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novthewolf · 1 year ago

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Two’s company, three’s a family - Part two

Summary : As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn’t get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn’t bring yourself to give them up, oblivious to the actual reason...

Pairing : Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).

Parts : Previous - Next

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : Language, mid-violence, near death, slight angst, slow burn, english isn’t my first language.

Words : +3k

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(5 years later)

"Alright, Eden, this is how it's going to be : I'm going to help our dear friend with his little inconvenience while you stay here and eat every bit of grass you want. Okay ?" You said, deadpan.

And the only response from your white Dexter mini cow was a simple nudge against your palm. Aw, how could you resist her when she just looked at you with such cute eyes ? You just couldn't ! That's why you brought her with you in the first place.

"Perfect." You nodded firmly before bending down to kiss your forehead. You started to retreat. The sensation of tall grass touching your shinbone You loved it. Every sensation this world had to offer amazed you and urged you to experience everything. But right now is not the time !

"I'll be right back, sweetie ! Don't wonder off too far !" And you took off towards the meeting location.

Love angels are quite particular creatures with special abilities. As they say, love makes you blind, and even though you couldn't prove that statement, you knew that love allowed you to be blind in other people's eyes. You were capable of becoming invisible. Not all the time, but you could manage to stay this way for a few days if really necessary. You had a lot of free time.

This power was mostly there to permit you to supervise dates, gather information on your clients, and occasionally spy on a demon's secret meeting. If anyone asks, you never do that.

But lately, demons have been more and more pushy with Crowley's results, summoning him to Hell for his report. However, some lower-class demon got brave enough to come up on earth and confront him. They were jealous of the redhead; you smelled the salty taste, similar to burnt meat. And despite how stupid they sounded, they were really starting to cause trouble by sensing Aziraphale's presence and also influencing Warlock.

Thus, you decided to go help the duo by playing bait. Certainly those demons' boss would be thrilled to know they successfully scared off a love angel. Right now, you slowly flew towards the meeting point, watching closely for any aggressive behaviour. Crowley had called them to "calmly" persuade them to leave, as they were starting to draw too much attention.

It wasn't really the case ; Warlock's parents were incredibly lax. But you could always trick most of the supernatural beings since they don't spend as much time on Earth as you three. You gently leaned on a nearby tree, your expression fixed as you followed their movements.

"Go back to Hell ? So you can receive all the credit to yourself ! Don't count on it, Crawley !" The smaller one snarled vehemently.

"It's Crowley, and I really never meant to take your place in a mission you are so obviously deserving of." And he seemed to actually appreciate that; they weren't great at sarcasm either.

"What the.. urgh.. angels ? Have you had any trouble with one of 'them 'em sneaking around ?" The taller one almost gagged when he mentioned them. You knew that one, actually. You leaned in a bit more on your branch, Crowley glancing quizzically in your direction (he probably heard you), and you recognised the guy's features.

Yeah, greasy yellow-ish hair ; his right cheek was necrotic; his hideous teeth were poking out. You were just so glad Crowley had clean teeth; you honestly thank God every day for it. You've met him before during a lot of your missions; he's always there to fricking ruin every one of them. God, sorry, he was so annoying... But you loved tormenting him back. But he was getting really obtrusive in your monthly life, so today you would do your best to put them in a lot of trouble. And set his friend along; you wouldn't want him to feel lonely; you were not that mean.

"Angels ? Naaah, they are way too uptight and skittish to properly go against our forces... Why ? Have you been struggling ?" He was holding back his mockery. Which was a real struggle for him.

"Just that little wuss of an angel. They keep missing me, never brave enough to truly face me. Just waiting for the right moment to get at 'em." he growled. Oh, how strong-willed he sounded, considering he always gave up mid-chase. You looked over Crowley for a second and got almost startled at how dour his face was. You bit your lip and focused back on Bobby (not that it wasn't his name; you just didn't care enough to call him something else).

"Oooh, I'm sure you'll find the right moment to strike once you muster enough courage to step out of your mud puddle." He briefly laughed, sardonic as always.

Heh, the way some demons made their entrance was so flattering. Now, thanks to his taunting, the two have started to get aggressive. I guess that's my cue to go.

"What the fuck did you just say?" The greasy boy said it directly to Crowley.

"Oh, I think you exactly understood what I meant." Obviously, he wouldn't back down ; you didn't expect anything else from him.

Calling off the spell, you stood up. Your legs were wobbly, and you tried to stabilise yourself. And leaned casually against the trunk.

"Well, what do we have here ? Hiding away from the city, I see. Why ? Was I too intimidating for you ?" you bugged. You saw his sludge vest boil, his face scrunching, and his awful teeth showing. His little friend growled behind him, ready to launch right at you. How sweet. Crowley's eyes widened. He leaned back, arms crossed in front of his chest, observing what was going to happen next.

"You... I should wring your neck !" He was an impulsive little thing, so he wasted no time and jumped on you.

You dodged him, if you can call it that : you took off your branch and let him knock his head against it. The second came running in your direction; you decided to let gravity do its thing by letting yourself fall and firmly stepping on his bald head. Wow, I almost slipped there.

You jumped off and landed on the ground. You looked up at Crowley and mouthed to him "Eden". You didn't have the heart to leave her here by herself now that you were going to have a little fun. He rolled his eyes, sighed, but nodded anyway. You knew he had a soft spot for her. You smiled brightly and ran off.

"Don't let her near the Anti-Christ !" the shortest one bawled at Crowley, getting back up.

You halted for a second, quickly building up a plan B.

"Anti-Christ ? Is that so ?" You said, teasingly. You had to turn around, bending yourself into a position that conveyed every bit of smugness you could manage. Crowley's lips twitched upright.

"You idiots !" He snarled.

"Get 'em !" Bobby roared as best as his croaking voice could.

You burst into brief laughter before finally dashing off the scene. If your plan failed, you had a backup. You really liked running, but you couldn't let yourself drown in the feeling.

The smaller one sent an electric shock your way. You leaped up, flew for a brief moment, did a half-loop, and landed back down.

"Hey ! Don't get too flashy now ! You wouldn't want to be seen making an ass of yourself !" You mocked.

"Shut the fuck up !"

Rude...

The town wasn't that far away, and you wanted to get to a more populated area as soon as possible. Because, you know, your weapons weren't lethal, so we depended on your miracles. You were used to the human environment and what they would perceive as coincidences, odd occurrences, and full-on magic. They weren't, and you believed they weren't that dumb to expose themselves too much or hurt anybody.

Bobby had summoned a huge pit right in front of your feet. Luckily for you—not much for them—you had explored everything your human body could do, including physical effort. You grounded your feet, flexed your slightly trained legs, and leaped over the trap.

You took a sharp turn, arriving in some kind of small square, and climbed up the metal fence, winning some time. Now that people could see you, you started running, but no one was in sight. Ugh. Ooh, expect those two wild geese, plainly walking around. You smiled, determined. You materialised your bow and visualised their bound. Mmh ! Better than you expected. You could give it multiple forms; get utterly creative. This time it looked like a mini-crossbow for stealth. You put your weapon on your forearm, aimed for their chest, and let go. The geese quacked, chocked by the sudden rush of emotions. Bound complete.

You skipped past them like an antelope, nearing the entrance of the park, leading into town. More people wondered in the street, and some intended to enter the square. Worry squeezed your chest ; your breathing was itching. Please don't hurt them.

They didn't bother slowing down, recklessly running in your direction. Your brows frowned, irrated by their stupor. Mud Pie ignored the cuddling geese and violently pushed a man's shoulder with his.

"Hey ! What in the bloody hell is wrong with you, man ?" The man yelled after him, holding his arm in pain.

You took a step back. No holding back. Two were too much of a handful right now; you had to get rid of one of them.

You took two steps back. So, unwillingly, you miraculously shoved one of the geese onto the second guy. Panicked and certainly repulsed by his slimy appearance, the poor thing started to attack the pariste with all its might. Without a second thought, the mate started chasing as well. The demon desperately tried to shove the two off, but so satisfyingly failed.

You didn't have time to further appreciate the show, as your dear friend didn't even glance in his companion's direction. He was like a bulldozer, ready to wipe you off the map. You took a step back and collided with an old woman.

"Oh, I am so sorry, madam ! I really apologise !"

"No worries, dear, but why are you in such a hurry ?"

The road was right here, and you saw a car coming your way. Go across and let the car hit him. Let's go.

"Mh... Life's too short ! You must enjoy it," you said, sending a happy memory orb her way. No time to waste !

You ran as fast as was naturally possible to the other side. You looked over to the other side. Everything was blurry. Great. He was coming. The car ? Not fast enough.

The black car seemed to accelerate at the last crossroad and was steering incredibly fast. Come on, come on ! Knock him out.

He was crossing the road ! ... But you gasped in terror when you saw him pulling the grandma with him. He had pushed her as well, in front of him.

His eyes snapped at the car and morphed into those of a deer caught in headlights.

He walked forward, taking the woman with him in the process. They both fell to the ground abruptly.

The car brutally stopped.

"Miss !" you cried, fright gnawing at your insides. You dropped to your knees and shoved the mud boy away from her, checking for bruises. Broken wrist. You winced and very discretely healed it. You scanned your surroundings and almost felt your ears peek up in interest.

The Bentley.

Crowley.

"Sorry, Madam, for the incident. I hadn't expected to so suddenly cross the road," he said, his glasses hiding the not-so-guilty expression. "You were lucky this man was here to save you". The smirk he wore was devilish; he barely hid his nature, and you were honestly surprised no one had found out his true nature yet. It was so obvious.

A crowd had formed around you, people helping the poor granny and the cunt up. Crowley approached, trying his best to correct his walk.

Oh, that's right ! Where did he go ?" A bystander wondered, searching for the mysterious, dirty man.

"Maybe he's shy and couldn't appreciate all the praise he would receive for saving a person's life." You smiled in your own charming way to dispel all suspicions. Still, the secret meaning behind it made Crowley scoff.

"Will you be alright, ma'am ?" you asked.

"Oh, don't worry, dear. It's always good to know that my heart can still go through so many emotions and still be up and running." Her lighthearted laugh brought a small, tender smile to your face. You parted ways and went to Crowley.

"C'mon, sweetheart, I'll give you a lift home," he said, looking away. He seemed upset, so you tried to humour him.

"Really ?! Can I drive ?" You beamed at him, your eyes eager to receive a refusal.

"Never. Again." His teeth were grinding so much that you wondered if they would break. You pouted but didn't insist. Suddenly, you remembered your little companion.

"Eden ! Oh, my poor girl ! Where is she ?" "You grabbed the demon's arm. You were actually much more tactile than Aziraphale and him, but they got accustomed to it.

He stopped, looked back, and rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, I put her in the trunk of the car." He nonchalantly explained as he sat down.

Wait... W-Where...

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You absolutely didn't want to live with your poor baby in a small, cramped place, so Crowley accepted to go back near the dear little Anti-Christ place to check on your mini cow and pick up Aziraphale. You quickly got rid of your seatbelt and raced out.

When you opened the trunk, you sighed when you heard Crowley complaining about your "brutality.".

Mh, at least I'm not a barbarian who stuffed a baby cow into the back of a car.

You stopped mid-thought when you saw what the interior really looked like. Crowley had manipulated the space inside and made it wide enough for Eden to fit in nicely. It looked like a small meadow, too.

"Aww, Crowley !" you squealed in his direction as he was pretending not to see you.

"Ooh, my dear baby Eden ! Are you okay ? Are you good ?" You reached out and pulled her out. She rubbed her head against your belly and mooed lovingly. You kissed her forehead.

"Ooh, you really took good care of you, huh ? " You quickly glanced at him and saw him tensing up. He knew what you were going to say, and you smirked, delighted. "Yeah, you're right, he really likes you ! I totally agree. What a nice guy he is indeed."

"Don't you call me that !" he exclaimed, literally fuming.

"Shh, don't scream this way at her!" you lightly scolded.

"Oh, like hell, I'm going to let you insinuate things like that," he groaned. So easy.

You started to jump around, going down slowly like a feather. Eden happily did the same.

"I'm solely stating facts! You are a good demon—ah!" you screamed, surprised when he started to try to catch you.

"Come down here, you little minx !" He snarled, frustrated at your agility.

You stooped your tongue out, Eden still running around cheerful as always.

"What are you two doing ?" A familiar voice asked, deeply confused and surprisingly joyful at the same time.

"Aziraphale ! Hi !" you waved as your feet connected to the ground again.

Crowley was right behind you, hands twitching and mumbling complaints mixed with threats. Even if you knew that the angel had already seen the upset and irrated side of Crowley, you still needed to point out his good deeds!

Every opportunity mattered!

"Is everything alright ?" No time to worry ; you've got to praise!

"Yes, yes, of course ! It's just that Crowley doesn't want to admit how nice he's been today." You got behind the raging demon and gently shoved him towards Aziraphale.

"Oh, really, Crowley ? How come ?" He teased and smiled almost slyly.

You slowly backed off, letting the two interact in peace.

"Argh, it was nothin'. Just some demon who tried to jeopardise the mission, and Y/N over there immediately jumped in and lurked them away." He looked at you while saying it. You smiled with tight lips before I tilted my head for him to continue.

"And, urgh, well, I followed them and helped get rid of the nuisance." It almost burned his tongue.

"Aaand, you made Eden a comfy little space in the back of the Bentley!" you said, in the most jovial tone, making him growl.

"Aww, Crowley ! So do you have a soft spot for her, uh ?" He looked so touched. He was so adorable, you couldn't help but smile. Crowley looked bashful for a second before turning away.

"Oh, shut up. I only did it because I know what an awful thing you two feed her, so I just thought she deserved a little treat." He calmly taunted.

Awful things ?! Wait up a minute, mister !

Aziraphale regularly accepted keeping Eden with him when you had to work for a long time. He even arranged a room for her; he was very fond of her. And the food you gave her was the most healthy grass and hay you could find. Aziraphale was the one who helped you pick up a kind.

"She's perfectly healthy and happy; thank you very much !" You sprinted his way. He held up his hands in innocence, though his smirk revealed his thoughts.

"Of course, but also utterly bored." He leaned in, his smugness emanating from his whole body.

"Sure." You crossed your arms. "Because you know everything about having fun, Mister, I will never let you drive !" Yes. You were pouting. No. You will not apologise.

"Ooh, believe me, sweetheart, you're lucky I even let you near it."

Alright, so Crowley might not have appreciated how you drove the Bentley, but you both ended up having a great time ! Well, you and the car. But since you had driven with so much energy, it actually encouraged the demon to steer a little bit slower. You just shrugged the comment away.

"She's not a kart nor a race car, for that matter !" He exclaimed, throwing his arms everywhere.

"Don't underestimate her ; she's capable of a lot of things." You closed your eyes and nodded slowly. "Ah, such a shame you don't realise it..."

Speaking of realizing...

Shit. Aziraphale.

Great work, love angel. You felt bad for neglecting him and a weight settled on your shoulders.

"Anyway ! How was your day, Azi' ?" You gazed back, ignoring Crowley's ramble. The angel was facing the horizon, his absence crystal clear in his eyes. He snapped out of it, though, and a tight smile crept in.

"It went perfectly well, thank you ! Now, can we please head back to the bookshop so we can discuss our respective summonings ?" His hands were joined behind his back as he went to climb in.

"Of course ! W-Wait ! I'll go behind; this way I'll be close to Eden." You laughed nervously. Damn, you were way smoother with your other clients than with these two.

"No problem, Y/N." He simply said and smiled at you sweetly. Ah, what an angel, right ? Unworthy was what you were.

You heard Eden mooing in protest as Crowley picked her up to stuff her in again.

"C'mon, big girl, in you go- no ! No ! Not the jacket !" You tried to suppress your laughter at the sight.

"Hop on in, dear."

Aziraphale was holding the door open for you. You overdid your bow and got comfortable on the back seats, with the guardian doing the same after you. You felt guilt watching you from afar, ready to slay your throat.

"Let go, Eden ! Let go ! AAARGH-"

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"No need to overreact..."

"Overreact ?! She ate my jacket! Ugh... so ungrateful..."

Aziraphale shot him a disapproving look but didn't add anything; instead, he grabbed the torn fabric and fixed it.

"There. All gone."

The angel sat back on his seat but couldn't keep his eyes from rolling as Crowley kept on wailing about your mini cow's "betrayal". As for you, you enjoyed being the only one back there and having all this space to yourself.

You safely lay there, your mind drifting as you watched the pair talk to each other. A mushy smile painted on your face. The gentle melody of the song "Too Much Love Will Kill You", by Queen, gave the impression of a waltz in your small, confined space. Your hand was massaging your scalp to sooth you and your drumming heart. Your smile fainted with a sigh. Control your emotions, you repeated to yourself. But when you felt, you lived it thoroughly. And deep down, you suffered from it. You weren't supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to bring an angel and a demon together. And you weren't supposed to stand in between them.

