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seadeepywrites · 2 years ago

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stardust in the wind

Character: Reed Menetia (NPC) Words: 2415 tw: death, grief

After all these years, Reed recognizes her goddess’ influence in her dreams. When she opens her eyes to find herself standing in an endless field, twilight settling like indigo silk across a vast expanse of sky — she merely smiles.

It is warm here, and the wind whispers across her skin with a familiar gentle touch. Reed tucks her hands inside the sleeves of her robe, noting with some amusement that it is the long green outfit she wears on ceremonial occasions. It is stitched along the hem with intricate golden embroidery, and it is one of her finest possessions.

“This must be important,” she says to the sky, to the grass, to the breeze. “Last time I dreamt like this, you had me still in my sleep shirt.”

Melora doesn’t answer her directly, which isn’t terribly surprising. Reed can be patient. She closes her eyes, enjoying the balmy weather, and trusts in her goddess to make clear the reason for this vision eventually.

In a minute, or an hour, or perhaps no time at all, Reed becomes aware that there is someone standing in front of her. It feels the same as entering a room with a sleeping patient, knowing their presence in the way it changes the silence, rather than hearing anything in particular.

When she opens her eyes again, Reed is looking at the face of a friend.

“Oh,” she says softly. Not because she isn’t glad to see them, but because she hasn’t the faintest idea what their presence in her dream might mean.

Whist smiles slightly, tilting their head in a quizzical gesture.

“It’s nice to see you,” Reed says, a bit hastily. “I just — didn’t expect you here.”

Whist might love the forest with the same ardor that Reed does — albeit in a more practical, less mystical way — but they have never seemed to Reed like a dedicated devotee of the divine. If they are here, it suggests a new and unexpected chapter in the story of Reed’s and Whist’s hometown.

Whist looks around. “Uh,” they say. “Where is ‘here,’ exactly?”

Tipping her head back, Reed gazes at the sky. There is no sun, only wisps of clouds that streak pale over the purple expanse.

“It’s a dream-place. We’re dreaming.”

"You might be dreaming," Whist says with a shrug. "I don't think that I am."

"And why is that?" Reed says, curious.

In the exact same casual tone, Whist says, "Because I'm dead."

Reed stares at them for a moment, dismay catching in her throat. "What?"

"I'm dead," Whist repeats without affect. "We went to find Darcy, but then the guy that probably kidnapped her showed up with a bunch of people, and they killed me."

Reed wishes, for a few desperate seconds, that she weren't so sure of the truth of this vision. It would have been easier to believe this a nightmare, the inane imaginings of a sleeping mind.

"I think they got Gravel too," Whist adds as an afterthought. "Though I couldn't really see too well at that point."

"I'll..." Reed swallows hard. "I'll tell your father for you. Whist... I'm so sorry."

"I don't know why you're apologizing. You're not the one who killed me."

That brings a smile to Reed's face, even amid the devastation that drums its thunderous rhythm on her breastbone. It really is a very Whist-like thing to say.

"It just means I'm sad to hear that," Reed says. Tries to fill her voice to the brim with warmth, like offering a steaming mug of tea. "You're a friend of mine, and it hurts to think that I'll never see you again."

"Yeah. All right." Whist gnaws at their lip with their sharp little teeth. "I get that, I think." They pause. "I thought being dead meant going to the afterlife, or not being anywhere anymore, or something. So why am I here? In your dream?"

"Maybe Melora has a purpose for you still," Reed says, with a faint but non-negligible trace of hope. "Maybe it's not the end for you yet."

"Hmm." Whist does not sound convinced.

"May I give you a hug?"

"Uh, sure."

Reed steps forward, half-expecting Whist to pass like fog through her embrace. Whist does not accept hugs very often — a preference that stems from their general dislike of being touched — but it does happen occasionally, and in her dream, hugging Whist feels exactly the same as Reed remembers. Their leather armor creaks as she squeezes them, and the lithe lines of their body are solid and reassuring. They even hug back, a little stiffly.

When Reed withdraws, she uses the sleeve of her fancy robe to wipe away a few tears. Her throat aches with the dull agony of oncoming grief, and all her limbs are heavy as lead. She takes a few deep breaths, trying to savor the sweet summer scent that hangs in the air, hoping that she can inhale enough of it to erode the stone-heavy heart in her chest.

Is it Reed's imagination, or has the twilit sky darkened by a few shades? She had thought of it as a serene and dusky blue earlier, but now it more closely resembles the violet of a deep bruise. Almost the color of Whist's skin, actually. Reed stares upwards, wondering if night is approaching here the way it would in the waking world, even with no sun to slip below the horizon.

In the darkest part of the sky, a scatter of stars catches her eye. They twinkle like a handful of crushed diamonds, silvery and scintillating, or like tiny flecks of white paint on purple canvas.

Or, Reed realizes, like the opalescent freckles sprinkled across the bridge of Whist's nose and cheekbones. She looks sharply at Whist, the specter of suspicion starting to coalesce inside her.

"What?" Whist asks. "What is it?"

With no pupils or irises, Whist's pearl-white eyes resemble nothing so much as two fragments of the waxing moon — Reed has idly considered this thought many times over the years. Now she can only watch, half-hypnotized, as their sheen brightens into a steady glow. The light beaming from Whist's eyes is very much like moonlight, in the sense that it shines without illuminating. Gleams without blinding the viewer.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Reed doesn't know what to say. Under her care, Whist had regularly cast Cure Wounds on their broken leg, in an attempt to ease the pain and speed along the healing process. In other words, Reed knows what Whist's magic looks like — a purple shimmer that glints like sunlight on satin as it ripples down their arms and out through their hands.

Reed knows what Whist's magic looks like, and this isn't it.

She says, "Do you feel any different? Right now, at this exact moment?"

Whist blinks, the twin bits of moon winking out for a fraction of a second. "Uh, I'm dead. And hanging out in someone else's dream. I don't really know what that's supposed to feel like."

Reed steps towards them, intending to examine Whist's face more closely, but the vibration that thrums through her renders that inspection unnecessary. Entering into Whist's personal space is like a boulder crumbling to join a landslide — like Whist is one of those celestial bodies that Darcy's always talking about, and Reed has fallen into elliptical orbit around them. It's magic that moves the breath through Reed's lungs in this moment and pulls at her muscles, shaping her like clay. More importantly, the hand crafting it is one she recognizes.

Reed gasps as the sensation crests inside her, foaming like the long arch of an ocean wave. As it breaks, she stumbles, only distantly registering the strong hands that catch at her elbow and her shoulder to steady her.

"I get it," Reed says indistinctly. "Whist, I get it now."

"I think you should probably sit down." Whist's face swims into view in front of Reed, wavering through several feet of rippling water. "You're, uh, not making any sense."

"No, I'm..." Reed trails off, gripping Whist's forearm with all her strength. "She brought you here. She's... given..."

"Reed? Come on, get it together."

Whist gives Reed a little shake, which is surprisingly helpful in slowing the way this dream-world spins around her. Reed straightens up, standing on her own two feet, and Whist snaps back into focus. Their eyes and their freckles still glow as brightly as miniature comets, leaving white streaks across Reed's vision.

"That's better," Whist says. "I don't think you should die until I've had a chance to scout out the situation a little bit first. So you'll know what to expect."

Chuckling weakly, Reed folds her hands back into her robes and regains her previous composure. Whist floats nearby, much closer than convention dictates platonic friends should stand, but it's difficult to be too concerned about something like that, considering the circumstances.

"I appreciate it," Reed says. "That's very thoughtful of you."

Whist shrugs.

The air has cooled somewhat, and the buzzing of insects heralds oncoming evening. It is a peculiar sound — loud enough to be noticeable, but muted such that she cannot pick out any one chirp from the cacophony. More the idea of what insects should sound like than any particular bug's melody. The oddity of it tips the corner of Reed’s mouth up in a half-smile.

“I know why you’re here,” she tells Whist, then pauses. “But there’s no guarantee that either of us are going to remember this conversation. You know how dreams can come and go.”

“I can’t remember much of anything right now,” Whist says. “Because I’m—”

“I know.” Reed’s smile grows wider, warmer. “But I have a feeling that might not be true for much longer.”

Whist squints at her. "What do you mean?"

Reed takes a moment to answer them, considering her words carefully. "You know how you can feel a storm coming, sometimes? Everything goes still and the air gets all heavy?"

"Yes."

"It's like that. Something's coming, and the world around us is shifting."

"But is the something good or bad?" Whist asks with a frown.

"There are many things that are neither," Reed says. "I only know that for your piece in it... any chance you might have to walk this plane again... I hope you take it. Because I greatly prefer a world with you in it."

"Oh. Thank you."

Reed looks to the sky again, apprehensive about the dusk approaching even when she knows she shouldn't be. Night, after all, is only a different flavor of Melora's domain — all the crepuscular and nocturnal creatures that lurk under cover of darkness belong to her too, as do their various murky and mysterious affairs. Reed wonders if perhaps her anxiety is a side effect of living her life at the border of the Duskwood, where twilight signifies imminent danger, as well as fey mischief that can be malicious as often as it is harmless.

"It's okay," Whist says, touching Reed's elbow again. "If there's anything else here, I'll protect you."

Whist's other hand goes to their hip, where their quiver is normally strapped. Reed is absolutely certain that when Whist appeared here, they did so unarmed. Yet in this moment, Whist's fingers brush against a forest of feathered arrow-shafts. When they take their hand from Reed's elbow, they are holding the dark, smooth wood of an intricately carved longbow. It fits in their grip like a tree trunk wrapped in vines — symbiotic and perfectly, breathtakingly natural.

"I know you will," Reed says gently. She moves to stand just behind Whist's shoulder, so that their faces are both turned towards the shadows that stain the underbelly of the sky.

"Is it weird," Whist asks, "that I died like my mom did, fighting things that came out of the Duskwood, but I'm not even a little afraid?"

"I don't think it's weird at all."

"Or maybe I am afraid, but..." Whist shrugs. "I'm going to do whatever I can. And either that will be good enough, or it won't be."

Reed would take Whist's hand, but they need it for their longbow — and they have never been as tactile as Reed is, and might dislike the gesture.

Instead, Reed draws in another lungful of imaginary air and murmurs, "May the gods bless you and your bravery, Whist Duskhunter. We need more people like you."

Whist doesn't smile, but they blink their pearly eyes at her in a manner reminiscent of a cat's sleepy affection, and Reed gets the idea.

The daylight is fleeing this dream-field now with exceptional speed, tugging the smothering blanket of twilight into the places it vacates. Whist is loose-limbed and alert, pivoting slowly as they search for the danger that chitters in the corners of awareness.

Perhaps Whist's confidence is contagious. All Reed can think, as darkness claims the two of them, is that she hopes she remembers what she's learned here: both the loss, and the hope that's tempered it.

***

Reed awakes wildly disoriented. The black-velvet night that swallowed down the last dregs of her dream was so vivid, yet it is pale dawn light that filters through her gauzy curtains and splashes specks of sunlight across the floorboards. She sits up in bed, the quilt tangled around her, and scrubs at her eyes until her vision scintillates in patterns of red and blue.

She remembers a field, and the presence of a friend. The rest is already fading, in the intangible way that dreams always do — but even as the details escape her grasp, Reed retains the impression that she has witnessed something important. She might not be able to explain the exact origin of the bruising sadness that pools in her abdomen, but she believes it nonetheless. She might not understand why the sight of her green robe hanging on its hook in the corner suddenly provokes in her the burgeoning weight of responsibility, but it does.

After all these years, Reed knows that her goddess will guide her in ineffable ways along mysterious paths, and all she has to do is relax and pay close attention. Reed will remember what she needs to remember when the time comes, and until then?

She sets her bare feet on the floor and she stands up. She washes, and dresses, and goes forth to serve the town of Graycott.

Her grief once had a name, and now it doesn't, but it will again. Reed can be patient.

#damn I can't believe I never posted this #I really like how it turned out #NPC #Whist #dusk campaign

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tlacehualli · 2 years ago

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"Sombra. Come in here for a second, please. Join me." Doctor caught the other's attention as she was walking by Talon's staff lounge, gesturing towards the empty couch in front of her. A smile creeps up on her face as she awaits the other to be seated, promptly handing her a mug of freshly made Irish coffee — You cannot help it, can you? To twist, somewhat manipulate, sprinkle in assertiveness here and there; YOUR resolve was THEIRS, she must know, you must make her know. "I wish to thank you in your active participation in Lacroix's... condition." Hand waves in an elegant motion at the last word, eyes locking together with the other's — Expression of gratitude from Moira was rare, usually not genuine, this one was, but certainly not out of the kindness of her heart. Widowmaker was her proudest moment, proudest creation, Moira's and Moira's alone, merely a chip made with other's help — Technology akin to that one usually despised, but sometimes, it had its place too. Sombra's aid also another sign of how you could make the others dance, follow you, engage in something which obviously pained still to this day; GOOD! A sign that perhaps the little infiltrator could learn new tricks, after all. Sombra someone who danced to her own tune ( in some odd manner, not very unlike you ), it was fine, usually, but one was not always appreciative of her antics. "We could not have done it without you." She clinks mugs together, taking a big sip, humming contently— Should you add another line, sprinkle in some more makeshift 'appreciation'? Scientist leans back, hands wrapped around her mug, patiently awaiting the other's reaction. No, you think to yourself, taking another sip. If this would not do, you would remind her again tomorrow.

"Mande?"

Her voice is cold and clipped, cool; her demeanor too. It's this transition point in her life, somewhere between the wide eyed ingenue she'd been and the calculating, smirking pessimist she would become. A necessary metamorphosis.

Ah.

The confused hesitancy in her fingers when she first takes the offered mug changes for just a brief moment into something honest; a squeeze of the cup, a dangerous glint in her eyes like a wounded animal that wanted nothing more than to go for the throat to protect itself and its cubs. Was Widow her cub in this scenario?

Their cub. Fuck.

It's a brief window in her psyche that shutters closed as quickly as it comes over her; her gaze cools and becomes analytical, mirroring the geneticist's body language somewhat. Sombra knows now they're playing a game of chess and that right now, she's pinned and at a severe disadvantage. Like up until that point, she thought they'd been playing checkers instead.

So she sips at the Irish coffee, taking note of changes in tone, turns of phrase, the pleased glint in Moira's eyes. She found just as much pleasure in this manipulation as she'd taken in her creation. Sombra knows then she is a proud creature and utterly vain, above it all. Shit, right now she couldn't argue that.

The hacker swirls the drink in her mug briefly before taking a sip, then extends the claws of her circuit hand with a little click; purple hardlight begins weaving a hologram in dedicated detail, the microchip along with her hypothesis of it's connections elsewhere, along with the visor and the way it works. She's certainly no geneticist, but she was far from a dumb woman. It spins in her hands and it changes every once in a while, a product of her continuous processing of the information she was privy to.

"Hell of a thing we created there," she agreed and her electric purple gaze cuts from the hologram to the geneticist. It's dangerous again but in a much colder way. A slow smirk that one day would come as easy as breathing crosses her expression before she dismisses the hologram with an unnecessarily pretty little flourish of her fingers. She downs the rest of the Irish coffee - and why not, her tolerance had suddenly spiked as of late for some reason or another.

She grimaces. "Little easy on the cream next time. Heavier on the coffee? It's a little sweet."

#asks #vanctua #sombra: let the mind games begin #sfdlkjsldf this was so good

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adam16bit · 2 years ago

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People must really hate Spider-Man. Green Goblin is one of his very first foes dating back to 1964, and he's appeared on a lot of the cartoons since. Heck, I saw him on Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends in the 1980s and today's toddlers see him on Spidey and His Amazing Friends, where the Green Goblin was in short supply back in 2022. People want this character, and for good reason - he's got a glider! And a wacky hat! While most incarnations of him incorporate some sort of pumpkin bomb, this one does not - but it has gorgeous packaging that serves to ask why. It's a beautiful piece of art that makes the figures look better, and the graphic design on most modern for-kids toy lines have boxed that are somewhere in the neighborhood of acceptable - I can't help but wonder if that may be nudging the appeal of new toys down a bit, but I digress. We're here to talk Kenner-branded goodness today.

Click here to check availability at Entertainment Earth. Click here to check availability at eBay.

Hasbro used the same basic buck for most of the toys, but mercifully Green Goblin got some new parts to make him better. The hands, feet, satchel, and head are all new, as is the glider accessory. The chest, arms, and legs are recycled from several figures dating back a few years. It would be nice if he was a bit different in his build than the younger Spider-Man, but hey, whatever, we got one and odds are they'd be skinny had Kenner made them in the 1980s. Due to parts reuse, the green "skin" lacks the scales or detailing from the old comic books, but at least you get the pointy ears and giant, silly hat. Of note, that hat is a separate purple plastic piece affixed in palce - it looks great and should hold up to play wear. Assuming anyone were to play with it, that is. The satchel looks nice and fits well, and the figure's curly boots slip right in to the glider - but the glider won't balance with the figure standing on it. That's a downer. You'll need to make him lean forward with his arms out to balance, or put something under the glider to keep it up.

