further and further until they came to a clearing. Y/n slowed Allocer to a stop. There was a wide-open view, they perched themselves at the top of the cliff looking out over the horizon.

The sunset was painted across the sky, pinks, oranges and purples. Y/n grinned widely as she saw Duncan’s eyes wide with fascination.

“It’s beautiful here.” He said immediately looking at her. He watched as the setting sun kissed her skin, shadows extenuating all the right features. She was beautiful.

“I know, I love to come here. It’s one of my favorite places to be.” Her face was soft with content as she closed her eyes enjoying the warm light on her face. She looked over to him, seeing all he could look at was her. His face was content, he was happy, at least that’s what she thought.

“You’re beautiful.” Her eyes searched his for any inclining he was lying, her trust not quite his. She smiled shyly.

“I think you’re just saying that.” She blushed.

“No, I mean it, honest. I’m happy to have you as my fiancé. You are beautiful inside and out.” He saw how tender she had been to the animals, they were obviously important to her. The care she put into her instruments, he saw it all. With a small nod at each other they rode back.

The pair grew closer and closer. Duncan dated her the way he wished he had the chance to in the beginning. After all that time together, they became best friends. They would take walks in the garden hands touching, but never holding.

One instance in the garden however, he had plucked a single rose and handed it to her with a bow. She blushed as she took it gently from his hand, sparks. The spark she felt deepened her blush. As they continued their walk their hands got closer and closer. He gently opened her hand waiting to see if he was going too far, she slowly clasped her hand around his.

Duncan’s smile grew, his heart was warm.

They never walked the garden without being hand in hand. She slowly began to rest her head on his arm as they walked side by side. She stops and he turns to her. Their eyes locked in each other’s gaze. Duncan leans in slow and cautious. She carefully stretches to meet him in a kiss, their first kiss.

On one of their rides Duncan and Y/n both said “I love you” at the same time, causing one another to blush and laugh.

They were found laying on the couch together, Y/n in his arms. She would often fall asleep on his chest, in which he would wrap his arms around her in a protective hold.

One night, late one night. Y/n sauntered her way into Duncan’s room. This was the night they made love. It was soft and gentle. Of course, their parents didn’t know. It was forbidden. They loved each other. Their naked bodies tangled in each other’s grasp. The heat radiated to one another.

“I want to take you somewhere.” Duncan said to Y/n.

“O, is that so.” She said to him playfully. They rode out on their horses. Y/n recognized the place instantly, it was her favorite spot, the spot she took him to all those months ago.

They dismounted their horses and looked out over the horizon.

“I can never get tired of this view.” Y/n sighed with content, looking at the colors she was so familiar with.

“Neither can I.” Duncan said knowingly. Y/n turns to him and gasps. Duncan is perched on one leg, a knew to the ground and a small black box in his hand.

“Duncan!” She exclaimed.

“I wanted to do this right. Y/n I loved you, more than anything. You have made happier than I have been in a long time. Y/n Underwood, will you continue to make me the happiest that I have ever been and be my wife?” There was a small plea in Duncan’s eyes.

“Of course, I will marry you, I love you Duncan!” He smiled largely as he slid the sliver band on her finger. He picked her up and swung her around as she laughed and held him close.

Duncan waited patiently at the altar. His nerves were starting to get the best of him. Almost half the kingdom had attended for this momentous occasion.

He is almost brought to tears as he sees his best friend walking down the aisle. Adorned in a beautiful white dress that accented her figure. The train followed several feet behind her.

As she met him face to face, she gave him the most genuine smile.

“Dearly beloved-“ The priest was tuned out for the both of them as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. The moment they came back to reality was when it was time to say I do.

“Do you Duncan Shepherd take Princess Y/n Underwood to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Duncan said.

“Do you Princess Y/n Underwood take Duncan Shepherd to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Y/n’s cheeks became sore with how wide she was smiling.

“They I know pronounce you, husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride.” Duncan put a hand on Y/n’s waist and brought her into a deep kiss. The kingdom cheered for the newlyweds.

And so, the arranged marriage between Underwood and Shepherd ended the centuries long dispute. The kingdom was at peace, finally.

Duncan and Y/n lived happily ever after.

The End.

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

I hope you enjoyed! I’ll be writing more soon.

MASTERLIST

#Duncan Shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #hoc #Cody Fern #michael langdon #michael langdon x fem!reader #michael langdon x reader #AHS #american horror story #house of cards #american horror story imagine #american horror story fanfiction

51 notes · View notes

whispersafterdusk · 6 years ago

Text

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 13

Over the two days they'd thus far had to themselves Brelyna and Onmund carefully danced around the subject of 'what happens next?' and in Onmund's case he felt his thoughts had to be a lot...grimmer, darker, than anything Brelyna might be imagining. He had seen the crown and felt its allure - had felt it trying to ensnare him. He had an idea of what it did and could do, and the more he fretted over what Varea might be doing with it as they waited the more he thought of Cedrore.

Cedrore had already been at the College when Onmund arrived - already an Adept in fact, and because their schedules and skill level differed they'd rarely found time or a reason to speak to one another. He remembered the dark haired, slender Breton as a quiet man with a habit of fixating on things to such a degree that he could probably tune out a volcano erupting if what he was reading was important enough to him, and that he seemed to just absorb knowledge like a towel absorbed water. Onmund had been pretty certain that Cedrore was the Arch-Mage's favorite student even before the Eye of Magnus was discovered and many shared that opinion (albeit quietly, but not because of jealousy or out of malice...it was just...something that was, like the sun rising). ((Continued below cut))

Because of the favoritism and trust that Cedrore enjoyed he had been the one tasked with locating and retrieving the Staff, and ultimately had been the one who took Ancano down. The problem was that Cedrore hadn't survived that battle; in those few moments between striking Ancano down and the others rushing into the hall he'd died of his injuries...too quickly to even explain where the Eye had disappeared to when they'd found him alone. The similarities between the danger of the Eye and the crown had Onmund wondering if he was destined to be the next Cedrore -- the hero who saves everyone but dies in the end.

Then again, why should he think he'd be the hero at all? Varea had sacrificed the others to empower herself and had "killed" Kestrel, what if she did that again? He imagined (or hoped) that Kestrel would have a plan to prevent that from happening a second time...but he wasn't Kestrel. He wasn't at that level of mastery, and maybe he wasn't even at Cedrore's relative skill level either. Varea could very likely kill him before he even got a spell off -- some hero he'd be then, right?

But he knew Brelyna was correct in that he couldn't go into this already expecting to lose; it was just...he couldn't see himself as more than another soon-to-be casualty. Whatever came next was almost certainly going to hinge on Kestrel's power and have nothing to do with him, and while he could admit to himself that it would be best if he was simply an onlooker and stayed out of the way he hated the feeling of uselessness that came with it.

It took three more days before Kestrel emerged a second time; her illusions were in place and she looked like her "normal" self though Onmund could see a tension in her body language and a steely determination in her eyes when she'd looked him up and down (after startling him by barging into the sitting room where he'd been reading) and wordlessly gestured for him to follow her to one of the few remaining doors he'd never been through.

The door she went to appeared like the others - wood with bronze and iron bands, a latch, and no bigger or smaller than what you'd find in a normal home - but listening to it grind open he realized it was actually about six inches thick, was charged with a magical energy that hadn’t been apparent until it’d opened, and that the latch was actually just for show: she touched the door in a few specific places to trigger the magical lock to release and then it took all of her weight to budge it. All the noise prompted Brelyna to poke her head out of the library and soon she was standing beside Onmund in the hall as they watched Kestrel push the door open wide enough to allow them to enter; she disappeared into the darkness inside and Onmund followed a moment after, and was blinded when all the candles, lanterns, and a fireplace roared to life within it all in the same instant.

As he blinked the afterimages from his eyes the hair on his arms stood on end -- somewhere very nearby was a source of energy powerful enough that he could feel it without needing to search for it, and once his vision finally cleared he found himself standing in a very narrow and long room, lined to either side with racks of dusty weapons and armor interspersed with trunks and cabinets (and, of course, all the sconces and lanterns and the singular fireplace)...it looked very much like an armory - one he hadn't sensed from outside the room - and as he stepped further inside he suspected that most (if not everything) here had to have once belonged to Kestrel's apprentices as he noted the varying sizes and styles of the objects inside here.

From behind him he heard Brelyna's voice "what IS all of this?" and he waited to hear Kestrel's answer; for a long moment there was no response -- Kestrel was quickly striding to the far end of the room (this room felt more like a hallway than the actual hallway did) and was grabbing pouches and satchels as she went.

And then, "apprentice - find something that fits."

