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imsandra · 3 months ago

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HE SEE

Pairing: Azriel x Female reader

Summary: Love and promises don’t last forever, but guilt and remorse do.

Warning: Angst, sadness. Let me know if anything happens.

Word Count: 4962

Notes: We have the continuation of “I See”. I’m proud of this. Thanks to those who asked for another part; you make me very happy. My friend told me that this second part has the song “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” by Taylor Swift, it’s just a recommendation.

I hope you enjoy it. Please leave your comments on what you think, suggestions are always welcome as long as they are meant to teach and with respect.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors.

Original story, written by me. Please do not copy or plagiarize my story.

I appreciate the comments, reblogs, and likes that I receive.

Happy reading!

I see (1)

Velaris, the City of Starry Light, was illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Azriel stood in the room of his new home, gazing through the window as the rain soaked the city streets. Sleeping had not been an option since he left the home he had shared with Y/N for the past centuries. It had only been a week since he did so, since he left his heart bleeding.

In the bed lay his mate, Liria, fast asleep. He had met her a couple of months ago, and of course, they had had their first date. She had joined as a new spy for the court, alongside Nuala and Cerridwen.

Liria was absolutely different from Y/N. She had dark blonde hair, her eyes were a sea-green color, and her lips were thin. At times, she was cold, and when her work took up too much of her time, she became distant. But with Y/N, she always found time to talk to him; she was sweet and the perfect mix of a woman who knew she wanted to be with him. Sometimes, at dinner, Liria simply ignored his trivial day-to-day conversations, or sometimes, neither spoke.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way for him. He had imagined that with Liria, he could have an even deeper connection than he had with Y/N; that they would embrace the bond, talk about getting married and having children in the future. But everything was turning out the opposite.

The Master of Spies couldn’t forget the feeling of wanting to be close to Liria on the day they met.

It was just a training session, training the next spies who would serve the Night Court, and then he would return home to his beautiful and sweet girlfriend to kiss her and catch up, as he always did.

Liria and Azriel were in fighting positions, assessing each other as opponents.

“This time, Liria, you need to trust your instincts,” he told the blonde.

“I always do, Azriel. Do you doubt me?” she replied with a flirtatious smile.

So when Liria attacked, it was directly at the feet of the Shadowsinger. The blonde slid across the training field floor to strike Azriel's right ankle. It was an unexpected move for him, and he fell to his knees. With the same determination, Liria lunged to throw him onto his back and ended up on top of him, their faces inches apart, about to kiss.

Azriel was astonished by the energy enveloping them both. He didn’t expect that just before the sea-green-eyed girl attacked, the bond that connected their souls would shatter. He could only watch as their faces were a breath away from kissing, and though he wanted to, he didn’t. His girlfriend was waiting for him at home, and he had plans with her. But the beautiful blonde girl was his mate , not Y/N, whom he had always thought their souls were destined to be together, whether or not there was a mating bond. Perhaps it was at that moment that he realized, no matter what, he longed for that bond with her, with Y/N.

And the mother was wrong about them.

Azriel sighed and decided to take flight, while the rain was just a kiss on the skin and a sigh in the night.

Sometimes, the people who heal you are the same ones who break you.

Y/N barely had the energy to avoid neglecting her work. Part of her was dedicated to designing costumes in a small boutique in the city center. Her busy life kept her occupied most of the time, but sometimes it wasn't enough. Azriel crossed her mind at the most inopportune moments: while designing, during conversations.

So when Mei, her coworker, told her that she had received a letter from the Dawn Court as a sign, Y/N decided to share the news with Feyre. They had agreed to meet at their usual café, right in the artist's quarter, in the Rainbow.

When Y/N arrived, Feyre was sitting by the window as always, sketching in a notebook.

“Sorry I’m late, Fey,” Y/N greeted her friend.

“Don’t worry, darling, I just got here,” Feyre replied.

The two women ordered their usual drinks while catching up on their work.

“Az hasn’t shown up at the River House or the Wind House,” the blue-eyed brunette informed Y/N. “Rhys has been worried, but his work hasn’t allowed him to take any time off,” Feyre continued.

“I don’t think Rhys should worry about Azriel,” Y/N responded. The name of the Shadowsinger came out in a broken whisper. “He must be with his mate,” she continued.

“Y/N,” Feyre called her friend, “Rhys isn’t worried about him, not right now or about his partner,” she confessed with tender eyes, while looking at Y/N, who was lost in her thoughts.

It took 10 seconds for Y/N to understand what her friend was telling her.

“Rhys wants you to come to the house to spend the afternoon. He misses his friend, Nyx misses his aunt, and I miss you too,” the brunette admitted. “Actually, everyone does,” the fae continued.

“I’m not his aunt anymore, not anymore,” Y/N whispered with a hoarse and broken voice.

Feyre stood up from her chair and moved closer to Y/N. She sat beside her, pulling her close to her chest as she hugged her. Y/N couldn’t resist, so she hugged back, burying her head in her friend's neck and letting her guard down. She cried as her adventurous mate held her tight and whispered that it was okay, that she had her, and that she wasn’t alone. Nothing else mattered, neither the fae watching them nor the coffee cooling on the table. Only the two of them, only Y/N was Feyre’s concern. She was her friend, and although she had met her through the Shadowsinger, she knew enough to assure that she would always be her friend.

After a while, they slowly pulled away, and Feyre wiped the few tears from Y/N’s cheeks. She took her hands and looked into her eyes.

“You will always be Nyx’s aunt. He adores you, and I know you adore him too,” she said with the kindest voice she had for her friend. “Besides, I’m sure you miss him too,” she added, smiling.

“Yes, I miss my mischievous boy,” Y/N choked out with a hoarse voice. “And I also miss the others,” she continued.

“I knew it,” Feyre said with a small laugh. “So... will you accept coming to the house?” she asked with a calm and hopeful voice.

Y/N thought for a while. If Azriel hadn’t shown up at her friend’s house or the house where he used to live before meeting her, what were the chances of running into him?

“Alright, I’ll go,” she agreed.

“Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll prepare your favorite meal. Maybe Rhys will want to share some of his cherished wines,” Feyre mentioned with a smile.

Both women laughed, knowing it was hard to convince Rhys to share some of his wines, but it was no secret that there were always two people who took them without permission from the great lord.

A new day, another day at work. Y/N finished one of the designs she had been working on for a week. She asked Mei to pack it up, as they would pick up the dress later. With that, she ended her workday and returned to her apartment. She hadn’t moved into a new one yet; she couldn’t, not yet. So she decided to keep her mind occupied preparing for the meeting that afternoon.

Y/N was in her dressing room, surrounded by clothes she used to wear with Azriel, and it was a difficult decision. She had designed some outfits for their dates, family dinners, anniversaries, or special nights. Maybe she should have just bought something new and avoided this debate she knew she wouldn’t win.

In the end, she opted for a simple pair of pants and a shirt that had been shoved at the back of the closet, low heels, and understated yet carefully done makeup, trying to hide her dark circles and signs of exhaustion. She finished with her favorite perfume, no jewelry, since Azriel had been the one to gift her small collection since he entered her life. She couldn’t help but imagine going to this meeting with him, as they had done so many times before: her sitting at the vanity, finishing applying her lipstick, and the Shadowsinger behind her, watching her through the mirror. It would only be a moment before he would approach to fasten the necklace he had returned, kiss her cheeks, and tell her how beautiful she looked. She wouldn’t arrive late just because Azriel decided to take Y/N and lay her on the bed, just to kiss her and tell strange jokes. She wouldn’t arrive with wrinkled clothes from struggling to get them both up.

They would never again arrive holding hands.

Y/N stood at the entrance of her friend’s house, looking at the garden where Azriel and she had played with Nyx, a garden that had witnessed so many happy moments, and now they were just that, moments. The house that had scared her so much the first time Azriel introduced her to his family. The fae took a deep breath, preparing to knock on the door, but paused for a moment when she heard the boisterous laughter of Cassian, followed by Mor’s laughter and Nyx’s small chatter, her nephew. She couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on her face, so she knocked on the door.

She was met with Cassian’s fierce hug when he opened it. He might have stopped her breath if he had hugged her a little tighter. She hugged him back, and little steps echoed as Nyx appeared at the door.

“Auntie! Auntie!” the child shouted, jumping up and down so she would pick him up.

“No, I saw her first,” said the general, too loudly for the little heir to hear.

“Lies, it was Uncle Az!” the child babbled, pushing at Cassian’s legs.

The general slowly released her, whom he considered his sister-in-law, to see her face and make sure she was okay. Y/N greeted him with a forced smile, silently assuring him that she was fine.

The woman bent down and picked up Nyx, who squealed and hugged his aunt. She couldn’t blame Nyx; he didn’t know yet. That his Uncle Azriel and Auntie Y/N were no longer together. So she showered him with kisses all over his face, tickling him, and the child burst into laughter. Cassian smiled at the scene until he felt someone else’s presence behind him.

“Are you going to let her in, or are you going to wait until the three of you freeze out here?” the father of the little black-haired boy questioned. “Nyx, darling, let go of Y/N, it’s my turn,” Rhys continued.

“No,” Nyx grumbled with a pout as he clung to Y/N’s neck.

“Then it will be a group hug; just try not to kill me,” Y/N attempted to joke.

The two adults laughed and moved in to hug her. She felt a part of her heart warm with the love of a family. A moment later, the four of them entered the house, leaving the cold weather behind for the warmth of the home.

Everyone greeted her: Mor, Feyre, Elain, Nesta, and even Amren hugged her, which was unusual for her. The table was decorated with her favorite food and even her favorite wine, courtesy of the High Lord, just as Feyre had said.

One more task to complete. It would be the last of the afternoon, and then she could have dinner with Liria, and maybe, just maybe, cuddle together. He had postponed some of his reports since he left Y/N and had also not visited his siblings’ house. He needed time.

Liria entered Azriel’s small office, where he was sitting reading one last report. She approached quietly and kissed him on the cheek. The Master of Spies shivered from the sudden affection and tensed his wings. It was one of the few times his mate showed affection, and almost always his body reacted the same way. Even his shadows didn’t approach her; he was sure they missed Y/N. And how could they not, when the woman with whom he had shared almost everything would enter his office in the loudest way, with a radiant smile that could light up an entire universe, his universe? She would shower him with kisses and hugs, then sit in his favorite sofa while keeping him company, creating new designs for her shop. And just now he noticed she was wearing one of the robes she had made for him.

He responded to the blonde with a tense smile.

“Are you almost done?” he asked.

“Yes. Where are you going?” she asked, noticing Liria’s outfit.

“I’m going out with some friends; I just came to let you know,” she whispered close to his lips and gave him a kiss. “Don’t wait up for me; you should rest,” she advised him, and with that, she left through the door of his office.

Another night added to the many nights he would spend dining alone, once again.

The doorbell of the river house echoed inside the property. Rhysand frowned and turned to look at his mate . “Are we expecting anyone else?” he questioned mentally to Feyre, who simply shook her head. Everyone had settled in the living room of the house to continue their conversation. Nyx was in his room with his aunt Elain; he had fallen asleep.

Rhys got up from the couch and walked to the door. He did not expect to see the person on the other side, at least not today.

“Azriel,” he said his name as if afraid they would know he was there. “What are you doing here?” he asked his brother.

“I came to deliver… Y/N,” he whispered, his breath catching. “Is she here?” he asked.

There was no way to lie. Her scent drifted into the Master of Spies’ lungs just as he remembered it: so soft, subtle, and sweet. The High Lord could see the agony on his brother’s face and how his eyes filled with tears. Was it guilt or mourning?

Azriel could have died in that moment. There was no way to say he didn’t miss her, because he missed her to his bones. His heart ached as if a dagger had pierced it. The sound of her laughter reached his ears. The melody had changed; it was no longer loud and full of life. It was all his fault. He should have been there with her and not with Liria. He had made a mistake, and his error would cost him his entire life.

“What did you come for?” Rhys asked, cutting through the thread of his thoughts.