I love the bright colors, and he stands great on his own. Green Goblin fits in old Kenner vehicles quite nicely, although the disconnect between the nicely detailed hands and boots from the rest of the body is kind of weird. It's also the kind of thing Kenner frequently would do, taking a comic/movie-style Robin action figure, altering the head to the stylized 1990s animated look, and releasing it with no additional sculpt changes. I know it's kind of a slam to have lower expectations for some Kenner-style figures, but taking shortcuts is very much the kind of thing we saw a lot back then. It's still a nice figure, and that pink bag certainly adds to the sculpted detail without having to change the torso - and the belt is merely painted-on.

I'm being greedy, but he should have had more accessories. The Green Goblin needs the glider and the bag, but the bag is there for his pumpkin bombs. Other incarnations of the figure (including cheaper ones from Hasbro) had the accessories, and it would have been a real treat to see them included here or with another figure as an accessory somehow. Alas, it was not meant to be. But at least you can appreciate the crazy painted white teeth and creepy yellow eyes.

The Marvel 375 Retro line doesn't really feel like the kind of thing Kenner did, but you could make a convincing argument that it isn't far off from what Mattel actually did do with its Secret Wars line. I'm glad Hasbro managed to squeeze in a few Spidey villains in a line of mostly good guys, and I hope they can somehow find a way to get us a few other baddies before the line goes to the big closeout bin in the sky. I assume Hasbro made an adequate number of these because the going rate as I write this is pretty close to retail price, but I don't know if I've ever actually seen Norman Osborn's green alter ego on store pegs. (I bought a case from work.) If you are old enough to see the Bronze Age of comic books as definitive, I'd recommend picking up this figure and as much of the line as you like. From where I sit, it scratches the super hero itch in ways previous lines didn't, to the point where I'm eyeballing my 6-inch Legends and considering selling most or all of them off.

--Adam Pawlus

#Marvel #Marvel Legends #Spider-Man #Hasbro #Action Figures #Figure of the Day

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melancholysway · 2 years ago

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Serendipity (2007!Raphael x Fem Reader) 2

Chapter II: Down in the Sewers

Chapter key: --- = a flashback is happening or ending

~ = small time skip

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ or

==== = perspective change

*Warning: descriptive sexual harassment toward the end, you've been warned.

Down in the sewers, one out of four mutant turtles turned on the TV as he had gotten home from his last party gig and watched the news, in awe over the vigilante.

"Don, whaddya think about the Nightwatcher? He's doing what we used to do. I remember those days. Ya know, the fun, adrenaline-boosting good old days..." The orange-clad turtle groaned in pain as his older brother who wore a purple mask placed an ice pack wrapped in a thin towel on his left temple and handed him an Ibuprofen with a glass of water.

"No comment. He'll be long gone once Leo comes back. Anyway, leave it for about an hour or so, then use a heat compress, okay? And BE PATIENT." Don warned, he knew his baby brother too well- how restless Mikey would get after a mere 20 minutes of keeping the same position, but staying in place didn't sound the worst to Mikey due to his massive headache.

"Hey, at least you wore the cup this time," Donatello stated, earning an eye roll from Mikey. Donnie his hand out to his brother and Michelangelo caught on; reached into his pouch that contained the day's earnings, and gave it to Don who counted it quickly in his head. He then went back to his little workstation on the opposite side of the living room, muttering something about how he loved money.

---

It was no secret that Donatello Hamato loved money. The feel, the smell, the touch! It was a rush. The money he made was much more near and dear to him than the money Mikey made.

However, once upon a time in the Lair, (both Raphael and Splinter can confirm this,) Michelangelo had a bit of a...spending problem. One day, a blender popped out of nowhere, and then a new microwave, and then a new couch...and just, well, the list goes on, dear readers. Donnie was so wrapped up in his own stressful little world that he didn’t notice what Mikey had gotten until he saw 3 new, full-size arcade games in the living room. Yes, THREE. The vintage- are more expensive than Mikey’s entire existence, the ones you see in retro arcades, are rare and can be found on eBay at a HIGH price- yeah, those. Donnie had no idea getting beat up by kids for 8 hours on end would make his brother 6 figures*! However, he had to put a stop to it- and asked Mikey to give him his day's earnings so he’d stop wasting it on pointless items. It worked, but Mikey usually takes five bucks for himself before giving it to his older brother- and hey, $5 a day adds up!

---

After 10 minutes went by, Mikey groaned.

"Don, I'm dying-" Mikey was cut off, "You're not dying, you're just in pain.” "But I-" Donny stopped Mikey from whining any further with a simple "You'll be fine." The orange-clad turtle audibly sighed as he winced at the pounding on his left temporal. He looked over the couch and saw Donnie tinkering with his new invention- remembering the times when he had to stop midway because Leo broke the toaster and asked him to fix it.

Something so small that Donatello actually dreaded doing, he actually...missed. Maybe it was Leo’s year-long and counting absence in Central America, or he was just bored, but he missed it. He missed when he was hunched over a new creation in the living room- perfecting each detail, and programming each feature through his laptop or taking a sip of his 9th cup of coffee to stay awake another, and was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder by a half-awake Raphael to tell him the devastating news of the broken toaster because of Leo. Or only to hear the deafening sound of the smoke alarm that went off in the kitchen (which woke him up much better than coffee)- and Leo’s guilt-ridden face said it all. His chocolate brown eyes looked sheepishly at the back of his younger brother’s shell as he turned around in panic- only to be relieved that it was just Leo being Leo and not an actual fire, just a bit of smoke. Contrary to popular belief- and by popular I mean April and Casey, it was widely known that Leonardo - Mr. Perfect, Splinter Junior (which was voted by Mikey the best name for him, thanks to a clever, angry Raph), O’ Fearless One, or just Fearless- could not cook to save his life. Oftentimes, it seemed if he even touched something in the kitchen, it would burn or break- which made fixing the toaster routine - only because Mr. Fearless Leader wanted some toast to go with his Chamomile Tea.

===

Mikey continued to converse with Donnie as he tried to concentrate- which had started to irritate him- though he was pretty used to it at this point. It was pretty easy to get Donatello irritated- if you’re being complicated, plain stupid, or interrupting him- he got annoyed; (double annoyance points if you're Mikey.)

“You have to focus on your job, Mikey. The good old days are...gone, and won’t be back until Leo is."

“You sure ‘bout dat?” As if on cue, a gruff, Brooklyn-accented voice questioned Donatello as the secret entrance to the lair opened- in which Don merely rolled his eyes.

“For starters, I'm surprised you woke up today. But, it's already 6 in the evening. I’m sure that us contributing around here is much better than you sleeping all day and doing God knows what at night, Raph. Where were you?” Donnie asked. While Leonardo and Raphael's arguing was normal, it was pretty out of the ordinary for Don and the red masked bearing turtle to argue. If anything, Donnie was Raph's favorite brother, since Mikey constantly pranked him, and Leo constantly lectured him, Don hasn’t done much to annoy him- except for the times when one of his inventions explodes at 4 in the morning; then at that moment, he’s no longer the favorite. Ever since Leo left for training, Donatello had acted as the newest leader among the three remaining turtles- and he soon started to act similar to Leo. Questioning- or what Raphael likes to call it- interrogating or harassing him about where he’s been all night and why he’s sneaking back in at 4 am. While Donny was only looking after Raphael- he didn’t take it as such.

“I was around None o' ya Business Avenue. But ya know what, Leonardo 2.0? you’re right, I do nuthin’, you got me all figured out, huh? At least the NightWatcher is picking up the slack of all 4 of us while we sit on our asses waiting for Leo to come back whilst dirtbags run free.” Raph stated sarcastically, obviously not giving a flying fuck what Donny thought about him at this point.

"What? You think the NightWatcher is a hero? It's not Leo's fault we can't go up to the surface, Master Splinter thought it was best for us to stay here than to the surface. And for the record, the Nightwatcher hasn't done anything that the police couldn't do on their own- he's just a vigilante that'll be gone in a few."

"Donatello, Raphael, enough." The mutant rat and sensei are immersed in his room, not happy with the bickering currently going on.

Raph glared at his younger brother, and it was enough for him to plan his escape to the surface in a few minutes. Don merely rolled his eyes and muttered his response, “I don’t have time for this.” As he was now fixated on his invention- tuning Raphael and Michelangelo out.

"Michelangelo." Splinter stated his son's name. Mikey looked at him in confusion, until he walked up to him and put his paw out, staff in the other.

"Wha…Ohhh! Here you go, Master Splinter." Mikey pulled out a small item wrapped in tinfoil- as his sensei's eyes sparkled at the sight. He took it from Mikey's hand and unwrapped the top revealing a cake.

"Ah, buttercream frosting" the rat master spoke softly in full nirvana, almost drooling at the sweet treat. Donnie heard this, and immediately his head turned to Splinter's direction as he rushed over and snatched it out of his hand.

"Ah-ah-ah! Do you remember your last blood tests?" Donnie inquired, watching as Splinter jumped to reach the tinfoil-wrapped delicacy--and lifted his arm higher to make it more out of his master's reach.

"I… I- DONATELLO! I am your master!" Splinter stated strictly, hopefully being able to convince the tech-savvy ninja. Donnie looked down dumbfounded, sighing and chuckling at the situation at hand.

"Nice try Sensei, you can still be my master, but with low cholesterol." Donnie walked towards the kitchen and stuck the wrapped cake in the freezer--which was far from Master Splinter's reach and threw it in with the many tinfoil wrapped cakes that resided in the cold box. The purple masked turtle's phone beeped, which indicated the ending of his break, and he'd have to continue his invention at a later time; as his I.T job was calling his name for his night shift. He hated taking the night shift, considering people were especially dumb at 3 in the morning--but, he needed the money.

Donnie went back into his lab to continue his shift, Splinter retreated to his room, and Mikey fell asleep sprawled out on the couch. This only left Raphael- who had actually just come back from Casey’s place- remembering he had a date with busting crime tonight with his bud and he went to his room to retrieve his infamous Nightwatcher outfit.

---

The day Raphael knew he had to do something instead of nothing like his brothers after Leo left for South America for his training was when he saw the news in the morning. He endured the stories of crimes reported on the news, but this one set him off. The Purple Dragons had allegedly robbed a bank, and kidnapped the bank teller. The news anchor reported that she was raped, and then beaten to death in a nearby alley- All on the same day. He thought that in the event Leo never left, this entire ordeal wouldn’t have happened. Even after Splinter saw the story himself, he continued to order him and his brothers to stay beneath the surface until Leo’s return. This was also the day he went against his father’s wishes and did the exact opposite.

He busted crime, yet remained hidden- until a few weeks went by and he’d realized he had a good chance of being seen because he was becoming more known. The news and witnesses called him “The Shadow.” Corniest name to ever exist, right? Until he got his signature metal look. It took some time, but with the use of Donnie’s tools and tech, he was able to take the shape of a persona that made him hard to figure out.

Or so he thought. One night, he was busting heads on the roof of the same building his good friends April and Casey resided in. It came to a halt when Casey intervened, who was already suspicious of the “Nightwatcher-” , the new name given to Raphael- and had a gut feeling it was his best friend. When Casey finally said he knew it was Raph, the golden-eyed turtle sighed and took his helmet off, asking and wondering how the hell he figured out it was him.

“It wasn’t that hard man, you look like a big, metal turtle,” Casey said, stating the obvious.

---

From then on, Casey would join Raph in fighting crime- but he was keeping this secret from Donatello, Michelangelo, Splinter, and worse- April, his own girlfriend. She sort of knew what they were doing, but had no idea Raphael was the Nightwatcher. Sometimes, Raph would fly solo because he didn’t want to keep Casey out with him all night and not be with April (what a good friend am I right?)

Raphael would never admit it, but he does miss his older brother. Then again, he never speaks his emotions out loud. But, he was beyond pissed that Leo has been gone for damn near a year and about to be more, and told Casey he could care less at this point about him. Secretly, he hoped Leo would come back soon after staying for far longer than his master instructed in Central America. He missed fighting alongside his brothers, but he also would have it out for Leo upon his return.

It quickly got pitch blank throughout the Manhattan sky as you walked, the stars and 1st quarter moon paving their way on it to create the melancholy scenery. The street lights turned on automatically, and neon store signs lit up the night. The nighttime could be calming and stress-free, but in an area around your neighborhood and Jade’s sometimes, it could leave you a nervous wreck. You knew to always leave your earbuds in and avoid eye contact with anyone around this time- who knew what some were capable of. You were now halfway to Jade’s apartment complex until you realized you’d forgotten something crucial and let out the most frustrating groan known to man.

“I left them on my bed,” you thought out loud, realizing you never put the CDs or movies in your bag to bring. This meant it might be a dull night, which you absolutely could not let happen. Each sleepover had to be if not better than the last! You looked behind you, at the long straightaway you just finished walking on for 10 minutes. It took about 20 minutes (on a good day) to get to Jade’s apartment- which only annoyed you more. You started to use your brain and logical thinking along with “quick maths.”

“Okay, if I go back and speed walk, it’ll only take like, 7 minutes. It’ll take me 5 minutes to get to my apartment and get everything...and then the 20-minute walk, counting the 10 minutes I just wasted...in total...42!?” It was already 6:35, which meant you wouldn’t make it exactly at 7.

6:35 (Name)

I’m running a bit late, I forgot the fun stuff! >:( gonna go back to my place to get it and I’ll be there!

6:35 (Jade)

Okay :), I just woke up from a whole nap lol so maybe this is a blessing because I have the worst after nap breath

6:37 (Name)

Colgate.

6:37 (Jade)

I’m more of a Crest type of gal- this text isn’t sponsored by them BTW (it should be, I’d be a great spokesperson.

6:38 (Name)

I can imagine it now;

“Have terrible after nap breath? ME TOO! Use Crest toothpaste with activated charcoal and baking powder and watch it go away- See that? Colgate HQ is panicking as we speak. I can hear them screeching in their office seats. Crest, the toothpaste for you”

6:39 (Jade)

You made toothpaste water come out of my nose with that lolololol- it was minty, definitely cleared my sinuses.

You giggled, ‘gross!’ the voice inside your head commented.

So, you walked. Quickly.

You repeated your exact steps from moments before, the same signs, stores- you get it. As much as you wanted to just call a taxi- it probably would’ve taken more time to get one than walk back. You looked up at the sky and saw the bright moon following- high in the sky- never leaving your sight. It was almost as if time just went by, and you soon found yourself staring face to face with your apartment building from afar. You observed it up and down the 12 floors with windows on the front.. Some lights were off, indicating nobody was home, or someone was sleeping. Others were on- meaning someone was awake or busy. You watched a man under the lamp outside in front of the entrance smoking a cigarette. He stood in place idly, checking his phone without a care in the world. You didn’t happen to notice the group of girls walk by you, laughing amongst themselves about what you picked up to be about a TV series. All you needed to do was to retrieve the forgotten items from your bed. You looked at the alleyway on the left side of the building and stared into nothingness.

“What you lookin’ at?” A familiar gruff voice asked from the darkness, not too far away it seemed either. You were startled, to say the least, so you said nothing. You turned your heels back around and began to walk toward the entrance.

Suddenly, you feel a cold, big hand wrap around your right wrist, and then an arm goes around your neck, pulling you forcefully. “HEL-” You screamed for help, but it was soon muffled by your mouth being covered by the unknown person’s other hand.

“Fuck! Now you’ve earned it!” You had licked your assailant's hand to make them lift it from your mouth, but it resulted in you being slapped across the face and pushed onto the ground. Your duffle bag was being pried from your shoulder by 2 pairs of hands that were foreign to you, and it was soon out of your reach and thrown to God knows where.

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, and the moon was directly overhead- literally shedding light on the situation.

Three. Big. Dudes. All of them had to at least be 200 pounds and 6 feet tall. All 3 men stood in front of you, blocking the way to leave the alley, and you were trapped. You looked behind you, only to see that this alley was a dead end. Beautiful. The tallest and biggest one stood in the middle, bearing a purple bandana around his neck. He wore black joggers and a black muscle tee with a purple denim vest on top that showed his large arm muscles. He must’ve been the leader, as he was dressed differently than the two slightly shorter men standing beside him. You recognized the one on the left immediately, as he was wearing the same clothes from earlier today and matched the guy on the far right. Well, you were screwed. You frantically looked around, only to be greeted with narrow decaying brick side walls and a large dumpster behind you, and there was nowhere to turn. You looked up at the night sky and saw nothing. If you had the ability to fly that would’ve been super helpful right this second. You looked back at the 3 men standing before you, recognizing them as a group from the news.