"...what?" came his bewildered response. He looked again at all of the armor around him -- most of what was here were...really, really fancy, really fortified-looking robes, though he did see a few scattered pieces of what he guessed was chainmail, and a single platemail shoulder guard. "You can't be serious."

She stopped to fix him with a chilling glare and he decided that maybe it'd be best to listen to her and hurried to look over the armor that lined the walls; robes would probably have the best chance of fitting him - they could be tucked, folded, or cinched to adjust for size - and the material of the armor didn't matter much when it was raw magic coming at you.

...well, maybe if it were a conjured blade then it'd make a difference, since that was both magic as well as a physical aspect, but he doubted that Varea or anyone else would bother getting into close range with him.

He found a set of armor that seemed to be a combination of cloth and leather - it had a sort of hood and half cape that covered the left shoulder and part of the thick, stiff chest piece, with the lower half an open wrap over studded leather pants, and the boots that matched (which looked too small) even had metal caps on the toes. It was an equal balance of warrior, mage, and a lighter touch of a scout's leathers, and the craftsmanship on it was such a high quality that he felt awkward even looking at it -- this sort of thing wasn't for mere apprentices, this was the regalia of some kind of...of...war mage.

When Kestrel noticed he'd stopped in front of that set she left off what she was doing and came over to begin removing it from its stand.

"I - wait, this- I'm not a fighter."

"You've been taught how."

"What am I supposed to do against someone who defeated you?"

Kestrel scoffed and grabbed him by the collar, jerking him around to stand more in the center of the aisle that ran down the middle of the room. "You will not be handling her, I will. Now do I have to dress you like a child or merely handle the straps once you've got it on?"

That made him feel only marginally better; he began to pull the armor on and found that it wasn't quite large enough but wasn't so uncomfortable that he couldn't wear it (and the rest of the robes and gear here definitely looked too small for him - if only the apprentice that had come before him had had armor...Onmund WAS wearing his clothing after all and while it was slightly too big he'd rather have it loose than it being this tight). Kestrel loosened all the straps as much as she could and helped tuck the pants into the tops of his boots (he definitely could not wear the too-small footwear), then made him spin in a circle once it was all on.

Onmund had felt odd looking at the armor before but wearing it was...he wanted to describe it as "mind expanding" but that seemed too grandiose. What he DID know for certain was this gear was heavily enchanted and he felt fortified, energized, and strangely secure in it even though it was somewhat ill-fitting, and the energized sensation increased when he pulled the hood up.

"Who did this belong to?" he asked; he looked down at himself and flexed his fingers -- it was such an odd feeling wearing this. Onmund glanced back to Brelyna then and felt his ears grow warm at the look of admiration and curiosity on her face.

"An old mentor of mine," Kestrel answered. Seemingly satisfied (and completely ignoring the look of amazement on Onmund's face) she went back to gathering pouches and the like before heading down the far end of the room. "He'd be tickled pink to know I'd kept it all this time AND that it's still functional. He made it himself," she explained further, glancing back to him briefly with the first smile he'd seen on her face since she'd re-emerged from her coffin. "The entirety of my base knowledge of enchanting came from him, and you'd have been amazed to watch the man sew."

As he watched (and very carefully stretched and shifted about to see if he could stretch out the leather and fabric some) Kestrel opened a cabinet and removed a layered set of robes that, as she sorted the pieces and let them drop to a table, thudded loudly against the wood; when she shook them out and started to pull them on the fabric folded and caught in oddly defined patches -- were those metal plates sewn into padded pockets? That's definitely what it looked like.

"What's our plan, then?" Onmund asked after a pause (he politely waited until she had her head pushed through the neck of some kind of padded undershirt).

"I will handle Varea, and YOU-" she said, emphasizing the word as she looked to him, "-will make certain no one gets close enough for her to claim their souls and empower herself again. I've no doubt in my mind that she'll be a difficult opponent with just the crown and her own wits but I've no intention of letting her pull her little trick a second time and add more bodies to the pile. --where DID you put those bodies?" she asked after a breath.

Brelyna answered before he did. "-down in the lower level, in those empty coffins. What about me? What should I do?"

Kestrel didn't even bother to look at her. "Stay as far away from the fighting as possible...if you've been taught the same things Onmund was then you won't stand a chance - you're just a corpse that's still upright so far as I'm concerned."

"But-" Brelyna started, looking insulted. She immediately paused when Kestrel fixed her with a glare. "-I want to help," she went on a second later.

"That's a fine and noble sentiment to have but believe me child, you're ridiculously under-trained and outclassed," Kestrel replied in her usual matter-of-fact tone. "A will to help won't make up for a lack of skill and training and I don't want you becoming a distraction to my apprentice. You're lucky you're still alive to begin with."

A silence fell then and a thought occurred to Onmund. "-Kestrel...why didn't you kill me when I was taken out of here?"

Again there was quiet save for a soft rattling noise of the buckles as Kestrel methodically strapped her robes in place. "--well, to be honest, Onmund...I tried. It seems there's a limit to the range of my spell - just another little variable I wasn't aware of, much like how the tether between us sent my soul to your body and disrupted centuries of recovery spells already in place."

He winced at that -- he supposed it wasn't all THAT surprising, but he'd hoped... "Oh. Well...ah... I mean, I feel I should be mad but..." He trailed off, sighing heavily. "--COULD you tell the spell was being messed with?"

"That I could, and believe me, when I realized that I couldn't trigger it from a distance I was determined to retrieve you, however... I couldn't leave the crown unguarded, and once she had you the attacks on my defenses increased. I suspect she might have had those in her sway helping her with that as they were near-constant with wildly varying degrees of finesse to them." She cinched her sash into place and a belt over that, and then began to sort through the pouches and satchels she'd gathered, clipping some onto her belt and sorting the contents of others into different containers. "...I know how...coldhearted it sounds. I really do. And if it makes you feel any better I cried over it. Here I was, in the worst possible position: unable to kill to keep the secret of the crown, unable to leave to save my apprentice. Poised to lose no matter what I did. If I could have snatched you back - and that IS the first thing I tried - I would have..."

She trailed off, shoulders slumping, then looked over to him. "I have no desire to lose another apprentice to this damned thing. I despise being in the position to even make that choice. Whatever you might think of me, Onmund...know that I highly value you, as I have all the others. I don't make the choices that I do lightly. And I am genuinely proud that you did not break under the pressure."

For a moment he just stared - the praise gave him a funny feeling in his stomach...not quite embarrassment, not quite pride. "I did what you taught me to do."

"I know. That is why I'm proud."

He felt his face warming and knew he was tinging red, and quickly cleared his throat. "So...what's our plan?"

"As I've said I will handle Varea and the crown and you will keep everyone else at bay."

"That's...not really a plan."

"Until I actually determine what we're up against I can't give you a plan, Onmund. And no plan survives contact with an enemy so even if I DID have one it's not likely to work. You're well trained and your job is to save lives while mine is to end one...that's as best as I can do."

"All right. And, Kestrel...when we get it back, and destroy it, can we get out of this hole in the ground?"

She slowly turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. "...don't let idle day dreams of the future distract you from the present, apprentice. One step at a time."

Onmund managed a weak smile. "I know. It's just better to look at the positive side, right? We can't go into this expecting to lose, and having a goal in mind at the very least makes it seem worthwhile."

It was then that Brelyna stepped back up beside him, eying everything around them. "-if I can't help then what should I do?"

"Well, you could stay down here and risk starving to death if something should happen to us both and you aren't able to climb out, OR you can return to the surface with us and find somewhere to hide far, far from the fighting and someone will go retrieve you eventually."

"I'll...find somewhere to hide that isn't here," Brelyna said after a pause.

"Wise," Kestrel muttered.

She ushered the two of them back into the hall then returned to what she was doing; Onmund kept stretching and tugging at the armor, finding that easier to focus on that what they were inevitably going to be heading into soon. The plan they had wasn't much of one and it occurred to him that she'd said his part in this was to keep the others out of Varea's reach...if only he'd found a book about portals before now then maybe he could dump everyone into a hold's jail and call it a day.

The thought was just amusing enough to chuckle over and he feared that this one stupid thought might be the last thing he ever laughed about.

#The Master's Apprentice #tma #The Master's Apprentice - ch 13 #Onmund #Brelyna #AU #Skyrim

1 note · View note

emmaswanchoosesyou · 6 years ago

Text

Rules & Regulations (1/4)

I’m thrilled to present my contribution to the @cssns project! This got both longer and sillier than originally intended, and I hope you all enjoy it.

Beta’d by the glorious @wingedlioness and with lovely artwork (including the banner!) done by @eastwesthomeisbest.