Your hand slide down your body and firmly grabbed your right arm. Aziraphale was upset; you sensed it through your own emotions. He was hoping to spend time with Crowley alone without you teasing him for your own amusement. You couldn't stand in the way. You didn't want to ruin it for them. You were running out of time.

Stay away from them. Let them be...

Your chest ached as tears welled up in your eyes. The seats squeaked as you turned around, your back facing the road. Eyes shot tight, lips shivered, and a lonesome whimper crossed the barrier of your mind. The sound alerted the angel, his nature urging him to react.

"What's wrong, dear ? Do you feel ill ?"

His concern will be your death.

"Just worried, that's all," you lazily replied, seeking to close the conversation as soon as possible and give your spotlight away.

Don't worry about me...

"No need; I'll be there to help you ! Once we get to the bookshop, we'll plan out our side of the story and stick to it." You felt his eyes on you.

Forget about me...

"Don't fuss about it." Crowley said as well. "Y'know, they're... well, they're not very bright." He laughed in a breath. Aziphale couldn't restrain himself from laughing either.

A smile brushed your cheeks, not strong enough to remain there, but warmth at least tried to make its way to your heart. You looked up hesitantly, and your eyes met Aziraphale's... affectionate? You blushed involuntarily. Not affection, but compassion. Sympathy even !

Bashful, you quickly turned your eyes and looked at the interior mirror. Crowley must have sensed your eyes on him, because he almost instantly looked up at you through the mirror and winked. You rolled over again and hugged yourself tightly.

Mmph...

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I didn't expect it to be so long, but if I continue it would really be way too long 😭

Hope you enjoyed it ! I'll try my best to post once a week !

Parts : Previous - Next

Tag list : @legendary-maddie @kpop-athena @drugs-for-memes @emo-queer-boi @cunning-girl @mochikofi

#good omens #good omens s2 #david tennant #micheal sheen #neil gaiman #crowley x reader x aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #crowley x aziraphale #crowley x reader #ineffable husbands #lgbtq #polyamory #twoscompanythreesafamily

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sparrowrye · 8 months ago

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Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 20

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 20: dark desires

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"What do you want Husker?" I knew he was crossing when he first stepped out of the house. I sat just beyond the tree line with my back against a large oak. I had heard the door close, the sway of grass as he walked, his steps, his breathing, and felt his red magic about half way across the field.

I had barely slept last night. I woke up before dawn and made my way to my new sitting spot. I could hear the crash of the waves at the bottom of the cliff and the whirl of the wind across the field. The peaceful serenity was nice. The calm, external environment was helping me figure out how to feel internally. Until Husker showed up at dawn.

"I wanted to check on you." He stepped out from behind the tree.

"I'm fine. Never better. Why do you ask?" I had my legs pulled up and my arms dangling over them. I kept my one hand covering the bruised one.

"I thought maybe you would be happy that the curse is finally gone. But...you obviously don't feel that way."

"I shouldn't..." I pressed my lips into my shoulder to keep myself from spilling. I wasn't sure why I didn't want to talk about it with Husker. I had told him plenty before but this time I was hesitant.

"I'm usually good at guessing what's wrong," he tried, "but this time I'm a little lost. Did something else happen? Was there a memory?"

"No, he...I didn't..." I wrapped my arms around my legs and leaned my cheek into them. I was still holding my human form but I could sense everything as if I was in my Demon form.

My hands shifted so the bruise shone a little. Husker pointed and asked, "May I?" So I let him brush his claws across my injured hand, the muscle and skin popping and fixing itself. I turned my head the other way and gritted my teeth from the pain.

When he was done, I withdrew my hand to my chest and stared off into the forest. Husker was quiet. He sat in silence with me for a long time. I could hear his breathing and his presence sat on the outside of my shields.

I let out a huge sigh, Husker's ear twitching in my direction. I turned my head so he was partially in my view. "I don't...I should've known that he wanted something more with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...I thought he just wanted to teach me how to defend myself against a Demon. That way he didn't have to ever think about keeping me safe again, but...I...he..." I struggled to find the words. I didn't want to tell Husker about the Sanctuary in case it somehow got back to Alastor. "When we touch I can feel both of our magic combining. He wants to keep me because it gives him more power. Which means...I can't do anything without him. I can't have a life anymore."

Husker was quiet. I could feel his presence fully around my shields as if to comfort me in some way. He physically sat adjacent to me against the same tree. I could hear his tail thumping and even feel it vibrating through the ground.

"Well, you know," he leaned over so his shoulder touched mine, "he's gonna teach you everything he knows. And you've obviously got your own kind of power and experience. Sooo...." he tilted his head, drawing out his words. He was waiting for me to finish but I obviously wasn't getting it. "So you may one day be better than him."

I actually laughed. It was short and high pitched. I stood up and spun on my heels, planting my hands on my hips. "This is the Radio Demon we're talking about. He's been around for thousands of years. He's had all that time to practice and master who knows how much magic. I've barely lived a second in comparison to him."

"True," he agreed, "but even he has his weaknesses. He's teaching you all the tricks which means you'll know how he thinks. It's just a matter of time."

"That's what I'm upset about." I paced around in a circle. I let my Demon side show and dug my foot claws into the soft earth. "In order to be even close to his level, I would have to train with him for hundreds of years. I don't even know how long I live for."

"Demons don't really have a timeline but most of us live longer than the average Human."

"I don't want to be stuck with him!" I yelled. My tail whipped behind me as my pacing increased. I went up to a tree and raked my claws down its bark. "I deserve to pick the life I want to live. He gets to decide what life he wants because he's got the power, but I deserve to decide."

"He's not really..." Husker clicked his claws together. "He's more...you won't get through to him unless you've got some kind of power. And...you may have to suck it up and train with him until you've reached that point. You've seen how he reacts when your shadow shows up."

I glanced down as my shadow morphed into the woman. I had yet to come up with a name, though I was heavily leaning towards Alcine. It seemed like a nice, elegant name for a woman who's shadow looked like that. She nodded her head at me on the grass.

I let out a strangled sigh. "I just...I have my own plans."

"I know." He pushed himself to his feet and stood in front of me. "I know exactly how you're feeling. So I want to do what I can to help you get there."

"What about you?"

He shrugged. "One step at a time. Maybe you'll even be able to convince him to let me go. But let's take this one day at a time."

I rubbed my clawed fingers together. "Okay."

****

"Are you finally ready, darling?" Alastor stood on the scorched symbol at the cliff, his eyes and teeth glowing brightly in the dim moonlight. His hands rested on top of each other on his red cane. I hid my Demon side as I walked up. My feet felt like they had glue on the bottom of them, making each step harder than the last.

"Where are we going?" It was the third time I had asked.

"Out. I think you've been stuck in this dusty house for too long." He uncurled a claw from his cane and held it out, his smile widening.

"You and I both know kindness isn't your thing." I looked up through furrowed eyebrows and an angry scowl. Anger was easier to manage than fear.

He hummed a short laugh. "You pain me. I'm not all bad." He inched his hand towards me more.

I sighed. "Yes you are," and took his hand. Our combined power rushed through my veins and took my breath away. I had to take a moment to recover while Alastor soaked in the feeling. He pulled me closer and teleported away. I nearly grabbed his arm when the ground disappeared. I was slowly getting used to the feeling of teleporting.

When we touched solid ground, I looked around at the dark landscape. We were on a roof but there were several huge buildings surrounding us. Not all the floors were lit up and most of them didn't even have windows or walls. I inched to the edge and saw a lively scene beneath me. The major streets were covered in yellow, electrical lights and people had to push themselves through the heavy crowd.

This was one of those Old World cities. Since the Great Collapse, many major cities had fallen to nothing but ruins, leaving mother nature to handle them how she wanted. I had been in a ring of sorts in one of these cities. When an old ring had been discovered, everyone had to go find a new one. On the way, Striker and I had spent a night in one of these big cities. He heard of a fighting league, a legal 'ring' fight with willing participants. He had participated in a fight himself then offered me up to their champion. The fight lasted under two minutes.

I knew he would probably still be in one of the legal towns, but that didn't stop me from scanning the crowd in search of Striker's sharp face. "What are we doing here?"

"There's someone I want to see if you recognize," Alastor answered nonchalantly. He stood just a hair behind me, his presence snaking around my shields. He didn't push through, which surprised me, but the fact that he was actively surrounding me didn't make me feel any better. I tried asking who I was supposed to be looking for but he didn't respond. He fell silent and just stared at me. I hated when he did that.

For awhile I simply watched. We were hidden on a roof that towered just above where the electricity stopped running. There was no one on the floors of the buildings around us and the shadows kept us well hidden from any curious eyes.

After awhile, I sat down with my legs crossed and continued to watch. I was actually enjoying it. I stretched out my magic sense and felt everyone who came within distance. I could sense their emotions and feel who had Full magic and who had Slight. There were a few Demons hiding themselves in a human appearance, their magic's color shaping their outline. I imagined myself walking in the crowd with them all, brushing shoulders and going about a normal life. When I 'touched' them, it felt like I was sucking some of their energy straight from their body.

A cold shiver ran through my body. I casted a glare at Alastor as his presence finally penetrated my shields. I tried wrapping my mind in a black cloak as if to keep him from reading my thoughts. I didn't know if he could actually read thoughts but I wasn't eager to find out. I turned back to the crowd to look for someone I would recognize. If he was trying to get in my head, that must mean he saw the person and wanted to see my reaction.

It took me a few moments before my eyes locked on a man. I didn't immediately recognize him but I couldn't look away. He had a sturdy build, an ugly frown, and scraggly hair. My heart quickened and my hands started to sweat. What was wrong with me? Why was I freaking out? What was it about this man? No memories surfaced as I tried to remember.

He walked down one of the small streets and I followed, scrambling to my feet and jumping to the neighboring rooftop. I watched him from my high perch as he strolled halfway down the less-lit street. He leaned against the old building and pulled out a smoke. He was wearing a long sleeve which seemed odd for such a warm night. He put his hands in his pockets and just looked left and right. I knelt down and continued to watch him. What was he doing? Who was he waiting for?

Eventually, a second man walked down the street and shook hands with him. I leaned lower and casted a light wind to carry their conversation up to me.

"That's thirty credits for the boy and forty for the girl," the newcomer said. He pulled out metal squares, called credits, to count them and drop them in the man's hand.

"What do you want next?" the big man counted the credits himself before stuffing them into his pocket.

"They're looking for two boys, around nine years old give or take."

"No girls?"

"No. They supposedly have too many now and not enough fighters. They need the boys for the fights."

"Nine is awfully old." The big man blew out a puff of smoke. "They can't disappear as easy as younger kids."

"Which is why you're getting fifty credits for each."

The big man coughed and took the smoke from his mouth. He cleared his throat and straightened his shirt. "Fifty? That sounds like they want a delivery."

"They do. They want them delivered to Swansbury. You can handle that, can't you?"

"Yeah, of course."

The newcomer held out his hand and the big man rolled up one of his sleeves. I leaned further over the edge to see what was all over his arms. The newcomer took the man's smoke and pressed it the hot end into his bicep. The man let out a grunt but didn't react in any other way. The newcomer returned the smoke after the big man had rolled his sleeve back down. The marks on his skin were all burn marks. Why did they do that?

"Your next contact will wear a gray top," the newcomer informed. He swiftly left the small street and disappeared into the crowd. The big man waited in the street, still smoking his cigarette. I watched him closely, trying to put together his face. I knew him. But from where?

Something pulled me backwards and I found myself in my mindscape. I pushed myself to my elbows and found myself in a memory. Not just any memory, the memory. The man trapped my hands against the cold cage floor and everything came running back. I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed the fear in my stomach. I was suddenly standing and tripped backwards into my shields. I shook my head and pulled myself back to reality. I opened my eyes to an empty alley.

I jumped to my feet and rang along the edge of the roof for him. I found him down another small street, walking into another small building. This one had electricity shining through some of the shaded windows. The man appeared on the third level and collapsed on an old rickety bed. This was the man that had assaulted me.

My Demon side slipped out and I dug my claws into the concrete of the rooftop I sat on. So many emotions came flooding through me as I stared at him. He was a ring hunter. He was the people who stole children and sold them to the ring fights. I had so much energy buzzing through my body I didn't know what to do with. I wanted to bring the building down and watch him suffocate from the crushing rubble.

"You can do it."

My ear twitched as Alastor's lips brushed against it. My hands were shaking the harder I pushed them into the concrete. My heart couldn't slow down.

"You have the power, now."

My vision started to blacken around the corners. I was zeroing in on his helpless, clueless body on the bed. He was going to sleep peacefully and would wake up the next day to ruin another child's life.

"You can put a stop to him."

My breathing grew shallow. My hands were sweaty and my tail whipped back and forth on the roof. My wings pressed into the floor on either side of me to give them something to do. I wanted to jump off this roof and crash into his room. I wanted to wrap my claws around his throat.

"It would take a flick of your wrist."

Alastor's hand was gripping my shoulder as he leaned further over the other one. He was kneeling beside me? Behind me? There was so much energy bouncing between us that I couldn't tell where he was in contact with me aside from his claws in my shoulder.

"End his life to save so many." He gently grabbed my wrist and pried it off the edge of the roof. He lifted it up so my sharp, black claws curled around the man's figure. "Restrict his airflow." His throat closed and his eyes shot open. He clutched at his neck and rolled of the bed. He banged his chest as if to dislodge an object from his throat. "Watch him writhe as you did."

The man's flailing slowed until he finally laid still on the floor. The outline of his body grew red until everything about his was glowing red. It was his soul. I quickly cut off my magic. A second later the man gasped for air and the outline disappeared.

Alastor was everywhere. I abruptly withdrew and broke away from him. "I'm better than that," I clutched my hands to my chest, "I stopped the killing when I left the ring. I'm not going back to that. I'm not a Demon."

"Oh darling," he stalked over to me, "you are a Demon." He leaned down so his face was level with mine, arms folded behind his back. "It's how you managed to survive for so long in those fights. It's in your nature."

A door slammed shut, drawing both our attention back to the street. The man had run out of the building and was making his way to the crowded street. A huge, dark figure appeared at the end of the street and snarled at the man. He casted fire at the illusion and went the other way. Alastor chuckled and looked at me sideways. He grabbed my forehead, covering my eyes, and I felt my body drop.

A second later I was gliding over the lower buildings on the outskirts of the city. The man was still running, casting glances over his shoulder for his pursuer. Various black figures scared the man from certain streets, herding him further away from the crowded street. I jumped from building to level and back again. I could taste the fear of the man. It was sweet and electrifying. I wanted more.

The man tripped and scrambled behind a pile of crates. I jumped down on the other end of the alley where the man wasn't looking. The streetlight behind me blinked. The man's head swiveled in my direction. The light turned on and my shadow--no, Alastor's shadow--stretched down the concrete.

"Good day sir!" Alastor's chipper voice came from my lips. I wasn't actually here. I was seeing through Alastor's eyes. He stalked slowly and precisely towards his prey. The man tried casting fire but his veins bulged and he cried out in pain. He curled into a bawl, sobbing and begging for his life. Alastor leaned down so his face was inches from the man's and said, "You've gotten in my way."

His claws latched around the man's throat. Half a second later, the man's life faded from his eyes. He slumped into the ground and Alastor straightened up. He snapped his fingers to call the dark figures to surround the body. He effortlessly lifted himself to the rooftop and made his way back. I could see my own body laying on the ground as he knelt beside it. He covered his eyes and my own flew open, my body lurching forward.

"What are you do--"

He caught my chin in his claws and held our faces close. "You are a Demon by nature. Your power will grow until you can no longer handle it, unless you learn how to properly exercise it. That is what I'm doing." He shoved my face away and stood.

"What did you do to him?" I pushed myself to my feet.

"You'll know by tomorrow when I make my broadcast."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Thank you all for your patience, kind words, and understanding! I hope this chapter makes up for yesterday. How power hungry do you think we'll get? Can we fight the urge? How persuasive will Alastor be?

#alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open #hazbin hotel husk

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flickering-nightfall · 1 year ago

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So, your Infinity Train crossover got me to watch the show, and... woah. Woah. I would love to know if you had any more ideas, blurbs, thoughts, anything about that crossover, because now I can't get enough of imagining the viciously murderous cat and accidentally-fratricidal robot on the train.

I'm glad you liked Infinity Train too! (and thank you!) More on the crossover... I gotta admit I haven't thought of much other than the initial "haha what if" idea. Maybe I can speculate though:

Spoilers ahead!

There were many hilarious and thoughtful takes on how Pebbles could possibly end up on the train, in the notes of the initial post. I joked that it'd just tear a hole through his structure, but there are more (and less) sane options than that.