The Purple Dragons. The largest man was Hun- the leader. The one on the left was Fong, and the one on the right had to be John.

“I told you I’d remember you, didn’t I?” John walked towards you, his hoodie down- so you finally had a chance to match his face with the one you saw on the news. His dead brown eyes angrily look at you. You felt your heart rate quicken and then your heart was about to jump out of your chest when he suddenly pulled out a folding knife that glistened when he unfolded the blade. He placed the knife up to your neck, applying enough pressure that it allowed a trickle of blood to come down and stain the hem of your shirt.

“Let me tell you something,” You noticed Fong going through your bag on the side, pulling everything out and throwing them on the concrete surrounding him. “NOBODY disrespects me, ya got dat?”

“Nobody disrespected you! You look dumb.” John has suddenly pushed away, and Hun approached- ignoring his teammates' protest to let him deal with you.

“What, John?” You spoke up, “Couldn’t handle dealing with me on your own so you brought back up? That’s such a cowardly move for someone like you.” You stared at him in anger as turned his head slowly around to look at you, breathing heavily from the internal time bomb you just set off.

“You bitch! You don’t know what’s about to come. When we’re finished with you...you’ll wish you never disrespected me.” John insulted through gritted teeth, however his mouth soon formed into a snarky grin right before your terrified eyes. Hun suddenly grabbed you by your throat, holding you up like a trophy. You strained as you put your hands to stop Huns, gasping for air, feeling as if your neck would snap at any second. You closed your eyes tightly, turning your head away and fearing the worst. Then, Hun threw you back on the hard, cold concrete as he watched you on your knees cough and try to catch your breath.

“I think we should have a little fun first, don’t cha think?” Hun suggested slyly to his goons- who glanced at him and gave responses of agreement.

“‘Ey boss, lookie here.” Fong dug through your bag and pulled out something very familiar.

Your OneStep SX-70. Your child. Your love.

In other words, your cherished Polaroid.

You watched as Fong waved it around as if it were weightless. It made you nervous just watching him do that. “H-hey!” You finally gained your voice back, “Put that back!” Despite your current predicament and the possible threat you received during this time, that didn’t stop you from going off pure instinct and speaking up. Hun turned to Fong, and it seemed as if an idea popped into his head.

What happened next actually made this whole thing worse.

It was almost going in slow motion, your camera falling from Fong’s hands as he threw it on the ground. In reality, it was coming into contact with the concrete much quicker than you perceived it.

Crack.

The lens popped out, any extra blank film you had fallen out and sprawled everywhere on the rocky ground.

If you weren’t crying yet, you sure were crying now.

Don’t be fooled, it was from pure anger, but sadness was also present in the emotions flowing through your body. Out of everything they could have destroyed or stolen, they decided to break your camera? How old were they, really? That’s what schoolboy bullies do.

“Now we got ya, we could do this the easy way, or my favorite-the hard way.” Hun taunted, as John and Fong both snickered behind him, repeating his last two words with just as much hate as their leader.

“I’m gonna keep it simple, get on your hands and knees. Now.” Without a second to react, you felt yourself being turned around by a pair of rough hands that ran from your shoulders all the way down your lumbar. You couldn’t see anything of what was happening behind you, but you heard the clicking of metal, and soon felt something cold touch the back of your neck. It ran down slowly and stopped at the neck of your shirt. You didn’t move, you just...froze. You trained yourself many times before for exactly what you would do in the situation you were in now. But, you couldn’t move. It was almost like your body shut down, but your mind was still conscious. You’d heard the same story on the news time and time again- in a place like New York, it was bound to happen. You, however, never imagined yourself in the situation you always heard about on television. You’d never think you would experience this. Most PD victims had all ended up the same: dead, and now you were next.

The sound of your T-Shirt ripping mixed in with the laughter of the Purple Dragons added to the loud, busy streets of NYC, all of which tuned out your muffled cries for help in the deep, dark alley. The cool, crisp November air engulfed your newly exposed skin- sending chills and goosebumps all over as you shuttered every time they laid a finger on you. Your cries of protest were soon put to rest as you felt a strong hand cover it, and another tied your hands back, leaving you no way to move them. You felt grimy fingers touch you in places you didn’t want them to. A pair of hands grabbed your behind, and another on your front- causing you to sob uncontrollably as you realized you weren't getting out of this one. The air was thick, and you breathed in the musky, sweaty atmosphere of the bulky trio of men surrounding you and staring at your body hungrily.

Hun motioned his goons to back away from you, and then grabbed the waistband of your leggings. However, this was a mistake on his end. You managed to have full control of your legs, and kneed him where the ‘sun doesn't shine.’ As his expression changed from smug to looking like he just got the wind knocked out of him, he looked you dead in the eyes, enraged.

*6 Figures - Money amount with six digits. Anywhere from 100k to 999K.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: HERE

NEXT CHAPTER: HERE

#tmnt fandom #tmnt 2007 #tmnt #bayverse tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #tmnt imagine #tmnt imagines #tmnt fanfiction #raphael x reader #raphael #michelangelo #leonardo #donatello #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years ago

Text

Bite

Pairing: Vamp!Lisa x Human!Fem!Reader

AU: Vampire

Word Count: ~ 5,564

Warnings / Misc. -- Mentions of Blood

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm alive! School has kept me crazy busy and I've had my hands full with other things as well, but I finished writing this one and I wanted to share with you lovely peeps. To everyone who stopped by to check in, and to those of you who’ve been patiently waiting, thank you endlessly. I love having you as my readers 💜

PS ~ I hope this isn't too bad for my first one shot in forever! Also, happy Lisa era. I’m so proud of our girl!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Saturday, October 31st

You look like an idiot.

The nurse uniform you have on is obnoxiously cliché; short and tattered in various places to really sell the "sexy" aspect of it, little is left to the imagination. Fake blood stains dot the flimsy material in random patterns and mat some strands of the tacky blonde wig atop your head, making you look like something out of a B-movie at best.

A bonafide, absolute idiot.

When you express that sentiment to your best friend, she just rolls her eyes and holds out one last costume for you to try on. She had a few lined up in case you didn't like her other options, and clearly that's come in handy; you've already worked through the previous picks, so she crosses her fingers as your eyes skim over this one.

"Humor me, will you?" She asks, hoping that you'll give in and at least check this last one out.

"Fine, but this is your last chance. It had better be good." You raise a pointed finger at her in warning.

"I have a good feeling about this one," she says, smiling as you take the bag from her and slip into the dressing room one final time.

Her phone chimes soon after, and she's quick to retrieve it from her pocket.

Willow: Are you guys almost here?? Jackson's been asking about you.

Your best friend bites her lip at that, nervously nibbling on it as she rereads the message to make sure she didn't imagine the last part. She's liked Jackson since middle school, and he'll be swinging by the party that you've all been invited to; that's one of the main reasons she begged you to come with her tonight.

Y/BFFs/N: Still getting ready. We'll be there ASAP tho!

Willow: Alright, we'll see you soon. Don't take all night, or else👩🤛

Y/BFFs/N: Yah, cut the violence!

The sound of your best friend's soft giggling fills the air just as you manage to fasten the costume's last zipper and pull its hood over your head.

Surprise etches its way into your features as you do a spin, taking in the sight of yourself through the full length mirror of the dressing room. The outfit's red and black color schemes complement each other beautifully, giving you a powerful and sensual appeal that the other costumes didn't even stand a chance of doing. You look alluring in every sense of the word.

"Holy shit," your best friend says when you emerge, striking a pose. "You look hot!" She squeals, clapping a few times in quick succession.

There's no way you think this one looks bad.

"I think Wanda would be proud," you grin, tilting your head up and wrapping the cape around your neck.

"One hundred percent," Y/BFFs/N nods adamantly, in total agreement. The Scarlet Witch getup really compliments your features.

"Now," she starts, changing topics as she looks in the reflection of her phone's dark screen to adjust some of her hair that's gone astray. "Let's pay and then go. Willow's looking for us, and my future man's wondering where I am, too."

"Hell yeah!" You chuckle, patting her on the back. "I'll help you finally land him so you can stop pining."

You watch as she takes a moment to decide between coming up with a decent rebuttal to defend herself or agreeing with you, and you smile when she goes for the latter.

"I'd accept nothing less," she says, holding her head high like a princess. "You are my wingwoman, after all."

"And the best one in town," you add, tugging her towards the register. She reaches into her purse and pulls out the money to pay before politely handing it to the cashier.

The teenage boy takes it with a small smile, though the action looks a little comical as his upper lip gets caught on the cheap, plastic fangs he's sporting. His knock-off version of Dracula is definitely…. something… and you can tell that his managers forced him to wear it for the holiday.

"Come back and s-shhee us," he says, handing your change back. Your best friend takes it, failing to contain her laughter at his messy speech. He blushes crimson, likely cursing the plastic teeth for making him look a fool.

"We surely will," you respond, giving him a comforting smile to keep his embarrassment at bay. He nods gratefully, and you're quickly pulled out of the store by your best friend.

"Happy Halloween!" You shout over your shoulder, accompanied by the chime of the bell over the door.

"You too," he calls back, letting out a soft sigh.

---

20 Minutes Later -- The Party

Upon rounding the front of your car and stepping up onto the sidewalk outside of Willow's house, your attention is immediately caught by the numerous decorations that she put up last week.

"Huh," you mumble, gazing up at the skeleton that towers above you, standing 12 feet tall. "I think it's safe to say that this is her favorite holiday…"

"What makes you think that?" Your best friend plays, feigning ignorance as she pops up from behind a life-sized, animatronic Jason Voorhees.

"I don't know," you tut, admiring Willow's hard work a little longer. "Just a feeling."

Y/BFFs/N giggles in her unique way, making you smile at the sound as the two of you make your way up the path towards the house. You gaze down at your feet, careful to step on the stones of the walkway and avoid the motion-activated hands that scramble out of the weeds to grab unsuspecting guests.

Having known Willow your entire childhood, you've grown used to her ways.

*knock knock*

A strong, iconic synth bassline sounds off from inside, filling the otherwise quiet night around you with its catchy beat as you wait to be let in. Its sound is well known, and you almost instantly recognize it as "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics.

A few seconds later, you hear clambering from inside, followed by concerning groans and shouted apologies.

Y/BFFs/N arches a skeptical brow at you, perfectly mirroring your thoughts.

Directly after, the door swings open in a flash, and you're nearly tackled by a whizz of curly hair.

"There you guys are!" Willow shrieks, pulling the two of you close as she nuzzles her face against your cheeks.

"Yep, here we are," you struggle out, nearly being strangled in her tight grip. She responds by squeezing you even tighter, blinded by her joy at seeing you again.

After all, it's been a while since all three of you have had the opportunity to spend the night partying together like this.

"Can't… breathe," Y/BFFs/N squeaks, successfully getting Willow to release you.

"Sorry," she apologizes, stepping back. "I'm just so happy you're here."

The freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose look especially adorable with the blush she's sporting, and her shy grin makes you forget about the near-fatality you just encountered moments before.

"We're happy to be here," you reassure her, returning her smile.

Your best friend agrees from beside you, nodding her head with a happy look of her own. "Believe it or not, we've missed your weirdness." She adds, cocking her head to the side.

Willow giggles again, and her eyes crinkle up into those half crescents that could surely melt even the iciest of hearts. She's practically sunshine in human form, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes.

"Yo, Willow! Who's at the door?"

Jackson.

You feel your best friend tense beside you, and you subtly pat her leg to calm her down.

Willow falls silent, though her lips go through the beginning stages of answering him; they open and purse, but she quickly halts her reply and shuts her mouth. She knows of Y/BFFs/N's crush on him, and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing.

Plus, if the lovesick girl wants to run and hide in the bushes, Willow's silence could buy her some time to slip away.

But alas, she doesn't.

Jackson appears in the doorway a mere 5 seconds after asking his question with a beer clutched in his hand. He moves to lean against the wooden frame as his pearly smile beams at you, and Y/BFFs/N audibly swallows at the sight.

For someone who's usually so confident, she can really be shy sometimes.

"Lovely to see you, ladies," he greets, putting his free hand in front of him as he bows. His accent is modeled after that of Jack Sparrow, as is his surprisingly well designed costume.

You nod back at him. "Hey, Jackson. Long time no see."

You elbow your best friend when she remains silent for a beat too long, and the action snaps her back to reality.

"Yeah, hey Jackson." Her voice is quiet -- she doesn't trust it to refrain from cracking.

He smiles, not failing to notice the nervous aura that's quickly taken over the girl beside you. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when he gives her a curious once-over, and you take that as your cue to save her from the impending embarrassment that's lurking just around the corner.

"Alright, guys!" You clap, stepping forward. "Let's get to partying."

Her shoulders relax, and you feel her slip her hand into yours as you enter the house, squeezing twice as a silent thank you.

15 Minutes Later

Willow stands beside you in the kitchen, mixing a few things together in one of the millions of red solo cups that she bought for tonight. You sneak a peek over her shoulder at the concoction, seeing its light blue color turn purple-ish as she adds a new liquor into the equation.

In comparison to typical house parties, this one is relatively small; most of the rooms are filled with people, but it's a comfortable amount. Maneuvering around the place is fairly easy, which is always a plus when you're coexisting with sweaty, drunk people.

"Willow, love, why did you buy so many cups?" You ask, toying with the ripped plastic packaging of one of the stacks.

"You know I like to be prepared," she laughs, brushing off her major miscalculation. "Plus I can just use the rest of them at my next party."

You nod, knowing she's right. "Are you having another soon?"

"I think so. Jiu and her crew are coming back in a couple weeks, so I thought I'd surprise them with one."

You scoff, humor laced in the sound. "What, they didn't get enough partying done at their university already?"

Willow turns around, grinning at you as she hands you your drink. "Evidently campus police keep a close eye on them. Siyeon whined about that a lot when she called me."

"Sounds like her," you chuckle into your cup as you take a sip.

PFFT

"Eww, Willow! What did you put in this?!"

Your spit take didn't land on anyone, thankfully, but it did capture the attention of some people nearby. You wave a hand at them as a silent apology, and they go back to their previous tasks.

The curly headed prankster covers her mouth, though the action does a terrible job of quieting her maniacal laughter.

"You're lucky Y/BFFs/N isn't over here," you say, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "She'd avenge me."

Willow uses a napkin to dab the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Why else do you think I waited until she was busy with Jackson?" She asks, motioning to her lounge room across the foyer.

You look inside, spotting Y/BFFs/N holding a pool cue in her hand as Jackson sinks another shot into one of the corner pockets.

The sight reminds you of the pep talk and 2 shots of liquid courage you gave her earlier, and how she disappeared with the promise to make a move and actually talk to him. Now, she looks completely absorbed in whatever banter they're sharing, and although your violated taste buds still ache from the sickly-sweet mixture that Willow made, you wouldn't want her to be anywhere else.

You can get your own revenge.

Sneaking a glance around the kitchen, you search for something to help with your retaliation. A small package of streamers lays abandoned on the island, forgotten to be put up earlier, and you slyly grin. Their ribbons sparkle with glitter, shimmering as the multicolored party lights stream in from the living room and land on them.

It's as if the universe is putting a spotlight on them, just for you.

After side eyeing Willow one final time to ensure that she isn't catching onto your plan, you act quickly. She stands beside the counter, right where you left her, and you dart to the island to grab the streamers. Your fingertips soon gain purchase on the packaging, and you tear it open in one swift motion.

Her gaze locks onto yours just as you near her, but it's far too late for her to get away.

"Take this!" You declare, upending the baggie atop her head. She shrieks as they cascade down her body, getting caught in the creases and wrinkles of her costume as they go. A small wave of glitter tumbles out of the bag as well, coating her hair and clothes.

Boy, that'll be fun to try and get out later.

Her head slowly raises once you finish your assault and place the baggie on the countertop beside you, but the look in her eye is unlike anything you've ever seen.

"You're dead," she warns. Just as the smile drops from your face, an even larger, more sinister one begins forming on hers.

The floor creaks beneath your feet slightly as you take a step back, and you know you have to high tail it out of there if you want to evade her.

"Catch me if you can!" You shout, springing into action. You turn around and dart out of the room, gliding past numerous partygoers in the hall.

Willow's choice of footwear works in your favor, you soon realize; the sharp rapping sound of her heels pierces the air behind you, serving as a tell of how much distance is between you.

Her unstable platforms buy you a little time, and you thank the universe as you rush through the living room and back towards the foyer. You plan to cut across it and hide out in one of the bathrooms until she drops her plan for revenge.

A grin pulls at your cheeks as you skid into one of the walls, looking like a character from Scooby-Doo as you will your feet to work correctly again and get you to safety. Willow laughs behind you, joining in on the fun.

"Perfect," you mutter under your breath, spotting a clear path through the foyer. It leads under the stairs, and you can see the open door of the bathroom from where you are.