Rated T, for violence, language, and annoying bureaucracy. Also on AO3. ~3000 words.

He was a vamp, she was a witch; can I make it any more obvious?

&&&

He wasn’t a heathen.

Well, okay, he was, but that was just part and parcel of being a vampire.

At least vampires weren’t the soulless, lurking-in-the-night creatures of popular imagination. No, they had their souls. (Unless they’d sold it to the Devil, a demon, or witch, but any Tom, Dick, or Harry might do that.)

Killian was in possession of his soul, but he might well have lost his mind.

Emma Swan was driving him well and truly crazy.

He was just doing his best, doing what was required of him to fill the void on the Supernatural and Paranormal Beings and Creatures Council (S.P.B.C.C. for short, though it was still a mouthful) since he had killed Rumplestiltskin.

He was following the rules in a way he hadn’t since 1789, and it…chafed. If you were responsible for the death of a S.P.B.C.C. member, you had to make sure their people—or creatures, whatever--were still represented. As Rumplestiltskin was some unknown kind of imp who seemed unique in his essence in this world, there was no one left to represent, but his seat needed to be filled. Some had argued that Killian’s presence on the Council was just giving the vampires more than their share of voices, but that was rubbish.

For starters, Killian couldn’t stand the lot of them. They were old sticks in the mud, mostly traditionalists who went around wearing capes and talking about bloodlines. The others were Reform Vampires—poncy idiots who went on about better unliving through various serums and who were always on social media trying to manage perception of vampires in the non-magical world.

And for his part, Killian was content to reside somewhere between the two. He was here for some good, old-fashioned vengeance and violence, but one had to be practical as well. It was easier to come by coconut water than find someone’s blood to drink, even with the requisite sodium supplements he had to take. After all, leaving a swath of dead people tended to garner the wrong kind of attention.

And that was the other thing—he wanted to be left in peace to live his unlife, drinking his coconut water and from the occasional willing volunteer (gods, but he’d put on a few pounds during the Twilight craze).

He hadn’t wanted a position on the S.P.B.C.C., hadn’t wanted anything to do with it. But then Swan had descended from the sky like the terrifying bird of her namesake (he was disappointed to learn about the missed opportunity for a pun in her name, as she was in fact not a shapeshifter) and harangued him about “murdering” Rumplestiltskin and having to pay his dues.

Which meant sitting on that bloody council.

Okay, fine, he was a bit at loose ends these days. Having fulfilled his centuries-old grudge and finally offed His Glitteriness Rumplestiltskin might have left something of a void. And sure, sometimes he saw eternity stretching out before him like an unending circle of emptiness, but it was fine.

A voice cut through his musings and he jolted to attention. “Jones? Councilmember Jones? Killian Jones? Captain Hook? Do you have any fucking input for once, or are you too busy thinking about bloodbaths to pay attention to us today?” Emma Swan sounded cranky and irritable and a little like she was considering coming over and introducing a motion to punch him.

He smirked. “Sorry, love, I’m afraid you’ll have to repeat the initial question. I was rather dozing, as it is in fact daytime.”

“Not your love, Councilmember Jones. And for the love, come see me or Granny Lucas after the session,” she said, her golden hair cascading over her hands as she rubbed her temples in exasperation.

Maybe there was still some fun to be had after all.

&&&

Emma was going to murder him. Killian Jones might technically be dead already, but she would happily test out different levels of deadness.

He was impossible.

She was just trying to keep this stupid council with its stupid acronyms and stupid councilmembers running smoothly.

She hadn’t wanted this job, this position. She just wanted to work on her spells and occasional potions, help some people, and pay her bills.

But no, she’d had to go and help people a little too well. Now it was Savior This and Savior That, all for breaking a measly curse and talking a witch queen off the ledge and reuniting her with her love.

She had been going about her life much as she had since she had accidentally teleported away from a crime scene (now that was a tale) where an ex had left her literally and figuratively holding the bag. Emma certainly hadn’t intended the escape she’d made, but she could hardly complain, either. And she’d been curious about how she’d done it, to put it mildly.

A lot of internet searches, the fortunate discovery of a coven that met for a weekly book club at her local library, and maybe-not-coincidental of the discovery of a talking kitten named Henry later, she knew what she was—a witch.

Fast forward a few years, and she’d found a home of sorts up in Storybrooke, and the three of them had opened a little shop selling various magicks and magical items.

To her surprise, Emma had found she gravitated toward light magic, especially of the healing variety, though she was good with technological stuff too. And Henry, once he was grown, was very helpful. He still occasionally knocked over things on her work table, which could be problematic—he was a cat, after all—but his advice was usually sound.

She really hadn’t intended to get drawn into anything more than her perfectly satisfactory life. But then Ruby, werewolf, customer, and sometimes friend, had asked her for help. Unless someone stopped it, there would be a curse enacted.

Regina, Queen of Misthaven, had come to power 28 years before, after deposing the previous queen and her husband, cursing them to eternal sleep. Eternal sleep was eternal in the way that vampires were immortal; it could be interrupted—by death or the rupture of the curse—but would continue until something came along and meddled.

It seemed that becoming queen and cursing her former rival wasn’t enough for Regina, though. Her unhappiness increased, compounded by her magical subjects’ dislike and the distance of the other S.P.B.C.C. members kept from her. She had decided to enact a spell to doom them, all her subjects, to go back in time and live lives of medieval drudgery.

Ruby had no interest in that. To begin with, her girlfriend wouldn’t approve, and she would miss the whole voting thing. Aside from that, saying goodbye to Netflix and electricity was just unacceptable. And Ruby was far from the only concerned party.

Emma was stumped. After all, what could she do? She’d known she was a witch for a decade, and stronger people than her had attempted to do something.

Most people trying to deal with the situation, though, hadn’t had the benefit of being raised non-magically.

Sure, magic could solve a lot of problems (and create them just as easily, but that wasn’t the point). But sometimes? The best solution was good, old-fashioned, and non-magical. In this case, it meant using her investigative skills to find a dragon that had been hiding from the magical world and who was supposedly powerful enough to help.

Well, it turned out that the dragon was an ex-girlfriend of Regina’s, and reuniting the two of them had done wonders. Regina backed down from evil world domination and had even been amenable to the equally non-magical suggestion of therapy.

Maybe there was something to the whole love thing after all.

Once Regina had thawed a bit due to Maleficent’s calming presence, she had tried to break the curse of eternal sleep she had put on Queen Snow and King David...all to no avail. The only spells capable of waking them required a blood relative—a living, breathing, and awake one—and both of them were the only ones left from their families, their only child having disappeared as a baby (another unfortunate result of one of Regina’s spells).

So imagine Emma’s surprise, when, as Regina was attempting show Emma one of the spells that wasn’t working, Henry jumped on her—Emma, not Regina—and clawed her.

She scolded him, not noticing right away that blood was welling up from the gash he’d left on her hand. She didn’t notice when the blood dripped right in the pathway of the spell Regina was casting, or how her eyes widened.

Regina noticed, though. They all noticed when this spell, instead of doing nothing like the previous attempts, woke up Snow and David.

And that was how Emma learned that she was their long-lost child, the missing child of the queen and king.

It had been awkward, to be sure. Finding family you didn’t know you had, accompanied by the weight of royal expectation, took a lot to adjust to. That was to say nothing of having parents who looked the same age as Emma and had last interacted with the world in the ‘80s. (There had been a shoulder pads intervention, fortunately.)

It was...hard. After a life lived on her own and having grown up in the foster care system, Emma wasn’t exactly one for opening up and sharing. But seeing how hard Snow and David were trying to reach out to her, she was willing to try to meet them halfway.

After some negotiating with her parents, they had worked out that in light of Regina’s resignation (and she swore a blood oath to live peaceably with Maleficent all her days, but the fact remained that it left an open S.P.B.C.C. seat), Emma would stand in at the council meetings. And she didn’t have to wear nearly as many poofy robes and old-fashioned witches’ hats as her mother had originally wanted.

Her mother had originally been offered the position, but she had turned it down, citing a desire to catch up on everything she’d missed. To her parents’ glee, Emma accepted the seat when it was offered to her in her mother’s stead. Not only did it give her a way to connect with them, it gave her parents time to connect with each other and the world again, as a lot had changed over the past thirty years. That was a lot of Netflix to binge.

Honestly, it wasn’t the worst. Some days, Emma even enjoyed her work with the Supernatural and Paranormal Beings and Creatures Council. She had put a lot into it, and eventually she’d been elected Speaker for the council, which was pretty miraculous given the tensions between witches/warlocks and vampires.

It hadn’t taken Emma long in the supernatural world to learn about the longstanding enmity between her people and the vampires.