“To deliver the reports,” Azriel muttered in a hoarse voice.

His brother let him into the house, and as he walked down the entryway, he saw the huge vase with strange figures that they had given Feyre for her birthday two years ago. It had been brought specially from the Winter Court, a trip they had taken together. He could still hear her voice with feigned annoyance telling him to be careful not to break it. The memory struck him like a stab to the heart. He arrived in the living room just as Y/N delivered the worst news he could have heard.

“I’m going to the Dawn Court. I’ll be away for at least a month,” she told her friends.

“No,” Azriel whispered with a broken voice. “You can’t go,” he shouted, alerting everyone to his presence. His shadows separated from him and approached her.

The fairy shuddered at the contact of the shadows on her skin. She hadn’t expected him to show up. Azriel saw the smile of his beloved falter the moment their eyes met. Her face grew somber, sad, and he wished that Prythian would swallow him whole at that damned moment.

Silence fell over the room. Everyone was tense from the unexpected arrival of the Shadow Singer.

Cassian was the first to break the silence.

“Az, we weren’t expecting you,” he muttered through gritted teeth, angry at the situation. His wings flared, ready to defend Y/N if necessary.

Azriel ignored him as he crossed the room to where Y/N was sitting. She stood up instinctively, wanting to flee, just wanting to forget him for a while. It wasn’t fair. The moment he reached her, he took her in his arms and began to cry.

“Y/N, darling, please don’t go. Forgive me,” Azriel whispered in her ear.

She couldn’t move. Her breathing became ragged, her throat tightened trying to suppress the sobs that wanted to surface. She swallowed hard to clear the knot that had settled in. A shiver ran down her spine.

��Let me go,” she whispered back. “Don’t touch me, Azriel,” she shouted, disappointed.

He continued holding her close, and she squirmed in his arms, pushing him as far away as possible. Where she had once felt safe, now she felt suffocated. When they were a few centimeters apart, she saw his clothes; it was one of the garments she had made for him, and it carried a scent that wasn’t his. Her heart sank to her stomach.

“I know you’re angry, please, listen to me. I know it was wrong, and I’m deeply sorry,” the Shadow Singer pleaded, as he moved his hands to her face. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back, to make you believe in me. I promise. I’ll do whatever you want, just say it,” he begged again, this time on his knees, holding her hands and kissing them.

“And what will you do?” she laughed sarcastically. “Will you promise that you won’t hurt me again?” she continued, with her fists clenched. “You hurt me, Azriel, and you didn’t care. While you were sticking your tongue in another woman’s mouth, I was at home, waiting, begging for you not to be hurt and to come back to our home safe,” she hissed with pain, as her gaze met his. “I would have ripped out my heart for you, no matter the reason, but I know you wouldn’t do the same for me,” she went on. “Do you know what I want?” she murmured.

Azriel had red eyes as she spoke. He remained on his knees, crying for the pain he had caused, and although he had a sliver of hope, it vanished the moment her eyes met his. There was no way to repair the damage. Her eyes, which had once looked at him with love, with the kindness and softness of a feather, with the adoration he didn’t believe he deserved from her, now looked at him with the coldest gaze, disappointment swimming in them, and sadness clinging to them. He didn’t even need to answer; nothing would heal her heart.

“I want my heart to stop bleeding, I wish it would stop singing your name,” she whimpered. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks. “But I wish it wasn’t you who nearly ripped it out of my chest,” she said, collapsing to the floor, hugging herself.

Azriel, who was closer, didn’t even have the chance to reach her in time. Instead, it was Cassian who appeared to hold her against his chest, crying like he had never heard her do before. His shadows tried to calm her as they once did when she was scared. Even they were there for her.

Cass, his brother, was the one holding her in his arms, against his chest, and Azriel wanted to tear her away, but he had no right.

“It’s best if you leave,” the general said through clenched teeth to Azriel.

His voice, filled with pain and disappointment, had never spoken to him like this in the centuries they had been together. Azriel understood. Y/N had developed a relationship with him, supporting each other, and he also knew that Cassian would never have done this to her.

A hand rested on the spy’s shoulder. He looked up and met the violet gaze of Rhys, his other brother, and the eyes of the rest of the people he considered family, who were in the dining room; they had left them alone a while ago.

The weight of his decision was on his shoulders, in his heart, and in his soul. His brother was indicating that he should get up, but Azriel's ears were ringing; he heard it from a distance. He didn’t know when he got to his feet. Rhys guided him to his office. The reports had been forgotten on the floor of the living room. But he decided he couldn’t stay there, not while he could hear her muffled sobs. So he left the house and went to the only place left for him.

The door opened. Liria entered; it was night, and she found Azriel slumped on the sofa, in the darkness. She could see the tears streaming down his cheeks, even though he was asleep. In his dreams, Y/N’s muffled cries tormented him.

The blonde approached to comfort him. She grabbed the blanket from the sofa across from him but stopped inches from his body when the scent hit her. A scent she had noticed on him when she first met him, which she had discovered belonged to someone else soon after. But still, she continued; he was her partner, their souls were bound.

If “I love you” were a promise, would it be broken if they were honest?

The next morning, Azriel woke up to the sound of clashing weapons. He got up from the sofa, rubbing his face with his hand, and saw Liria in the hallway, where the noise was coming from. The woman could feel her partner’s gaze, so she turned around.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she greeted him.

“What are you doing? Why the suitcase?” the dark-haired man asked.

“I’m leaving,” she replied vaguely, turning back to continue packing her weapons.

“I don’t want the bond,” the spymaster's words slipped out.

“I know,” Lyria said. “Don’t forget that I can feel your emotions through the bond,” she reminded him, seeing his look of confusion. “Last night, you were murmuring her name and how much you love her,” she revealed in a hoarse voice.

Her mate passed by him, perhaps gathering the last of her belongings. He could only watch; he thought it would hurt, but it didn’t.

“Two days ago, I found a small box,” Lyria continued. “By the way, nice ring. She would have liked it,” she confessed.