Your feet take you past a handful of drunk people, bobbing and weaving through them with ease, before you're racing towards the restroom to take cover.

Before you can make it there, though, you collide with someone rather abruptly as they step straight into your path.

Your eyes shut tightly as you brace yourself for impact with the ground, but it never comes. The person reaches out and catches you before you can hit the floor, and a soft apology slips past their lips as they scoop you up.

Upon hearing that uniquely feminine voice speak its regret again, you peek your eyes open. What you see nearly makes the woman's effort to keep you upright moot; she's so gorgeous that your legs almost give out from underneath you.

Dirty blonde locks cascade over her shoulders in soft waves, half-mussed, half-pristine from your run-in. Her doe eyes are a velvety chocolate color, and you find yourself getting lost in them. Flickers of red show in them, illuminating almost rhythmically the longer she admires you.

Are those contacts? You ask yourself. They have to be.

She seems to be just as affected by your presence as you are of hers.

"Y/N, I'm coming to get you!"

Willow does her best to sound like a villain from a 90s horror film as she clambers her way closer to you, bumping into a few people on the way. You're brought out of your stupor by her rapidly approaching footsteps, and you take a step away from the woman. Her hands fall from your waist, where they had previously been resting.

Stealing a quick look at the bathroom, you feel your stomach turn.

Damnit. Someone's in there now.

Screw this sexy stranger for distracting you. Now you'll have to deal with Willow's wrath.

"What's wrong?"

There's that voice again.

Part of you wants to brush it off and slip away quietly, but an even bigger part of you is determined to stay where you are and tell her. Something about her pulls you in, and you're having a hard time denying it.

"I need to hide. I glitter-fied my friend and now she's coming after me."

The woman's plump lips pull back in a humored smile, and she nods as a chuckle leaves her. "Right," she says, like that's a common occurrence. "I can help, if you'd like."

"How?" You ask, your brows momentarily knitting together in confusion. When she unties and opens the black cloak that's wrapped around her body, your breath catches.

"You in?" She asks, side eyeing the foyer as Willow nearly careens into the Egyptian vase that her mother bought her last year for Christmas.

You take a deep breath and hold your hand out to her just as Willow rounds the corner, and she swiftly pulls you in close before you can be spotted. She winds the cloak around both of your bodies, concealing your faces as the fur-lined hood falls atop your heads.

Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her flush up against you to further ensure your safety. She quietly grunts when she stumbles over her own feet, falling into you a little.

"Sorry," she whispers, though her third apology of the night is unnecessary. You almost want to thank her for what happened.

Especially when her warm breath fans across your right cheek, where her head is angled.

Every breath you take pushes you closer to each other, and the satin shirt she's wearing slides against your heated skin. She swallows thickly as one of your hands falls to the small of her back, testing the waters.

When she shifts a little to encourage you, you're acutely aware of the thigh that's worked its way between your legs.

When did that happen?

You bite back a sigh as she just smirks, quietly shushing you.

Willow thunders by, shouting your name and threatening to throw you into the pool when she tracks you down. You want to laugh at that, but you'd honestly welcome it right now. Some cold water would surely bring you to your senses after being led astray by this goddess in front of you.

Her footsteps grow distant as she makes her way outside, still searching.

The two of you remain as you are for a couple more minutes until you're certain that the coast is clear, and then you part. When she lowers the cloak, you look away; a deep blush has worked its way up your neck and across your cheeks, and letting her see it would surely make you die of embarrassment.

She keeps her eyes on you as she reties the cover around herself, attempting to get a read on you. The bashful aura that's befallen you is cute, no doubt, but she can sense your arousal. She can smell it on you, and the scent is beginning to drive her crazy.

You fiddle with the sleeves of your costume, readjusting them nervously.

"So, um… thanks," you say, sneaking a glance up at her.

The red hues in her eyes are even more pronounced now, and the sight makes you press further into the wall behind you -- the one that you were previously pushed up against.

"No problem," she smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. Two of them catch your attention; a set of fangs now shine, looking alluring and threatening all at the same time.

There's only one issue: you're certain that they weren't there when you first bumped into her. When did she put them in? And why do they look so real?

The feeling of her hand landing on your forearm pulls you away from the millions of questions that're firing off in your head right now.

"May I ask your name?" She politely requests, dipping her head down sweetly.

"Y/N," you breathe out, quickly realizing that you'd do just about anything she asked you to.

"Y/N." She repeats, allowing the letters to blend in her mouth as they roll off her tongue. She looks satisfied for some reason as she says it again, trying it out.

"I'm Lisa."

"It's nice to officially meet you," you smile, reaching a hand out. Her touch is gentle but firm as she takes it, shaking it with ease.

"Likewise, beautiful."

The grin on your face only widens at the name, and you pull your hand away out of fear of what she might do next. She's already putting you under her spell, and you're sure that another touch would have you fully entranced.

She studies you with pursed lips for a moment, clearly debating on something. Her eyes flicker over the dips and curves of your body as a smirk grows on her lips.

"What are you thinking?" You question, curious but teasing.

"That I'd love to have your body on mine again."

She's bold, and she says it like the fact it is. No shame, no bashfulness. Just true, honest desire.

You bite the inside of your cheek at her bravery, silently thanking the universe for it. The likelihood of you gaining the courage to make a move is slim to none even in the best cases, and this was no exception. She already has your heart skipping beats and you've only known her a few minutes.

"How about a dance?" She suggests, quirking a brow. The look on her face disarms your defenses, and you take a deep breath before agreeing to your demise.

"That sounds wonderful."

She dips her head again, hiding her face away momentarily, and you think it's the cutest thing ever.

She's shy all of a sudden as her cool demeanor slips up a bit, and that never happens. You might just be her downfall, too.

She holds an elbow out and steps forward, allowing you to link your arm with hers and cuddle in close.

Her eyes scan across the living room as she studies it, but she's unimpressed.

Sweaty, winding bodies thrash around to some upbeat pop song that's been overplayed on every radio station in town for weeks now, and the idea of taking you there puts her off.

When a drunk boy comes into view with a dildo strapped to his forehead, her mind is officially made up.

"Let's go outside," she says, leading you through the patio doors.

A quaint gazebo sits on one side of the yard, and the dance floor that Willow's family installed a couple years ago occupies the other. Both are decorated with string lights in combinations of gold, purple, black, and orange. Other ornaments adorn the surfaces as well, and you smile when you spot a comically large spider sat atop the gazebo's roof.

"Where would you like to go?" Lisa asks, keeping her voice low. It's calm and deep, running a chill through you.

Softer music plays out here, offering a totally different vibe than inside. Some couples -- many of them introverted, assumably -- sway on the dancefloor as the DJ that Willow hired takes a sip of her drink on the raised stage. She adjusts a few switches slowly, not rushing for a second.

"Let's try the gazebo," you decide, glancing over your shoulder at Lisa. She's looking away, but you don't think anything of it as the two of you fall in step with one another on your way over.

Shit, Lisa thinks to herself.

Her plans to come to this party, feed, and make a quick getaway are totally derailed. She'd hoped to find a victim that she was attracted to but didn't like, if that even makes sense, and feed like the animal she is. Then she would leave them like all the rest, drained but still alive, and slip away.

But now she's met you, and any desire for those plans have been thrown out the window.

You interest her, and that doesn't happen often. She hasn't met someone who's been capable of doing that in years, and she's intrigued. Something about you just pulls her in, inexplicably, and she knows her feelings would be glaringly obvious if you saw her face right now.

"Woah, look at this," you sigh, stepping out of her hold to check the place out. A bench runs the perimeter of the gazebo, only stopping at the doorway, and the lights look even prettier from inside. They shimmer, looking like star showers as their strings hang down in the windowless openings of the building.

Lisa quickly learns that she loves seeing you like this. Your eyes are alight, and your sweet smile of wonder warms her heart. Her hands slip into her pockets as she eventually manages to take her eyes off you, following your lead as she admires the decorations.

She does a twirl, looking around.

"It's gorgeous."

"I know, right? This is totally up Willow's alley," you say, grinning at the mental image that you can conjure up of her giddily spiffing the scene up.

"I'll have to thank her for making it look so special, then," Lisa says, smiling. The place really makes you feel like you're in your own little world; everything about it is just right. The ambience, the decor, the company… it’s perfect, and Lisa's content with how the evening is playing out.

Her fingers skate down your arm as she nears you, trekking their way down to your palm. She takes your hand and spins you, watching with admiration as your hair flows in the breeze. Now facing her, you thread your fingers together around the back of her neck as she encircles your waist with her arms.

"Why have I never seen you around?" You ask sincerely, looking up at her.

She hesitates briefly. "My university is a few towns over. I just come here to visit my family every few months."

Not a total lie, she thinks to herself.

"And stop by terrible parties like this, of course." You add, smirking.

She shakes her head at that. "No, I can't say I do. I just decided to check this one out on my way to my friend's house." She explains.

Underneath your cloak, her hands find their way to the small of your back. One stays put while the other dips a little lower, testing the waters.

"And besides," she starts again, feeling you pull her closer. "Meeting you here automatically makes this an awesome party. Not terrible."

"Cheeeesy!" You scrunch your face up and groan, making her laugh.

"Maybe, but it's the truth."

"Sure, Lisa."

She shakes her head and you laugh lightly together, still swaying about. You hold her close enough to rest your head on her shoulder, and the pads of your thumbs rub small circles on the sensitive skin of her neck. She hums at the feeling, and you take note of the way she relaxes in your arms.

The night breeze appears again, performing a flowing dance of its own as it lulls past you in waves. A slight chill resides in it, mixed with a generous amount of the day's sweet, fading heat, and you're at peace.

The slow song that had been playing across the yard ends delicately, parting with some melodic feature that resembles a warm embrace, and it blends seamlessly into the next song.

Turning Page, you recognize it as.

Huh, how ironic. One of your favorites.

Lisa's lips brush against your cheek as she turns her head slightly, whispering, "I like this one, too."

How did she know? You ask yourself. You hadn't said it out loud…

Maybe she's just a good guesser. Yeah, that's gotta be it.

You feel yourself melt as she begins singing the words to you. It's hushed and sentimental -- meant only for your ears to hear, and that makes it even more special to you.

"If I had only felt the warmth within your touch"

She croons, pressing her cheek against your warm skin. You blush, catching yourself when you remember what the next line of the song is.

"If I had only seen how you smile when you blush"

She brings a hand up to cup your cheek in her palm, and her other arm remains around you, holding you tenderly.

"Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough"

Now, her thumb runs across your bottom lip. You look into her eyes and find them an even deeper shade of red than they had been before, but it doesn't frighten you for some reason. She glances down at your mouth again, fighting her impatience as she waits for permission from you.

"I would have known what I was living for all along"

You nod and lace your fingers in her locks, and she doesn't waste another second.

She leans in, humming against your lips when they meet hers for the first time. Her lipgloss spreads across them upon contact, smudging its precise application, but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest. She draws you in closer, and you bring both of your hands around to cup her face as you deepen the kiss.

Her mouth is welcoming against yours, and it moves languidly as you get adjusted to one another. Every move makes you feel dizzier than the one before it, and swarms of butterflies take flight in your stomach with no signs of stopping.

She nips at your bottom lip as her hands dip far lower than before, now kneading your ass as your kisses continue to work her up.

"Fuck," you curse, breaking away from her lips to catch your breath. She's stolen it all from you, and yet she's still not ready to give you a rest; her mouth drops to your jaw, embracing your skin there before moving down to your neck.

She doesn't realize how dangerous the game she's playing truly is until it's almost too late.

Her lips press to the area just above your pulsepoint, where she's learned over the years that blood pumps the hardest and tastes the sweetest. She draws it into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the area as her ears perk up at the breathless sound of your moans. They spur her on, and she nips at the skin, surely leaving a hickey.

Her senses become even more clouded when you say her name, the title caught somewhere between a whine and command, and she feels the strong impulse to claim you. The sensation is overwhelming, and she knows you can feel it too.

Your hands tug on the collar of her shirt as she lets her fangs fully extend, no longer suppressing them. They rake across your pulsepoint, making you shiver against her.

"Please…"

That's all you manage to get out before they pierce your skin, eliciting a whimper from you. Blood fills her mouth instantly, sliding across her taste buds in velvety waves and calming her constant craving. Your hands tighten in her hair, and the delicious twinge of pain that it provides only encourages her more.

Your blood is different than anything she's ever tasted; it's richer -- sweeter. A throaty groan leaves her as she savors it, and you shut your eyes in pleasure. It's addicting, but she knows she has to stop herself before she hurts you. If she continues like this much longer, she won't have the willpower to let go.

She retracts her fangs as she licks your taste from them, and then you feel her warm tongue clean the wound she made. It stings a bit, but in all the right ways.

When she pulls back to look at you, she finds your eyes half-lidded and a pleased smile on your face. It nearly kills her, then and there.

Her gaze flickers back to your neck to admire the hickie she made earlier, but what she sees surprises her. Below it is a darker, more prominent marking that she's only seen other vampires leave behind before.

Definitely not a hickie.

Your brows furrow as you look at her neck as well, noticing a faint outline of something growing darker by the second. Blinking a few times to ensure that you aren't hallucinating, you find that it's really there.

"Lisa, what's on your neck?" You ask.

"A soulmate mark." She responds, feeling a sense of belonging settle over her as she looks at you again. You just confirmed her suspicions by asking that.

"Same as yours," she smiles.

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the-seas-song · 3 years ago

Text

Isabela’s Closet (Bedroom)

Hi! I want to add to the conversation about Isabela’s sexuality by look at two things not many people have talked about - her original dress and her bedroom.

First, though, I want to be clear: Isabela is not lesbian-coded because she doesn’t want an arranged marriage. The plot of Encanto revolves around intergeneration trauma and Colombian culture. It is not a metaphor for queerness!!!

That said, subtext exists and headcanons are fine. This essay is about the subtext that implies Isabela is a lesbian.

Isabela is part of the cool-toned side of the family, and her dress changes from lavender to a deep blue with all the colors of the rainbow on it. They are not, however, in the order of a rainbow/the Pride flag; which makes her final dress a statement that shows the world her colorful and authentic self (and family alignment), but does not say anything about her sexuality. (I have already made a post on how Isabela’s final dress does not symbolize the Pride flag or the Colombian flag (see here).)

Isabela’s original dress, however, does say something about her sexuality. Namely, that she is closeted.

Disclaimer: I’m American, not Colombian, and I don’t know anyone from Colombia. I’m speaking from an American viewpoint, and I’m sorry if I get something wrong. Please correct me if I do!

The color lavender has a long history with the queer community. This article gives a good overview. For this essay, however, I only want to look at two of its connections: lavender marriages and the Lavender Scare.

A lavender marriage:

A lavender marriage is a male–female mixed-orientation marriage, undertaken as a marriage of convenience to conceal the socially stigmatised sexual orientation of one or both partners. The term dates from the early 20th century and is used almost exclusively to characterize certain marriages of public celebrities in the first half of the 20th century, primarily before World War II, when public attitudes made it impossible for a person acknowledging homosexuality to pursue a public career, notably in the Hollywood film industry. One of the earliest uses of the phrase appeared in the British press in 1895, at a time when the colour was associated with homosexuality. (source)

The Lavender Scare:

Most America’s know the story of Senator Joseph McCarthy and how he set off a “red scare” when he famously charged in 1950 that the US State Department and other government agencies had been infiltrated by communist agents. But few Americans know that McCarthy also charged that the government had been infiltrated by homosexuals, and that they posed a threat equally as grave to national security. This fear that gay men and lesbians could be blackmailed into revealing state secrets resulted in a systematic campaign to identify and remove all government employees suspected of homosexuality. In this book, David Johnson argues that a parallel “lavender scare” permeated American cold war culture. But it also helped launch a new civil rights struggle. (source)

As far as I’m aware, lavender doesn’t grow in Colombia (I googled it but I couldn’t find any information). And yet, the color was chosen to represent Isabela.

Why?

Because she is willing to sign her life away and marry Mariano for the sake of her family, even though she is revolted and horrified at the mere thought it. It would be her own lavender marriage.

The filmmakers could have chosen literally any other color, or even a different shade of purple - Isabela also wears a purple orchid in her hair, and it’s a different shade:

This distinguishes the orchid from her dress. The orchid, or Flor de Mayo, is Colombia’s national flower. It’s a perfect symbol for Isabela’s powers and its bold shade represents Isabela’s power and ethnicity. It’s authentic to her true self.

Her dress, on the other hand, is pale. It symbolizes Isabela’s toned-down facade and hides her bold truth.

Now, on to her bedroom!

The following quote comes from The Book of Symbols: Reflections on Archetypal Images by the Archive for Research in Archtypal Symbolism:

Distanced from the pressures and activities of daily life, the bedroom can be a timeless place, a haven of stillness. Here, one might be closest to one’s private self, shed one’s clothes, go to sleep and dream, perhaps make love or simply rest and recuperate from the physical pressures of the outside world.