If the non-magical world was to be believed, the real beef was between werewolves and vampires. (But maybe that was the issue—the werewolves were content with the beef, while most vampires didn’t care for cow blood or other byproducts.)

In reality, it was trickier. Sure, there were some tensions between werewolves and vampires—there were between most of the different supernatural and paranormal groups and species—but they mostly got along. In fact, they often played emissary between the vampires and witches, as they had common sociopolitical aims with both.

Emma shook her head—she didn’t have time to get side-tracked musing over her own damn life story and the history of a low-grade feud between magical beings right now. She had council business to attend to.

Council business that, unfortunately, included Killian Jones.

She scowled. That vampire had been a pain in her ass since the first whisper of him she’d heard. He was just...ugh.

On some level, she could accept that in the magical world, he had a right to be on the council as the one who had defeated Rumplestiltskin. The magical world had a convoluted law that boiled down to stating that anyone who defeated another supernatural being in combat could—and should—assume their posts and responsibilities. As an American, she was appalled. It was a lot to take in and reconcile.

And that was to say nothing of the man—or man-pire, as Angel would have said—himself. He didn’t want to be there, that was clear. He was obviously just there to avoid negative legal repercussions of having taken revenge on Rumplestiltskin (for what, Emma was fuzzy on the details). He didn’t much care for the other vampires or anyone else there.

Unfortunately, that made him one hell of a swing vote. He was unpredictable and didn’t follow traditional vampire allegiances, which made his presence on the council...interesting.

Not that she was interested.

She held in a sigh. The council was trying to get some work done on a law that would regulate different supplement vendors and how they could market to supernatural and magical beings, but they were running into all kinds of issues with the different vendors.

Truthfully, Emma found it incredibly dull, but something had to be done to break up the gridlock, and Jones was one of the most likely to be able to swing the vote. It galled her, especially when he couldn’t put on his professional pants and be the grown-up he was. God, he had to be at least 250, so couldn’t he act like it?

She motioned Granny Lucas over. They approached him where he stood talking to one of the faeries, and Emma cleared her throat.

He turned around and smiled. “I was hoping it would be you, luv.”

&&&

Gods, but it was so delightful and delightfully easy to rile Swan. The way her cheeks flushed and her fist clenched...it did things to him.

He was bad man. Or vampire, whatever.

Quite frankly, Killian couldn’t care less about the whether one clan of gnomes or another received the bid or contract to produce supplements. He wasn’t even sure that’s what this session was about, but he knew it was something of that sort. Probably.

Even if he had paid attention, it was worth it to rile Emma. He would say she was delicious, but that had connotations he didn’t intend. He didn’t want to drain her, for Christ’s sake.

There was just something about the reddening of her skin that had him wanting to bite her...just not in a vampire way.

He’d had lovers since Milah died. It had been over two centuries, after all, and he wasn’t a monk. While he’d treated them with the respect due to them as people (or faeries or witches, etc.), none of those relationships had been particularly lengthy or meaningful to him.

And if he could seduce Emma, he didn’t figure she would be either, even if she was a spitfire. Hell, she kept him plenty interested as it was, and he’d only ever seen her remove her jacket once. (It had been to punch one of his fellow fanged ones on the council, and he’d loved every moment of it.)

Whatever transpired, it would be fun.

&&&

“Is something funny, Hook? Are we entertaining enough for you?” Emma bit out.

She was tired. She wanted to go home and curl up in her chair, and have Henry come purr next to her. Or sass her and tell her to feed him, which was probably more likely. Either was better than this.

And then this asshole whose vote mattered had to be the way he was.

She knew he hadn’t listened to her. It wasn’t her fault the minutiae of supernatural government was boring, and 142 other people had done okay with listening.

He wasn’t an idiot. He had survived a long-ass time. As a pirate for most of it, no less. And he’d killed Rumple-fucking-stiltskin. So he had to have a brain in there.

Which meant that his lack of listening was due to boredom, even if he had started smiling during the last bit of her speech—a distant, predatory thing that she knew had nothing to do with supplements.

Her head was pounding. She couldn’t afford to have a loose cannon on the council; she needed him to be invested.

“Look, Jones, what’s it going to take to get you to give a fuck?” she asked, shoulders slumped.

Granny looked at her in surprise. Killian did too, eyes widening before he pasted his signature smirk onto his face.

That stupid side of his mouth quirked up, and he bit his lip in a way Emma knew he knew was lascivious. Bastard. “Depends, luv, on what you’re willing to give.”

Granny snorted and said, “Well, I’ll let you two work this out between you,” and walked away.

Traitor.

She forced herself to roll her eyes. “Nothing you’re implying, buddy.”

“Me? Implying things? Swan, I would never say anything that has a double meaning,” he said, after a very fake and dramatic gasp.

“That’s because they have triple meanings,” she muttered under her breath.

“Sorry, what?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

She smiled innocently at him, “I said, we need to discuss your leanings. For the council.”

He gave her a long, considering look. “Dinner. Invite me over for dinner—” at this, he picked up her hand, turned it over, and pressed a lingering kiss to her wrist, “—and we can discuss whatever you’d like.”

Ignoring the burning where his lips had touched her skin, she pulled her hand away. “Seriously?”

“As the supplement discussions, luv.”

“Fine. Come over at seven tomorrow. I’ll text you the directions,” Emma said, huffing.

He scratched behind his ear, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I...I actually don’t have a cell phone.”

“Uh, okay. Do you have a...landline?”

“I do. And email,” he blurted.

She gave a sigh of relief. “Okay, I’ll email you the address later.”

Thank god she didn’t have to actually talk on the phone.

#cssns #cs ff #captain swan #cs au #cs magical au #vampires and witches and werewolves oh my #can I take anything seriously? can I get over em dashes and italics?#tune in for this and other chapters to find out!#rules & regulations #amber writes

114 notes · View notes

paperficwriter · 7 years ago

Text

I Will Cover You

My first Dream Daddy fic. I am officially in Smallmarch (Robert Small/Damien Bloodmarch) hell. No regrets. And of course my first foray is angst and fluff. A killer combination. Robert tries his best to take care of Damien after surgery.

Cut for length, not for content, though do be aware that this fic depicts post-top surgery.

---

“Oh. It’s you.”

“If I had a dollar for everytime someone answered a door and said that to my face...anyway, yes. It’s me. Where’s your dad?”

Robert wished for a second that his hands weren’t full, a loaded grocery bag in one and an unopened bottle in the other. Otherwise, he could have just pushed past Lucien and gotten into the house. Instead, he had to play this whole game of Purposeful Small Talk. Which he hated almost as much as Pointless Small Talk.

“Isn’t it Goth Night at Jim and Kim’s? Maybe you should try there.”

“The closest thing Jim and Kim’s has to ‘Goth Night’ is ‘Dark Sullen Drunk Night,’ and since I’m not there, that’s not happening. Move it.”

Lucien didn’t budge, instead raising a perfectly lined brow at the whiskey in Robert’s hand. “You do actually know that he can’t drink right now, right?”

He didn’t. “So? This is for me.”

“...”

“Look, Lucy. This can go one of two ways. You can move out of my way, or I can come back armed with a fully-loaded Betsy. Your call.”

“Did you just threaten my life so you can hang out with my dad?”

“Maybe.” Really, it was more a threat on his allergies, but...whatever it took.

Lucien smiled, and moved aside with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “Impressive. You may enter.”

Robert made a beeline straight for the master bedroom, ignoring the library and all the sitting rooms or parlors or whatever-the-hell-they-were. It was the one spot that Damien always skipped on the grand tours of the Bloodmarch Estate, but he knew that tonight that’s where he would find him. It was the one room that stood out from the Victorian macabre noir aesthetic of the rest of the house, bearing a resemblance more similar to the fake bedrooms at Ikea than anything from hundreds of years ago. When he shoved the door open, announcing, “Knock, knock,” Robert found Damien propped up on about five pillows, wearing a flannel robe, his long black hair a mess on top of his head. No makeup, no nail polish, nothing but normal. Robert couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen him like that.

“Robert?” Damien’s puffy, tired eyes widened, and he pulled the comforter up closer to his chin. “What are you doing here?”

“Giving the cryptids a night off from my regular slaughter schedule,” he said, sitting on the edge of the white down bedspread and dropping the bag and bottle. “I brought you some stuff.”

“You didn’t have to.” Even as he said it, Damien straightened a bit, glancing into the brown paper grocery bag.

“What kind of dick would I be if I didn’t? Your boyfriend gets surgery. You bring him shit to make him feel better. Isn’t that how it goes in all those movies you like so damn much?”