Azriel tensed at the mention of the object. He remembered having carefully hidden that ring, a proposal ring for Y/N. Before meeting Lyria, he had been planning to propose marriage; the only ones who knew were Rhys and Cassian. He had ruined everything.

“How did you find it?” he finally looked at her.

“I made a mistake with you, with us, Azriel,” she evaded his question. “I wish I hadn’t left,” she continued in a hoarse voice. “I don’t want the bond, I reject it,” she said finally.

They had heard stories that if someone rejected the bond, they would die. But the bond cooled on both sides and neither of them died. The rejection of the bond didn’t hurt as much as Azriel’s soul ached from having left his girlfriend. It didn’t tear his skin as it did that day when he saw her cry. He didn’t wish for Prythian to swallow him for the rejection.

“I’m sorry, Lyria.”

The decisions of the two had brought them to this point: bringing together two people with the same energy could make them implode. And they understood it too late.

“I’m sorrier for us,” was the last thing she said before leaving through the door.

Although they both had hope, dreams, goals, loves, friendships, and families, they had all shattered.

The journey to the Dawn Court was supposed to last only a month. Thesan, the high lord of the court, had requested in the letter that she be the one to make his tunic for the most special day of his immortal life and that of his lover.

She had done it. That was five years ago.

The rays of the sun filtered through the white curtains, reflecting the face of her beloved, who was sleeping peacefully beside her. He, with brown hair, had his arms wrapped around Y/N, holding onto her as if his life depended on it. And so it was.

A few years ago, Y/N left the Night Court for the Dawn Court. Her small boutique in her friend's court was left in Mei's capable hands; she trusted Mei to run it and might soon give it to her as a birthday gift. During her time in the Court of Sun Rays, she opened a new boutique, where she currently works, although she designed for both. Mei handled most of the workload at the boutique on the other side.

During that time, Azriel never stopped sending her letters, flowers, and her favorite things to reach out to her, always without success. Until one day, she responded to one of his thousands of letters, where he kept apologizing, making it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

Darius and T/N were at the market, doing their shopping, holding hands, stealing kisses from time to time, and joking around. She had met him when she arrived at the court, with her heart still in pieces. He was a warrior of Thesan's royal guard. They became friends, then started flirting, soon became a couple, and now were married. He was always patient with her; her heart wasn’t ready at that time, but every time she spent time with him, the pieces came back together. He had also had his heart broken a few months before they met, so they understood and supported each other, respecting each other’s pain.

Darius loved his wife so much that he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to tear apart anyone who decided to hurt her. Anyone who made her shed a tear would find their own heart ripped out before causing her any pain.

Liria and Azriel were not exempt from sharing work. They had a court to protect and a high lord to respond to. Both were in the Dawn Court, searching for new leads on a minor commotion.

Azriel managed to distinguish a woman's hair. He walked, trying to get as close as possible to her to confirm that his eyes were not deceiving him, that it was indeed her, the woman he loved.

And even though she had told him she wanted nothing to do with him, he was unwilling to stop searching for her. So, when he confirmed that it was Y/N, the air escaped his lungs. At a respectful distance, he saw Y/N holding hands with a man, a warrior. But what struck him most was the bulging belly against which the woman rested her hand, adorned with a wedding band and the engagement ring. The love of his life had found her mate, was starting a family, and it would not be with him, as he had dreamed many times. Azriel would not be the father of her children. He had not been chosen, and he never would be, just as he had not chosen her first.

Liria watched the scene with the same sadness. On the day her bond with Azriel was broken, Darius, with whom she had shared a century of her life, had proposed to her. She had no doubt that he loved her deeply. However, she had rejected him and now bitterly regretted it. She knew she could have been the one to receive those tender kisses and those looks overflowing with love. Liria deeply regretted ending her relationship with Darius for Azriel and losing the chance to be his wife.

Such is the smallness of the world. The people they had hurt ended up finding each other to make each other happy and complete, like puzzle pieces that belong together.

Azriel had nothing more to offer. He never had a right, and he realized that his fear of not deserving Y/N's affection had come true. He did not deserve her, and he would carry that weight throughout his existence.

And if dreams were to come true, they would have been the ones.

The sun shone and embraced Y/N. Darkness dragged Azriel into the depths.

Tags: @janebirkln @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @blessthepizzaman @rcarbo1 @saltedcoffeescotch

@nikt-wazny-y @oceandiors @whosmys

Guys, it won't let me tag everyone, I hope you can read it.

I red them!

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster #azriel #acotar fandom #fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel angst #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #shadowsinger x reader #night court #sarah j maas #sjmaas

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mysteria157 · 7 months ago

Text

Moment Two: Your Daughter's First Pair

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity (not really), sexual suggestion, slight angst (very minimal).

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Nanami joins you and your daughter for a family tradition, but he may not be as strong as he thinks.

Set in the It Had To Be You universe but you don't need a lot of backstory to follow along.

Notes: This was a random thought that I had based on something that has always been a thing in my family that I wanted to write out. There is nothing significant about this, I have not written Nanami in a LONG time, so I'm trying to warm myself up again. I am so rusty but I'm using fleeting moments of inspiration and taking advantage of it.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @saradika | Header: myself

MINORS DNI

“You don’t need to hold her so tight.”

“I’m protecting her.”

“And what am I, a goat?”

He raises a brow at your jest, autumn wheat and elegant but nonetheless annoyed as he glares at you. He doesn’t mean it, you know that—it’s all nerves.

“Ken, we don’t have to do this you know? If you’re against the idea, we can wait a few more years.”

“I’m not against it,” he reassures you, adjusting your daughter in his arms. Ulani babbles up at him, her chubby hands digging into a sharply cut cheekbone. He carries on without complaint, already used to her behavior. “This is a tradition, and I understand it but…”

You turn a key chain in one hand, your thumb smoothing along the glittery face of a dog—or is it a cat? The rack is filled with key chains of different colors, animals and objects, bringing back memories of middle school when you would drag your best friend Omelia into this same store in Sendai before it closed down. Despite the many years that have passed, the store chain still has its subtle hues of purples and pinks, earrings punched through purple cardboard paper, pens with wonky erasers, and headbands of different designs.