[cut]

Indeed, bedroom can evoke feminine mysteries, the world of the yin, seduction and generation. The English word “bed” has a semantic connection with “dig” as a hole or a ditch to lie in or soft earth to lie on. Although this meaning disappeared long ago in the Germanic cognates, the connotation of fertility in the word survives, as in a garden bed for plants. The horizontal nature of bed activities is explicit in the French word for the bed, lit, which is derived from the same root as “lie” and “layer.”

Bedroom also evokes for some the experience of the feminine womb as both regression and revivification. In the rhythms of sleep and waking or in sexual surrender, there is a ritual continuity of symbolic death and rebirth. Healing or admonishing voices from the “spirit world” are activated in the lunar darkness. The defenses and persona yield to the vulnerable humanity of the naked self. The nocturnal journey of consciousness into the “underworld” of psychic depths echoes the cyclical movement of the sun, its light extinguished in its setting, only to be renewed at dawn. Just so, in the morning one rises from the horizontal space of sleep and dream, dresses and makes the bed, closes up the night in the bedroom and enters the vertical world of day. (pg 598)

A bed is also a place of rest or respite, and an inner sanctum is defined as “a private room where someone can go and not be disturbed” (source).

However, Isabela’s room isn’t private. It’s the only bedroom Mirabel enters during The Family Madrigal, and Isabela has to maintain her image of happiness and perfection even then:

We will see in a moment, however, that Isabela has a cocoon-like canopy she can raise and lower at will.

First, though, this is the lesbian flag:

There are multiple shades of orange and pink in the lesbian flag, along with a stripe of white.

Isabela’s bed is hidden within an orange and pink cocoon-like canopy, and her bedding is a creamy white. The flowers closest to her hanging bed, including on the stairs, are pink and orange.

Isabela’s furniture is close to her bed and shares the same color scheme of pink, white, and orange. She has a purple accent pillow.

We see here that there are at least three layers of her canopy, cutting her off from the rest of her cool-toned, blue and purple, room. There is a stark contrast between the two different color schemes. The blue and purple cool-toned parts obviously symbolize her familial alignment.

Isabela sings “It's not symmetrical or perfect, but it's beautiful and it's mine. What else can I do?” as she picks up the cactus.

It’s beautiful and it’s hers. I feel like this line needs to get way more attention than it does, because Isabela doesn’t really have anything that is truly hers. Not even her bedroom - Mirabel puts her on display without even thinking about it. This originates with Abuela, who spends the majority of the film physically ‘correcting’ Isabela like she’s a doll (see here for my essay on Isabela and Abuela’s relationship).

Cactus flowers come in a wide range of colors. Cacti themselves symbolize resilience:

Cacti symbolize endurance as it is a plant that can stand up to the test of time and the elements. The cactus flower is a symbol of maternal love because it can thrive in harsh conditions and therefore symbolic of a mother’s unconditional love. When someone is going through a hard time or even someone that is currently striving to reach their goals, it makes a great gift to give them a cacti garden as it is imbued with great meaning. (source)

Isabela’s cactus has orange flowers, just like the lesbian flag. But its meaning goes even deeper.

“I never wanted to marry him! I was doing it for the family!”

That fact that this line is the one that makes the cactus form is extremely telling - just as telling as Isabela’s magic punching Mariano in the face. Deep inside, Isabela is revolted and horrified at having to marry him; and the strength of that feeling keeps escaping her control and destroying her excellent ability to fake happiness.

So what color was the flower that punched Mariano in the face?

Lavender. She shows her objection to a lavender marriage with a lavender flower punch!

Curiously, that’s not the only flower Isabela unintentionally grows - she grows an orange daisy in her hair, and orange and white daisies on the floor (as well as a couple of other flowers, but they’re not important for this essay).

Daisies are another important flower. During the breakfast scene, the flowers Isabela grows in shock include a single white daisy. This is the flower Abuela picks out of her hair:

Daisies symbolize “new beginnings, hope, innocence, fun, affection, and other sweet attributes” (source).

Abuela is literally deflowering Isabela, when she plucks the white daisy. The metaphor is clear - Isabela is expected to give up her ‘innocence’ and have Mariano’s five babies.

But Isabela really doesn’t want to! The orange daisy foreshadows the orange cactus, and both symbolize Isabela’s true sexuality.

This cactus is also not a one-off incident:

Isabela finds another orange cactus for herself, and a yellow one for Mirabel. This fits with Mirabel’s symbolic connection to the yellow butterflies.

Here, Isabela replaces her iconic Flor de Mayo flower for an orange flower (plant? If someone knows what that is please tell me!).

Then she promptly grows a massive orange cactus! Isabela has a clear pattern of lesbian-colored cacti.

Now, back to her bedroom!

Isabela’s flower garden is shaped like a circle. A circle is one of the most ancient and profound symbols in the world:

The circle is a universal symbol with extensive meaning. It represents the notions of totality, wholeness, original perfection, the Self, the infinite, eternity, timelessness, all cyclic movement, God ('God is a circle whose centre is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere' (Hermes Trismegistus)). As the sun, it is masculine power; as the soul and as encircling waters, it is the feminine maternal principle. "It implies an idea of movement, and symbolizes the cycle of time, the per petual motion of everything that moves, the planets' journey around the sun (the circle of the zodiac), the great rhythm of the universe. The circle is also zero in our system of numbering, and symbolizes potential, or the embryo. It has a magical value as a protective agent, ... and indicates the end of the process of individuation, of striving towards a psychic wholeness and self-realization" (Julien, 71). (source).

When Isabela starts singing about her facade, she stops just past the innermost purple flowers, where there are multiple shades of pink. She continues walking through to the center of the circle, which is pink, orange, and yellow/cream colored. The purple and blue flowers are only present on the outer half of the circle. She has placed the warm-toned lesbian colors at the core of the garden, the center of her metaphorical Self.

Isabela’s statues embody her facade. We once again see this significant color difference - her statues are lavender, but they are surrounded by pink and orange.

When she says “what could I do...” for the first time, she changes some of her pink, orange, and white roses to red roses - the iconic symbol of romantic love.

We then get three seconds of her dancing in front of a pink/orange/yellow backdrop.

The background then turns to her familial colors, but only for one second - and it is still framed by pink and orange.

Isabela’s petal bursts are once again the lesbian combination of pink, orange, and yellow/white.

Isabela returns to her bed and its cocoon-like canopy when she sings, “What could I do if I just knew it didn't need to be perfect? It just needed to be? And they'd let me be?”

This evokes the symbolism of rest and respite. Isabela then uses her bed as a physical launchpad, symbolizing how the more she embraces her authentic self, the more her powers grow/the higher she metaphorically rises.

The song then starts showcasing her family colors until this moment:

Isabela really loves her orange plant! The honeydew is both visually and lyrically highlighted: “What else can I do? Can I deliver us a river of sundew? Careful, it's carnivorous, a little just won't do.”

Isabela now turns her attention to Mirabel, and emotionally reaches out to her, “I wanna feel the shiver of something new. I'm so sick of pretty, I want something true, don't you?”

The background is entirely pink and orange/yellow during this line, visually representing Isabela’s truth. It changes to more cool-toned colors when Mirabel starts singing with her.

The rest of the song focuses on her reconnecting with Mirabel, and doesn’t have a single color pattern. We do see a brief moment of the Colombian flag pattern and then the LGBTQ flag pattern, though. I analyized those moments in my previous Flag post (see the link at the top of this essay).

In conclusion, Isabela’s story arc is for her to break free from Abuela’s demands, embrace her authentic Self, and start building healthy relationships with her family. However, by the time the film ends, she has successfully done those things. That means that not only is her future wide open, but she finally has the emotional support and securty she always wanted (“It's a dream when we work as a team”). And that means she would have the emotional insight and skillset needed to maintain a happy and healthy relationship.

It’s the perfect circumstance for her to start exploring her sexuality, and I really hope Disney builds on this subtext and makes it text. I love Elsa, but Isabela has a lot more queer-coding than her.

Isabela’s ready to rise, straight up to the sky.

#Isabela #Isabela Madrigal #Encanto #Lesbian #Mine

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dilucids · 4 years ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSacrificial duties, Mondstadt ver.

would they sacrifice you or mondstadt?

includes: jean, lisa, kaeya, diluc, amber, albedo and venti.

( i'm too socially inept to request for someone to do this so i took matters into my own hands. )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 JEAN GUNNHILDR ━━ DANDELION KNIGHT 〕

━━ is this even a debate? jean would sacrifice you to save mondstadt.

━━ the question would tear her apart though, she'd spend so much time trying to find another way to save both her city and you that she'd neglect her health ( basic needs, like eating, sleeping )

━━ if it were a person or god who was demanding these terms, she'd try to negotiate anything to save both, even her own life, though if you were willing, she'd hesitantly ( literally beg you to not go through it and reassure she'll find another way ) let you go.

━━ no matter what she chooses, she'll still feel incompetent in the end, as if she isn't good enough to be the acting grandmaster and would probably overwork herself to try and focus on something.

"I'll do it," Jean looks back at you, horror flashing through her eyes though you didn't falter, still staring the entity in her eyes. The wind picks up as if feeling the ameno swordswoman's vivid emotions, she shakes her head, taking small steps towards you as she reaches out for your hand. You cringe when she fell to her knees, "no no no, please, you don't have to do this."

You don't look at her, knowing it would only make things worse for the both of you, you didn't want her to be the last thing you saw nor did you want your face to plague her dreams like a ghost. "I care about Mondstadt too, Jean." You hope she understands that you were also doing this for your city and doesn't blame herself, "it's my duty."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 LISA MINCI ━━ WITCH OF PURPLE ROSE 〕

━━ lisa is a bit more of a wild card.

━━ lisa only oversees the library of mondstadt but it's really unclear the extent of her care for the city itself.

━━ it's impossible for one to say if she would hold a lover priority over a city due to lack of background so that's why she's more of a wild card right now, because i could see her potentially doing either.

━━ though i'm leaning a little towards sacrificing you because of her closeness with jean and her involvement in the knights of farvonius, she knows it would be morally wrong to sacrifice an entire city for one person, lover or not.

"It's okay," you reassure her, smile still gracing your face albeit the heavyweight pressure of death for your city digging it's claws into your shoulders. "I'm sorry," she apologises for the nth time and you can do no more than squeeze her hand in affirmation, knowing a hug would be too much for the both of you right now.

You feel her fingers slip through yours and your hand is embraced by the winds of Mondstadt, a sudden change from the electricity that plagued her fingertips and passed onto yours. You take a shaky breath and leave her behind you, her eyes watching your back along the way until you were nothing more than a dot in the horizon━━ ready to become a star in the sky.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 KAEYA ALBERICH ━━ FROSTWIND SWORDSMAN 〕

━━ another wildcard!

━━ unlike lisa, however, i'm leaning towards sacrificing monstadt.

━━ even with all his background knowledge, kaeya is still a character that holds a lot of secrets and it's canon that he's a mysterious figure, cavalry captain or not.

━━ don't get your hopes up though, because he still may sacrifice you ( after a talk with jean or diluc/j )

━━ kaeya lets anything happen as long as it falls into place of how he has expected to end, he really doesn't know what to do when an unknown entity shows up and demands the price of you for his city or vice versa.

━━ really hard to get a grasp on him.

━━ i could see him spending one last day with you after deciding he was going to give you up ( you obviously knew of this ) but after 24 hours with you, away from mondstadt, he might realise that, even if he regrets it for the rest of his life, he'll never be able to give you up.

━━ alternatively, if he didn't open up to you about this or went to jean or diluc, they would convince him to "do what's right" and give you up.

"No. I'm not doing it," his tone differed from the norm━━ he was never like this, not even on official knights' business. His eyes unnervingly determined, tone you were unable to refute, and words that scared you. "Kaeya, you have to," your fingers place themselves over his, which were barely touching your cheeks.

"I'm not doing it," he reaffirms, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself out of all people. "I'm━━ I'm not losing you to some city. I can rebuild a city, we can find a city elsewhere," he states, eyebrows furrowed and not taking a single breath between his words. You pry his fingers away from your cheek, holding them over your lap. "Kaeya, this isn't just 'some city', it's the city you love. The city we love." You coax, finally getting him to look into your eyes. "You're the person I love." He says, exasperated.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 DILUC RAGNVINDR ━━ DARKNIGHT HERO 〕

━━ hate to be the bearer of bad news,, and as biased as i am to this man, he would give you up.

━━ wouldn't open up to anyone about it, he'll just drive himself insane pondering both options.

━━ and although it would literally make him insane even thinking about losing someone precious to him ( again ) but his loyalty lies within the city of freedom and the city alone.

━━ even after the dispute with the knights of farvonius ( in the webtoon ), he still remains as the protector of mondstadt and i don't think nor am i able to see it will ever change.

━━ unlike kaeya though, i don't think he'll be able to see you at all once he decides to sacrifice you, he'll just be reminded that he'll never be able to see you again and the terrible decision that he's going to go through with.

━━ will also throw himself into extensive work to get you off his mind afterwards.

"You okay there?" Your eyebrows furrow, leaning against the open door of Diluc's office, seeing his hair tied back into a bun, hands in his face as he gazed deeply at his wooden desk. His head flies up at the sound of your voice, clearing his throat, "when did you get here?"

You shrug, taking steps towards him as he leans back into his chair, "being a hero taking a toll on you?" You tease him, taking a seat on his desk next to him and placing your feet on the chair, leaning forward to cup his cheek. He turns away. You're no stranger to his austere ways so you merely lean back, balancing yourself with your hands against his desk, telling him about your day.

"━━and then he wrapped it up and sent it to me, which was awfully disturbing might I add."

"I'm sorry," your eyebrow quirks when he suddenly cuts into your storytelling. You push yourself forward, reaching out for him and redirecting his gaze ( which hadn't looked in your direction even once ) onto you. "What's wrong my dear?" He only grimaces at the nickname━━ wincing almost and still refused to look at you, gaze cast upon the floor behind his bangs. You couldn't even see his eyes.

"Your guilty act is making me ponder if you've had previous relations with someone else, Master Diluc," you frown a little, using your other hand to force him to peer at you. He leans forward, placing his forehead on yours and whispers, "never."

"I just wanted to apologise for the future," you smile a little and place a kiss on his forehead. "I will always forgive you."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 ALBEDO ━━ THE CHALK PRINCE 〕

━━ albedo's original creator hails from khaeri'ah and venti, archon of mondstadt, was one of the original seven who aided in the destruction of khaeri'ah; is that enough reason to destroy it for a lover? no.

━━ would he still do it? yes, yes, yes.

━━ we all know he considers himself a threat to mondstadt but i don't think he would've ever thought this was why he was a threat, to hold an entire city in his palms and be able to destroy it with a single word was quite a terrifying thought.

━━ it wouldn't stop him though, i really don't think albedo holds any sentimental attachment to mondstadt, he only works and lives there as of right now but he's currently heeding his creater's words and pursuing the truth of the world.

━━ he might grimace over losing a few people that he holds dear and end up rethinking his decision but in the end, will choose you.

━━ another reason i think he would destroy mondstadt is that, once albedo discovers something or the feeling of enlightenment that comes with studying something new disperses, he is quick to stop studying that and abandon it due to the "bittersweet truth" hitting him so if he grew tired of mondstadt,,,,,, rip to jean 🙏

Your eyes flicker from the sight of his back to the unknown entity, hovering just above the floor, her eyes uninterested in you as she gazed into Albedo's eyes, maybe trying to read his expressionless face. "Have you made a choice, Kreideprinz?"

Nothing is said. Nothing from Albedo nor you, you didn't seem to have a part in this private conversation but you also seemed to be an integral part of it due to the way Albedo kept looking back at you, squeezing your hand as if to remind himself that you existed. "I'm choosing them."

She peers at you now, her eyes boring into yours as she scans you for something, "are you sure about this decision?"

For some odd reason, you're not offended by her words, maybe because she didn't sound like she meant it in a rude way ( it also seemed out of her standoffish character ) but was genuine in her curiosity if Albedo would go back on his words. He squeezes your hand again, rubbing circles on the back of your hand━━ something he did to calm you but it seemed that this action was to ground him instead.

"Yes, I am."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 AMBER ━━ OUTRIDER 〕

━━ YOU.

━━ in the most heart breaking – heart warming way ever, she'd give you up.

━━ notice how more than half of these mondstadt fuckers would give you up? yeah 🙄

━━ on a serious note, a lot of them have devoted themselves fully to protecting the city and i don't see any one of them being able to give the command to destory the city, even if their s/o was being held with a knife to their throat right infront of them and amber is the very same.