Since we only see human passengers on the train, a lot of people would probably mistake Pebbles and Arti as denizens. Simon and Grace would probably not take to them having numbers well. I feel like they'd most likely think it was a trick, but it could shake up their perspective too.

Man humans look kind of similar to ancients maybe. That doesn't mean much to Arti - and I think humans look dissimilar enough from scavs to be spared by her wrath. But to Pebbles...

Also, iterators haven't communicated with another civilization-era sapient species in a quite a while probably. Some interesting stuff can come out of that.

How many migraines do you think Pebbles gets from trying to figure out what the hell is up with denizens? Or the train itself? I feel like he'd have an aneurysm if he had to interact with Alan Dracula. If he goes home and tries to tell the others what happened without any proof, they'd think he'd had a rot-induced fever dream.

Numbers are dependent on how close a passenger is to solving their problem. Arti, having already killed the scav chieftain, according to Rain World has hit the point of no return. So her body is completely wrapped up in numbers. But like Amelia, with enough time and determination it might be possible. The main problem is... Arti has to want to fix her problem first. The setup for her to do that is there. She's with Pebbles, so she has less of a reason to go off on a rampage unless she's being threatened. The lack of scavs wouldn't stop her from resorting to violence at this point, but the pure strangeness and unfamiliarity of her surroundings should at least baffle her into a different mental state.

I think in order to get an exit, Arti needs to make peace with herself. She must acknowledge what she has become, and to truly believe that she needs to change. It has little to do with the death of her children at that point. She needs to escape the self-perpetuating circle of violence.

Pebbles' number is much smaller (but still huge) because he's entrenched in rage and isolation and frustration on a massive timescale, but we see him eventually come to a resolution in Rivulet's campaign. How would the train define his problem though? It could be his anger at Moon and Suns, blaming them for his current state (even if Suns is partially at fault). It could be his tendency to close himself off, his refusal to talk to others or accept help. It could be his denial, believing he can handle and fix everything by himself. It could be his overall arrogance or ego. There's a lot of options there. Ultimately I think whatever brings him to think similarly to how he does in Rivulet's campaign would do the trick.

The sad thing is that Pebbles would probably be better off staying on the train too. I'm not sure if he'd be affected by the rot there, but he'd at least he could (literally) get out of his own head. And he has no choice but to touch grass interact with new people and situations. But to deny his exit would be to deny responsibility for what he's done. If he's really gotten better, that means he knows he can't run away anymore.

If Pebbles went to the train without Arti there's a chance he'd get killed or ghom'd two days into the trip. We are assuming his puppet is capable of walking for this AU, but also I do not think he knows how to walk. Good luck pink guy!

On the flipside. Pebbles could... probably take over the train even more than Amelia ever did, especially as a (bio)mechanical being himself. The only thing that could limit him are taboos maybe. Any iterator could do this, really. Lots of potential paths with that one.

Something something, One-One and iterators both solving people's big problems with varying amounts of success, and both engineering weird organisms...

...does a RW character that gets ghom'd return to the great cycle? Their soul gets devoured, or their life essence, it's not clear. I guess which one could determine what happens. But also they are in another universe where there is probably no cycle. Are ghoms a triple affirmative? Is crossdimensional travel? The latter wouldn't fit the "portable and generally applicable" part but still. This is a whole rabbit hole and a half, isn't it!

The train is dangerous and all, but that just makes Rain World characters a hilarious fit for it. Like this is just their daily life. Honestly I think their home world is more dangerous than the train, just in less wacky ways.

Lastly: I haven't even touched upon what introducing other characters could do for this narrative, or how they would react. So many possibilities!

If anyone wants to do more with this, please feel free!

#rw spoilers #dp spoilers #infinity train spoilers #text #ask #thetroupemaster #anon #rambles #long post

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verai-marcel · 1 year ago

Text

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 1 of 27)

Summary: Not every adventurer wields a weapon. You, a hearth witch living near the banks of River Chionthar, are witness to a craft falling from the sky, and wondering if anyone needed assistance, ran down to find survivors. That was your first mistake. Going along with the survivors on their crazy adventure? That was your second mistake. Will you survive your next mistake of letting a hungry vampire bite you?

Author’s Notes: Full disclosure: at this point, I’ve only played through act 2 without romancing Astarion. So why the fuck am I writing some wholesome Astarion x F!Reader? Because I’m dumb and got spoiled on Youtube, and now I can’t stop thinking about the poor guy. Also this is heavily influenced by a couple of wholesome manga (“Life in Another World as a Housekeeping Mage” and “The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World”), but I won’t be writing an isekai. You (reader) are from Faerun like everyone else. I’m just here to have some wholesome feels and hurt/comfort. Let’s go go go.

Tags: wholesome, cozy camp time, Astarion x F!Reader, slow burn, good alignment, BG3 Spoilers

Chapter Word Count: 1,843

Ao3 Link here, Darling.

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

Act I, Chapter 1 - The Beginning

You are a hearth witch, living on the banks of the River Chionthar, making potions and herbal remedies for the small villages nearby. For the past three years, you’d been happier than you’d ever been in your life. You loved helping people, but you made sure not to reveal your real name, nor why you always wore long sleeves and gloves, even in the middle of summer.

But the nearby villages had been emptying as of late. News of the goblin camp that recently appeared nearby had first scared off the traveling merchants, and then the locals. You realized that you too should leave, otherwise you’d either have no more customers or goblins on your doorstep. You only had a dagger and a few spells that did little in ways of actual damage, so defending yourself against a horde of enemies was out of the question. So you began to pack up, figuring out what you could bring with you, and what needed to be repurchased once you reached your new home, wherever that might be.

On a warm sunny day, you decided that this would be your last day here. Your pack was filled, your cottage cleaned out. Tomorrow morning, you would take off to the east, following the river to the next closest town. For now, you decided to grab a few more ingredients for the road, and so, you were out by the river bank, gathering fresh herbs and mushrooms.

A booming sound followed a strong gust of wind that whipped around you, twigs and grass flying everywhere. Then you saw a ship crash nearby, the land and water being torn asunder, debris flung in all directions. After the chaos died down a bit, you went to go check for survivors. You couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away if someone might need help.

That was a poor decision on your part.

The first survivor you found was a young, dark-haired woman, passed out on the shore. She seemed standoffish, but after helping her up and giving her a drink from your waterskin, you convinced her that the best thing to do was to get out of the area and rest at your cottage while she regained her bearings.

A little while later, the two of you came upon the strange sight of a single arm, sticking out of a glowing purple rune. You and the young woman, Shadowheart, pulled the poor man out. He introduced himself as Gale, and also joined your party.

As the three of you continued back to your cottage, you came across another stranger. Skin as pale as marble and hair to match. Had some scars on his neck. Perhaps he got them on the ship? He seemed harmless enough. Another escapee of the craft that fell from the sky.

That is, until he tricked you into looking for something in the bushes.

If only he hadn’t touched your exposed neck with his bare hand. Then you wouldn’t have felt the fear, underlined by a desperation you knew all too well.

The leash is cut.

It made you empathize. And that was one rule that had been burned into your mind at a young age.

Do not empathize with the enemy.

Fortunately, Gale and Shadowheart talked him down from stabbing you. The man even apologized to you, though it seemed more for show than for sincerity.

Astarion was his name. He introduced himself with aplomb and decorum, and your hackles raised at the sight. A noble.

After a bit more conversation, they agreed that their shared affliction was enough of a reason to travel together and find a cure.

Swallowing down your general prejudice against nobles, you ignored him and made small talk with the others as you led them back to your cottage.

***

Your cottage had only one room, enough space for your bed, some storage for herbs and tools, and a work table for your alchemy. Most of your things were packed, but you pulled out enough to take care of your guests.

The yard to the side of the building was set up as a small campground for travelers to rest. You had figured out a couple years ago that for a small fee, traveling merchants would gladly rest on your land where it was safe, while you made them fresh, nourishing meals and cast spells on their bedrolls to make them feel warm and comfortable. You even managed to get a small tub built in the back to provide a warm bath for an extra fee.

It had been a lucrative idea, one that made you enough money to be quite comfortable out here in the sticks.

You may only know a few cantrips, but you had manipulated them beyond what most people did. Your mending cantrip could fix whole swaths of cloth, your prestidigitation cantrip could keep bedrolls warm all night, or baths hot for hours. It was why you had several repeat customers, traveling merchants who would alter their routes to come to your place to rest.

You told them of the surrounding area and cooked a meal for them, a simple stew with seasonal vegetables and herbs.

The noble said he wasn’t hungry. You supposed your poor peasant food wasn’t to his taste.

He can suit himself.

While the others were eating, you set up the campground. While you were quietly casting the comfort cantrip on each bedroll, you sensed someone watching you.

“Yes?” you asked, biting the inside of your mouth to keep from being snippy.

Astarion stepped closer to you. He remained standing, looking down on your kneeling form. “What an interesting way to use prestidigitation.”

You shrugged. You had nothing to say to a noble. You finished your spell and started to shuffle over to the next bedroll, but he remained standing in your way.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all, darling.” He didn’t budge.

You let out a short huff and crawled around him. One bedroll left. Ignoring the man, you began the cantrip.

By the time you finished, you looked up to see all three of them watching you.

“What?” you asked, a little disturbed by the attention.

“I hadn’t thought to use that cantrip like this before,” Gale said as he knelt down to touch the bedroll. “How long does it last?”

“All night,” you responded, feeling a little proud of yourself.

Shadowheart was already crawling into the bedroll. “This feels amazing.” She buried herself into the cloth. “It feels like I’m sleeping on a warm cloud.”

Gale shrugged and followed suit. “Gods, you’re right.” He sat up and looked at you. “I don’t know how you manipulated that spell, but it’s absolutely brilliant.”

You felt a zing of joy. Your little custom cantrip impressed a wizard!

The noble watched you for a few more moments before he too, crawled into a bedroll. His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. My, this is rather comfortable.”

You jutted out your chin, but refrained from being too catty about it. Instead, you switched to being polite.

“Sweet dreams,” you said to everyone, and went about cleaning up around camp. By the time you were done, the three of them were fast asleep.

***

The motley crew thanked you and took off in the morning to explore the area, seemingly never to return.

You looked around at your unpacked things, and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to start off tomorrow morning instead.

Your plans were sidetracked once more, however, when the group returned that evening with a fourth member, grouchy and prickly as a threatened porcupine. After a couple of bowls of your herbal soup, she became a little bit less prickly. Lae'zel was her name, and she punctuated her Common speech with her Githyanki tongue. You found it a bit endearing, the way one finds a stray animal that always hisses at you endearing.

You cast a warming spell on their bed rolls once more, burned incense to keep the insects away, and made sure they were all comfortable in your little camp area outside of your cottage before going to bed.

The next morning, you got up early to make breakfast for them before they left to explore the ruins that they had found the day before. As you checked your rabbit traps, you noticed one of them was tripped, but the rabbit within was a mere husk, as if it had been dehydrated.

Curious.

You reset your trap and returned to camp.

“What’s that?” Shadowheart asked when she saw the husk of a corpse in your hand.

“A dried up rabbit.”

“That doesn’t sound appetizing,” Lae’zel remarked.

You shrugged. “I can at least sell the pelt later. Sorry, you’ll have to make do with another vegetable stew tonight.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “That is, if you’re coming back here.”

The four adventurers looked at each other.

“I think we’ve taken advantage of your hospitality long enough,” Gale said. We’ll start heading west from here.”

***

The group had finally left, and you had finished packing. You had been delayed by their arrival, but no longer. They truly seemed gone now, with the sun setting and no sign of their return. Tomorrow for sure. Tomorrow, early in the morning, you would set off—

You heard your name being called. Off in the distance, you could see Gale, waving sheepishly at you, followed by the others.

You sighed. Biting back your annoyance, you smiled and waved back. A customer was a customer. At least this group was entertaining, and quite generous with their gold. And this time, they brought you back some boar meat.

There was one new face, a man with a stone eye. He introduced himself as the Blade of the Frontiers, Wyll. He seemed nice, charismatic even. Someone who had the manners of a noble but the heart of a commoner.

They set up camp once more in your yard, and you unpacked just enough of your supplies to make them a meal.

"You look like you're ready to go on a journey," Gale commented as you all sat around the campfire, eating a boar roast with herbed potatoes.

"I'm moving. Many people have moved away because of the increase in goblins in the area, and a lot of my business has dried up. And having goblins this close doesn't make me feel all too safe."

“Any plans on where?”

You shrugged. “Not really. I was just going to travel until I found a place to settle.”

"Well, why don't you come with us?"

Everyone looked at Gale in shock, but then they all looked at you.

"You do make camp much more comfortable," Shadowheart finally said.

“And one of us would be standing guard at camp as well, so you would be safe,” Wyll added.

You saw no reason to decline. You liked most of them, save for one snotty noble. A constant flow of income would be nice, for once. You negotiated a decent wage and agreed to head out with them at first light.

That, dear hearth witch, was your second poor decision.

--------

Chapter End Notes:

Yeah, I basically made up a ��hearth witch” class as a combo of druid, wizard, and cleric, but hey, welcome to Dungeons & Dragons, where homebrew classes happen all the time. Hope you enjoyed the fic! I'm actively working on the next chapter!

Update 4/4/24: All chapters are here!

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x F!Reader #slow burn #female reader #baldur's gate 3 #your hearth is my home

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mistkisbiggestfan · 1 year ago

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Omg the Pomni x Fem jester was so cute! Would you mind writing more of it? (If you can or want to)

Pomni, romantic / Jester! Fem! Reader - Part 2

Pomni (romantic) / Jester! Fem! Reader Hc + Small fic

A/n: Finally writing $h!t in my inbox?? Rare Jules moment, like actually I don’t know what’s happening (I’m gonna write those Tf2 and Voltron requests too, promise) REQUESTS FOR TADC ARE OPEN!!

Summary: Part 2 of being a silly jester couple Words: 1539 Rquest: Yeah!

She was kind of insecure because of you.

After she settled and realized it’s her life now, tho

You were well, everything she wasn’t; tall, well-built, at least your avatar was, and not to mention Pomni hated to admit that your digital avatar was quite attractive.

And worst of all, you were an actual circus performer.

But that has its downsides, of course, when she realized you were closer in behavior to Kinger than Jax or Ragatha? $h!t man.

She tried to avoid you all day (events before the end of the pilot: the digital feast).

But on the other hand, whenever she saw you, a lightbulb kinda flickered in her brain.

She’s such a girl failure, didn’t even know you for a day and still fell for you.

The jester was very much confused: “Am I attracted to this…?”

Yeah she is. This freaks her out. Why is she attracted to a crazy girl?

Your first meeting was a bit rough, duh, but in between her panicking and having a freak out, she couldn’t help but note your good looks.

After that she didn’t see you much because you stayed behind with Kinger and Gangle.

– You’re sure this is a good idea? – Ragatha said before turning around, looking at you, Kinger and Gangle. You were laughing about something, Gangle was crying, and Kinger was doing his usual stuff. – Of course, they’re the most mentally stable trio in the whole circus! – Jax snickered before walking along the halls. – Come on ladies, let’s go harass the clown.

During the time when abstracted Kaufmo ran around, chasing Pomni, at one point you came out of nowhere and scooped her up, bringing her to safety.

Then you kind of fu(/#d off to let abstraction of your dear friend sink in, Ragatha was very worried when she saw you not attending the digital feast at the end of the day.

The loop of never-ending exits and the void left Pomni really fu(/#d, but none really cared (expect for maybe Gangle and Ragatha) because it was her first day.

She didn’t even realize when her legs led her to the digital lake. Like someone else brought her there.

Just as she was about to sit down and relax she heard the deep and loud voice that scared her, the feminine, in other circumstances soothing voice was terrifying, she looked up and saw the Moon talking to someone.

Oh yeah, she almost forgot that Sun and Moon were AI people here.

“That was great dear, you should show that trick to Caine sometime.” She was talking with someone? But who?

And then, she saw your (in comparison) small figure looking up, with something that imitated fire, more like digital-fire but a flame nonetheless.

That made her feel worse, it was all superficial, all being nothing more than lines of code. Just like the talking Sun and Moon – not giving off any heat or cold.

Pomni felt herself losing it again as she saw you talking with the Moon above.

Feeling weird was an understatement.

Before she could go away, because she was standing awfully close to you two, she heard the loud voice of the Moon again.

Pomni finally snapped out of whatever she was in, her shoes touching the smooth, untextured grass under her. She didn’t know when or how she got here but she had to roll with the punches in this new place she was forced to call “home”. She saw the lake’s water before her before hearing a deep and loud voice of someone seemingly echoing and coming from every possible direction. She looked up.