Damien chuckled and shook his head, reaching a pale hand out to squeeze Robert’s. He really did seem a bit out of it still, and Robert wondered why he hadn’t asked him to do the driving instead of Lucien. “I am eternally grateful.”

“You should be. No way would I watch that crap on my own.” He started unpacking with his free hand. “Let’s see...my favorite knife, a hot water bottle, basically the entire first aid section of the drug store...just in case those quacks didn’t give you enough stuff when you went home. Doctors just want to bleed you dry by making you come back for more. Don’t trust them.”

“They were very kind, Robert.”

He gestured ominously with the aforementioned blade. “They better have been. Or I’m going to be making a few more trips tonight before I go home.” Putting it on the nightstand to avoid any embarrassing holes in the sheets (again), he continued unloading. “Some of those Oreos you like…” Three packages, in fact. “Ought to keep you set at least through tomorrow.”

When he removed the next item, Damien let out what he would normally consider a “most undignified” squeak.

“Since I couldn’t bring her over, I figured I’d do the best I could with a surrogate Betsy.” He handed over the stuffed Boston terrier, and Damien pressed his face into it to hide the ridiculous red of his cheeks. “She sends lots of well-wishes though. Can’t wait for you to come over again.”

“Thank you, my darling,” Damien sniffed. “I shall treasure it always.”

“You better. I had to take out three toddlers just to get it. It was a bloodbath.”

“My hero.”

“And last thing...I figured I’d try to strike a compromise with a movie we could both enjoy. Pride and Prejudice --”

“Oh, Robert!” Damien’s smile was so radiant that it was even more amusing watching it fall when the DVD was handed over to him.

“-- And Zombies.”

“Oh.”

“Give it a chance! It’s a fun one. I promise. And I’ll keep the lights on. Fair?”

“Very. My deepest gratitude.”

Once Robert had loaded the movie onto the flatscreen mounted to the wall, he kicked his shoes off and laid back beside him, one arm around his shoulders. Damien carefully rested his head on his chest, holding the edge of his jacket while Robert smoothed down some of the loose strands of hair around the bun. “Is this okay?” he asked. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Damien shook his head, then nodded, reassuringly. “It’s fine. A bit sore. Another blessing of not living in the Victorian era is that there are much safer, not to mention effective, pain killers.” He sighed. “I must look a positive fright compared to how you normally see me.”

Robert shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m good. You’re not showing me up for once.”

He laughed at that.

“I wish you had told me when it was all going down, Dames. I would have been here sooner.”

Damien didn’t reply, instead holding his robe a bit tighter. “There was no need, Robert, dear. Lucien was more than happy to take the day away from school, and I didn’t even have to stay at the hospital or anything, so...I am only grateful you’re here now.”

Something in his voice didn’t make it seem like he was entirely grateful. Sure, happy enough, but…Robert let the topic drop.

After about a half hour, Damien stirred under his arm. Those pain killers must have really been something, because even with all the zombie-killing he had somehow managed to doze off. He pulled away carefully, standing up shakily to head toward the bathroom door only two feet away. When Robert jumped up, he waved him off. “I’m fine. I just...need to take some medicine and get the bandages changed.”

“Do you want some help?”

“No, thank you. I’ll only be a few moments.”

Robert didn’t sit back down. He found himself leaning against the wall next to the closed door, fists shoved into his pockets. His keen ears picked up every noise from inside: something wet being poured down the sink, the crinkle of the trash can, the tear of cardboard wrapping. Then, nothing.

“Damien? You okay in there?” he called after about thirty seconds, twenty-five seconds longer than he would have preferred.

No answer.

“Dames?”

A sniff, a slightly cracked, “I’m fine.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t. Really. Just...give me a minute.” Now, it was a full, obvious sob that followed, and Robert cringed.

“Listen. I may not have my boots on, but I'll...I would tear this door down with my bare hands for you. Let me in.”

“...You shouldn't have to see this.”

“Dames.” Robert tried to keep his voice from taking that jagged, unpleasant edge to it that seemed to cut through whenever he was frustrated. “Mary asked me to be in the delivery room when Crish was born. There is absolutely nothing that could be worse than that.”

He wasn’t sure why that seemed to be the deciding factor, but the knob turned, and Robert stepped inside carefully, trying not to stare. Damien sat on top of the closed toilet seat, tears pouring down his face, clean bandages balled up in his hand. The open flannel barely hid the thick, black stitches, angry red skin and bruising across his chest. “Come on, baby,” Robert said quietly, holding his hand out. “Let me help you with that.”

Damien didn’t move. “It’s awful. It’s...I’m…” Another broken noise cracked into the air between them, and Damien covered his face with his hands. “I’m so sorry...”

“What? Damien, don’t say that.”

“Is it ever going to heal?” he asked, a hard desperation in his voice, and Robert knelt in front of him, taking the bandages. Sure, it wasn’t exactly a great look, the T-shaped cuts scarring as they healed, but they weren’t infected. The doctors really had done a great job, as loathe as Robert was to admit it to himself.

“Of course it will. You just need some time. Give yourself a break. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Here, hold this.” Robert pressed one end of the roll at the center of Damien’s stomach and started wrapping, pausing occasionally to check to make sure they weren’t too tight. He winced when he jostled one of the drains that hung at Damien’s side. “Sorry. We’ll get you some more pills in a second, okay?”

“It looks so much worse than I thought it would…”

“It won’t stay like this.” Robert used his free hand to wipe Damien’s face with his knuckles. “Don’t cry. It’s fine. Really.”

“I just didn’t want you to see me this way.” Fresh tears dripped down, soaking the cuff of his sleeve.

“I don’t care how bad it is, Damien. Just let me help you. I don’t...God, you’ve seen me far and beyond my worst. This is nothing that won’t mend.” He finished wrapping the bandage and closed the flannel over it, finally raising his hands to touch his boyfriend’s face. “I don’t care if you wear capes or cloaks or fuckin’ jeans and a shirt, and I definitely don’t care what’s under it all. You could dress as one of those anime characters again, and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

Damien snorted, leaning forward to rest his face on Robert’s jacket.

“Just don’t leave me out of it. I’m not...great at this, but...I don’t want you alone. I got you, alright?”

He pressed his lips to both of his cheeks before kissing him softly, the wet on his face clinging to his stubble. When he pulled back, Damien smiled tiredly. “Thank you, love.”

Robert helped him to standing, guiding him back to the bed. “I think this calls for Oreos, whatever fancy drugs they gave you, and a drink.”

“I can’t drink right now, Robert,” Damien chided, holding his hand as he slipped back under the covers.

“Don’t worry. I can do plenty of drinking for both of us.” He raised the bottle and clinked it against Damien’s water glass. “To your speedy recovery, good sir.”

Damien only smirked at his theatric bravado. “Cheers.”

#my paperfics #dream daddy #smallmarch #robert small #damien bloodmarch #phew this fic was literally in my brain for the past week #glad i could finally write it and share

700 notes · View notes

nyarnamaitar · 8 years ago

Note

wonder what melkor's wardrobe would be like. is he like all dark colors and leather and flowing capes and metal clasps? *scratches skin* cus like in everything else melkor is and does it would contrast greatly to manwe's

-I tend to think Melkor’s clothing is simple but rich. Expensive quality fabrics with not too many embellishments. I don’t really see him wearing a cape, other than when travelling and Melkor doesn’t really travel much, so there’s that.

-I do like the idea of lots of leather, minus the clasps. In a lot of canon!Melkor designs I’ve seen, Melkor’s style is very gothic and while that’s OK for me in an AU, I don’t like it in canon.

-My Melkor does wear dark colours. Mostly black but also bordeaux, purple, grey, often combined with simple golden accessories.-He only wears robes for special occasions.

-When reformed, after the Dagor Dagorath or something (= a HC of mine), Melkor does spice up his outfits with lots of golden jewellery: earrings, all sorts of piercings, bracelets, you name it. But even then, as always, he keeps his hair loose. Melkor doesn’t like headpieces.

#Melkor #Tolkien

2 notes · View notes

wearethewitches · 8 years ago

Text

@accio-shitpost

Harry is in a state of bewildered awe. The Wizarding World – his true home. Everything around him is fantastical and magic. The boy from Madam Malkin’s was even pretty cool, despite his arrogance – he clearly knew what he was talking about, with that house and Quidditch stuff. All Harry wants to do is go through his stuff, wave his magic wand and-

“‘arry!” Hagrid thumps him on the shoulder, pressing a rectangular cage covered by a cloth into his arm, “Look ‘ere what I got ya! Now, you’ll want to take special care ‘o her, but she should be plenty friendly, so long as you treat her right – an’ I even got you one o’ those translator tooths! All ye got to do is-”

“Hagrid, what is it?” Harry shuffles his paper parcels and the cage, which shuffles in his arms dangerously on its own. “It’s moving!”