━━ even though we don't know to much about her, she is seen as a perfect example of justice by kaeya, and is extremely devoted to her work, she's just below diluc and jean in the most to least likely to sacrifice you in my opinion. it's simply overlooked due to her lack of presence in the game.

━━ i think her compassionate and kind side will make it harder for her to come to a decision because she doesn't want to have to lose one thing to keep another but in the end, she will give you up.

Amber seemed extremely distressed, immediately running into Jean's office once arriving back at the Knight's base after finishing her usual trek of Mondstadt's surroundings. You had attempted to call out her as she ran through the halls but she didn't even look your way, which was peculiar to you but you could only guess something dangerous must've happened due to her eagerness of reaching Jean's office, slamming the door wide open.

You quirk an eyebrow and Kaeya, stood beside you, whistled briskly, hands on his hip. "Someone's in a hurry," you roll your eyes at his comment and simply grab his arm, dragging him over to Jean's office, "just shut up and come."

The minute you knock and open the door however, the room is quiet. Jean sat on her chair, elbows placed on the table and concern burrowed deeply within her furrowed eyebrows and Amber, who was shaking her leg up and down in anxiety, fiddling with her nails.

Kaeya seems a little amused by the situation, unlike you, who was extremely concerned by the little actions of anxieties Amber was exhibiting, striding over to her side in an instant. Placing your hand on her shoulder, she leans into you almost instantly and begins quietly sniffling into your shirt.

You mouth to Jean that you're taking her out and Jean nods, thanking you with a small smile on her face. You guide Amber into a quiet room in the headquarters, letting her silently cry as you attempt to soothe her. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head, only repeating a small, "I'm sorry."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 VENTI ━━ WINDBORNE BARD 〕

━━ venti is characterised as a free spirit, like the freedom that the city of mondstadt represents, he carries that within him but at the end of the day, he is still mondstadt's archon.

━━ so we all saw this coming but you 👫

━━ i don't really think there's a lot to explain, he's their archon and even if he loses everyone he's ever loved, his priority is mondstadt.

━━ he'll probably take you on that ride on dvalin he's been promising you for the past year with no explanation.

━━ you'll ask him why he's dragged you from work and he'll just say he's feeling nice or that the winds are good for a ride right now.

━━ you'll stare at him with that, 'don't–you–control–the–winds?' look and he'll wink at you, telling you to stop staring at him or he'll blush.

━━ will completely come undone when he seed you happily laughing on dvalin's back, arms spread open as your laugh echoes into the wind.

Your excited whooping is all he hears, previous nervousness abandoned with his hands placed on your waist as Dvalin pierced up above the clouds; the ground nothing more than a fleeting dream to you both. It's such a shame that young, immature Dendro Archon got his hands on you first, gifting you his gift of Earth's nature━━ if not for the God of Wisdom, Venti would've gifted you heaven's winds if he knew how simply being in the sky made you so ecstatic.

The adrenaline finally dies down when Dvalin arrives just above the clouds, wings creating new and dispersing the old. You lean into Venti who takes this as an invitation to push himself further into your side and begin playing with your fingers, allowing you time to simply relish in the situation. "You're awfully quiet today," you muse, staring at Venti with a small smile.

He hums, "it's quiet up here," in nothing less of a whisper. You nod along with his words, fighting the urge to jump into the clouds, knowing you'll pass right through them. Venti sinks into you further somehow, like you were a passing cloud; his shoulder pressed into the crack of your arm and torso, head leaning on your shoulder. "You'll be okay Venti," and you embrace him.

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin oneshot #genshin lisa #genshin jean #genshin kaeya #genshin amber #genshin albedo #genshin diluc #genshin venti #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader

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saphirered · 3 years ago

Note

I’m in love with your writing and binged your entire page one night lol

Could I request a story with Caleb where the M9 find a wounded reader on the run from people who want to use her for her very powerful magical abilities. She doesn’t trust Caleb at first because he’s a wizard and just as she opens up to him and starts to develop feelings discovers he has been studying her powers - thought with no bad intentions. Some good old angsty enemies to lovers type of beat. Preferably with a good ending but do what you wish ;))

Apparently I'm giving you more stuff to binge as this is looking more and more like a several parter 😅. Prepare for loads of angst and conflict and some good hurt/comfort to come but for now, here comes part 1! 😘

Nobody pays attention to a vagrant dressed in rags, looking about a week past their last proper bath begging on the side of the road for money or standing by a shop, mouth watering at the food. Nobody pays attention to what they don’t want to see in their pristine cities. Not unless they want to chase you away because you’re in their way or you’re tarnishing their image. Speaking about image, sometimes some rich folk will take pity upon you, casting a coin your way to make themselves look good and generous in the eyes of others.

That’s exactly what you became when you needed to disappear. You needed to become unseen, unnoticed and a shadow among a crowd. You succeed casting away all remainders of your previous life because in the end, your life is worth more to you than your earthly possessions. Survival above all. You’ll live this way until you can get somewhere where no one will question you, or where you’ll be under the protection of others, far away where your enemies cannot reach you. Maybe Vasselheim is a good place to go? They’re not fond of the arcane magics. Sure you’ll have to give up using some of your own gifts but it’s worth being able to live your life freely.

You’re still a ways away from Vasselheim and you don’t have the funds to get there yet. Even if you make it to a port, stowing away on a ship is fine but you can’t trust them to not throw you overboard or leave you stranded at the nearest island to save provisions. And that’s if they don’t hand you over to any authorities and risk you getting back to square one. You’ll have to wander around Wildemount until you’re able to book passage or find somewhere to lay low, forever on the move. It’s not the worst and you get used to it pretty quickly.

Weren’t you lucky when you saw the recent champions of the Victory Pit were strolling around town flaunting their winnings. You need food. You need warm clothes. And most of all, you could do with some extra change in your pocket. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal all of it of course. Just enough to get by and they wouldn’t notice. So you trail them, sticking to the shadows. They don’t seem to notice you.

Then you struck. You got the coin pouch from the ostentatious one. It was child’s play really. He didn’t even notice you lifting the pouch from his belt when you brushed against his shoulder muttering an apology. You were already amidst the crowd when you heard the tiefling exclaim his coin pouch was gone and he put two and two together quickly, the charlatan he is so before you knew it they were on the lookout for someone fitting your description. You had to move quick, buy your necessities and get out of the market. You know just the place to hide out; the Evening Nip. Nobody asks questions there.

Once you found yourself safely sipping on the shitty ale served at the Evening Nip you didn’t expect the colourful group of strangers to stroll in. It was already too late when you spotted them and you had no where to go. Still your quickly gathered up the coin back into the ornate velvet pouch and put it in your own pocket hidden beneath the layers of your clothes putting your hands behind your back as you tried to make a break for the exit. They did not let you pass, a relatively buff looking woman gripping the handle of her sword stepping in front of you while another one, though shorter blocked your escape by interposing her staff.

“No funny business, friend. You have something that belongs to my companion here, and he wants it back.” The half-orc speaks as you grit your teeth. You’d really hoped to avoid this but you weren’t stupid enough to bring out the big artillery… yet… so you lift your hands in surrender and allow them to lead you over to one of the tables taking a seat of your own accord while you’re flanked by the buff woman on one side, the purple tiefling on the other and the rest of them takes up seating of their own around the table keeping an eye on you.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” The half-orc leads as the tiefling next to you holds out his hand brushing his other over your shoulder in a soft push, mimicking what you had done when you pickpocketed him. Are they mocking you? Bastards.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, friend.” You speak innocently. You know they won’t buy it anyway, their minds already made up, but it gives you just a second more to get a grasp on all of them. You’re already plotting your escape, despite the odds being turned against you. You have to try.

“Oh, I think you do, and we simply want a conversation. You wouldn’t want to tarnish this new friendship now would you?” The tiefling grins as you look at him. You can feel the strings of enchantment pricking into your mind but you know how this works. You’ll just have to play along. You smile, like being faced with an old friend, just as the spell would have you have, letting your defensive mannerism fade.

“You’re quite right. It’s no way to treat new friends. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot.” You glance between all of them and you feel a pair of blue eyes stare into you, right through you. There’s just something about him that doesn’t add up and you’re almost afraid he knows you’re not under the tiefling’s spell after all but you do whatever you can to not show that on your face and play along.

“Should we get some drinks to commemorate new friends?” You suggest about to get up but the woman in blue’s staff moves across the table right onto your shoulder urging you to stay in place. You don’t look fazed and merely amused with this action as if it is a harmless joke and not a threat. The tiefling moves the staff from your shoulder as you turn your attention back to him as he smiles.

“I think that’s an absolutely wonderful idea. Drinks on me.” He stands with you and begins leading you over to the bar. Clive takes the order and begins pouring the ale as requested while the tiefling keeps conversation with you, completely oblivious and detached from his friends. You play along and when you reach to the coin pouch, you pull out the coins owed to the barkeep. The tiefling smiles and you can see from your peripheral the red head notices too. Both confirm you have the coin pouch. So once you pay you reach for your pocket grasping for a short iron rod placing it in your hand, whispering words under your breath as the tiefling talks to the barkeep, your hands begin to move according to the familiar motions and before the redhead can warn his lavender companion, the tiefling is frozen in place unable to move and you’re making a break for the door.

Spells fly left and right and you dodge a few, take the damage from others as the fighters dependant on close range rush for you. A crossbow bolt hits your thigh and a large cat’s claw appears in front of you. You try to dodge it reaching for you but it catches you and holds you in place despite your struggling to get free. They circle you, bind your hands, take back the coin pouch and your own limited belongings from you as you fight back trying to keep them away from you but you’re just alone and they are the many.

You feel helpless and desperate. That’s when you make eye contact with the blue eyed wizard. There’s a look of recognition in his eyes. Not for who you are directly, but the way you’re acting and lashing out, like some caged animal wishing desperately to be free, like a creature on the run, like you’re two sides of the same coin. His eyes reveal to you pain and suffering and pity but you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone’s pity.

“Why did you steal that coin?” The wizard asks as you glare at him from your seated position on the ground.

“Why does anybody steal anything? I’m hungry. I’m cold and I’m broke as hell.” You spit none too kindly.

“Then get a job. Make some money. Or at least learn to be a good thief.” The rude woman snorts. You roll your eyes. Typical. You know plenty of people like her, maybe you even used to be like her but not anymore. You grew out of that the hard way. She will too, in time.

“None of you noticed until you went to pay for something.” You grin and the woman is about to lunge for you at your provocation. So easy to piss that one off. Funny, actually.

“I don’t think she can just get a job. Not a regular one anyway.” The wizard observes as he stares into you. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Your silence, biting your lip says enough. You don’t have anywhere to go. Once you did but that’s gone. Torn away from you.

“How about this? You spent a good deal of my friend’s coin but we’ll give you the opportunity to make it back as a repayment. Stick around for a little bit and go our separate ways when the debt is repaid?” There’s some protests but the half-orc quiets them down when the wizard speaks up in your favour. He doesn’t trust you, not after the stunts you just pulled, especially not when the look on your face mirrors his own so closely but perhaps it’s something within him that calls to him to make right a wrong, or prevent another soul to be lost to the troubles he’s faced.

With these idiots bound to make a scene they’ll call attention to themselves and by default that means away from you. This might work in your favour. They’re adventurers and given that they seem somewhat familiar with the Evening Nip, you can only assume they’re not exactly always on the right side of the law. You’re not judging but that gives you some safety and assurance should things go south or you need a quick way out. And if things really do turn in your favour, they’ll be your cover to places and funds to get you far far away from this hell hole.

“Looks like you got yourselves a new companion then, friends.” You don’t smile, only displaying an expression so neutral that makes the wizard think for a second he might have made a mistake but for now you have mutual interests and if there’s anything he can count on, it’s the reliability of a common goal, and a lot to lose should you get outed.

So next you know, you’re somewhat absorbed into their little group, learning their names and where they’re from, chatting happily but you can’t help but notice that yours and Caleb’s stories are similar in some ways, mostly the lack of detail. You’ve been raised within the Empire, but found yourself on a less fortunate path fending for yourself. The only difference between you and him is that he found Nott on his path while you had remained alone. The group didn’t seem to mind your lack of details, going with the excuse you’re not about to bare your life story to the people you only just met and you’re lucky. You hadn’t told anyone what happened since you’ve been on the run and you don’t plan on doing so anytime soon, especially not to people who haven’t earned your trust yet.

Of course you’ve been roomed with Caleb and Nott, finding yourself in one of the most expensive inns in the city, paid for by the group. Unlike Nott, who goes through your stuff when she thinks you’re not looking, Caleb is the perfect roommate. He doesn’t cross any boundaries, ask too many questions or has any annoying habits. He just reclines on his bed, going through his spellbook, transcribing new spells to add to his own collection. Every time he does you get extremely uneasy and snappy and do whatever you can to not be in the same space as the wizard. It doesn’t do your roommate relationship any good and may leave you at odds at times. Caleb may not understand why but it’s not his place to ask questions, nor does he think you’ll actually answer them. Instead you make up excuses, helping Beau with training, letting Jester braid your hair, keeping Fjord company while Molly claims their room for one of his escapades, getting some booze for Nott, or when Yasha is there, watch the storms with the woman, anything to get you out of that shared room with the wizard.

————

Rain hits the window of your room in the Pillow Trove as the redheaded wizard strolls in throwing his backpack on his bed and sitting down with a deep sigh. You look up over the edge of the book you’re reading seeing the wizard soaked through the bone wringing out his hair best he can. With a wave of your hand and words uttered under your breath you grin as the water evaporates from Caleb’s form, leaving his hair slightly more curly and frizzy, and his clothes warm and comfy. He gives you a look as you continue reading as if you’re completely unaware of anything going on in the room, completely absorbed into your book. Ignoring Caleb.

“I didn’t take you for the type that reads smutty romance novels.” He comments and gestures towards Courting of the Crick. You finally look at Caleb as if he only just gained your attention, as if you’re only just aware of his presence in the room. Both of you know better but this is how it is.

“You wouldn’t. But according to Jester you enjoy them very much.” You grin, having gotten to hear all about their little trip to the Chastity’s Nook. Caleb gives you a disapproving look as he begins to unpack his things, taking out the fresh ink and paper, setting out his spellbook and you mark your page, putting the book on your side table as you quickly get up and go for the door.

“Where are you off to all of the sudden?” Caleb asks as you grit your teeth. Can he not just leave you alone? Does he really trust you so little you’re not allowed to leave of your own accord?

“I’m going to see Jester and Beau in their room. Now I will bid you good day unless you think I need an escort for the room two doors down.” You snap. Okay, that may have been unnecessary. You could have at least been neutral. Too late for that now. Caleb waves his and as if dismissing you. Act like a child, get treated like a child. So you leave the room letting the door fall closed a little harder than you normally would in protest and make your way over towards Beau and Jester’s room.

Jester, happily lets you in and while Beau has definitely warmed up to you, things are still rocky. She wouldn’t go as far as calling you a friend, but more that one neighbourhood kid her parents tried to get her to play with despite the two of you never really having been friends at all. At least you can bond over your slightly criminal tendencies. It’s Jester who’s completely accepted you as one of her own, questioning you about anything and everything, preaching to you about the Traveler, gushing about her romance novels, specifically Oskar, which you’re pretty sure is actually reflecting her major crush on Fjord but let the girl dream. Who knows what will come of it?

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years ago

Text

black & white

request: from nonnie: ASDFGhjkl. Why are your fics so CUTE? 😭 Can I request a cute and cheesy George proposing to the fem!reader—and they’re wedding? 💜

desc: a love story unfolded via a timeline of events and colors. based on the song ‘black and white’ by niall horan

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k

warning(s): lil bit of angst, alcohol, some sexual content if you squint but it stops before things ~heat up~

A/N: this is just pure fluff. may or may not have cried at the cheesiness. idk. i’m a cheesy gal. can’t help it. i’m in love with a fictional character. sorry i went a tad overboard with this. also let’s pretend ~voldy~ doesn’t exist in this k? reminder that my requests are currently closed, i am merely working through the requests already in my inbox. i do not give permission for my work to be posted on any other platform.

Red

Red, hot fury swept through your bones as you watched him laugh hysterically alongside his brother. You balled your fists together, ready to throw a punch, but you knew your mum would lock you in your room until you were forty years of age if you even thought of throwing hands.

George Weasley was a pretentious little git. It was bad enough that he was your neighbour and you had to see him and his equally annoying twin in the village nearly every day, but what made it even worse was that for whatever reason, he’d chosen you to be on the receiving end of all of his pranks. His mother, Molly, was not for it -- she often gave her sons a solid tongue lashing, but it clearly never made an impact, for each and every day they were back to their normal mischief, seeking out ways to make you shake with anger.