“But what?” you try to finish for him, smiling up at his nervous form as he lets Ulani talk to him in her own baby language.

Kento pulls in a deep breath as if to steel his nerves and prepare for the inevitable. He’s praying to whoever will listen, trying to use every coping mechanism in the book. He’s wearing jeans that hug his fit thighs and a dark blue short sleeve that shows too much bicep for your liking (you should give him a dress code). There are only so many single and married women and men that you can glare at in a day, and the redhead over by the register is pushing it.

“Will it hurt her?” your boyfriend’s low timber pulls you back, filled with apprehension, and he keeps mahogany eyes on his daughter to avoid showing you just how scared he is. You rub his back to soothe him, tracing the bands of muscle that are tense behind the soft fabric.

“I-I’m worried.”

“And you shouldn’t be. It’s a simple thing, lasts two seconds. Just like when she got her first shots.”

That’s not enough for him, because now Kento furrows his eyebrows in frustration, bouncing his daughter in his arms to entertain her and also soothe himself. “There are a lot of things to consider. The risk of infection. Rejection. What if she hates them? What if they get caught on her clothes? Or her curls? Or—”

“Are we ready?” one of the employee’s sing songs from behind you both, walking towards the singular chair perched against the glass wall of the store.

“I—” Kento croaks, clearing his throat and swallowing loudly. He looks down at you. “Are we?”

In the time you’ve known him, you’ve only seen Kento visibly nervous a handful of times. That stoic demeanor is a smooth, stone-like shell to everyone else besides family and close friends, but you know the weak spots and have glimpsed into the fragmented sections only visible to your eyes. Right now, he’s nervous and fearful beyond belief. That all encompassing love and attention that he shows you from sunup to sundown extends to his daughter as well. If there is one person besides you, who can make Nanami Kento show his emotions freely and without reservation no matter the date, place, or time, it’s Ulani.

“How about you hold her?” you suggest and give him a small push towards the black chair. Two employees work at the small kiosk next to him, unwrapping sterile materials and cotton swabs. Kento’s eyes watch every movement, searching for any sign of threat that can give him the ammunition to take his daughter and never come back. You can practically hear his thoughts:

“Is that up to code?”

“How long has that been sealed?”

“What is the name of the manufacturer so that I can ensure it’s reputable?”

Your roll your own eyes, knowing how right you might be.

When you found out your pediatrician would be on her own maternity leave, you let Kento research every establishment in Tokyo until he found one in Shibuya. Reputable, good reviews, and well-practiced in this procedure.

Of course, you’re nervous too. She’s your daughter, a combination of you and Kento, conceived from a very drunken night of disdain but grown out of eventual love and adoration. The thought of her crying in pain makes that maternal part of you flare with anger and the consuming need to protect her forever. But you’ve prepared for this for awhile.

Kento? Not so much.

“Is that clean?” your boyfriend asks one of the employees, clutching his daughter a little tighter. It’s a little rude, but the employee smiles at him in a way that conveys understanding of his trepidation. This isn’t their first rodeo.

“Completely sterile from the package. I promise she’s in great hands.” Deep eyes free of steampunk-esque glasses flicker up at her in doubt, but he simply sniffs and looks back to his daughter instead to withhold a scathing remark. “How about one of us on each side, and we do it at once?” she suggests, addressing him directly. It helps, as he gives her a somber but curt nod.

He situates Ulani in his arms so she’s sitting fully on his lap, his large hands holding her up with a slight tremble. The sight is enough to remind you again that this is new territory for him. What has always been a normal tradition for you and the other females in your life, is a foreign concept for him.

Ear piercings are a milestone in a young girl’s life. You got yours as a baby, and so did your mother. Omelia got hers as a baby, as did all her female cousins, as did her mother and the mother before her. If you interacted with your mother’s side of the family, then maybe you would know if your cousins also did the same.

But that’s another thought for another time, and you refuse to let painful memories tarnish what should be a memory you are crafting on your own, right now.

You step closer and run your hands through thick blond locks that are free of gel. You brush the strands from his forehead, letting the soft texture slip past your fingertips as he relaxes instantly. With his place in his chair, he’s at the perfect height to rest his head on your stomach, and he does so a second later.

One of his hands brushes light brown curls from his daughters ears. You can feel the unease radiating from him with every deep breath he takes, and you scratch that spot at his nape that makes him shudder, hoping it will help.

The muscles in Kento’s neck bunch together instead when one of the employee’s leans toward Ulani to make marks in deep purple, and even your own stomach turns in response at what’s to come.

“Okay, we will do this on three. How’s that sound honey?” one of the employees coos at your daughter. Ulani, who is a carbon copy of her father, stares up at her, observant and sinking into her daddy before offering a gummy smile. “She’s so pretty.”

“She’s beautiful,” Kento corrects, slightly rough but still appreciative of the compliment. “Aren’t you, my dove?”

He tickles her side and offers a rare chuckle as she squeals up at him, wiggling in her father’s embrace. The sight makes your heart do flips because this is your world, day in and day out. Just you, Kento, and the person you’ve created together.

You step around to squat in front of him so you’re eye level with your daughter, a hand coming up to wiggle the toes covered in a tan sock. Her eyes catch you immediately, and she holds your gaze long enough for the two employees to position themselves on each side of her.

Kento holds his breath.

“Alright, here we go. One. Two. Three.”

They both move in sync, pressing down on the plastic gun so the studs slide through the soft lobe of Ulani’s lower ears. Kento’s eyebrows furl together immediately. Ulani’s eyes widen for a second before her face contorts, her mouth opening in a silent cry. Your heart hammers and your chest tightens in an sudden flood of sadness and desperation that crashes against you like a tumultuous wave when Ulani takes one heaving breath in….

And screams.

His reaction is quick. Kento bounces one leg at a tempo that alarms you, his handsome face flying through different stages of grief, anger, and pain as he watches the employees adjust the diamond earrings to ensure they heal without complication. His mouth opens and closes, jaw grinding to keep his rudeness in check, because you know what he wants to say.