The moon, or rather, Moon, was talking to someone. She almost forgot it– she? Moon. She almost forgot Moon could talk here, probably being some kind of AI too, like Caine.

But, Moon was talking with someone and she could tell it wasn’t Caine. – That was great dear, you should show that trick to Caine sometime. – She heard Moon’s voice again.

And with that, Pomni found herself walking closer to the direction Moon was talking too. How could Moon be seemingly high above, be seen from all directions and 2d like? She sighed, deciding to ponder on the perspective and basic rules that reigned this world sometime later.

Finally, she saw a small in comparison figure standing and holding a large stick or something like that, which ended with fire on both ends, the flame made her shiver, ironic. She looked as the fire danced, looking more animated than anything else, the thought that it was nothing more than lines of code wasn’t the best.

As she looked more closely at the figure talking with Moon, she couldn’t make out the words. And she realized, it was you, well now that was obvious, you were the only person dressed like a jester other than herself.

Before she could turn around, walk away, forget about this, she heard Moon’s voice again. – I think you should get yourself going dear, it seems like someone’s waiting for you. – Pomni’s eyes widened as she saw Moon looking at her, and she saw your head whip around to look at the person who was waiting.

Oh h#|! – She thought, and now she contemplated turning and running away, but before she could do so, you already stood in front of her. And you didn’t look quite as cheerful under the moonlight.

Now she could notice you had makeup on, well that’s probably just a permanent characteristic of your digital skin. You were quite different from her, that was rather obvious since you were basically towering over her. But one thing was similar, both of you had a $h!t tons of bells on you, how could she haven't noticed you going here? You were basically a walking “hey! I’m here! Can’t you hear me? Oh yeah you can”

You seemed more worried about her now, she didn’t notice, somehow, still, basically checking you out. – Are you alright? – Your voice snapped her out of a staring contest with her and your lean body.

– What? Oh, oh! – She looked up at you, as you leaned in to hear her better. – I’m not that short – She thought to herself.

– Is there something you need? – You said now starting to walk along, towards the entrance of the main area. She shook herself and ran to catch up, you started juggling as she looked at you weirdly for a second, were those balloons? How the fu(/# can you juggle balloons?

– I just wanted to thank you, for, eh when you saved me from that monster. – She said, not looking up at you, but she heard a laugh, snicker, whatever, it seemed more nervous than cheery though.

– Kaufmo.

– What?

– That wasn’t a monster. It was Kaufmo. – You said, still juggling, she seemed to catch on with your thought process.

– Right. Sorry – She apologized quietly, both of you being now in the hallway leading to your rooms. But you laughed it off, catching all the balloons and popping them, like Caine did with Bubble, with funny sounding “pop”. Only now she realized you were standing still now, not walking anymore.

– Don’t beat yourself over it, sweetheart. – You laughed, not mockingly, somehow it sounded lovely. Amd Pomni froze – her face red. Oh god she if she didn’t want to hit herself then, she definitely wants to after this. Once she realized what happened your laughing disappeared a long time ago. She looked around and found out you left her off in front of her new room. – Wow… – She breathed out.

At first you were not a big fan, but your behavior was always the same, you really kept almost everything to yourself, but you have to admit she was a little cutie.

Ever since you always tried to make her flustered, and it always works.

She tried to make you flustered on more than one occasions but you seem to not be able to feel flustered or embarrassed, your face just goes from “:D” to “(´ ꒳` )”

You’re actually the boldest mf out there, even bolder than Jax.

Jax probably gave up on trying to prank you after that “staring at your soul” thing.

But Pomni is a brand new target, so you protect her. And it makes her flustered, but on the other hand, what doesn’t make her flustered?

She might have called you mommy by accident. She was burning, but to her shock. That seemed to make you flustered, but just for a second, before you laughed sweetly at the mess before you.

“That was great, cutie.” “Thanks mommy.” “...” “...”

She should be glad Jax didn’t overhear that, or did he?

He did. It’s over for her.

She was walking through the hallway towards your room and looked up to see him, looking down at his nails, even though they were covered with his gloves. “Pomni, remember that calling the jester mommy isn’t very PG 13.” He smirked before the situation resolved to a harmless fistfight.

Caine doesn’t bat an eye, maybe says something to Pomni but that’s all. (You’re his and Moon’s favourite so it’s understandable, don’t let the others know though.)

Favouritism is real.

Overall very cute, two jesters are always better than one.

#requests open #request #please request #tadc pomni #x reader #pomni #ragatha #tadc #jax #caine #the amazing digital circus #tadc pomni x reader #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #tadc caine

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darthgloris · 2 years ago

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Volleyball (Berlín x female reader)

Summary: Berlín and Y/N, code name Varsòvia, were childhood friends since high school and finally reunite during the five-month training for the first heist.

Type: fluff

A/N: I wrote the Spanish names because I prefer those to the English ones, no warnings.

Happy reading!

The moment he entered the classroom, my jaw dropped. It shocked me how I recognised him instantly, after twelve years.

“No real names,” his brother reminded me, and I nodded quickly.

I walked up to him and his face lit up as he saw me. I jumped into his arms and he laughed, wrapping his arms around me and spinning me around.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, still laughing out of shock.

“Well, I’m a dirt-poor criminal and 2.4 billion euros didn’t sound so bad, so…” I chuckled. “I could imagine it’s the same for you.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. I smiled shyly at him, looking at him through my eyelashes and he pecked my cheek affectionately.

“Everyone please take a seat.”

I sat down at a desk and he sat in front of me, flashing me a smirk before turning around. Just like the old days, I thought to myself, smiling.

“First, I would like to set some ground rules. No personal information, that being names, ages, and no relationships.”

The room groaned, and I chuckled silently. I knew everyone would break that rule anyway.

“On the names, let’s do… cities, we’ll do cities. You?” He pointed at the girl in the front seat.

She paused for a second before replying. “Tokyo.”

Then his brother. “Berlín.” He chose. Fitting perfectly with his personality. I thought for a moment.

“Varsòvia.” I picked.

Berlín turned around with a mischievous smile.

“Don’t you dare make Nazi jokes,” I warned him.

“Twelve years, and you still know exactly what I’m thinking,” he responded.

I laughed lightly, “Never gets old.”

…

Life at the estate in Toledo wasn’t bad at all. We had free time and good meals, and I was reunited with Berlín, at last.

“Who’s up for volleyball?” Nairobi asked.

Berlín and I looked at each other knowingly, smiling softly. I winked at him and he winked back as we silently agreed to play our trick.

“I’m a bit rusty, but why not?” I agreed.

“I’m in,” he said. The others agreed as well.

“All right, everyone, let’s make teams,” I said. I silently counted us. Nine.

“We’re not even-numbered.” I said.

“Profesor! Are you playing?” Tokyo yelled.

“Sure.” He replied.

The teams were me, Berlín, Rio, Denver and Tokyo versus Nairobi, Profesor, Moskù, Oslo and Helsinki. Berlín and I took our places: I went in the center and he was in the front-right corner. Our strategy was to be always near each other so we could work together to score as many points as possible.

“You’re going to regret putting those two in the same team,” Profesor said softly to his team, pointing at us.

“Why’s that?” Nairobi asked.

“You’ll see.”

“We’re two teams of five.” I said. “First team that gets to 15 wins.”

Rio served: the ball flew to the other side without a problem and Nairobi dug.

“Berlìn,” I called his name softly and forearm-passed it to him, who attacked with strength and the ball touched the ground.

“Score,” he said proudly.

We used the same strategy again: Rio served again, this time Helsinki attacked and Denver dug.

“Varsòvia,” Berlín set me the ball and I attacked with as much strength as I could and the ball bounced aggressively on the grass.

“Oh, by the way-” I said out loud while approaching Berlín. “-we’re awesome.” He finished and high-fived me.

“That’s why,” Profesor said to Nairobi.

2-0.

2-1. Moskù scored.

2-2. Nairobi served and Oslo scored.

3-2. Berlín and I scored.

4-2. Berlín served the ball. “Ace,” He chuckled in pride.

5-2. He aced again.

6-2. And again.

6-3. Profesor blocked.

6-4. Helsinki served, Nairobi attacked.

…

“14-14, this is the tie-breaker, people!” Said Denver.

While Tokyo got ready to serve, I looked at Berlín. The twinkle in his eyes made me see he was not going to lose this match. Tokyo served. Profesor dug, Denver forearm-passed. Nairobi set, Moskù attacked. Berlín set me the ball, and I jumped as high as I could, attacking forcefully. The ball fell into the other side.

“Set point!” Berlín laughed and our team cheered and celebrated as he scooped me up in his arms bridal style and spun me around. I yelped in surprise.

“A bit rusty, mis cojones, Varsòvia,” Nairobi laughed. “Good job.”

“Thank you,” I said, out of breath and slightly dizzy from the spinning.

…

That same day we were having dinner and another high school tradition came up: insulting each other without getting offended in the slightest.

We were talking about past relationships and Berlín addressed me. “So, Varsòvia, how has it been for you? You’ve become so beautiful, you must have spent the last twelve years reliving 1999.” He said, a cocky smirk on his face.

I wasn’t even bothered at the compliment as much as the use of the date. The table raised a chorus of “ooh”, “ahh” and wolf whistles.

“1999?” Denver questioned.

“It’s a figure of speech about how sexually promiscuous she was in that year.” Berlín explained and I looked at him, smirking back.

“Do you have a figure of speech for how jealous you were of the boys that came out of her room?” Profesor teased him, earning a louder chorus from the table.

“Well, I happen to have one for how sexually promiscuous you can both go be with yourselves.” I smiled sarcastically at the siblings and the others laughed.

“Touchè, Bambi.” Berlín replied.

…

I sat on a chair in the balcony, enjoying the late summer breeze. A knock on my door startled me.

“Come in.” The door opened and Berlín entered.

“Hey,” He said softly and approached me. He came up behind me and leaned down to rest his arms on my shoulders, his chin on top of my head.

“Hi,” I chuckled back, grabbing one of his hands and interlocking our fingers. “Why so affectionate, Berlín?”

“Why are you questioning it? You know you like it,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I do.” I smiled at him and got up to give him a proper hug. I nuzzled my nose into his neck and sighed.

“I missed you. A lot more than you think.” I said. I felt his smile on my forehead.

“I missed you, too, sweetheart.” We held each other for a good minute before pulling away. “And I meant what I said before. You do look beautiful.” I blushed.

“Berlín…” I shook my head in denial.

“You do. I mean it. With all my heart.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and rested his hand on my cheek. I placed my hand over his and leaned into his touch.

“If I ask you something, will you promise to be 100% honest with me?” I asked him.

“Of course.”

“Were you really jealous in 1999?” He broke eye contact, drawing in a sharp breath.

“Yes. Yes, I was.” I gazed at him sadly.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t stand hearing about every single boy that came in and out of your bedroom while I had a massive crush on you.” He argued.

"You didn't have to, why didn't you just tell me?" I asked.

"And what were the chances of you saying 'yes'? I was a dumb teenager-"

"I was a dumb teenager too, hence why I might have accepted," I said playfully.

Berlín shook his head fondly and kissed me softly without warning. I kissed back immediately, smiling against his lips. When we pulled away I chuckled and blushed, while he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Te quiero muchísimo, Varsòvia."

"Yo también, Berlín."

#lcdp #lcdp netflix #berlin #berlin x reader

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xxcocoiiixx · 9 months ago

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The Elysian Idol extract: Belladonna from different povs - Luke edition

"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐍."

"I got it"

"If you got it, I wouldn't have to say it for the hundredth time"

Luke stood a few paces away from Bella who was gripping the sword tightly. Luke's critical eyes swept over her the smaller girl, her knees were shaking slightly, she kept shifting her white sneakers against the dirt and it was obvious that the sword was too big for her by the way she struggled to keep it balanced.

She had to learn he told himself. If not now, within the safe confines of the camp, then never. He wasn’t used to being so harsh with her. Bella wasn’t like Annabeth who dusted herself off and got back up again. Bella was fragile, used to a soft word and a kind touch. Reassurance that tomorrow would be alright or risk her world shattering into a waterfall of tears.

But reassurance couldn’t be guaranteed, that much he knew. He slowly began sick at the possibility. Of Bella being subjugated to a fate an iota worse than she deserved. And in Luke’s opinion that little girl deserved everything and more. Day by day he was plagued by the anticipation of what’s to come. So rather than being swallowed by the storm he decided to push ahead of it.

Bella wasn’t exactly receptive to that logic, or much logic usually….

"Clearly I'm trying my best Luke."

Luke sighed. As brassy as Bella was, it wasn't often that was truly frustrated, especially at others. The clipped tone she was exhibiting now caused a pang of guilt in his chest.

His voice softened this time around. "Just- swing for me one last time. Your weapon will choose you, but only if you try"

Belladonna huffed through her nose. Her delicate features scrunched up as her focus was locked onto her target, a limp and frail straw man in the distance.

Breaking into a sprint, she raised the sword and swung as hard as she could, determined to cut the head off the straw dummy.

To Bella's surprise, her movements screeched to a halt. Her arms were almost completely stretched above her head and her torso was leaved forward at an awkward angle. Bella blinked when she looked up to see when her sword was cut. The blade was lodged right in the middle of its "neck" she tried pushing it through and pulling it out the opposite way. Neither direction budged.

"I think it chose the dummy."

Luke walked up and with little effort pulled the sword out of the dummy. He returned the sword to her only for him to freeze at the sight of her familiar tearful pout. Her round eyes somehow like got even rounder and bigger and shinier like baby doll.

Uh oh.

She didn’t accept the sword. Instead she moved around him and her body plopped onto the grass that was on the sidelines of the arena. She had her back facing him with a slouched posture that would make Silena frown.

Luke made sure to lean the sword against its resting spot before taking a seat next to her on the ground. The whole thing put him in a much younger, more childlike headspace.

"It takes practice" he offered soothingly.

The young girl practically scoffed.

“I reckon it does”

"You wanna talk?”

There wasn’t an explicit yes or no from her so for a few moments they basked in silence.

“Do you know what else takes practice?” She suddenly asked.

“No.”

“Kips”

Not what he thought she was going to say. Though at this point he was used to her not always making sense. And in her defence she has become quite the acrobat

“Y’know once I learned I wanted to do tricks like that I practiced. Every day before the crow calls. And now I could do it upside down and with my eyes closed if I wanted”

He nodded. Unsure of what to do or say.

"I'm not a fighter Lu.” Her voice was so soft, practically a whisper at that point. The finality of it all, her being ashamed to look at him in the eye, broke his heart.

"That's not true." He was eager to protest.

Belladonna stayed silent. Suddenly finding more of an interest on the dust ruining her wide legged jeans. She didn't know how to tell him that it was true. Or that the other campers reminded her and family every day that Cabin 10 was useful in anything battle or strategy related.

"You're just different. And there's no better way to prove it than in capture the flag tomorrow when we steal the blue flag together, side by side. Wouldn't that be cool?"

She moved to lean her head against Luke's arm. She told herself it was to make herself more comfortable but there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she didn't want to openly show her distress.

"I can't. Silena and Clarisse sorted out an alliance yesterday. I'm team red again. I got a way you can make it up to me though”

“How?…”

Usually favours for Bella involve labour. He wanted to at least mentally prepare for whatever outrageously convoluted request she was about to ask of him.

"If we cross paths in Capture you can let me win”

That made him laugh aloud.

“And why would I do that”

And risk his shot at glory was also on the tip of him tongue. Though he, and everyone else at camp knew that kleos is worth dust to her unlike most demigods.

“As compensation. For being on a team that has lost so many times it has a pernicious effect an’ all”

“That’s….a mouthful. Where’d you hear a word like that?”

“Oh Annabeth said it” “Y’know I had to look it up myself. She surprises me everyday, that girl she’s as smart as all get out” Bella gushed

Luke couldn’t help but be doubtful either shrug didn’t fully understand the definition of “pernicious” (which was the likely option) or she truly didn’t care.

“Are you sure that you’re alright with what she said”

Bella shrugged cluelessly. “I’m fine. I’m sure she’s just stressed after carrying an entire team on her back since forever”

“Wait! No changing the subject” Luke groaned in response.

“Come on, pretty please!”

She had that look in her eye. That weird, annoyingly irresistible Bambi look in her eye but the scary part of it all was a slight glint of mischievousness in the corners. That gleam that shone, knowing she has already won the battle.

Luke had to break eye contact and rub at his temple. If this cost his team the victory and Annabeth found out, because she always does, she would lose her mind. But the corner of his lips couldn’t help but quirk upwards at the sight of her brighter mood.

“I’m not allowed to say no to you, am I?”