“Weasley!” you squeaked as he and his brother ran back across the field toward their home. You loathed the idea of being in the same school as him in just two years time. At least here, at home, you could escape to your own house and your own room, far away from the boy who teasingly threw a red paint balloon all over you and your new dress. But at school, well -- the castle was only so big, wasn’t it? You weren’t sure how far away from him you’d be able to get.

You watched as he and Fred ran away, their giggles echoing through the air on top of the hill. You looked down at your ruined dress and screamed. You reckoned you’d never be able to love the colour red ever again -- not when it had ruined your beautiful purple dress, and especially when it was the colour of his annoying, messy hair.

Yellow

“I’m really sorry.”

He was standing across from you in the field. You thought about telling him that you needed to take four showers in order to get all of the red paint from your hair, and that your dress was permanently stained, but instead you folded your arms across your chest and huffed a bit. Not even magic could salvage it.

“I promise, I mean it,” he squeaked, as if he could read your mind. He seemed sincere, but he was always getting into all types of trouble, wasn’t he? Perhaps he was as good a liar as he was a pranker.

You kicked at the dirt, unsure of what to say. “You ruined my dress.”

“I know, I’m really sorry,” he said again, “it was all Freddie’s doing! I know he normally takes charge of pranks, but blimey, I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”

You arched your eyebrows up in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah,” George told you. The wind ruffled the leaves on the tree next to you both, and you watched him tentatively as a big smile split his face. He wandered over to the tree trunk and picked at the flowers that were growing at the base. Then he turned around, marched right over to you, and handed them to you.

Yellow dandelions. You peered down at them, and then looked up at him in surprise. This wouldn’t fix your dress, but he was trying, at least. You noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks when he smiled. “Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

You couldn’t help it; you blushed and looked toward the ground. You picked a bit at the flowers and met George’s gaze once again. “You still owe me, Weasley.”

You both heard Molly calling him for dinner. “Okay, mum!” he called back, his voice echoing against the wind. He turned back toward you. “Promise. I owe you. I also promise to kick Fred’s arse since it was his idea anyway.”

A squeak of a giggle emitted from your lips and you watched as George Weasley skipped all the way home.

Blue

All of Ravenclaw house erupted into cheers as the colours of the Great Hall changed to celebrate the momentous occasion of your house winning the Quidditch Cup. It had been a neck to neck match against Gryffindor, but had you not caught the snitch before Harry, they would have had it in the bag for the third year in a row.

“At the risk of sounding like I’m pro Ravenclaw, I’ve got to say, you guys put up a great match,” you whirled around in the crowd and saw George standing in front of you. He had his hands in his pockets and he shrugged, clearly upset at a Gryffindor loss, but at least they hadn’t lost to Slytherin, right? “You really are a wicked Seeker.”

“Thanks, Weasley,” you said triumphantly, both pleased with yourself for winning but also feeling a little bit guilty for beating Gryffindor.

“When did you get so good anyway?”

“Hmm,” you placed your hand to your chin and pretended to be deep in thought, “do you mean, how did I get to be so incredible? I don’t have an answer for you, truthfully, reckon I was just born with it.”

Students filtered around you both, and you watched him laugh as blue confetti fell around the both of you and the rest of the Great Hall. Personally you thought it was a little much, but the captain had insisted. You met George’s gaze again though, and rolled your eyes.

“Oi, mate,” you heard Fred call. He reached his twin and threw an arm around his shoulders, “what’re you doing over here, conversing with the enemy?” You rolled your eyes yet again, something you found yourself doing quite often with the two of them, and Fred just grinned obnoxiously at you. “Only joking, Y/N. I suppose if anyone had to beat us, we’re glad it’s Ravenclaw. But if you repeat that, we’ll deny it, I swear to Merlin.”

“My lips are sealed, Freddie.”

You bid them both adieu before turning back to your house, celebrating and clinking your goblets of pumpkin juice together, and through the yelps and the cheers, you missed George say to Fred that he actually quite liked the way the Great Hall looked, all decorated in blue.

Orange

“How about you get to work on the ground Unicorn horn, and I’ll try and get this water crystalized?” you offered.

Today’s lesson was to brew the Oculus Potion, in the event any of you ever needed to restore someone’s sight. In an attempt to separate them, Snape had paired George with you and Fred with another Ravenclaw who didn’t look happy at all at the prospect of having him as her partner. You peered over the cauldron at George and said, “No worries. We’ve only got thirteen steps. I reckon if we keep at this without any distractions, we’ll be finished before the rest of class.”

“Better get cracking, then,” George replied.

The two of you worked in comfortable silence; you tensed a few times when Snape meandered by your table, peering down into your cauldron and scoffing, for you were certain that an attempt at any type of potion would never live up to his unrealistic expectations of two sixteen-year-olds.

A little while later, you realized that the heat emitting from all of the cauldrons was making the entire classroom incredibly warm. “Blimey, could he open a bloody window, or something?” you asked, ignoring the fact that there were absolutely no windows in the dungeons. George laughed and continued to add the crystalized water into your cauldron as you pulled your sweater over your head, leaving you in your white button down and blue and grey tie. You pulled your hair back off of your neck and said, “Alright, be sure to only add the water until it turns indigo, George.”

The poor lad hadn’t been paying attention, because your potion was far past indigo at this point. In fact, it looked as though it had turned a deep, navy blue, bordering on black, as George peered at you with soft eyes and continued to pour in the crystalized water, not realizing that he was messing up your carefully brewed potion. A snapping noise pulled him from his thoughts, and a slight explosion erupted from your cauldron and caused black smoke to cover George’s face and hair.

Most of the class began to laugh, but Snape angrily shushed them and sauntered over to the two of you, clearly giddy beyond belief that he was able to deduct points from both of your houses for causing such a ruckus in his precious dungeons. George wiped a bit of the soot from his forehead as you poured in the antidote and giggled.

“Merlin, I’m sorry -- didn’t mean to get points taken from your house.”

“Eh, it was bound to happen sooner or later.. don’t worry about it. Look! Good as new,” you clapped your hands together as the potion turned to the desired shade of orange before the final two steps. You met George’s look through the orange haze over your cauldron and asked him, “What had you so distracted anyway, Weasley?”

“Oh, erm -- nothing,” he replied a bit quickly. It didn’t go unnoticed how he’d stumbled over his words and immediately went back to looking rather intently at the directions. You bit back a smile and looked back down at yours too, unable to rid yourself of the nerves bubbling up inside of you as George looked up once again, stealing glances at you through the orange mist as nerves overtook him, too.

Green

“You had no right to do that! What the bloody hell were you thinking?”

George was standing across from you on the empty dance floor; the Yule Ball had ended abruptly and each and every student had filtered from the Great Hall and back to their respective dormitories, per the teachers. The two of you had managed to stay somehow, now more than ten feet away; you looked at one another with envy as a dramatic scene unfurled between you both.

The entire night had been nothing but a dream, up until that one dance. You’d waltzed in, your light green dress swaying beautifully near your ankles, your hand wrapped around your date’s arm. You waved to your friends, who stood with their respective dates as well, and promised yourself you’d catch up with them at the end of the night when you’d undoubtedly have stories to tell them of the most magical evening of your life.

Except that wasn’t how it worked out, had it?

“He was all over you!” George called, and you noticed how prominent the veins in his hands were when he threw them up in the air. “You said no, didn’t you? He asked you to come back to his dorm and you’d said no. Did you expect me to stand there and do nothing when he grabbed your wrists and tried to pull you there?”

George was right. You had said no, and truthfully, the way your date had grabbed you and attempted to drag you back to his room had really frightened you. You reckoned it was the firewhisky he’d drunk earlier that evening -- he wasn’t violent or anything, but he seemed desperate to get you there. All George had done was step in and stand up for you, so why on earth should you be angry at him?

You didn’t want to give George the satisfaction of letting him know that he was right. You were mad at him for other reasons, anyway. It should’ve been you that he asked to the ball, not that other disturbingly annoying Beauxbatons girl. It’s like he’d picked her particularly because he knew her annoying, bubbly personality and thick French accent would get right under your skin.

You softened a bit as you took a deep breath. “I appreciate what you did, George, but it wasn’t your place. I can take care of myself. He nearly knocked you right out!”

George winced at your words and brought a hand to his black and blue eye. He hadn’t even had the time to grab some ice and place it to the injury, and it was now rather swollen. “I don’t care if he knocked me to the bloody ground, I wasn’t going to let him do that to you!”

You couldn’t help it; anger took you over and you were saying things you shouldn’t have before you could second guess yourself. “Well you know what, George? Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!”

You knew your words hurt him, but you didn’t care. He looked as though he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him; he stepped backward and faltered a bit. His breathing became heavy and irregular. “You already had your date when I asked her, Y/N -- don’t you dare try and pin this on me.”

He was right, yet again. You couldn’t help it. Big, fat tears were falling down your face now and you reckoned you wouldn’t be able to salvage the rest of the hideousness that was this evening. You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and noticed the smears of black mascara and eyeliner on your skin. He inched forward now and opened his arms, but you backed away, still not ready to show him any affection.

You were being a git, but the truth was, you’d waited until the very last possible second for George to ask you to the ball. So when he didn’t, you begrudgingly agreed to the Hufflepuff who’d stepped forward and asked you himself. And as you walked swiftly passed George and up the steps to your common room, you realized that though you’d said yes, your heart had been with the Weasley boy you so adored the entire evening.

In truth, what he’d done was brave and full of love and passion. But you were still filled with hurt.

The green monster of jealousy that you’d felt when you’d watched him dance with his date was such a vice, but you just couldn’t help how you felt.

You left George alone in the desolate Great Hall as he let his head fall into his hands, pushing down his fury and tears.

Grey

You hadn’t gone back to him, that boy from the Yule Ball. You thought about it, but you figured you’d spare George more anger.

He’d approached you, your date, the day afterwards, apologizing profusely for his behaviour and how embarrassed he was at the whole ordeal. He’d asked you for lunch, only if you were okay, and you politely declined. “Friends,” you’d said, and he smiled pitifully, but gratefully, and took your hand in his to shake it.

It was so stupid, wasn’t it? Fighting with George over this. So he hadn’t asked you to the Yule Ball, so what? It wasn’t the end all, be all, was it? And he’d stood up for you, hadn’t he? When things had gotten a little out of control. He hadn’t been your date, but he had been your saviour.

It had only been a week since the dance and you two hadn’t said a word to one another. Fred had begged you too. “Come on, Y/N, you know he’s real sorry. Can’t you just forgive him? Blimey, it’s a right difficult thing to do, splitting my time between you both.”

You merely pressed your lips together and huffed. “He can come apologize to me himself, Fred. He doesn’t need you to do it for him.”

But later that afternoon, you figured, why wait? This whole thing was so dramatic and stupid. And so after rereading the same page eight times due to your lack of concentration, you jumped up from your chair in the Ravenclaw common room and made way toward the Great Hall, as fast as your legs could carry you. You were just going to tell him exactly that -- that this entire thing was dumb, and that you were thankful for him, and that bloody hell, you missed him. Perhaps it was a bit dramatic -- it had only been six days, right? You couldn’t help it. You missed him. You missed him a lot.

The thought of finally speaking to him after a very dramatic week apart made your heart flutter, and a very wide smile split your face just as you were about to round the last bend before the Great Hall.

And then you saw it. Them. Tucked away in a corner near a deserted classroom -- tangled together, George’s hands on her waist, hers in his long red hair. Her lips nearly on his. Smiling, giggling. Kissing him.

That bloody annoying Beauxbatons girl.

You stopped short and nearly tripped over your own two feet. You opened your mouth to speak but just let your mouth tremble in silence as you watched them snog one another. Her laugh was so painfully sugary sweet, you felt as though you’d like to rip your own hair out.

You were surprised how quickly the sight of them had sent your heart plummeting into your stomach. Somewhere in the few moments when you stood there in shock, your vision had become blurry and your face had become wet. You wiped at it with your sweater sleeve and sniffled quietly so they wouldn’t hear you. You spun on your heel and sped back toward your common room, wondering what the bloody hell had come over you when you thought of apologizing to him. You just wanted to get back to your dorm. Or perhaps back to your house in Ottery St. Catchpole. Stupid, silly girl you were.

If only you knew that George had spotted you before you’d left and froze solid in the spot he was standing, ignoring the forwardness of the Beauxbatons girl attached to his arm, his heart and mind chasing you all the way home.

Purple

The Ravenclaw common room was completely empty except for you. You always did this, though -- each and every year, you were always the last to finish packing. Not because you were a procrastinator, but because you hated admitting to yourself that another year was over, and you were another year closer to impending graduation.

Someone popped through the door and said your name softly. You turned and saw George standing there with a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said, “train’s here. You almost ready to go?”

You groaned and looked back down at your trunk, now fully packed. “If I’ve got to be.” You felt like an absolute idiot that those few words brought tears to your eyes so easily. “Oi, here I go again.”

George laughed lightly and pulled you into a hug. “We’ll be back in no time, you’ll see again how quickly the summer holidays go.”

“But George, it’s our last year!” you cried. And then you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, because you didn’t fancy the idea of boarding the train with smudged makeup and a red nose. “Anyway, shall we?”

When you grabbed your trunk and headed toward the door, George gently took your hand in his and turned you around. “I’ve got something for you actually.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him and clapped your hands together. “A present? It’s not even my birthday.”

But then you wondered if it was actually a present he wanted to give you, because he took your other hand in his and squeezed them, a serious look on his face. Your features twisted into that of confusion, and you’d be lying if you said that your heartbeat didn’t increase at the sight of him looking at you so earnestly. “What is it?”

“I’ve been a real git this year. Specifically, the Yule Ball. And a little while after that.”

You laughed and playfully shoved him. Though you still felt the sting of those few weeks, you two had managed to patch things up. He hadn’t lasted that long with that Beauxbatons girl anyway. “George, we’ve been over this, c’mon -- you were only doing what you thought was right. I’ve forgiven you, you know.”

“I know,” he smiled, and you could tell that he was equally as glad as you were that you two had placed that argument behind you. But what you two hadn’t touched on since then was what you’d said to him in a fit of fury: Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the chance to try anything with me if you’d just bloody asked me to the ball first instead of that stuffy Beauxbatons girl!

Of course he’d wanted to ask you. He’d wanted to ask you more than anything in the entire world, but each and every time he’d opened his mouth to say something, he couldn’t. Bloody nerves, and all that. Then he went and acted like a prat, making you cry, and he vowed to himself that he’d never make you cry again, unless it were happy tears.

“I realized I’ve never properly made it up to you -- not asking you to the the Yule Ball in the first place, and that time when we were nine.”

You raised your eyebrows suspiciously. “When we were nine? What the bloody hell happened when we were nine?”

And then he pulled from his pocket the most beautiful lavender pendant you ever did see. The circular stone was outlined in the same silver as the chain, and the sun flooding in from the windows made it sparkle more than anything you’d ever seen in your life. Your breath caught in your throat and you looked back and forth from the necklace to George, and back again.

“I ruined your purple dress, remember?” he asked you. He laughed a bit, probably thinking about the ridiculous way you’d looked with red paint splattered all over you. You couldn’t believe he remembered that. “Now, it’s not a dress, but seeing as we’ve grown up a bit since then, I reckoned you’d prefer something a little nicer.” He swallowed over a lump in his throat before continuing. “I never fancied her, you know. That girl from Beauxbatons. I just...” he trailed off, searching for words he couldn’t seem to muster up. You wondered if he could hear the dramatic thump of your heart, beating loudly in the heavy silence. “It doesn’t matter. It was you I wanted to be with that night, and long after. I still do.”

Then he brushed aside your hair and placed the pendant around your neck. You peered at him through blurry vision, and surprised yourself that you were now crying due to the tenderness of his touch and the emotion in his gift and not that you two were about the board the train and leave school, no longer the same two people you were just a few moments ago.

You did the only thing you could think of and you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. You felt his shock, but it took him only mere milliseconds before he was kissing you back. In truth, you’d been wondering what it would feel like to kiss him -- the taste of him, the feel of your limbs entangled together, exactly how high your heart would soar. It was exactly the way first kisses were meant to be -- slow, and easy, and warm, the way it’s supposed to feel after having swam all day long -- your body limp and muscles de-tensing. You moulded perfectly with him, and when gravity (or rather, the first signal of the train’s departure) pulled you from one another, he peered at you with such affection that you felt as though you might explode.

You grabbed the pendant and held in gently in between your fingers, already having memorized the outline of the silver and the different shades of purple within it. “I am so bloody happy you threw red paint at me that day, Weasley.”

He laughed haughtily, throwing his head back before swinging an arm around your waist and pulling your trunk toward the exit of the Ravenclaw common room. “Merlin, me too.”

White

You were sitting at your kitchen table, ignoring the massive amount of work in front of you to admire your other hard work. Your cozy little flat looked just as you always imagined it would, with the added bonus of your boyfriend in the corner of the front entrance, fixing a loose coat hanger on the wall.