He was the same way when she got her shots; all glares and sharp stares at everyone else because they were the source of her discomfort. But like that time before, you are the cooling balm for his hot anger as you wiggle your daughters toes and murmur soothing words at her, to show him that she’s going to be just fine.

“It’s okay, baby,” you smile softly and it’s enough to capture her attention even though she’s squealing and crying from the sharp but quick pain in her ears. But all too quickly, you’re not enough for her, because the daughter that you carried for almost ten months turns away and reaches for her father, crying loudly in his arms. It’s a sting that you prepared for, but nonetheless hurts with a severity that takes a few seconds for you to recover from.

By the time you pay one of the employees and exit the store, Ulani has already calmed down. Kento digs into the diaper bag on his shoulder and pulls out a cotton cloth, wiping her nose as she sniffles and whines into his shoulder.

“I know honey, I know,” he coos to her, wiping the tears from her light brown skin and swaying back and forth. “But you were so strong, weren’t you? Hmm? A lot stronger than me.”

He pulls her away from his neck, smiling softly at her, and that one smile makes your chest bloom with satisfaction. It’s times like these that remind you how your life has surprisingly fallen into place. Who would have thought that the man who used to drive you insane would be the only one fit for you?

That small twinge of hurt you felt minutes ago when Ulani turned away from you resurfaces, but reassurance cools it’s prickly edges. Even though this is a moment you may have been more connected with, it’s Kento who feels the painful side of it a lot more.

So you give him his own moment. You watch quietly as he kisses her chubby cheeks repeatedly, smiling into her skin at the giggles that leave her. You fall into the hum of the world around you as you watch him tuck away the cotton cloth and smooth the curls away from Ulani’s ears, finally admiring the diamonds that twinkle on each side. The lobes will be red for a few days, but for Ulani, she will never think of them again until she’s old enough to pay attention. Until she’s old enough to change them out to match the outfits she decides to wear, different colors and gemstones, and multiples if she ever has a streak of expression in her teenage years. Like you did.

Kento finally looks down at you, chestnut browns sparkling as he takes you in from head to toe. The harsh Shibuya sun beats down on bustling city square, but the rays are soft when they touch him. Tan skin is illuminated gold on his cheekbones, his hair luminous in the sun. You reach up to run a hand through his locks for the second time this afternoon, your heart still not used to the incessant hammering that arises when he leans into your touch.

You lift an accusatory eyebrow at him and hold back a chuckle when you speak. “Our daughter was the soldier this afternoon, and yet I’m coddling you?”

“Keep coddling,” he demands, voice tinged with mirth as he turns to place a kiss inside of your palm and then leans back into your stroking. “Today was very painful for me, have you no shame?”

You snort and dig your nails into his scalp in retaliation, enjoying the groan that rumbles in the air from your ministrations. “Don’t blame this one moment on your entire day. You had a great run, remember?”

“My slowest three mile run yet.” Quick on the draw, and you already know where this is going. Kento rarely complains, but when he does, it is about the most trivial things as a means to get and keep your attention.

“You made me pancakes this morning.”

“Not my best work. Too much cinnamon in the batter.”

“We made out two hours ago?”

“Ulani woke from her nap and interrupted what would have been a very enjoyable afternoon.” That complaint leaves his mouth in a grumble, and you purse your lips to hold off the laughter that sits in the back of your throat. He’s truly pouting, and god do you love him.

“And now seeing your daughter cry from her first ear piercing was icing on the cake of a bad day, I imagine?”

“Exactly.”

You finally giggle and playfully pull a strand of his hair. He narrows his eyes at you, mischievous yet still carrying that ingrained indifference that you know and love. Ulani shrieks in his arms, finally past her blip of crying and now ready for her parent’s attention. You take in her drool of a smile, slightly red ears, and brown onesie-dress, and the possibilities flood your mind. It’s…very overwhelming when the thoughts hit you: how she will grow into herself, develop her personality, her wants and desires, her hobbies and her dreams.

“Pay attention to me,” he interrupts your thoughts, and you can’t help the bark of laughter that you give him in response. Ulani mimics you, completely oblivious.

“You’re such a baby, and we have a baby,” you tease, snorting at his level expression and dusty cheeks, slightly shy but absorbing your presence. “You and Ulani have had it rough today. So how about a reward?” You look to your daughter when you ask, knowing damn well she has no idea what you’re saying but you want to include her anyway.

“How about frozen yogurt?” I.e., the unsweetened applesauce in the diaper bag for Ulani and matcha-flavored frozen yogurt for Kento from a favorite vendor a few blocks away. It’s an obsession of his that’s been appearing in the freezer with numbing regularity.

Kento remains unphased by your suggestion, though his lips twitch with the desire to smirk down at you.

“Seeing our daughter in pain was more heartbreaking than I thought. Food may not help, I’m afraid.”

Kento is milking his “pain” at this point, and you’re far too in love with him not to entertain the idea you know is floating in his head. You love this about him, just how playful he is when it comes to you.

“You’re a tough nut to crack.” You tap your chin as if you’re thinking hard, humming in contemplation. “How about…” you trail off, a hand sliding up a muscular bicep before massaging his nape again, relishing in the shudder he gives in response, his eyes twitching to hold back the urge to roll into his head in satisfaction. “Since you’ve suffered so much today…we can go home…and I’ll do that thing you like.”

You have the privilege and skill of being able to read Nanami Kento like a book. You don’t miss the glee that dances across his features—the uptick of one side of his mouth, the slow brow lift, the darkening of his irises. He knows exactly what that thing is. You’re pretty good at it—a master at it—and he made you promise that the day he ever turns that thing down, is the day you can leave him.

His cheeks explode in blush, jaw ticking before he clears his throat and smooths a sweaty hand down the dark blue of his shirt.

“I see,” he ponders, looking up to the sky as if in deep thought, and you know if you roll your eyes again, they’ll get stuck. “Well.” He situates Ulani in his arms and presses a few kisses to her cheek again to pull those giggles from her that you both love. “Who am I to deny your mother?” he suggests to his daughter. “Not a moment to waste, Ulani.”