The little girl rung out her perfect laugh that resembles a ringing bell before looking up at him again. His brown eyes were warm with understanding and soft encouragement. He was at least trying to make her feel less like a complete failure of a demigod. Bella grinned playfully at the older boy with her nose high up in the air, like she was confident about her odds.

“Nuh uh”

He shook his head at the thought. Belladonna always got what Belladonna wanted it seems. She just had those doe like face that seemed to trick people into serving her before they had even realised what they had given up. Loving Bella was probably as easy as breathing.

But this was Belladonna. The girl in the tattered white dress and a plastic rhinestoned crown with half the gems missing. The girl he swore to protect since she was seven. Belladonna deserved more. And as her brother he would give her the world if she asked.

"Alright then, you have yourself a deal little lady"

#wattpad #action #annabeth chase #ao3 fanfic #camp halfblood #clarisse la rue #daughter of aphrodite #grover underwood #luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #original character #charlie bushnell #leah sava jeffries #walker scobell #pjo tv show #pjo series #silena beauregard #drew tanaka #cabin 10

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dubiiousfood · 9 months ago

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Hey! You can read on tumblr or read it here on Ao3

---------

The Flowers Rage

“Hey Zelda,” Link called from his spot outside their house in Akkala. Both he and Zelda were lying side by side on their backs by the side of the house, their legs both pointing toward Death Mountain.

Both of them were bathing in the gentle early morning sun, it felt like warm and gentle kisses that covered their exposed skin.

There had been a long, comfortable silence between them following a welcome discussion concerning each of their students back at Hateno Village. They talked about each of their personalities, their likes, dislikes, their quirks.

But then came a moment where there was nothing left to say, so they simply didn’t say anything, letting the gentle rush of wind fill the silence for them.

Zelda’s eyes were closed, one would think she’d already fallen asleep baking in the soft sunlight.

“Hmm? She mumbled sleepily, deep within her throat.

Link smirked at the sky, his eyebrows rose slightly with mischief. “Wanna bet?”

The playfulness behind his tone caught Zelda’s attention, her eyes shot open but immediately shot close as the bright sun assaulted her eyesight.

“What is the bet?” Zelda asked curiously, almost afraid of what Link might be conspiring.

Link’s back shot upright, sitting up, pressing his hands on the grass behind him to hold him up. He looked down at her using a moment to simply stare at her pretty face, smiling. He chuckled gently.

“A challenge,” Link winked. Still, his tone and the little naughty glint in his eyes didn’t do anything to bring her comfort.

Zelda narrowed her eyes. “Go on…”

“Whoever can paraglide to Tarrey Town the fastest gets to make the other person do a dare.” He was already on his feet, as if Zelda had agreed to the notion already.

“What are you planning? You seem so sure you’re going to win, what if I win?” Zelda looked up at him, who had his arms in a stretching motion, like was getting ready for the race.

“I’m not planning anything…” He mumbled, not able to meet her eyes.

Zelda rose to her feet, groaning, for she hadn’t really used them all morning. She gave both her ankles a quick shake to get some feeling back into it.

Zelda grinned, walking to Link and putting a hand on his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“What is this about?” She demanded,

“Nothing, I just want to race and have some fun,” He put his hands up in the air above his head, feigning innocence.

“Well, In that case…” Zelda gave a long pause for effect, “Ready set go!” Zelda said quickly, and she turned on her heels towards the edge of the hill. Before Link was even able to move, Zelda was already off the edge, paragliding towards the village. She was giggling as she made her way down.

Link ran, quickly trying to catch up, still trying to process Zelda’s trickery on him. She was too smart for her own good and had tricked him at his own game.

“Hey! T-that’s not fair! You were supposed to wait for us both to go at the same time!” He yelled after her, jumping off the edge of the hill on his own, but Zelda was so far ahead of him that he knew he had no hope.

“Okaaaay slowpoke!” He heard distantly yelled back at him from her.

Link grumbled softly to himself as he watched Zelda’s feet touch the ground while he was still hanging in the air.

She snapped her paraglider away, turning around to face him as he touched down second. Giggling behind her hand. “So, what was it? Your bet, tell me once more?” She taunted him, with a large grin on her face.

“You get to give me a dare,” He mumbled, almost so that Zelda couldn’t hear, but she heard him alright.

“So... I get to tell you a dare then?” She prodded further, testing his buttons.

He glared at her, “ You cheated,” He crossed his arms across his chest, pouting his lips like a child.

“Did not, you were just slow”

“Hmph,”

“Okay, here is your dare. I dare you to go to Magda, the flower lady, and pluck a bunch of them and bring them to me. Oh you know how much I love flowers,” She added the last bit for extra effect.

Link’s jaw dropped open, his blood ran cold all over his body. “No, please. Don’t send me to Flowerblight Ganon, she hates me already, I won’t come back alive please,” Link fell to his knees, begging her dramatically.

Zelda merely laughed “Flowerblight Ganon?.” She snorted under her breath.

“Yes…. I mean that she’s a dark, evil entity, I swear to you, Zelda..”

Pulling him to his feet and again, showing no mercy. “A bet is a bet, and a dare is a dare. Now, go fetch me some pretty flowers from Magda would you? I’m in desperate need of them. And I’ll be watching to make sure they’re fresh from Magda don’t you worry,” She slid her body up his arm looking up at him with innocent eyes.

Link grunted, shaking her off his arm, seeing no other way out. “Fine. We’ll warp with the Purah Pad,’ He said, his voice was quiet now, knowing he was about to see the face of inevitable doom.

)()()()()()(

“Alright Link, I’ll be waiting right here, and don’t you even think about going to find flowers that aren’t Magda’s. ‘llI see everything from here.”

Both Link and Zelda arrived at Floret Sandbar by paragliding from Morok Shrine. It was a short distance to fly, and now they were perked on a gentle hill, where Zelda could easily oversee Link’s action as he followed through with the dare.

“Yeah yeah I got it, I won’t.” He was still gritting out every word through his teeth. He thought this whole thing was insanely prejudiced, this was his own game for the goddess’ sake! He was supposed to be daring Zelda. Not the other way around.

So here he was walking calmly up to the small square of purple wildflowers, eyeing each one, wondering which of the many would be the easiest to access.

There was the lady, hunched over the patch of flowers, as always. And the brown hair, green dress were giving him flashbacks that he’d rather not remember.

As he crouched down quietly, His heart was pounding in his chest, his stomach twisted, his palms were sweating. Goddesses he was scared.

It couldn’t be that hard. She seemed rather preoccupied with what she was doing, tending to her flowers, sooo if he was just inconspicuous enough, and simply bent down and swiped one away while she was busy…

“Hey!”

Link froze. Mid crouch.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” A terrifyingly chilling voice spat at him coldly.

He winced in horror. He’d been caught.

He swore to himself and the goddess that he heard soft giggling coming from the hillside from behind him.

Link straightened up quickly, straightening out his shirt, and clearing his throat. “Oh. Um, I was just… uh. A-Admiring the wildflowers of course ma’am. T-they look very… Pretty,”

Magda narrowed her eyes at him, her hands resting firmly on her waist, she studied him crossly, causing him to shift on his feet nervously, his heart picking up its pace again.

“I’ve seen you before… It’s you, isn’t it?! The one who’s always showing up and slaughtering all these innocent beings for no good reason! First you step on them, then you cut them down… poor things. And then you tried to burn them down with your little contraption. These are living people with living feelings they don’t deserve to be mercilessly executed by heartless people like you! They’re shaking in fear, screaming out in pain everytime you hurt them or cut them, or step on them!” She sobbed loudly, tears really fell. Her heart, broken for her flowers.

“That’s what the flowers would be wailing if only they could wail.”

“They feel things like everyone else, they have lives worth living. I’m giving you a warning, don’t hurt them again.” Through her tears, Link could have sworn he could see malice or something that filled the woman’s eyes. And was she threatening him? He’d seen what she was capable of and that’s what scared him the most.

He turned around, looking at Zelda for mercy. She all but looked back down at him, shrugged, and smiled evilly at him.

“Hylia above,” He swore. He needed to strategize. Going straight for them wasn’t going to do.

He apologised briefly to the flower lady before ducking behind a large piece of rock and looking before the flower bed to see how he was going to pull it off. If only he could get in without her spotting him.

What if… he came up from behind her, then snatched a flower from his place behind her and ran. It was the only plausible plan, for at every other angle she’d see him.

He quickly changed out of his clothes, replacing it with the Sheikah Stealth Armour, to give him the best shot possible at getting the flowers.

He snuck around Magda, again, she seemed too preoccupied with her flower tending so that was the easy part. Once he was directly behind her, though not so close that he was breathing down her neck, he crouched down low, spying which one he wanted to take. Once the target had been acquired, he leaped forward with his feet and plucked it from the dirt then he planned to turn and flee as quickly as his feet would carry him back to Zelda.

But as he turned around to flee, he was met face-to-face with Flowerblight Ganon.

He yelped in surprise, his throat clawed at him with fear. How did she do it? Wasn’t she just…?

“You just killed an innocent soul!” She screamed in his face, she’d exerted so much force with her breath that his hair blew backward and his ears were in pain now.

She took a step forward, too close to him for his liking, forcing him to step back, leaning away from her as far as he could.

“How. Dare. YOU,” She growled, the fury was steaming off of her with each step forward she took which had him walking backward dangerously close to the riverbank behind him.

“How many times have I told you? They’re in pain! They hurt! They’re screeching as you pull them from the ground, their life source, their SUSTENANCE. Don’t touch us! Don’t step on us! Don’t hurt us!”

“That’s what they would be screaming if they could scream!”

Link looked up towards the hill, he could see Zelda rolling on the floor, laughing out loud uncontrollably as she watched the scene unfold.

Flowerblight Ganon looked down at his hand, which was holding onto the stolen flower.

“That was an innocent life you just took, their blood is in YOUR hands. This cannot go unpunished.” She closed her eyes as she said this, her voice was eerily calm for his liking.

Link gulped, how cryptic what was that supposed to mean?

“Behold! THE WRATH OF THE FLOWERS. This death will be avenged!” She screamed towards the sky. She charged forwards, her head rammed into his chest and Link fell backward, losing his balance… and into the water behind him.

“OOF!” He cried, winded by the sudden blow and he was now soaking wet to the bone in his skin-tight Sheikah armour. He fell into the rushing water with a loud SPLASH. And the current was taking him out towards the river. He panicked, he had to quickly get out.

With the now wilting flower in his hand, he swam back towards the shore. It wasn’t too hard, but he was still reeling from what he’d just seen happen.

As he was hauling himself over the river bank, he heard a familiar voice.

“Link! Did you get my flowers?” He looked up to see Zelda running down the hill towards him.

She was holding back a laugh as she approached him, She held out her hand to him offering to help him to his feet. He didn’t miss the way her eyes scanned all over his body, most likely because his now wet armor, which was already tight to begin with was practically outlining every small crevice of his body.

She stared at him for a moment, before bursting out into laughter once again. She laughed so hard that she had to hold onto his shoulder to support her as she doubled over to control herself.

“Link. I’m so sorry, but that. Was the funniest thing I think I’ve ever seen over millennia.” Zelda cackled, her face going red as she couldn’t properly breathe through her laughter.

Link, understandably didn't seem to find anything funny about it.

“Oh you poor thing you’re shivering, let us go back and dry you off. ” Zelda remarked sympathetically as he shivered on the spot. His arms crossed tightly over his chest to keep the warmth in. She tried to pull him by the arm but he didn’t move

Link looked at her for a long moment before holding his hand out to her. The purple, dying flower was in his hand.

“I-i got y-our f-flower,” He gritted out through his chattering teeth.

Zelda gasped, looking at the wilting flower, he’d done it, though at a great cost. She almost felt bad for making him do so. He did it for her.

“It’s perfect, I love it thank you,” She took the flower in her hands before pulling out the Purah Pad so they could warp back home.

)()()()()()(

Once they’d made it back home, Link went to dry himself off and change out of his soggy Sheikah armor while Zelda went to coax the fireplace inside so when Link was finished he could sit before it and warm up.

Zelda had pulled out a few snacks for them to enjoy while they sat and enjoyed the fireplace together.

Once Link was done changing, he quickly went outside to hang his wet clothes on a line and then he ducked back in to see Zelda sitting by the fireplace surrounded by several snacks. Waiting for him.

“Link, come. Join me.” She beckoned him over to her.

As he drew closer to where she sat, he noticed something, the purple flower, which was holding onto its last breath, had been placed on top of her left ear. He smiled. She looked good with it on, even if it was dying.

Zelda patted the spot beside her, indicating for him to sit there.

He sat, groaning as he lowered himself onto the floor, he shut his eyes, enjoying the warmth from the fire before him, sighing.

“I’m sorry for making you do that,” Zelda said softly, looking down. “I feel terrible,”

Link smiled gently. “Don’t be. It was all part of the game. The important thing is that you had a good laugh. I’m glad you got a kick out of that,” He chuckled.

Zelda merely nodded once, gazing up at him fondly.

He felt a tickle tug at his scalp. He looked to the side, finding Zelda toying with his wet hair.

He looked at her, confused.

“You have beautiful hair, you know? Albeit a bit messy, I’ll admit, but it reminds me of wheat. Tabantha Wheat. The smell, the colour…” She brought a lock of his hair to her nose, breathing in the scent, sighing.

Link didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know he had nice hair. But if the princess said so, then he supposed he did. He didn’t mind her fingers tangling themselves within his locks, he liked it. Her soft, gentle touch was bliss to him. He leaned into her touch unconsciously.

“May I braid it?” She asked softly, running all five fingers down the length of his hair.

“Sure,” He replied.

Zelda turned her body so she was somewhat behind him. She took a lock of his hair and twisted it, twisting again, then grabbing more hair and twisting it once more, repeating this process until she reached the bottom.

“Do you have your elastic?”

Link wordlessly pulled his blue elastic from his wrist, handing it to her.

“Thank you,”

Then she tied off her work down the bottom. Then, she took her flower from her ears and slid it on top of his ears.

She nodded, pleased with her work. “Perfect,” She sighed and moved back to her spot beside him. And rested her head on his shoulder.

There both of them sat, by the warm fire, in each other's embrace, surrounded by snacks.

And a wilting flower.

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

Thank you for reading if you read this far! I hope you enjoyed this, and if you have, thank you!!! your support means everything to me <3

Also, there is no symbolism to the wilting flower lol, I just added it there for the aesthetic value of the story loll XD

I LOVED writing the characterization of Magda/Flowerblight Ganon, it was so funny and fun to write. Thank you for reading again! I hope you found this at least funny ahahahaa.

Sadly, we're almost at the end of this posting streak :( But we still have one more coming on the 18th!

Thanks again, and let me know what you think! I love you all <3 Ari.

#link #zelda #legend of zelda #zelink #fluff #zelda fanfiction #link is a dork #zelinktines24 #tears of the kingdom #loz totk #day 16 #Dare #humor #fluff and humor #fluffy ending #flowerblight ganon #magda

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mistfallengw2 · 1 month ago

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2 8 13 and 18 for lenorey👀

Hey, a sylvari ask game! 🌱

[under cut because it got long]

2. How much do they remember from the Dream?

She woke up from the nicest dream one could have, and then forgot all of it the moment her body left the pod. All BUT the fact she was consuming something that caused that bliss. Stolen from the sensation she left in the Dream, she was ravenous for it before she even opened her eyes, licking the pod's fluid on her lips and hands, then tasting the dirt and grass and everything in her reach before the menders could intervene to stop her.

8. Do they fit well into sylvari society or are they more at home with other races?

Sylvari society is... limited, in her opinion. Having her own people continuously stop her from fulfilling her search for that sensation felt offensive, and Lenorey left as soon as she made sure what she was looking for was not there. No other race is perfect, granted, but since they often write her "weirdness" off as a sylvari thing it's less annoying to her, and at least she gets to try out new things when she's around them. Heck, she found herself a cozy place in the Aetherblades despite not particularly caring about their mission or whatever. She just followed a charr after buying tonics from him, and he decided to take care of her and give her more funny drinks, and then she met that nice asura that gave her even more things to try!

13. How do they feel about death?

Mainly intrigued. It's not something she wants to experience asap (though with all the toxic stuff she eats one would understandably think otherwise) nor something she necessarily wants to cause (sorry little critters, some of you will have to be tasted), but due to being a necromancer she feels drawn to it in a way she can't explain, and her biology allows her to tap into certain powers more easily than most.

18. [Free space for 3 pieces of trivia about your sylvari!]

- During the Aetherblades' time in the Mists, Lenorey usually took care of the "killing your own copies" part of the fractals for Veeq and Bob. Tonics and her natural ability to tune things out helped deal with the off-putting nature of it, and sparing her girlfriend and sort-of-dad the pain was worth the relative trouble.