“Course she’s moving! She’s alive, ain’t she? Not going to stick like stone all the time,” Hagrid shakes his head before reaching over, pulling up the cloth, revealing what looked like a baby crocodile – but it’s so very different to what Harry’s seen before on television. Instead of dark brown, her rough skin is a shiny blue-silver that reminds Harry of the sun shining on water and her reptilian eyes look at him with startling clarity, visibly shrinking and widening as the crocodile seems to peer at him.

Harry’s eyes are wide as he swallows nervously, staring at her. “Hagrid, are you sure I’m allowed a crocodile at Hogwarts?”

“Pfft, you get kids coming to Hogwarts with rats an’ tarantulas an’ eagles instead o’ owls. I’ve not seen a croc since, oh…must o’ been a couple of decades,” Hagrid shakes his head, letting the cloth go, causing the crocodile to disappear from view. “Patil, I think ‘is name were. His twins are coming this year an’ all. Ye might even be in the same house! Ravenclaw, I think he were. Maybe not, then.”

However, Harry had picked up on another part of his words. “Decades, Hagrid? How old are you?” Hagrid’s beard twitches, the only thing to reveal the movement of his lips.

“Old enough that I’ve seen the world, or as much of it that I can, at least. The muggles have changed a lot, I’ll tell you that.”

“But when were you born?” Harry questions, eyes bright because just by spending such a short amount of time with Hagrid, he has figured out that Hagrid loves questions – not like the Dursley’s, who hate him asking anything. “Did you take part in world war two?”

“No. Only a kid, back then. Born nineteen thirty, I was.”

Harry’s eyes somehow widen even more. “Nineteen thirty? But that means you’re sixty-one.”

“An’ looking fine, if I do say so myself – ah an’ look who that is? Some coincidence,” Hagrid starts to lead Harry off to the left, diverting from their slow path to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry sees a set of wizards with skin the same tan colour as his own, though the one not braiding a young girl’s hair with his wand is a little paler. The wizards wear matching blue robes with two capes – one long one and one short one with dark buttons, the robes reminding Harry more of coats than anything. Certainly, their sleeves are far tighter than the loose, baggy robes the general populace seems to wear with their shiny bronze belts.

A girl beside them turns and Harry is briefly awed by how she matches the girl getting her braid done. They have the same coloured skin as the darker of the two wizards and their robes too are the same royal blue, but cut off just below the knees to show off identical black leather boots, tied all the way up past the ends of their robes.

“Patil!” Hagrid crows, the braider looking up briefly at his call. “We were just talking ‘bout you, weren’t we ‘arry?” Hagrid thumps Harry’s shoulder and morbidly, Harry wonders if his knees are okay after all the pressure being put on them every time Hagrid does that.

“Good day, Keeper Hagrid,” Patil says shortly, before finishing the braid with a quick wrist-flick, a tie appearing from nowhere to bind the end of it. “Padma, Parvati, meet the Keeper of the Keys of Hogwarts and its Groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid.”

In sync, the girls lift the sides of their robes, curtseying briefly. “Keeper Hagrid.”

Hagrid blinks at them for a moment before cracking a grin. “Just Hagrid, little ‘uns. Harry Potter,” Hagrid looks down at him and Harry frowns slightly at how he pronounces his name completely right, with no missing consonants. “Meet Mr Div Patil, his partner Girish Patil-Lagheri and their daughters, Padma and Parvati.”

“Uh,” Harry swallows, becoming all too aware of his many packages, before he nods his head politely, trying to copy what the twins had done earlier. “Mr Patil, Mr Patil-Lagheri, Padma, Parvati.”

“Girish and Div are acceptable stylings,” Girish says.

Harry swallows again. “O-Okay, Mr Girish.”

“Oh my,” the man says, voice light as he puts a hand to his ear lightly, a smile tugging at his face. Even with the amusement leaking from him, Harry tenses, feeling the familiar urge to bolt. I messed up, I messed up. “Miss Padma, am I hearing formality from the young man in front of me?”

Padma – Harry assumes she’s Padma – smiles widely, eyes narrowing in amusement as her lips open to reveal white teeth. “Pita does not like formality, Potter. He asked you to call him his name.”

“Oh, uh…okay, Girish, uh…” Harry stalls slightly. I have to be given permission to call them their first names, but, oh no… “Miss Padma.”

Parvati giggles and even Hagrid lets out a chuckle. “Do you not know anything?” she asks, laughter bubbling out of her throat. Harry immediately glares.

“Would people stop saying that? I do know things, I don’t not know anything or nothing and I don’t know what Quidditch is, but I’m not a complete idiot,” Harry snaps it out, quickly and with a hot irritation burning in his lungs. Immediately though, at Parvati’s taken-aback expression, he regrets its. “Sorry. I- I didn’t mean to be mean,” he mumbles, tightening his grip on his packages.

Hagrid ruffles his hair lightly, but the wary expression informs Harry he’s still in some form of trouble. “‘S’nothing, Harry. I should o’ given ye a proper talk before bringing you t’ Diagon – business in Gringotts, though, jus’ had t’ be dealt with. ‘S’like yer a muggleborn, but withou’ the obscurity.”

“A muggleborn?” Div raises an eyebrow. “I heard that Lily Evans had a muggle sister, but I didn’t realise you were placed with her. Magical law states you must be placed with either a close magical relative or respectively, a squib relative, due to cultural differences. It is strange that they would consider your aunt a squib, seeing as she had no magical parent.”

Hagrid, then, gets visibly shifty. “Right, we’ve gotta be off – come on, ‘arry.” He starts to pull him away.

Harry manages to raise a hand to wave as the Patil’s blink and wave back hesitantly.

“Bye Potter,” Padma gets out.

“Call me Harry!” He calls back, getting a faint but audible, ‘Call us Parvati and Padma!’

Once back at the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid pays for them to stay the night and Harry gets to sleep on a real bed – one with fluffy pillows and a thick mattress that didn’t dig into his spine. It makes him think of the Dursley’s and his cupboard, with its thin mattress more suitable for a cot than the floor.

Click.

Harry flinches slightly at the loud noise, sitting up in bed with difficulty, only to hear another noise, this one unfamiliar and chilling to the bone. It makes his skin crawl and Harry brings his knees up to his chest as he hears a thump and then a pitter-patter of claws on wood. Moonlight streams through the uncovered window and he sees a fuzzy shimmer of blue silver and stares at his blurry crocodile as it moves across the room, stopping just out of sight, by the bed. Harry hesitates, before leaning over to look at it.

“I am female,” the crocodile snaps its jaws. “Treat me with respect, monkey.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “You can speak?”

“Yes. Now pick me up, monkey, so that I might guard you properly. Stupid monkeys with their stupid cages…you are a hatchling and my sacred charge. I will guard you, as my mother guarded her hatchling. Pick me up.”

Harry does as the crocodile says, wondering if he’s dreaming as his hands slip over her surprisingly moist scales. She’s heavier than he would have guessed and far less balanced. As he sets her down on the bed beside him with difficulty, she grumbles.

“I will teach you how to pick me up. That was uncomfortable. My bones will break and my organs will be crushed if you still do that when I am larger and more majestic.” The crocodile manoeuvres over the white covers, coming up to settle beside his pillow. “Lie down, monkey. Hatchlings need to sleep in times of darkness.”

Harry lies down obediently, but doesn’t shut his eyes. Having a crocodile right next to his head seems altogether a recipe for disaster – both for him and the crocodile.

“Will- will you be okay there? You won’t fall off, will you?”

The crocodile snaps her jaw again, “No, monkey, I will not fall. I will be your guardian and I will guard you in your times of sleep – which is now! Sleep, stupid monkey!” She pads closer, nipping his wrist and Harry lets out a slight yelp, more surprised than hurt. “I tire of your stupidity. Sleep.”

Harry can feel a sudden draw to sleep, a tingling that reminds him of the energy in the air when Hagrid gave Dudley a tail running down his spine. Panic begins to envelope him right before he loses sense of reality and falls into slumber, a final thought running through his head with stark clarity.

Hagrid should have just gotten me an owl.