“You’ve got to be kidding—”

“Quickly, before you change your mind.” He slides a hand to the small of your back as a means to hurry you along, pressing softly and turning you in the direction of the car.

You try to bat his hands away from you, giggles growing in volume as he dodges all your attempts to get rid of him. “I’m not going to change my mind, Ken—”

“Quickly.”

He takes your hand and you let him pull you, beaming at his back as he increases his pace. Ulani is happy as can be in her father’s arms and babbling as he talks softly to her.

“A snack before nap time sounds good, doesn’t it? What kind of applesauce would you like today?” She gurgles. “Cinnamon again? Hmmm, we should always try new things, Dove. What about the strawberry ones I bought you yesterday?” A squeal. “Strawberry it is. I think…”

The rest of their conversation fades into the background as you walk with them, warmth coursing through your veins with each step. It’s a warmth that catches you off guard, but has been ever present since Ulani’s birth. And you love every bit of how it feels. How it flows through you with every breath you take. How it only grows every minute, every hour, every day that you create a life with them.

After Ulani is buckled in her car seat and you slide your seat belt into its latch, Kento leans across the armrest, a warm hand sliding against your cheek in a gentle caress before he slants his lips against yours. It’s a surprise, but the shock dies as quickly as it forms as you melt into his touch—full lips that know your own and soft blonde locks brushing your face.

That affection that he pulls from you every day is given back in this moment—freely and without restraint—in the parking lot of Claire’s in Shibuya, where your daughter got her ears pierced for the first time.

When he pulls away and whispers his love for you against your lips, you repeat it back to him without thinking. It’s a motion that you both carry out whenever you can.

“No more piercings. My heart will probably give out.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask in a tone that is filled with the teasing nature that sticks to you like a second skin.

He loves it, but doesn’t take the bait, and instead kisses your lips again, each cheek, and the tip of your nose. “I will soon.” The innuendo is so obvious you can taste it. He’s been with you too long to be a blushing and awkward man. “Once Ulani is asleep.” You push him away with a giggling huff and savor the deep chuckle that falls from his lips, permeating the air of the car.

As Kento drives through the crowded streets towards your shared home in Nakameguro, the hand not on the steering wheel envelops yours, a thumb stroking the skin of your palm. You look out the window and observe the colors and cars that zoom by, and the sound of a deep breath behind you makes you look back. And when you do, your heart gives a painful but welcoming lurch as you gaze at her. Your daughter already asleep, her head dipping to the side—curly locks askew and sticking to the drool on her face, and her new diamond earrings shining back at you.

Thanks for reading!

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leaderwon · 11 months ago

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GENSHIN IMPACT CHARACTERS I THINK ENHYPEN WOULD MAIN

warning : mild cursing, not proofread pls lmk if any mistakes!

word count : 671

notes : just a quick one because I haven't been posting alot lately

HEESEUNG : EULA LAWRENCE

Hmm, let's see

From his League of legends gameplay, he seems the type of guy to Main a character that easily does big damage.

He gives me eula vibes because who doesn't love eula??

Like i can imagine him just one shotting everything because she's a physical dps.

She's mommy material and if you disagree with me i.will.find.you

He probably hardcore invested in her imo, has a godly build and gets 36 stars in abyss.

rest of the members utc!

JAY : ZHONGLI

OKAY WE SAW THAT COMING.

I feel like he'd use his money and get him upto c6 and hardcore invest in him tbh.

Will shield you from any damage (his c2 cons) and will do big pp damage with his rock

i don't think he would invest into his weapon tho (even I wouldn't it's completely useless). Maybe he'd go for staff of homa for zhongli

i think he would just use his ult on other people for fun.

like imagine you're looking at your artifacts screen and out of nowhere you hear "I WILL HAVE ORDER!!"

like bestie did you just waste your ult like that...

JAKE : ARATAKI ITTO AND GOROU

TELL ME YOU DON'T SEE JAKE BEING AN ITTO MAIN LIKE MAN COME ON

Itto is just so goofy and cute and so is jakey and it's such a perfect match I CANNOT BELIEVE I THOUGHT OF THAT??? (In shock)

Itto is like so massively strong with his cow I swear

Need help? no worries a cow is here to help you!

No cuz i feel like he'll be so obsessed with itto's cow he's going to throw it on npcs and just laugh is ass off.

I also think he'll have alot of fun spamming itto's burst. i think we can all agree that his burst is very satisfying.

He wants to maximize it's damage, and the best character to help? gorou.

dog + a really good geo support = perfection for jake

he is def (pun intended) pulling for both their constellations for c6

SUNGHOON : KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

Have no idea how this thought popped up into my mind tbh it just did?

like kazuha is so calm and collected and peaceful i think it fits hoon really well in. way

and his dog gaeul's name means autumn in Korean. Ring a bell??

beside that i don't think he would seriously invest into him

kazuha is so broken at c0 itself, he won't bother as much but if he gets a constellation on accident he wouldn't mind.

SUNOO : NILOU

I was initially thinking nahida or diona even, but then i realised nilou would be so perfect??

no hear me out, she's cute she's gorgeous she dances she's so sskjejssjzjjsjzjehdwbhxdb AHHHH (sorry)

i feel like he would fall in love first sight of her no cap

he will be casual ab her me thinks, wouldn't try to get constellations really.

is afk most of the time staring at her beauty

JUNGWON : GANYU

HARD CARRYING LEADER!!!

tho he gives cat vibes (maybe diona or kirara) he also gives me "I will carry you but i will avoid you and the enemy like the plaque" if you get what I mean.

his build for her would be fucking crazy no cap.

like bro is hitting 100k every charged shot no buffs

wouldn't go for cons imo but will go mad crazy about building her

his aim would be so good tho, he never misses! (the same way he never misses to make my heart flutter)

NI-KI : HUTAO

we definitely saw this coming

the goofiness, the happiness, the crazyness and the urge to annoy zhongli (Jay) it all fits perfectly

he would definitely one tap everything that comes across his way

my boy is going all out with her c6 r5 (with Jay's money ofcourse)

i can also imagine him getting super mad when someone accidentally heals him like excuse tf me. did you just do that.