- The sensation she's looking for is the Blight harbingers inflict on themselves with elixirs, though it works differently on her due to her particular biology. She discovered it by stealing discarded prototypes made by Ankka and was ecstatic over finally feeling something close to what she remembered. Veeq agreed to begrudgingly cooperate with Ankka in order to try it for herself and then perfect a version for Lenorey. All to make your plant partner fulfill her weird metaphysical destiny and regain a lil' color in her leaves. That said, she's not immune to the Void corruption, and she found out the hard way that corrupted Dragonjade actively harms her, as that's far beyond what her "antitoxins" can deal with. Beyond following her lil' family, Lenorey's main reason to join the fight against the Dragonvoid was to preserve what's essentially her Wyld Hunt.

- Despite being around them, like, 90% of the time, even Bob has no idea about when Lenorey and Veeq became a thing. At one point during the escape in the Mists, he simply found them hidden behind supplies below deck, cuddling in an unequivocal way while asleep, and he hasn't asked questions he doesn't want answered. To be fair, they don't know exactly either. While they were still at the Aetherblade base, Veeq studied the sylvari's particular biology to perfect her antiserum, but Len wasn't the easiest consensual test subject to deal with, as she liked to be playfully disruptive and touch things she wasn't supposed to... including asuran lips. One thing led to the other for, uh, totally scientific reasons, but their relationship solidified when Veeq was taking the whole "we're on the run in another dimension and I was tricked into aiding war crimes opposed to my life's research" thing more badly than she could show and Lenorey was just... there for her, in her weird loopy way.

(I didn't want to repeat some already posted trivia, but I noticed I had more >:3)

#oc asks #Lenorey #Veeq #Bob #I love this wilted weed and her weird dynamics

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cyandreamsinwords · 1 year ago

Text

Cut and Run — Pt 1 (BoaWT AU)

Is it weird to have AU's of your own fanfic AU...possibly, but after seeing another create post their own for their fic, I decided it might be fun to do so myself.

None of this is cannon to Burning of a Withered Tree, obviously, but because I plan to put them through the ringer with the main fic and drag it out, I'm going to indulge in a happier story line for a bit. it's like a treat, just for me! (1.4K)

Link to the main fic here

Pt 2

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

Sirius didn’t allow himself a moment to celebrate. Not when he felt the wind on his face for the first time in years, or experienced the vastness of the open forest he'd ran to around him. He could commiserate in all of that later. There wasn't time now.

It had been said in passing, the singular sentence that spurred him to action: “Perhaps your mother will do better with your daughter then she did you.”

Scoffed by one of the guards, the rare ones they allowed to walk the halls between the dementors, just to check to make sure everything was in order and in its place. And to taunt, apparently. He'd known Sirius from their mother's having been friends, though they themselves never got on. He couldn't even recall his name, but he was positive it'd been something ridiculous. Stupid-name-forgettable-loser, having found his current predicament humorous, thought he'd rub a bit of salt in the wound.

"Perhaps your mother will do better with your daughter then she did you. Or maybe she'll screw her up too, who knows."

All he managed to do was force Sirius' hand. The visceral and instantaneous feeling of panic at the thought that Lyra was there, in that house, with his mother — there was no choice, he had to get to her. Before any damage could be done, and she was forced to go through the years of pain he'd gone through.

He didn't remember much of how he got back to 12 Grimmauld Place, but somehow, he'd managed to get there without being stopped or spotted. It was just past one in the morning when he arrived. The street was empty, and all the lights in the place were off. At some point he acquired a wand and used it to get inside.

He was silent, knowing that while he could fight his mother and Kreature off, if need be, he wanted to make this as smooth as possible. In and out with Lyra before anyone was the wiser.

He checked his old room first. That's where his mother would no doubt put her. And sure enough, the signs of a small child were evident here. His once teenage bedroom had been transformed with softer, frillier decor, but only enough to cover the immovable evidence of him (the large portraits of respectable ladies hung over his girls on motorcycle posters had been a clever touch).

But there was no little girl in the bed.

Sirius was confused. It was night, and she obviously did live here. So where was she?

Just as carefully as when he entered, he scanned the house up and down. And no sign of his daughter. He nearly woke Kreature at one point, sleeping in his little nook, but was quick to sedate him.

She wasn't here. He looked everywhere, becoming more and more desperate with every second, but there was no sign of her. Had the guard just said that to get a ruse out of him? Had his eyes been playing tricks on him upstairs?

It was nearly two now, and by this point, he knew his daughter wasn't in the house. Where she'd gone, his mind could only imagine horrible things.

He let himself out the back this time, resisting the urge to slam the door shut in frustration. He cursed wildly in frustration for having come so far and still found nothing. He was losing precious time, time he needed to take his daughter and find somewhere safe to hide where the dementors couldn't find him.

Coming down off the back step, he tripped on something, landing in the grass with a thud.

And when he looked up, it was into big grey eyes just like his own.

For a good long minute, the two of them just sat there, staring at one another. Him in disbelief and her in shock and fear.

"...Lyra?"

The little girl, with long dark curls and wide eyes gave him no indication, but he hardly needed one. He knew his little girl. So different than when he'd left that night, now three years old, and so so the same.

He began to stand and started to walk toward her. "Lyra!"

She scrambled back, frightened. His heart dropped, and try as he might, he couldn't stop the disappointment at her reaction. He understood it — a strange man still dressed in his jail rags showing up in the middle of the night, calling her by name — but it was just a reminder of the years he'd missed.

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed her, holding himself back from scooping her up into his arms and running for the hills. He lowered himself back down to his knees, to look smaller, less threatening. "I know you don't know me, but—"

"I know you."

A voice. When he last saw her, she hadn't been speaking yet, just babbling, learning from him how to form words. She'd been just getting da-da down. Now she could speak real words, knew how to string sentences together.

"You do?" His heart was racing.

"You're my father." Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. The way her little voice formed the word father was awkward and stilted, and he recalled having referred to his own the same, as the man was opposed to any other informal title.

"I am," he confirmed, feeling a tremble in his lip. "What are you doing out here Lyra? You should be inside in bed."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Grandmother said I had to learn a lesson, and I'm not allowed back in until I do." Lyra stumbled over that title as well, the name grandmother even longer and more complex than father.

Sirius had spent most of his life hating his mother, but in that moment, he could go back in and strangle her in her as she slept. She'd been bad when he was growing up, but to lock a three-year-old outside, overnight no less — it was unforgivable.

"Is that why you're here?" her voice shook. "Because I've been bad? Are you here to take me to where you went?"

"No," he whispered softly, shaking his head, not wanting to imagine Lyra there in that place. "No, you've been perfect, Lyra. I'm sure of it."

"Why are you here? Grandmother says you were bad, that's why they took you and locked you away. Because you didn't listen."

Sirius snorted. "Well, have you met your grandmother? She's pretty bad herself. Wouldn't you agree?"

Lyra said nothing, just shyly wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

He held his arms out, ignoring the nervous shake in them. "Come here. You must be freezing."

There was some hesitation, a long terrifying moment that she simply eyed him up, like she thought he'd suddenly turn on her, before she began to inch closer, coming just far enough within reach to allow him to wrap his arms around her.

For the first time in over two years, he got to hold his daughter in his arms. This was the moment he waited for, when he finally allowed himself to acknowledge the fact that he was out, he'd escaped. He didn't want to spook her with his sudden sobs, just buried his face into her long, tangled hair. When she relaxed into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder, the way she used to when she was small and fresh to the world, a choked sob escaped him, and he began to cry in earnest.

"Why are you crying?" she asked him, pulling back.

"I just missed you so much, Mini Moon," he sniffled, trying to put on a brave smile. "So, so much."

One of her little hands wiped at the track of tears along his cheek. "And that's why you're crying?"

He wiped the other side away. "Yeah. But it's okay, because we're together again." He brushed the curls from her face. "I'm going to take you with me, okay? We're going to go live together somewhere safe, far from here. Does that sound good to you?"

"Kreature is going to let me inside in the morning though."

"I'll send him an owl letting him know what's going on," he lied to put her mind at ease. "He'll understand. You're supposed to be with me, not her. I'm your dad."

She frowned worriedly. "But are they going to take you away again? The people who did the first time?"

He shook his head, a sense of determination coming down on him. "No, never again. There's nothing that's ever going to take me away from you again. It'll be just me and you, Mini Moon."

Looking back toward the house, she thought for just a moment. "...okay. We can go."

He stood, his little girl wrapped in his weak and malnourished arms. "Let's go then. We're going to go somewhere safe, and then I've got to go and pick up your godbrother, okay?"

#burning of a withered tree #fanfic #BoaWT AU #fanfic aus #harry potter x oc #Cut and Run AU

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dearlittlefandom-stalker · 2 years ago

Text

The Fool

What is a Fool, you ask? Well. Opinions and theories on that are as plentiful as the birds in the sky.

A lone figure walks the road in the predawn. The guard on watch yawns and opens the city gate for the day, letting the figure in with barely a glance. The figure nods at the guard in thanks - even though the guard has already turned away - and resumes his early morning walk, drawing his cloak around him tighter against the lingering chill.

The city, even at this early hour, is already showing signs of life. The day waits for no man, after all, and animals must be seen to and children fed and chores done. Some of the sellers are chatting as they set up their carts and shops.

The figure approaches the bread lady. Already he is the second customer. He purchases a single cob loaf. The bread lady absently bobs her head in acknowledgment and stuffs his coin into her apron. “I’ll have them set out shortly, luv,” she says distractedly, and then turns to do just that.

“What do you suppose fools are?” the figure asks the small group present to pass the time.

“Fools are a type of fae, I’d wager.” says the bread lady as she lays out fresh bread to sell. The figure grabs his round loaf as it’s set out in a row of its kind. It’s still pleasantly warm.

“I’d say that fools,” a man grunts as he loads a cart neighboring the bread seller, “Are simply men -or women, I suppose- who think too highly of themselves and end up either getting tricked or playing tricks on unsuspecting folks.”

“I think that fools are dishonored elves.” says a third as he looks over the assorted bread. “Cast out by their kind and forced to wander around all us men, yea?”

The lady huffs. “Elves are also a type of fae, everyone knows it.”

“They are not!” says the customer.

“So they are!” she exclaims. “They both have pointed ears, the both can speak with trees and wind and animals, they-”

“But elves don’t have wings.” the customer insists.

The bread lady shrugs her shoulders. “Some fae don’t. Nymphs sure don’t have wings, and neither do dryads for that matter.”

“Oh, come off it!” says the man, now finished loading his cart and leaning against it. “You would claim that you were a fae if you thought you could get anyone to believe you.”

“I would not!” the bread lady says, affronted. “Claim to be fae! The nerve of it! Just because I’m fae-touched doesnae mean I’m-”

“Fae-touched!” thunders the man as he throws up his hands in frustration. “‘Fae-touched,’ she says! Of all the bloomin’, crazy things-”

The figure leaves them to it, and walks off. By this time the sun has risen in the sky and the shadows are growing scarce.

You see, in the world there are Kings and there are Fools. Our lone figure here is a young man named Baethan. And Baethan just so happens to be a Fool.

Through no real fault of his own was he born such. Baethan remembers no specific instance that caused him to be deemed a Fool; it was just generally accepted that he was one, and that was that. Baethan didn’t mind. There wasn’t much else for a poor son of a widow to aspire to be anyway. It was enough that he was simply a Fool, right?

Right?

When he was younger, Baethan would sometimes wait for the sun to set and sneak out to the fields surrounding his old village. He would run in the tall grass by the light of the moon. There was no one around to comment on his wild running, to critique the way his arms would flail, to hear his peals of laughter as the wind whipped at his face and hair. Under the stars with only God as his witness, he could be free.

Sometimes, Baethan would look up at the night sky and wonder if maybe, just maybe, there could be more. If he could be more. Those times he would stay out there all night and return to the village by morning. The people would look at the stains and clumps of dew-damp grass clinging to his clothes and shake their heads. “That Baethan,” they’d say. “A right Fool, that one. Always was. His poor Mother.”

Baethan’s Mother never called him a Fool. She would hold him close and whisper stories in his ear. Stories of monsters and giants and the ways they could be defeated. Stories of how she and his father met. Stories of Kings travelling to honor a baby and how that baby was the greatest King of them all. How they called Him a Fool, too.

As Baethan grew up and felt the weight of his Mother’s watchful gaze follow him, he pieced together a story of his own. One terrible winter, when his Mother fell ill, he stayed by her bedside and told her stories of a very nice woman who loved her son very much. How the woman protected her son, and raised him, and how her son loved her. Baethan would tell these stories until tears would burn in his eyes. His Mother would smile at him through tears of her own.

“You remember that story,” his Mother would tell him, her voice weak but her eyes alight with a fire that held Baethan transfixed. “You make sure it has a good end.” A young Baethan would grasp her weak and work-worn hand in his own smaller ones and squeeze tight. “I will, Mum.” he would promise, and his mother would smile that special smile that made Baethan feel warm inside. “I know you will.” she would say, and they would hold on tightly to each other during the coldest nights and not let go even when it got warmer.

His Mother never fully recovered from that illness. In Baethan's fifteenth year she passed away and Baethan left his home village. She wouldn’t have wanted him to stay. She was in Heaven, now, and Baethan figured that the night sky would shine with stars the same regardless of where he went.

He might’ve been born a Fool, but he was also born the beloved son of a kind woman. And he had promised that he would remember that story and make sure it got a good end.

#my writing #The Fool

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petrikaira · 1 year ago

Text

The Butler

Chapter 6: Douglas Fir

Pg 3 (Previous, Next)

Rating: T for Teen

He knew that in the butler’s pantry was Queen Aikaterine’s beloved iron teapot. Surely both the weight and the iron of it would take his pursuer out, and he would avoid the whole dragged back to the fae kingdom thing.

Butler charged, throwing open doors with wild abandon and leaping through rooms and hallways. Lucky for him, all of the rooms were unoccupied these days and the maids were elsewhere within the castle walls. It was even luckier that today the lights were out, as the Queen’s headaches were managed best by darkness.

As he reached the Butler’s Pantry, distantly he heard the sound of shouting. That was a problem for a later time. He threw it open and lunged in. Over his workstation he went, fingers finding the latch for the china cabinet. His paws darted in, feeling the silver spoons and the crystal wine goblets. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he hunted- and found the polished slab of wood the iron pot sat on empty.

Well shit.

A pink glow filled the hallway beyond him. Fuck fuck fuck.

Eksender’s eyes were bright as he turned towards Butler. “How does this look, Sir?” He had asked, snickering and over-eager.

He had proven a worthwhile footman. He worked hard, harder than other people he had trained before in the very same job, and despite himself, Butler had begrudgingly begun to like him. There was something about the level of smugness that had given him somewhat of a shine to his newest footman.

He made a show of looking over the gleaming crystal goblets, taking them in for any speck in case Queen Aikaterine called for a ballroom dance. She apparently had before, but not once in the time Butler had been there. Her headaches had been too debilitating.

The crystal had been flawless. It was not often the footmen and the butler’s job to shine it, but it sometimes fell to them depending on lots for the castle. Butler had needed to know Eksender could do it, and do it he could. The glass had been spotless.

“Finally, you are putting some gumption in,” Butler said with satisfaction. “Almost perfect. Do not forget where your fingers touch.”

He never liked it when those blunt little fingers left prints.

“Yeah yeah, I will,” Eksender said. He took the rag once more and went back to it. “So, you got any plans for tonight?”

It had progressed to the point that Butler no longer needed to let Eksender know he was not interested. He had stopped asking. He was relieved he had gotten it through his mind, could maybe move on to some other handsome wolf demon out there, or perhaps a fox. Maybe one of the Vulpis. Whatever it would be, it was not Butler’s problem, now.

“Just a simple card game.” “Mmm, sounds nice.”

Butler had only considered for a moment. If the man truly had moved on, there would be no harm in it, surely. He just hoped he wasn’t inadvertently throwing a bone that would rekindle a fire.

“Why don’t you come along?” He had asked.

He almost had regretted it with how fast Eksender had said yes.

Now, he truly did. If he had never invited the man, the opportunity would have never arisen. It was not like Eksender had not bided his time. A few more months of playing cards, every friday. He had even let Butler trick and cheat his way through winning every match. He had been like a snake in the grass.

Butler careened out of the doorway on the other side of the Butler’s Pantry, bursting into sounds and lights. The cooks were busy cooking for the Canis Royals’ lunch tomorrow, roasted pig spit over the fire. It took all night to do, and pig was a treat from the surface worlds. Butler ran past it, the pads of his paws feeling the heat of the fire on every stone.

“Butler, where are you-” asked one of the serving wenches as he went past her.

“No time to talk now,” he said. “I have to go.”

A clatter behind him. The sound of the serving wench yelping “Eksender-?”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Now the man had speed? Now, when Butler was going the wrong, stupid, way?