(x, x)

harry potter except hedwig is a crocodile

#harry potter #accioshitpost #fic #crocodiles #hp #hagrid #patil

1K notes · View notes

astralsecrets · 6 years ago

Text

Broom Flight to "The Hospital" 10/23/2018

I have WILDed into a small bookstore with my grandparents who are talking about something they are planning to do. As they walk away, I go into another room in the opposite direction, hoping to separate from them. This new room is a small library that somewhat resembles the one from my old high school. It has white walls, a white floor and cheap bookshelves made of light-colored wood. There is a group of about eight people who are very different from each other. I join in their gossip and we laugh and joke with each other for a moment. One guy cheekily says to me that I can't kill him. I immediately demonstrate my lucid powers by pinching together my right thumb and forefinger while willing his neck to break. There is a loud snapping sound but his neck does not actually break. It was only a kind of "proof of ability". Everyone laughs, including him, because they know that I could have killed him but didn't. This isn't serious at all because we all know that this is dreamland. I feel even more lucid and powerful now and I walk on, into another area. There are very many people here, unique families of all different kinds. Most people are wearing dark colors, robes and capes even, and are seated at the numerous tables eating lunch. Some of the children have eyes of unnatural colors like red or purple. One blonde boy with red eyes also has fangs that I can see as he laughs, following another child back to the table where his parents are waiting. It is a very big room and there are counters along one side with display cases of different food. Workers are cashing people out and making food. I feel the random urge to remove my clothes, but the presence of children deters me. I start doing it anyway because the clothes feel extremely confining, but I leave on the underlying layers, including some kind of pinkish-nude leggings. I walk further and find myself in a smaller fancier dining room with black leather booths lining the walls. The aisle between the booths is very narrow. Most of the tables are piled with dirty plates and leftover food. There is a group of Asian businessmen in very nice suits. They are having a very serious meeting. I stand there looking down at the food on their table and I see something on their plates that looks like a green bell pepper stuffed with green pesto. I reach down and grab one, intending to try it because it looks good. I look closer, noticing the bell pepper more, then say aloud to myself, "I don't like these anyway," before throwing it casually over my shoulder. I walk a few more steps into the room as the businessmen kind of look at me in surprise. I turn around and cockily demand that they say something to me about it, in English. One man who is standing gestures to the one sitting nearest me, encouraging him to say something. I can't remember if he does or not. I leave the room the same way I came. To the left is the large cafeteria that I have already been in, and to the right is a lofty area with large glass doors leading outside. As I walk towards the doors I notice an Asian woman in business clothes standing next to them. She tells me to have a nice day and I thank her. I then remember the task of the month to ride a broom above the clouds. I look over in the corner near the doors expecting to see a broom. I see one propped there. It has a stick made of gold with an ornamental pointy tip and little stirrups on it just like in the Harry Potter movies. The stick is not perfectly straight, but crooked like the good ones in HP, and the broom head is clean white. I think it is beautiful and that it is made just for me. It is quite short though, only about two and a half feet long. I grab the broom and walk through the first set of door. As I approach the second set, I will the broom to become longer and it visibly does so as I glance at it. It is still not as long as a standard HP broom, but close. I hop on before I reach the second set of doors and begin hovering immediately. I pull a door open with my left hand, holding the broom with my right, and fly out slowly and smoothly. There is a paved path of grey stone there and a mass of children wearing robes and holding books flows towards the doors, obviously excited to go in. They look like first-year Hogwarts students and I begin to hear some HP-like music softly playing. There is a tall statue in the small round courtyard ahead, illuminated by the bright sunny day. There are buildings all around on the other streets, older and smaller than the one I've just exited. There are some large oak trees around the far edge of the courtyard. I float up and out a little more and Ginny Weasley is suddenly there on her own broom, facing right at me. She has that fierce brave look on her face and I, startled, say loudly, "Hey Ginny!" She returns the greeting calmly before looking off to the left. I follow her gaze and see other students flying their brooms in a kind of loose swarm. One of them looks like Hermione Granger, but I only see her from behind. I head in the direction of the other flyers and Ginny follows me. I go higher, rising above the roofs of the nearby buildings. We fly around a corner or two before seeing some very large military airships of some kind landing on a wide highway. I think to myself that it's because I offended those Asian businessmen earlier. There is a loud brass hit in the music when we see the ships, and the soundtrack becomes more intense in general. Ron Weasley, Harry Potter and Hermione suddenly appear. Ron gives a quick casual greeting before they zoom under Ginny and I. We follow, all of us shooting across the cityscape, flying just above the tops of the buildings. There are freeways ahead, twisting and turning through each other. We attempt to go higher several times, under my direction, but it just doesn't work. It is as if the air becomes a treadmill when we try going up. Just as I'm about to give up, a random person, also on a broom, shows up and tells us that "the hospital" is above the clouds for those who need it. I feel so relieved. We are now able to zoom upwards, possibly because we have a more solid destination. I become fearful at the vastness of the sky, but keep going anyway. It gets darker until it is like night when we reach the cloud layer, which appears as a medium grey against the blackness. When we get close enough to touch the clouds, we begin to disintegrate and are sucked up through them as streams of particles. My vision goes black and then I'm in the hospital. It is a waiting room but doesn't resemble any that I've seen in waking life. This place is apparently some kind of high tech airship, maybe also a spaceship. The walls and floor flow together and are made of a greenish brass metal with lots of grooves and bumps. There are many people sitting around on the benches, all in a good mood, all wearing body suits of mainly white with varying colorful designs and decorations. There are a few small curving hallways leading to other rooms, and windows showing the sky beyond. Somehow I can't remember if it's bright blue sky or dark black night. I look over to my left and see the pilot of the vessel, a black woman. She lets her young son switch a lever for her and they smile lovingly at each other. Her hair is shorter than his, which is quite big and fluffy. I look around again and see another black mother with sleek hair up in a bun. She is leaning over and whispering something reassuring to her white son. He is about the same age as the other boy, eight or nine years old. This place feels so wonderful. Everyone is happy and working together for common goals. I realize that I still haven't seen the top of the clouds, so I allow myself to phase through the floor. I drop down quickly, briefly seeing the flat, smooth underside of the hospital ship and the tops of the clouds which are fluffy somehow illuminated from within with a bright neon pink light. I do not know the source of this light. The sky is pitch black. I go blank for a moment before appearing in my step-grandparent's living room, standing and watching the hospital on the tv. It is day outside. Next to me is a tall thin man sitting in an egg-shaped chair, wearing a suit like the others, except its main color is navy blue and there are more decorations around the collar. He has reddish, very tanned skin, lots of brown freckles, fluffy greying hair and beautiful hazel green eyes. As I look as him he meets my gaze with an incredibly honest and knowing expression. We clasp hands and he smiles at me softly, so seemingly aware. I sustain eye contact, deepening the connections. It feels so good to connect. I realize then that he is me. He is a part of my mind, a part of my awareness. I begin to cry heavy tears of happiness and can't help but smile wide, almost grinning, almost sobbing uncontrollably. After a few moments we turn back to the screen and I see Jodie Foster with her hair pulled back in a sleek pony. She looks like she's in her late forties, maybe even fifty, and is wearing a mostly white suite with little or no decoration. She is alone in a small control room in the hospital ship. there is neon pink light radiating up from the floor and she is concentrating on what she is doing at her standing desk, a solid, light-grey rectangular pillar with an angled touch screen top.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8297989 https://www.dreamviews.com/blogs/dreamphibian/broom-flight-hospital-10-23-2018-85648/

0 notes

riseofthebelieversrp-blog · 7 years ago

Photo

Hello, Storytellers~

Summer's in full swing! (Which is great, but up here it's kinda chilly. What gives?!) It's sunny, it's warm, it's beach season and we couldn't be happier! Summer is the season of high energy and high muse - which means lots of plotting, lots of writing! But don't forget to go outside for the occasional ten seconds of fresh air. <3

Welcome to our blog’s first newsletter! From hereon in, we’ll be submitting it every month on the first. Keep an eye out!

THE WELCOME WAGON

We're welcoming a total six new candidates this month! Say hello if you see them in the cbox! March, as brought by Shade! She's looking at the Obsidian King~ Cam, who has expressed interest in Dorothy! Gen, looking at the Merry Men of Robin Hood! Leopard, who totally slipped in under the radar - if you see this one, nab them and say hi! Rosary, a friend of Nico's! Shelby, who found us through an ad on tumblr! Last minute Zira, an old friend of Carma's, who's dragging York along with her!

IN THE WORKS

We're looking at fae, Egyptians and fairytales this month! Be sure and take a look at these apps, and stay tuned to see them complete~

March's Rauvelore ap Ievos

Gengar's Iollas Dacan

Hakuna's Osiris

Shelby's Maddie Hathaway

Nico's Alice Liddell

Though there's not yet an app, Rosary has a character named Lucy Seeker in the works! Wonder what she's all about!

ENTERING THE STAGE

We had a whole slew of characters joining us in May, including a grand total three canines, a feline, a few immortals and a Night Mare.