Never in your life did you imagine that things could be as perfect as this.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it would be a flat you two would share one day.

You got up and brought with you his half empty glass of wine and handed it to him. Gratefully he took it and sipped before pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead. But then you gently traced his jawline with your finger, down his neck, across his collar bone until he followed your move and leaned in to kiss you. It was soft and chaste and everything like your first one had been. But as the alcohol worked its way through your veins, you found yourself pressing yourself harder against him.

A moan of content escaped him as you bit down on his lip and slipped your hands underneath his shirt, hands pressed against his chest. Unashamedly, you pulled him toward your bedroom, and he placed his empty wine glass next to yours on the table as he kicked the door closed.

The two of you fell backwards onto the bed in an entanglement of limbs. He hovered above you, dropping down a bit to press light kisses to your neck, in between your collarbones, behind your ears, against your jawline. You so desperately wanted to feel his weight on top of you, and so you yanked him firmly against you and kissed him in a way that there was no aching way that he wouldn’t be able to tell exactly what you wanted.

He began to undo the buttons on your shirt, taking time to press kisses into your chest at the exposed places before he stopped himself and gently ran his hands across your hips, and then your cheek. His voice was merely a whisper in the deafening silence, “Are you sure?”

He gazed at you with such tenderness and love that you knew he’d stop, if you’d asked him to. He wouldn’t go another inch further if you weren’t ready. And for you, that was more than enough.

“I’m sure.”

He sucked in a breath and dipped down to press lips to yours gently before continuing to make light work of your clothes. He explored every inch of you, and the sensation of his lips gently grazing your skin caused you to arch your back in pleasure. You could feel him smiling against you, wildly in love, handling you with such care as if you were a tiny glass figure he was afraid of breaking. He held you so delicately and worked his way through each and every single one of your wants with slow and gentle hands.

You’d known it was love with him; maybe not consciously, but you’d known it long before now. Love, filled with intensity and desire and longing, in its most vulnerable and fragile form -- pure, and blinding white.

Pink

The summer air wafted in through the open window in the kitchen, and you listened to Mrs. Weasley hum some Muggle song as she set the table for dessert. You placed the finishing touches on the lemon meringue pie you baked, special because it was George’s favourite and Mrs. Weasley had insisted.

You had to admit, he’d always had the outside exterior of a tough guy, but owning a business did absolute wonders for his confidence. You noticed the way he stood up a little straighter, smiled a little bigger, and most of all, just how much he gushed about all the plans you two would be able to act on, now that you were both making income of your own.

“Merlin’s beard, Y/N, you’ve absolutely knocked it out of the park with this pie, if I do say so myself.” Arthur’s praise was nothing short of wonderful; you felt the tips of your ears turn pink at his compliments. By the way Ron slouched back in his chair, looking rather chuffed indeed, you could tell he felt the same exact way. Especially when he reached for the last piece, but Hermione slapped his hand away.

“Oh my!” Molly yelped suddenly. You jumped in surprise in your seat. “Oh, Georgie dear, would you mind wandering into the field before dark? I’d love some wildflowers for the table,”

“Sure thing, mum.” George replied before turning to you and squeezing your hand. “Want to tag along?”

You said, “Of course” at the exact same time Ron said “I’ll come along too, I could use a good walk” and if you hadn’t been so focused on George’s tender gaze, you almost would’ve missed Fred silently hissing at Ron and Hermione slapping his hand yet again. “On second thought,” Ron swallowed thickly, “I’d better stay here and help you clean up, mum.”

“Atta boy, Ronniekins,” Molly said. To you and George, she continued, “You two better get going -- not long now before it turns dark!”

George stood and pulled you to your feet. “You coming, love?”

“I go where you go.”

About twenty minutes later, as the setting sun had blended with the light purples and pinks of the sky, you’d found yourself with a rather beautiful bouquet of wildflowers for Molly. You turned to George, who was leaning against the tree and smiling at you, and asked, “Shall we get going darling? Don’t want to be too late. I reckon your mum will come out here searching for us if we spend an evening among the stars.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea, actually.” His grin deepened, and then he said, “you’re lucky I don’t have any pranks up my sleeve right now.”

You look up at the tree and recognized the place where he’d infuriated you all those long years ago. You rolled your eyes and shook your head before twirling in your dress. “I am lucky. I was able to get a new dress after the one you so lovingly ruined. Though I will admit -- I wasn’t all that big of a fan of those puffy sleeves. This one’s much more adult.”

George arched his eyebrow in surprise before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Oh yes it is.”

You slapped him playfully and pointed your finger at him. “Alright you prat, calm yourself, you’ll have to wait until we get back to our flat for any funny business.”

But then you realized, as George’s features turned from mischievous to genuine within the matter of seconds, that there was definitely more pressing matters than funny business on his mind.

And then he was telling you how he’d only teased you back then because he’d found you so bloody cute, and how he should’ve asked you to the Yule Ball and regretted every single day that he didn’t, and how he’d never met anyone who could play Quidditch quite as well as you, and how bloody happy he’d been when you’d kissed him that day in the Ravenclaw common room. And then knelt down and he asked it, the words you’d imagined since you were a little girl, strung together with such fondness and emotion and tenderness that you weren’t quite sure how you were standing upright.

You’d already begun to nod quickly through your tears before he finished, but would he really be George Weasley if he didn’t tease you, just a little? “Say yes,” he laughed, “say yes and marry me and be my wife for as long as you’ll have me.”

He slid the ring onto your finger and kissed you and picked you up and whirled you around in the field and held you gently in his arms as though you were a precious glass figurine and he was doing everything in his power to hold you delicately.

“Yes. I say yes.”

Black & White

You asked, When did you first know?

And he answered, I always knew.

You both ran back up the aisle, your white dress fluttering around your ankles, his black suit hugging the curves of his arms, and into the field and away from the party, momentarily, to celebrate your first moments as husband and wife in the place where he’d figured it all out.

He’d known since that afternoon when he’d handed you those yellow dandelions that he would bring you back here one day, to ask you to be his wife. He’d known, in the Ravenclaw common room when he gave you that purple pendant, still dangling from your neck, that one day he’d also give you a ring. He’d known, all those long years ago, that he wanted to marry you, and that you would say yes, when he’d finally ask.

And now, in front of your friends and family, he’d vowed to love you -- love in it’s purest and simplest form, love -- with all it’s sentiment and emotion and vulnerability. He vowed to love you and only you for the rest of his life.

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willowbleedsonpaper · 4 years ago

Text

Winter In The Shade IV

Part IV

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2504

Requested by @amourtentiaa : It is Sirius' fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter's. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: None

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Masterlist | Series Masterlist

As the days grew colder and a thin layer of snow covered the entirety of Hogwarts, the enthuthiasm was more than present over the students, after all, it wasn’t every year that the school hosted a small party for the students that decided to stay at Hogwart for the holidays. The cold halls were softly illuminated with the small flames from candles, the elves worked hard on the kitchens, the smell from their meals nothing but mouthwatering to anyone that walked past the great hall; stepping outside from the castle into the courtyard and the hills that rolled down to the black lake, you were met with nothing but never ending whites from the soft snow that fell from the sky at all hours. It was truly magical.

“Don’t you love it?” you said, extending your hand in the air as little snowflakes settled on your palm, the tingles rushing up your arm from the coldness making you erupt in giggles as you shook your hand. You rose your gaze to see Regulus sitting on the edge of the fountain, the water that usually flowed now frozen in eccentric shapes that you could easily think was the picture of an explosion that froze before it scattered all over the floor. And of course, Regulus was breaking the tiny pieces of the tips for his own amusement “Stop that!” you laughed, coming to sit with him as you took his hand away “You’re destroying mother nature's art.”

He chuckled lowly, taking his hand away from yours “That’s hardly art.” he argued “Besides, I can always re-shape it so it would actually be some kind of sculpture.”

“Right.” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him “What would make a good sculpture, Michelangelo?” you asked.

He playfully glared at you but then took a moment to think, both of you sitting on the edge of the fountain while facing the frozen water. People walked past the two of you, no one taking a moment to stop and wonder what Y/N and Regulus were up too, they all had stopped asking questions about what you two did with your time.

It was late during the day, one evening when the sun was setting and the stars started to appear in the sky, Professors and students alike started to follow the trail of water left in the stone floors of the castle, the worry rising as they all wondered what had gotten inside the halls of Hogwarts that left such a trail as if someone carried buckets of water only to pour them all over the floor. In the end they found you and Regulus, sitting in one of the balconies of the second floor. You were both dead silent, sitting close to each other as if you were glued; your hair was flat and sticking to your face while Regulus’ lips turned a deep shade of purple and his skin became more lighter than anyone thought possible. Both of your teeth chattered as a puddle of water formed at your feet, but you refused to move. A crowd formed before you but neither one of you said a word, eyes narrowed and empty of any emotion as you stared into the void. It wasn’t until the shock had left the Professor's bodies that they jumped into action and made you both go get changed, breaking the crowd with the help of the prefects until there was no one left but you two and the professors. You never said a word about what happened, no one ever knew what had you both in such a state; and even after the month's worth of detention you said nothing, not to a Professor or to other students.

People stopped wondering about you two after that.

“It could be a monster.” he said, pointing his finger at the tallest part of the fountain “See, that’s the head of the monster,” his finger lowered, making shapes in the air as he narrated the image in his head “This part here is the splashing water from the sea and all the thicker parts of ice are the tentacles.”

You tilted your head, side glancing between him and the frozen water. He turned his eyes to you, watching as you tried to follow his description. Your eyes widened and you sat straight, turning to him with a smile “Merlin.” you breathed out “You’ve finally lost your mind!”

He glared at you, a smirk forming quickly on his face. You were laughing loudly, holding onto your stomach as you threw your head back, when immediately you rolled back with the force of something hitting you right across the face. You fell with a squeal, the last image that Regulus saw of you being your eyes wide as you flew your arms up in the air trying to hold onto something.

“Regulus. Black.” you muttered, your head barely peeking from behind the mountain of snow you fell over “I’m going to kill you!” you yelled, sitting in the cold snow as you threw a snowball at him, one he easily dodged.

“Try actually hitting me first.” he mocked, the glint in his eyes daring as you jumped to your feet. He had run over the opposite side of the fountain, the both of you mirroring the others movements like a hunter and a prey. Which one were you? That was to be seen.

“Oh, don’t try me.” you said, trying to put on your meanest face which only made Regulus smile widen. In his eyes you were anything but menacing.

But he was too occupied watching you try to be intimidating and you knew that, he never registered the fact that your hands were moving where he could not see them, a snowball on each hand ready to attack. You threw the first one, missing him on purpose to watch him peak his head to mock you, and then, you took your chance.

“Ha!” you yelled in triumph, throwing your hands in the air as the snow stuck to his face and rolled down to his scarf. “Take that, you...NO!” you laughed, starting to run as you saw his face morph into one that let you know he was the hunter.

You ran as fast as you could, not once looking back as you knew it would only slow you down but he was faster, the feeling of his arms coming around your waist and lifting you up the ground only making you scream in delight as he spun you around. Your arms and legs fought in the air to get him to let you go but he had a strong grip on you, so you did the only thing that could save you now, become dead weight.

“What are you doing?” he asked, once you stopped fighting him “Y/N…” But he reacted too late, letting all your weight go onto him, he stumbled back, falling on his back with a thud that only worsened with your weight falling on top of him. “Merlin.” he whispered, his voice out of breath.

You quickly rolled to his side, both of you staring at the sky as you laid on the ground not once minding the snow soaking the back of your clothes, soft smiles on both of your faces as you lived inside the bubble you created. No one could bother you there.

“Want to go to the library?” you asked, turning your face to him. He turned his face to you in thought and you rolled your eyes. As if it was even a question “C’mon.” you said, getting to your feet and helping him as well.

He took hold of your hand and linked your arm with his, starting your walk to the library “Y/N.” he called.

“Yes?” you asked him, not turning to look at him but listening carefully.

“Do you want to go to the Christmas party with me?” he asked.

You turned to look at him, the smile that formed in your face reaching your eyes as you nodded “I would be delighted.” you said “Although, you know it will only fuel the rumor that we are dating, right?” you informed him, raising an eyebrow at him.

He thought about it, his lips in a line as he looked down at you “I’m fine with it if you are.” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

You both nodded in confirmation, continuing your path to the library like it was any other day.

*******

Friday morning came around faster than you ever thought possible, the last day of classes you had to endure and then you were free for weeks. But it also saddened you to leave Regulus behind, even if it was for a couple of weeks, you were sure you would miss him, going from spending time with him everyday to not seeing or hearing anything from him was going to be hard. You could only hope that one day you could celebrate the holidays together.

You had asked your mother if he could visit and she gladly agreed, even your father was eager to know the only friend you cared to mention in your letters. You had jumped and danced when she said Regulus could go home with you, running the halls to find him and tell him the good news. Sadly, he couldn’t go back to your home with you. Walburga Black was very strict with her sons being out of home for the holidays, a celebration for the family and family alone. Regulus color drained from his face at the mere thought of not being home for Christmas, so you didn’t insist. You told your family you would be staying at Hogwarts with Regulus, even if it was a lie, you prefered to be at Hogwarts than spend the entire winter break bored inside the walls of your home.

Officially, the classes ended that day. However, the students who wished to assist to the party were allowed to stay three more days at Hogwarts, until the day the party was being celebrated.

You still had until the party to be with him before you had to go your separate ways.

“Good morning.” you greeted Regulus, going to sit across from him at the end of the Ravenclaw table “You’re up early.” you said, giving him a soft smile.

“More like you’re late.” he said, looking up at you with a knowing look “Let me guess. Five more minutes turned into half an hour?” he asked.

You groaned loudly, rolling your head “Maybe…” you mumbled, glancing between the table and his knowing look. You dropped the fork in your hand with a huff “How do you know?” you asked with a groan.

He shrugged his shoulders “Maybe we’ve developed a mental connection and I can read your mind.” he said, giving you a funny look.

You dropped everything you had in your hands and leaned down on the table, staring into his eyes as he mirrors your movements “Tell me what I’m thinking about. Go.” you said.

Regulus stared deep into your eyes, and as you tried to focus on his gaze your attention drifted, the sound of laughter and the voice that hadn’t left your mind for days making it the more difficult to stay focused. Looking over his shoulder you saw him, standing next to Peter as he wrapped his arm over his shoulder, muttering something in his direction that made all four boys erupted in laughter.

Sirius most have felt your gaze on him, looking over Peter’s shoulder he met your eyes. You felt the air get stuck in your lungs, as natural as the act of breathing, he winked in your way and directed his attention back to his friends like nothing ever happened.

Regulus' voice broke you out of your haze, taking in a deep breath that caught his attention. He stared at you and then turned to where your eyes were glued, the now empty space where not a second ago his brother and his friends stood.

“Are you in shock because I did guess what you were thinking and we did develop a mental connection or you just had a revelation?” he asked “Y/N?” he called for you again.

Wide eyed you stared at him, opening your mouth with no words coming out from it. What had just happened?

Luckily for you, the owls saved you. The sound of wings filling the Great Hall as packages and letters started to drop in front of students. You and Regulus always watched from afar as everyone got their mail, the both of you knowing it was only on Mondays when you got letters. So it came as a surprise when an owl flew over you, dropping a small package in front of you.

As you stared with confusion at the small box, Regulus followed the owl with his eyes “I know that owl.” he muttered before he turned to you once more “What is it?” he asked.

You took the box, turning it in your hands before you shook your head “No.” you said, throwing it to Regulus “You open it.”

“Why me?” he asked, sliding the package back to your side of the table “It has your name in it.” he stated.

You argued back and forth for a couple of minutes before you finally ran out of patience “Fine, I’ll open it.” you grunted, taking the box from him and slamming it on the table.

With quick movements you untied the golden bow that kept it closed, the lid loosening enough so you could take it off. Softly you took it away, staring at the inside for a second too long. A blue rose.

“I think someone is asking you to the party.” Regulus said, his eyes fixed on the Rose.

You moved to look up at him and then back at the small rose. It was beautiful and ...normal. Muggle. A smile was drawn on your face as you picked it up, being a witch you would have expected a show from a gift like that one, to find a charmed rose that flourished right before your eyes but this one was a single normal rose, the more you thought was done to it being the color. Your house color.

You let out a nervous laugh, hiding the Rose before anyone could see it. “Well, that’s too bad for them.” you said, shoving the box inside your bag “Because I already have a date.” you said, smiling tightly at him “And I wouldn’t change it for anything. We will have the best night of our lives so far, we’ll have fun and possibly embarrass ourselves.”

Regulus nodded, but gave no answer to what you had said.

“You know who this is from?” he asked you.

Your eyes snapped up at him and you shook your head “No idea.” you mumbled.

But deep down you knew, looking past Regulus and to the Gryffindor table, grey eyes already staring at you.