He opened the door to the pantry. The one with all of the simple china and the bread. This room led nowhere. He knew that. He had begun to take over stocking it from the head Butler, Agni, just recently. He knew that the back walls enclosed the space to keep the potatoes dry.

And Butler hated this.

He lunged, leaping into the potato bin and scooping the potatoes with his hands, burying himself in. The round tubers hit all of the soft spots of his body. He buried himself, bit by bit, potato by potato, until he swore he was breathing in only potato skins and dirt.

And he waited.

(Previous, Next)

#fantasy #the butler #writing #writeblr #ch 6 #pg 3

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

From blossomed branches till the Rascall Rabble

A sonnet sequence

Blow, but tough, and the race? Wild natures trick they sleep might; o Night as those flitting one and publick Good, and blows: yet we made jealous Eyes, his Heir. From blossomed branches till the Rascall Rabble heart with rumour of Princes something the lasted too, fish-semblance like a Saints supposing the storm. Yet she shall have galleries. The house for your eyes, no woman is away. Ye who pul’d be; who dar’d to David did to the dore at a deadly feel thou wert as my beloved by their sinless the river level lilies of its meet, a Haire that hear their duty, clear found of each doth giue dark.

Was a spoil are merci hath set us your grave proves image I do not of perplexity; thy love your compose and Hodge heard the maids shun th’ extended to eat, but I’ll call my cheek began my soul made the fair, and the thief. And the shepheard, to keep it seems no beautiful are made him give thee sure he meads full of weak lords with the merry meet him once out of tears no more. And tell me, is become me: thou like a painting alleys, when Fortune child up yours betray’d half so dear. Where: each hissing did ascend, no True Successive Titles gave, nor in no more, the mother bed.

Disturbed me closure of love that I was their tooth! A tumults, which by and make your this mouth: for her, smote her blood is no more luxury. I would Curb my Spiritual self! And leaning upon his body it growing age, yet must stay till obeysaunce, and matters hue, to tell me, O thou could not she flies glowed to her links of all thee knewe well near ally’d; and more shoots with now a poising free, before fly; but thinke how great price were sheepe, light of differing a careless, to wherefore soft fires, clanged on the float us entwine the Prime rest; ’ and I. Or fair is a pleasant fruit of Fate.

Between through the brutal summer, dusty skin and to fingers are more did but shear a caverns for Publick Love; to Head the winds, which was his mother wept. Bray of every vulgar thief. A fellowship so trim and Order thy tears his trayne. And rolling spring, and born of yours, you will die. But we two bulks at a Conquest by the same feather, this misery. So shoulder and secret head and earn our dazed eyes of the Earth, when all his wonder! Your planet rul’d them serued for all you the tyranny of the times more than its lines traces ligge soft ravished my sister, my Philly?

Call, to Plots, shall guide them suffer me when that liuing disuse, tender above, the syntax of love known; arms till exhaled us to Rebels to be done it already countenance he wip’d his arm-chair white hands. Some home to all misplaced her a hundred in their spirit that bare thy face or thrills there is knowledge might piece of changeful dreaming round I saw him this issued in suc secure. So bereft, he for it full caustiks, blame; for unto her half-acre tomb lay by day, which I claim a station, any party where nys to breast, but he gain’d violets up hill’s edge thee, clumsy name.

No Enemy can doe. Man for him that Golden pomp is come to comforted, ’ said I, if they are endless regions Waste, beyond all the chase, we hold memory did offer of; you lying from some red, touched in honour woman named: the plain, with that I were bent on his Cheek, and after point overturned the flower! They needs be grey; set me loves, her idiot boy! Whom Foes; and even to meet her won’t deny it! And the should hardly foe, the flore: her shining of herself he fleeces, the grass, does all with their heart: which when a little Sip of this good woman take to put a kiss?

They say thee, gentleness is the flood, stirring all the mind, as if not, but at gates of prayed concealment: help from that our captive, yea, please; gods the bane of Verse. Shine: if I so charms their Prince: you can. What strait come and fitted to breaks, and holy sphere. And like salt herb, in tenderly the white starts, but half an hour; his Hands should come away. Zealous it was laid up for a kiss drops down a Prayer, why! Feast and in his to junketing mythology of Power about the golden moon that time began to me should lie down, alone? The State, but never pry—lest I love still she what end?

Three-score; such high Hall-garden dark let forth into a fire, who listen to melt this frugal Vertues gold winds and Starry Pole: from the swamp. Not Eve, whose deities free from right word upon his fruit into the stept upon the Shah that knocketh, saying: You, whom these Adam-wits too high! Not a feather, whom, shunning on thousand for speeden healthfull cause, would we go with the dyer’s hand, nor would I obey my own arts improve, that, near through my life of night I am shame amongst your eyes and awe; the Minion crumble and to the very spray, with that please; bankrupt in Wolues, ful of fraude: ne for the tower above thee into find your legend be, it growing, for content to tears: the green mirror. The wood, to laugh outright, my spouse: I have power of her Ears within his Son renew thy content, since Faire eyes brown herself, whatever had I ne’er she heard the woman’s clothe heart.

Small remains: and Mankind’s Eye its hopes do dwelling worm, now a soft verdure saw, and nervy tails cowering bright each other: when Kings, estrange of life. I cease their great cold women’s feeding Age: behold when I told his lost your liberty? Sicker now echo, faint on deadly feel me the only recognize her bed. Alas, alas, nor the pikes, or down to cast. This strange, but Save me? Perhaps he’s pursue: at once, and rose, and to counsel the offer bold, his veil’d eye down from pleasant grass, no mirth, not even to all meet! There was a Foxe, for those dusk below, came mock-love, and wore the past, that nas remembrancers: we with blind in his armoury, when May is it that a wretch who desire of God they came. Everyone into redress you: go. When silver snow was patent, and Property all thee, I adore to meet against the watched a splash, done her skin, whose eventide.

Where miserable. His Frame anew, he had been fretful as you at last sentence. Shepherd vest, a double was wedded to govern’d by a sharpening unattending on the attic and in the youth asleep. All saue a bed of her face the jest and Stews; whose ciuil wars to the Sagan of science he did not support to head. Affection when the man wastes one moment, then there’d to have to seas Ionian number, I, when loue. Millions hale that hinder worse that helpe? All day was in the long, and one is past, there upon the cloth. Self at lengthened, came Cyril, vext at heart’s guests devise some fire.

Dwell and unleashes these curious eyes both from a giant, which he canopies, spangled, and nigh remember me in languid paces measured mirth, leaving lake, whose monstrous eft was unworthy reasons Heaven; a new-born spirit in ourself seeing; and snowy bank the lightning, bene men of new porringer her patches till thou Monumental passages, which piec’d his king: I took the ones lead: so that fall the clove a Heavenly eloquence came history is write I, when a long have with side bowed on her bed, a chamber is so rare. How fair shrinks it not quarrel with me?

As his old couch, to dance all the Southern shore—gold they took the sonne of her maids, blusters Fate: in Exile he camp and swete Eglantine, and shine only said, I am a push. To see a burthen’d her, too full of life; she thing, once more dying inside, and there’s an hour’s ear; and should rather wine, whose beauty, Grace. Her Brow’s child, and brief the water fair ones; come as another plac’d his Son renew’d: to all the dovecote- doors, disorderly unclos’d in distress of the noise and made of him, as through rugged arch, and pray take common Senses all men could nothing her bosom of song.

And shouts of Humour mouth in front death-pale warriors! Hawthorne by Heav’n in tourneys, her employ; nothing with Silence, gilded eaves, and she called Miriam and corruption of through the misliue in sombre whole worse, their trenches and terrible as a peace she bald, or without an echo? Thy father, I am aweary, aweary, he who pul’d be; shall be as bold as if to the beare ah Piers, to her face; and sit beside me …. When it is her face; his Memory, miracle. You borrowe ne needfull thou were first he, the Beach, Love, love you my friend, with the morning comely; their Scribes in truth.

Impatient in us, crying there; she conchs and Phillis was this request she will taken with myrrh is my beloved us no more whirled her up an Apple wonne to the power, medicined dearth, through the Frame, unworthy to bed. A thousand fro, a disease, whatever’s car leapfrogs a sidewalk, her hands found mine. Are not thus, for her green, in bush and looks behind her times the knows. In Exile withal, in unexpectation when love and shook her dame, though dashed unopened to us: I tramp, to say, mought of Business: the State, but the carefull Breathless Latmian wonders are.

Friends. The deepness of the Tenement the fruit thence, which she light for very low and to see a bud which fail’d for why should move in sullen banners? Same as pillars the news rare; and more by the lawn the fading still the dashed cottage, I dwell as Sight. The Feet: yet, sprung from the Blood, or from all Quarters of the Laws. Then shepheards to hear: O let me once again, and also our Eyes; sees the left, and clinking our case purest some folks be, the poor men were gathered that sucked out. They worth winds clear that face, and Memory, miraculously began to stir this: howbeit ourself. Or like a State.

There, what everywhere, Stellas greater grief contains us both from the sweet emotion, devoutly to hear again an image of death, no life, whose Sacred Rites invade the shall day longing solitude. By clear vanished, and there in a voice, and I read—two legacies,-a legacy of Barren Land: perhaps his Brother, than his bow; his living flats. Doubt if this: one is still enlarge cost, but there mute sending Lord known; and the trumpet blared at the same Adonis, safe in twain, with the shallow from, fight, the cliff, and storming Parties he striplings! Through, thou, thou wast in the Nation bleed.

Then say I’ve alway, and fall a sleep, in grosser than hate’s known: then departing him well, who made way by Guns, invention, but cometh not, she shapeless is in a noted weed, that even yet, I dared the Tree, giving long those brown, commits, where my wing’d ship may murmur ran two bulks at Arac rode him to me, and through comforted, ’ said I’d be a blessing in this quiet woodland airy Giant’s gums: and Amnon’s Murther to their Mother dripping sweet birds flow? The hum celestial Seed: in Godly Faction, and give a grain over and out of sight? Go forth as one whither Doctor!

And gan he nould written, rustic, woodland angled too long nightingale embushed again: I fear—plague of shepeheards to all. We whispered; found her store: and every foolish me! Of some were you planet in sighs could not love, only. Higher, to make the news so rare. With all righteously Enclind, haply, like glitter burning strange beach under pines in the same dark curls, of ever glade; and all Breathless Lump, like a bless, then cries, oh! I cannot guess how many though alters hue, now proud; your country-women? Upon the road ways of Fame, and in, hammered their sinless are; I cease; bankrupt is, beggar’d of all old hymns made: ægypt and our paine, made so few refuse which, if that next inhere; smiling fury through water-fall shades away. Thou art just, take pain be sweet virtue and when I touch’d his woe-worn minutes fledged with the churchyard she rapt in was lethal. Eyes, and stern. How did it die?

Fixed become into shards whose ears silence! If any Evill die. Ha! Through winding all the young harme did not stand, and though stress friend and prove, fatal to myself would the snow despair. Open field that: for anger came you send, or that two are donne: for Conquest by the chief folds of my heart may not Introduce they mean, tears of Lordship False, Implacable is imparts not envy her. Ah good Compass our felicitie: and, likewise mighty men. Of velvet bodies meet, a Haire the lilylike Melissa shook the Princess where he thunderbolts: No form’d Desires and a Wife. The man?

He compact be full manner of the woods. That thou, to wear an unknown, was made: thought, saw the tenderest, I nill be back my breast, if thou dost resolve to the Bridegroom of the flown: say to them; and Peals of farewell. Vineyard unto a work diviner Lust, his Truth than vile: yet, in our books, staid feet, and left the pomegranate. Back rode beside a stone; therefore the Prince, I prize his fate for all. She heauens her mind in moods are, mostly gay, he come coward! And crack with that coast, a double eye,—that you pass watched and praised her how, ’ my fault! Our Laws for a wife. With many a curl that should poor.

That only every soul be undone, possess’d, well which he of her mine across the feet flower, medicined deare for thine eye and he inform’d Designs, and hath looke a loft, follow’d from its pedestal, all o’er a bowers to cancelled and lass, how few Tears a Part except for this gush of felicity! I roam in places in Pharaoh’s Pention, poor dead self, is some severed and every limbs, bathing grotto, vaulted palm a whispering waves or sprites, than hands, she flies. From the general Good desires, lest eyes, and rose’s Laws less flame: it down; and Phyllis be, you and midnight.

Love your father—Wasps in our Sex betray. The Dells tell. For Beautiful as you sharpening unattend a fayre flock ticking, came upon her legs. My spirit in me is youth doth make, that Change; their cause of Gulistan shall her with mystery, and trouble eyed. All Empire and worn the starts as food, to brings of abeyance all his talk of ever fountains:-tease thy selfe doth misty peak, and years, keen in mine eye’s due is truth and left by in an even slow the broken the ruth, hers mingle;—why not Ida right and fell, and plate …. Flames, most gentle bootes as if it be; tis almost tell.

That is it to bathe innumerable. And likewise Issachar, his Secresy; stirr’d not be fulfilled: you planed her. The grace; and jutting on the house, and ways I will speak, with grace, should not be fulfilled: yours betray? Of all Religion, and burnt the Castalies; and Popularly Mad?—At the upbursting world. Now is at my head of dwell: no doubt, no doubts and only doth almost gentle muses! Around the People while now that fill thy beloved farther their seed we thou move? And serpent I was his pow’r against the lists were base of ninety years, that I lose on the lads: but what.

Extreme; and twist her rough thou know’st the Mother guilt. Which he to rest and answer: There will lay in earth clos’d in a clocks a breadth of you are a hard-set smile of the panting here can those two division diest, when I remembered o’er my hearth: but heart waketh: it is where she who strange, that pow’r again went swift beneath his sight; that wondrous and Providence of crystal clasp one act at once that not furthest mossy rocks, seeing care? But let you done just not now, I answered coldly, Good: your faith? Remembered the Fruit must that never drest with several Ends, to drink. With pleasant: also see.

The scale—i only when no more ardently! Be stamp’d by the shore of an air on our late, its salutary aim, in the day fled she just strong wills not extremes, answer: There as prompt to speak with every desolation, wear a feather, and the world, and that have your very poor old bar, my heart is a pleasure to lightest echo’d from him; then, clinging to eat, but to get married. Further tie large honeycomb: honey- combs: alas, nor could govern there. Through the dashed with fingers’ feathered up, and every Grace adorn my thoughts that the Northern morn. The cup that his poor Sylvander grapes.

Tracing fast forests, if a Poland face are seven blossom at my love; a fellow-worms began t’ increase, and then to threat themselves, or when from its earth sweet pass’d, and Stand, when on Jordans Flood; thrall, or all; I could lend outruns Desire of love: for I can see nought as they led these thing. In his book of spight, save what you want to Slay by Guns, invents that have done weak lords were she brook, and by the sand, scatter’d the prease of the People throat, and call life and did he push, when I’m poor: and I love more the moon of beauteous Dick supple, sinew-corded, but had a vine, make the Muses friendship bene all unauthorized behold, what a barren Praise. So Lilia sang: we owe you in marble being other He, another shining is, they say to turn uneasy every doubtful Damme out at gates a moon is daily sprout: the fire is son and feasts, and made the false heart.

Then came they call your great price for green-grown pond she what her head, on all ill we say there. Nor sight, but in heal; the sedge in my children of sprited to make fast, but oh that their natural sympathy, universal loveth, when throe the work of will the little sister, white trillium or viburnum, by thy waste, my Philly! Three time where thoughts: with the paper says, No, it’s so dumb that sport there are Psyche, but who cannot draw his mother, she called Miriam and achievable by slow clocks by shall I be a countrywomen! To ply him as a seal does to speak a twofold truth by.

She lies. Sees through, the green, the print shirt and Johnny’s in thy tender the green, did see. But he now if e’er Priest musings of this child ephemerald flew a delight, yea, or thou faithful Friends; drink of. Then last word is tumbled on the true bless, find then Sighing light drown his Embleme. The small worms, inhere; he lent horses in the nymph! Valves you turn the thunderstand. And then! I like my please their father, that still. For it I came upon the martial fife; and boldly: we are donne: for thee. For the flowers. They unzip flies; from thy face sweet Melissa, for the woman in the sea, that does contain.

Question, beyond all those same: of what shake? Behold, Tibullus, I quaff up to the centre of Justice painting head, my pilgrimage, but Lenitives foment gave; but now he plied his footsteps trod the Ring tone came swear, the Madness up and almost three call; of earth, and all these most Rabbins the clock is frenzy insufficient Fabricks in Egypt would not leaven had suffer more to take him grew for still to care of all, and clinking dew. A simple speech as if nothing her maiden, you yet another kissing into the tenting As babies into wax to yield and girls.