Ocean's Cafe Noir

Skel's Averin Lucida

Bass Invader's Pestilence

Spotteh's Gregorio Pantaleon

Momo's Pippa McBride

Micken's Ranger

Reed's Cerberus

Moulder's Pretty Boy

Lloydy's Asheton Hollins

Lulu's Jack Dawson

WANTED CHARACTERS

Of all the Big Five, a couple are still in need of filling! Those are North, the Guardian of Wonder, and Sandman, the Guardian of Dreams. Further, we'd like to take a moment to remind people of the Wanted Ads out there~ If you're musing on a character idea, take a look at the Wanted Ads out there to see if there are any roles your idea can fill! Don't hesitate to poke people and see if they're willing to be flexible on what they've got!

SITE UPDATES

It's Summer Skin time! As before, you have the option to choose between a DAY skin and a NIGHT skin. Go to your User Control Panel, and on the left-hand side, look for skin preferences! You should see SUMMER DAY and SUMMER NIGHT available. Special thanks go to Ionahi of tumblr, who we commissioned for the artwork in both skins! Tumblr Features: Starting this month we are opening up a new thread for Wanted Ad features! Those of you who would like a wanted ad featured on our tumblr page, post in that thread with the requested information! A single member can request a specific wanted ad once a month. That same member can request different wanted ads once every week. Guides: The community has done it again, giving us two new guides to pore over! First we have Shade's Guide to the Fae, formatted in a google doc, and second, Momo gave us the Land of Sweets from the Nutcracker. NPC Character Gudielines: Staff is going to be slightly revising the role that NPC characters are able to take! This shouldn't affect anyone currently, it will simply help to give a more distinctive boundary between "full character" and "NPC character", as we don't currently have much to distinguish them.

THE STORY SO FAR

The Starlit Masquerade is underway! So far most of the guests have arrived in some fashion; some have partnered off for a dance, while the rest are simply chatting it up in....what we can only hope is civil discussion. But soon, they will be joined by their most gracious host, with words on the Guardians! I wonder what all will be said - and how might that information be used by less savoury sorts? Could the Anti-Guardians be gleaning information from their enemies, even now?

SPOTLIGHTS

Momo's Poesy: If you've heard anything about the power struggle in New York's gang community, this girl's at the center of it. The gang scene has been severely shaken up ever since Poesy decided to dig her claws into it; she's clever, she's crazy, and she's on her way to the top. Moulder's Volker: This is a man who's lived a long life haunted by his family's curse. Male members of the family are possessed, through each generation, by a demon of sorts known as Oor, who turns the host into a sociopathic cannibal. With a son of his own, he's looking for a way to free himself of the curse before it passes on to his child.

GOSSIP INSIDER

Know the tricky thing about masks and code names? All the good gossip is speculation until everything is revealed! That said, the gossip rags are soaking up spilled tea everywhere! Let's wring 'em out and see what we can find out~ A masked lady in blue and silver was asked to dance by a dashing man in green - are those robes? Who wears robes in this day and age? And who taught this man to dance? He's crushed the lady's delicate toes! Wow, did you see the gown on that woman with the horned mask? The one with the emeralds and gold? Whew, she looks like she belongs in the Palace, that's for sure! But it also looks like she'd found her place with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome over there~ Now there's an energetic duo on the dance floor! She's clad in gold and he in white, but if you squint a bit... I think - maybe - one of them is glowing? Perhaps it's just a trick of the many lights... Yeah, that's it. Couldn't possibly be...? Could it? Overheard in the Amber Room: two ladies discussing how overwhelming the party is! They're not wrong; the party is being held in one of the grandest locales in Russia, is being hosted by a being that hasn't been seen in several years, and no one knows who anyone is! It's the very definition of the word, but fear not, ladies - everything will be okay. Just enjoy the party~ Overprotective Chaperone Alert!! Hyperion has found himself in the company of two unchaperoned young women and is, apparently, very upset about this! So much so, in fact, that when one of the dates finally appeared, he was very curt with him. There's still one date missing and he seems to be silently fuming about this. WHAT KIND OF STRANGE DOG IS THAT?! It's not like any dog we've ever seen, folks, and I'm willing to bet that it's not a real dog! Honestly, we're still wondering how it even got in and to whom it belongs, but the guy in red seems to know it... Speaking of the guy in red... RABASTAN! That's his name! Yeah, he was overheard saying some rather rude things to a lady - granted, her words weren't terribly ladylike - but that was seriously uncalled for! And it just goes to show that words hurt - but fear not, Rasalas! A fellow lady is there to show solidarity and to give advice and comfort. Just let Gemma take care of you, it'll be okay~ Looks like the champagne wasn't enough for some! Arcturus set out to steal some wine and succeeded! Now, with stronger drinks in hands, he and several others in the Cameron Gallery are discussing the other guests in broader terms. People come to the balconies for fresh air and a reprieve, but they tend to leave in pairs - according to one set of loose lips. Several couples have been spotted, but the one that intrigues me the most is the man in the cape and his dazzling lady in blue. She seems tense... wonder why... HOLY MASQUERADE, BATMAN! Gotham City's Dark Knight has been spotted talking to a pirate lass, a pretty lady in yellow, and a gentleman who... ALMOST... got a date! In any case, I hope Batman has an eye on the two gentlemen in the corner; they are lowkey competing with him for the title of 'Most Likely to Brood at a Fancy Party'. And, thus the curtains close on the Starlit Masquerade Gossip Corner~ We shall now resume with our regular programming. There would appear to be an unattended child running around in Burgess with a bag way too big for him. Fortunately, a nice ol' dad is here to help him out. Hey, who said that you have to be a Guardian to have fun? Ginger's throwing her own shindig, and she's got all the really cool people there. Booze and soft drinks around! Seriously, who let Douglas take anyone for a tour around the Moon Clipper? At least Thoth seems to be serious about it... Avast, it's a meeting of pirate folk! Or...well, a former pirate and a cabin boy....girl. Wonder what the Jolly Roger wants with Asheton? Oh jeez, Jamie's gotten himself into the clutches of a rising power in the gang world. And who's there to save the day but one of Ryder's own gang members? Yeah, it's a bit of a hairy mess. Let's hope our belief-less boy comes out okay! Who's that sniffing around the fae world? Why, it's a handsome skeleton~ He's caught the eye of an equally curious hot mom. No, a real hot mom, as in she's on actual fire. It seems our favourite light sprite doesn't understand that wraiths don't like bright glowing girls. She just wants to make a friend, Sab, have a heart! Maidie's in a mess! A mess whose name is Hydra. Whatever dastardly plans does the snake man have for her?! Will she make it out alive?! Ever wonder what training a ditzy light sprite might look like? Well, Deit's about to find out... Tars needs to seriously stop getting caught unawares. It's happened with the wrong person now...wonder if Taer plans to tattle? The friendly mom routine is winding to a close~ Kary is about to learn the true nature of the Beldam. And it's a real shame, too; they were getting along so well. Oor seems to believe he can strike a bargain with the Nightmare King. Could he have anything in his favour, or is it a lost cause? Snow is beginning to uncover the mysteries that lie beneath Roman's mask....just how much will he share? Apparently mouth to mouth isn't an expression of romance in these two cultures; Emil and Sabellius have instead become a strange pair of friends. Or that's the idea, anyway. It's a bird! It's a plane! ...Actually a bird isn't far off, but Daniel's being a superhero again and Kay's left to wonder....huh? Stand aside Emil, there's a new dad for Maidie in town, and his name is Niulang! Well there's no lions or tigers or bears, but there sure is a wolf, and Frollo hates wolves. What's that? She's also a woman? Oh, now he hates her more. Burn the witch, am I right? It seems like the Aquarians are about to get themselves into a bit of a pickle...there's danger on the horizon, and only one of them seems to be aware. Ever wondered why the Guardians think how they do? Pandora's asked the Guardian Expert, Pitch, to explain! Wait.... Hold on, hold on! There's a gunfight by the lake, between two Guardians. Both of you, calm down! You're on the same side! What's this? Childhood friends?! West is about to learn a shocking truth about her sweet friend Pippa. The Lady of the Lake stands before the ruins that brought about the existence of the Stromkarlen. Is there any dark magic here to be revealed? Damn, what a view! Douglas sure knows how to treat a lady to a nice spectacle. I guess there are some perks to living on the moon, eh? An evil scientist and an evil potionmaster have finally met! Only one seems to be even remotely pleased about it.

#rotb #rotg #rise of the guardians #jcink rp #jcink premium #rotg rp #newsletter #forum rp #wanted characters #admin:Carma

0 notes