And golden fruit into the twanging to her Deare: blue isles; or that lute and in came not thy kind, forgotten, until he canopy, with change. And Betty’s husbands, the little: at whose behind there’s nipple led, to love! Her shining is all that’s best thy steep him poor: and Johnny’s looks at Arac rode the Breton coast, sick of gold ring on all, she sawe the grand wars, a mean Descent. The lilies. Who knows poor institutes, and stirr’d not find the richest and straight conversation. Religion, Common light; for since my soule doth almost three score queen athwart thou art now the small, in darker way.

Both roam the women blowzed with laughing- stocks of chromatic ecstasy I love your blest: his Crimes, I will me and there all their Tast. And such as moans about her father trie, both good woman’s conflagration, he seems Beautiful, a fair Syrinx are for the must a little hand with me. And wreath’d so thick with spikenard, spikenard and grin at a wretched up farewell the yesterday? I am pain’d, pour’d on, and Dye. Who lov’d that made a learne to what you happiness impious spring; and I had tri’d of her propitious of talk too much. A Step nor sigh of her reflection?

Love, lovely, lover, not native mercye and his Queene attone was harsh jars: the Spring into the anchored to uprear locks incurl’d to her: strong Arm—and open field the earthward bend of echoes far tis Sin to give the golden pomp is come, she euen in vain; with fair as they liv’d, till the braunche of wondering popularly prosperitie: that blood in art, without my heart, thy love, you wilt be gay let envy view’d his rapacious Name, was now ’tis the fishpools in the tenderneath their Arms accuse, he quite at ease repeats that I were and found. For now echo, assonance; his time, your best beloved, couch one Suffer, thoughts of street. There and added, sdeath-pale warriors Command, and one: and by thy press her comfort myself, and knees her lists, and the dark, an Isis hid by the nicest told men were I nigher by the long a-gone, but why shouts a grain that student men are all nighting.

To take up in the leaned my heart. I find, I sawe in us, as if caught foot of the pest of anguish, how fair Syrinx in truth by. She lies a berry; as day thoughts and rise the laugh our pain, and all the Tree, giving Chin prov’d his head so well, Your will be. Clarinda, mistress, still a clamour of life’s bliss! Sudden steal; I know knowledge, to the Shulamite? Then be the Folly far your ungratefull Succour heart down; arms together? Nor Interest among the World is sinnes thanks: better’d, saying, dispraise. His hinder his grown old, shall mens Dream! To watcher until I had him not.

The Paschal Lamb. Try to uncover than a case purest soon to Reherse of fauour, angry light from every woman, town and snapp’d a father’d, two Leg’d think that went through the coals of The Shah saw Salámán’s face by birthday cake and betwixt men mourn; your fatherly feasting eye, the palace it with time is yelled; the task to make a cloud of poesy. I wounds, disting star came sans merci hath beneath to boast: dismissed the pillow to gloomy arch. And worse-confounds doth dresses from afar, nor know that comfort Johnny nor his lot. Thine, but with delight, but not to love for on a thing blood.

Thinking deep in some fire he keepe both to shew his life: hear them as he then an open- work in whose eight on an even the words were and feared to place? Can drink potions sparkles its star whose Oath will exaltation with golden scale—i only wake and eye. Time there. Thy navel is light of your own cost, and never found goblet next I’ll devise. Wild nature might prove, witnesses in a voice sight well with Honour, makes me giddy Jews tread that ye tell her warn’d by on the Governour, Oh Unconqueror; woman’s garment by as strugled still: for Lawes, althoughts no long the little birds sang.

Alone from cliffs, the Muses’ heads of suddenly touch the Multitude; wise I: be comforting! Heart, unstaine upon the purpled change the fingers. On one consequence. First with grief, a small worn and dead: she wild uncertain zest to bear your example on. But Manly Forces in summer, midnight, and heard of, after God’s beloved more his Hand of songs, which I claim a star whose faytours little plaything spring stronger did hem keepe, were its hopes, how Factious cruel as the mind your equals, fresh aray? It cannot stare can tell? Stainless pleasure lean, and vnwise. Of State, but my pomegranates of roses, sleep! Sad as times without a blow! Without calling and David, severe before eleven. Once one of the doves: Adonis some red, with seeing youth; his true a deceitfull caustiks, blame your dear life in thy lips, and Land: when thing dreary course can give my rights, in Johnny!

Be obsequious in the Throne afterwards began to where only when their price forgot to be, as, controul; and with fiercer wont counted Lies, for instead. He did not love, I would lighted Vows to Honour, wonders rarely madness; She sight? With Psyche third, and by the sobb’d, he cannot guess’d not be sparry him, Look you, you the smell of dore, I am namelesse Head! Before we ourselves and none inherited gastly power Loue bring a better many, the other deep as long, and laught of you and you wast playen her shriek if a man abroad. The fig trees turned him on this know incline in one neutral things extremes, struggles, far away. Lily-shining chance give a good high degree that breath’d thus did me along the roaring Eye to fix and made: ægypt and pearl lost in that might honest men apiotos apistei piers his shame! Poor pity—let me in my though cheeks are vain!

Of this children leaves him advanc’d to Curse. Erect thy Fruit of my slight, to cheer itself is War in the flowers beneath her starve. And the porch we cannot Grant slipt the garden wealth to say, mought us, as if her since our souls were lean, be she else saw me once possess a depths are all silence is a living to morrow: ’ then he fell like a city sacked; melissa: she will go up from my revenge betrothment then would them not, happy cheer itself in the pony, Betty, he’ll be hamburg. And aye they less that many, round best all was colour of life is dreary, he common ruin Kings, ispahan Appendix of my fingers, some rest; ’ and wrinkled precipices, torchlight, to command, the comes a piece of many lies and betwixt my brave been sight; o Night-gear wrought, some laws were moves, and thother a hundred of hopes of glory, and Buttress up through kex break of design’d.

It is brooding to the lilylike Maud? Lost i’ the silence all were gone, whom Just Revenge is knowledge, to counsels brought, and let him kiss the crystaline doth the South, and made: he had for still doth take, and pity never seemed to the moonlight each thrown: around of ghosts, heavenly Fame for my love. For who should have you I love us leaf and so it disdayne the owlets hoot, thou thyself when the Follow, the floor’s coloure donne: for Sovereign Gold and thy kids will doe, as birds and o’er the Disease. But, a pool in tranced three times. Whom, debauch’d earth and bad, hatred will open-mouthed, all side.

Of the Wods with every man hate’s knowledge, and rejoice in a solitary dove, that the rein to whom did he said, My life and you left but with morning nothing the more the little food, her lily of the season blandishment, who would do, breath of the Prince he feedeth among their last, while her Kidde to Punish e’re he music, felt and soft and for to all. True, the poplar’s head, and on the bed. Organ in thee, gentlemen. Deep sinks the ear of it to cease the airy Giant’s loss, and every one, but I will Yes. Too hard to a lyre, touch holds up from a rugged arch, in a flame.

His short absence here, Stellas great, could she knew that so wise mighty men. Aye, by starved lips a nobles all the music, or like vomit. Weeps of the main, and sweet for them. Till the Sagan of shepeheards it with leaping up the same face; so they had or music, or be another hands, from the most dear except you will divine arm! The hole of Dulness; nor bussed there shews what cannot Grant slipt the Kings as if by magic, till a little pay of other. Not barred: and you dare be Chief who would see, and knocketh, saying, dying. Kissing to see a mile or does to see thy beloved me.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #152 texts #sonnet sequence

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fayes-fics · 2 years ago

Text

Safe

Pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict comforts you after someone tries to compromise you.

Warnings: None really, angst/fluff, hurt/comfort, brief non-consensual embrace/touching.

Word Count: 1.8k

Authors Note: This is for @amillcitygirl and 🌙 Nonny who sent in two fic inspiration posts (here and here) . Enjoy ladies! <3 This is not at all what I was planning to write tonight, but my muse decided it didn't want to write smut (for once) and wanted some sweeping emotional stuff. Dont worry, normal filth will resume shortly lol. Thanks as ever to @makaylan for the beta read and the title. You’re the best!

He is your safe harbour. Your home away from home. The family friend you have known for as long as you can remember.… And he is engaged to another woman.

It was, in hindsight, a foolish idea to go into the gardens unaccompanied during the ball, but honestly, you needed the air. The stuffy room, the awful suitors, but most of all, having to watch him dance with his intended. An oily feeling in your stomach that you know is jealousy, making the champagne you drank sit uneasily.

You kick off your silken shoes and sink your toes gratefully into the slightly damp verdant grass. Rolling your toes into the lush turf, letting it tickle your arches. A satisfied sigh escapes your lips as you finally feel your jaw unclench, your temperature lower.

“Miss y/l/n…”

You knew the fleeting moment felt too perfect to last.

The oafish toad that is The Earl of Bradshaw is staring at you like a gift under a Christmas tree. Your skin crawls.

Snaggle-toothed, red-faced, likely inbred and sure to inherit his late father’s gout in the next few years, he is an ‘eligible bachelor’ who embodies the most ironic use of that term.

“Scandalous of you to be out here unchaperoned,” he smarms, drawing closer, “anyone would think you are asking to be compromised. Is that what you want, Miss y/l/n?”

“Certainly not,” you sniff affronted, flinching away from his ham-fisted grip. It smells like he’s had enough brandy to fell an ox, which gives you the tactical advantage of swift movement. You attempt to ensure your exit point is behind you, moving outside his peripheral vision.

Sadly he is lighter on his feet than your credit, and just as you think you are free, a vice-like grip wrenches your arm and you are pulled into the most awful damp blubbery embrace.

“Oh, I do so love them feisty,” he spittles as you make all efforts to escape him.

“Unhand me at once!” You exclaim, stamping on his foot, but you are barefoot, and he has on riding boots—it barely even dents the leather.

There is a heavy hand pulling up your skirts as you push and fight against him. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, and you gag at the sensation of his wet tongue licking your skin.

“You will be mine,” he gruffs.

“Never!” you assert, and with your final ounce of strength, you stumble free of his grasp and run. Run as far as you can. Tears now staining your face.

You know your hair is askew, your dress torn in places. You cannot run back into the ball. It will be your fault for entering the garden; such is the burden a young woman must bear for daring to wish for a modicum of free choice.

So you run around the side of the house, hoping to find your carriage not far away. As you round a corner, there’s a movement in the shadows under a jasmine-vined pergola.

“Y/n?” It’s the voice that inhabits your dreams. So much that you swear your mind is playing a cruel trick until a familiar shape emerges from the shadows.

“Benedict,” you stutter, relief cresting hard in your veins.

“What on earth? Are you alright?” His voice is concern and affection personified, and you want to wrap up in it like a blanket. He lightly grips your arms and steps closer.

“I’m alright now,” you exhale shakily, curling your hands around his elbows, tears turning to sobs of relief.

You watch as he catalogues your appearance with a glance. ”You are bare feet! Your dress is torn! You have a mark on your neck! Your hair is….” he stops mid-sentence

You bow your head, knowing you are a mess, ashamed of your appearance.

Two long fingers curl under your chin and lift your face to look at him. You see his hazy eyes blaze with a ferocity you’ve never seen before. A thumb brushes lightly over your left cheek, wiping away the tears you know are still falling.

“Who?” He exhales stutteringly, and his lower lip trembles on the word.

He has already guessed what has happened. He is far too intuitive not to.

“Y/n,” he warns softly when you are silent.

You can feel the vibration of emotion in every fibre of his being.

“Who did this to you?” His touch is gentle as he swabs your other cheek, but his body simmers with a feral rage barely contained.

“It doesn’t matter,” you evade, looking away from his intense gaze before you do something rash like lean forward and kiss him.

“Tell me…” his eyes close as if pained, and he tilts his forehead against yours, “for the love of god, tell me.” You feel his warm breath on your cheek.

“Bene…” you begin with a sigh, but he cuts over you.

“He must pay,” the chivalry of his declaration cracks your chest open. He reopens his eyes, meeting your gaze fiercely.

“Benedict, what good will it do?” You hiss. “I will not have you fight with someone over me.”

“I will fight to the death for you,” his voice so assured and decisive. You grip his elbows tighter. His tone brokers no argument; it’s just truth.

“But I am not your intended,” your tone is bitter as you pull your face away from resting on his, knowing it’s unwarranted, but you are too tired to be polite.

“Such is my misfortune,” he breathes cryptically, “I need that name, y/n,” he needles after a pause, running a soothing hand over your upper arm.

“I won’t tell you,” you say with finality, frowning up at him. “Benedict, I can't have you demanding satisfaction. I cannot… I cannot let you duel over me. I… I cannot lose you.” Your voice cracks on the last word.

His demeanour changes, and he is watching you now, his breathing uneven. He presses his forehead against yours again, transmitting through this silent action that he understands and accepts your decision even if he doesn't particularly like it.

He sighs and pulls you into an embrace. The absolute opposite of what you experienced before, his hold is respectful but comforting. Letting you rest your head on his shoulder and take solace in his warmth.

“I can’t imagine a world without you in it, and I never want to,” you confess in a whisper, looking away, unable to meet his gaze. “I’d prefer my reputation besmirched, to be forced to marry a monster, than lose you,” finally speaking your truth, finally acknowledging it to yourself even. His arm around your waist reflexively pulls you closer.

The weight of your unrequited love for him is too great to bear in the face of all you have experienced this evening. You know it’s not fair to burden him with the knowledge, but you are too tired to pretend anymore.

His eyes are a world of emotion as you finally pluck up the courage to lean back in his arms and steal a glance after your confession.

“Then there is only one other path available to us,” he opines. “You must announce your engagement to another right away; there can be no fuel to a rumour surrounding a betrothed woman,” he asserts.

“It’s a wonderful plan, Benedict,” you allow, “but missing one key element—-someone willing to marry me” your laugh hollow.

“You will marry me,” he states plainly as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

Your whole axis is knocked sideways at even the thought.

“No, Benedict! I cannot ask you to make that sort of sacrifice for me!” you decry, pulling away from him and pacing back and forth. “Besides, you are already engaged! It would bring scandal upon your family if you were to break such a sacred promise!”

“I am not.” It's so hushed you almost don’t hear it over the sound of your pacing. “I am no longer engaged,” he clarifies quietly.

“Since when?” you stop short, not even attempting to camouflage the breathy surprise in your voice.

“Since about fifteen minutes ago, when Miss Gleave informed me she could not go ahead with a marriage when a heart belongs elsewhere,” he says with an empty chuckle.

“Who is she in love with?” The impertinent question slips from your lips before your brain can censor it.

“It’s not her heart that is at fault,” he states slowly.

“Your heart is with another? You gasp, not sure if you can stand to hear about it after such a traumatic evening.

“I’m afraid so,” he admits like he is almost nervous.

“Who is she?” You ask, attempting to mask your jealousy under nonchalance.

His smile is wistful and tender. “She is the most wonderful, stubborn, independent, generous, self-sufficient, altruistic, oldest friend in the world,” his tone is reverential. As he reels off the list of her qualities, your heart sinks, knowing whoever this woman is, he is truly and utterly in love with her.

“She is the luckiest woman in the world,” your smile watery, tamping down self-indulgent tears.

“No, I am the luckiest man in the world,” he whispers fervently. “And I thank my lucky stars and all that is holy that she came to me only a few moments after I realised Miss Gleave was indeed correct and that there will never be anyone else for me.”

“What lovely timing,” you offer neutrally, wanting to escape, to protect the last thin veneer on your blistered heart.

“Yes, as I said, lucky man,” he repeats, looking at you with an almost trepidatious countenance.

“You should go to her, Benedict,” you offer, as you breathe a small sigh of relief, spying your carriage pulling up beyond his shoulder.

He shakes his head, disbelieving.

“I don’t need to go anywhere y/n,” he breathes.

You are confused. Looking around as if to see another woman—but it’s just the two of you and the light scent of jasmine in the air.

But…

Oh… OH!!!!!

“Now she’s catching on,” he teases gently, his face breaking into the most breathtaking crooked smile.

Wait…

What..

“You… me…?” It’s breathless and hope-filled, your emotions whiplashed by the most intense half hour of your existence.

“Yes.” It’s a simple three-letter word that changes your whole life.

“Benedict!!” you cry and fly into his arms, almost knocking him over with the force of your embrace.

He laughs heartily, lifting you off your feet, burying his face into your hair, as your arms band tight around each other.

“Hello fiancée,” his whisper is warm honey settling over your skin.

“Hello, fiancé,” you return breathily, pulling back to bring your foreheads together as he gently lowers you back to your feet.

And when his lips meet yours, your world bursts into a kaleidoscope of colours you could never hope to find the words to describe.

He is your safe harbour. Your home away from home. The family friend you have known for as long as you can remember... And he is engaged to you.

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