dw he'll get revenge by constantly burning the grass you're standing on 😘

disappeared from Tumblr for a while omg did someone miss me.

school has been hectic as hell as one of my most imp exams are coming up like kill me already

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

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melimpostor · 7 months ago

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Hello! first off I just want to say that I love love love your art!!! its so amazing! 💖 So, I’ve been asking this question around online, so I hope you don’t mind! (Please feel free to ignore this ask if you don’t feel like answering!) Anyway, I’ve been drawing for a good while now. It’s always been something that interests me, but, in all the time that I’ve done it, I’ve never once found a style that is unique to me and that I’m good at. So, I was just wondering if you have any tips or advice on how to find your own style? I’ve tried so many though I can’t ever seem to like any of them or actually stick to it. One thing I really have trouble with is proportion. I want my style to be more chibi-esqe, but not completely if you knows what I mean lol. If you have any advice for a fellow artist I’d really like to hear it!! Please share your wisdom :D

Hello and thank you !! I don’t mind at all ! Let’s see…

For finding your art style:

► Define what you want to tell with your art. Not mandatory, but i think it helps. What do you want people to feel when they see your art? Do you want them to feel the emotions of the characters you draw? Or be impressed by the technique? the colors? All of the above?- I think your answer will lean you to something more specific in terms of style. For example, I tend to focus on characters expressions and feelings. So i have a relatively simple artstyle that allows me to focus on facial traits a bit more. (Also... i'm lazy- So i like to tell more with less)

► Observe drawings from artists you love ! Try to analyze what you like so much about it. Is it the lineart? the specific way they draw eyes or any specific part of the body? Is it the colors or the rendering style? And try to reproduce it yourself. Not in a plagiarism kind of way, but more as a study !

► Try, fail and retry again. Once you have analyzed the things you like, try to incorporate it into your own art. It might come off badly sometimes, but you also might create happy accidents ! Both outcomes are good learning. And while I don't think it’s possible to have a style 100% original, it doesn’t mean you can’t create an artstyle that you own and feels as uniquely yours !

► Be patient (trust the process and don’t be too hard on yourself). Defining your artstyle might take years to refine itself. Decades even… With practice and dedication it will come naturally to you ! But as with any discipline you have to be patient, there will be ups and downs and very frustrating moments but you never cease to learn.

For proportions:

► Don’t be shy about using references. There is no such thing as cheating in art (if used properly). It builds your visual library, so help yourself as much as you can ! Professionals use them all the time too.

► I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but…. We can’t really cut anatomy practice- I avoided it for so long myself and I regret it bitterly. So don’t be like me and practice your anatomy ! Even if you aim for a simple or semi-chibi style. The trap is it seems easy to draw , when in reality a lot of chibi artists already master anatomy to a certain degree. It’s much easier to simplify shapes when you know a little more about the structure behind them.

There are a lot of websites to help you, here’s a few ! http://reference.sketchdaily.net/ https://line-of-action.com/ https://www.posemaniacs.com/

My advice is to start slow. Most of those websites have a timer by default, but don’t set a time limit for now and take your time on each pose. Try to breakdown body parts into simple geometrical shapes. It helps grow your visual library and it’ll get easier to draw with better proportions !

___

Here you go ! I realize it's very generic sorry - TLDR: don't give up ! If you want anything more specific don't hesitate to ask again, I'll do my best ! Good luck on your art journey ! ♥

#ask

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nebuletteart · 10 months ago

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it's pretty annoying seeing so many of the people crying out to support artists and that ai is unethical (both very true takes) playing palworld and shooting down anyones justifiable criticism. I avoided the whole thing for awhile, thinking the talk of plagiarism was greatly exaggerated twitter beef and seeing a lot of big gaming channels jumping to its defense. Wasnt interested in the premise and was content to let it pass by, happy that the game would put pressure on the pokemon company to actually give game freak time to develop a good game for once. And then I saw this.

This is outright stolen, like. laughably stolen. There are other designs too, that outright steal or are questionable. but how the fuck can you say you give one shit about artists and then simp for a game that steals what was most certainly an overworked artists design wholesale? If that was the end of it, I'd side eye loud supporters but not comment.

(Fakemon designed by EtherealHaze)

Yeah. they also pretty blantently stole from a fakemons design. someone already made a post breaking all of everything down it outright steals but i trust ones eyes to see it immediately. I've seen plenty of people cry "but it's always ok to steal from corporations!!" (even if i think that excuse is fucking dogwater when it comes to art) well then, here's your example of them stealing from independent fucking artists!!

Pirate the game if you must but dont claim you care about artists and then turn around and bite our heads off the moment we point out that the game that very clearly plagiarizes artists! Also on the ai thing, even if it hasnt been proven the team used ai for any of the designs, the studio has apparently dabbled in it in the past and the ceo is an ai supporter. so. that sucks also.

#generally i avoid making opinionated posts like this but i wanted to rant somewhere about how annoying the palworld craze is #from the perspective of an artist who didnt care until a few hours ago #also dont want to rain on someones parade for liking a problematic media or whatever #you can like cringe! i like cringe! there are plenty of things i like that have people behind it who suck #or have glaring issues #just like #dont completely dismiss artists anger as just drama or nagging!#as someone with a passion for character design this is deeply scary to me #it makes me not want to share my designs on the internet #in fear some studio will steal them and make it rich #and ill be left in squalor

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white-poppie · 3 years ago

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M3 Relationship Headcannons

This is super cute! I wanted to do some headcanons for a while now, but I was scared…ANYWAYS hope you guys like it <3 Remember that these are based on how I view the characters.

(Aizawa, Hawks, Mirko) Version

Shoto Todoroki

His love language is words of affirmation (like mine)

He likes physical touch but he will never initiate it

He is insecure about his scar and thinks it is ugly

Please tell him how beautiful and unique it is!

Loves when you kiss his scar

(For females) He has let you use his hand as a heating pad for period cramps.

He really trusts you and would lay his life on the line with no hesitation

He is very gentle and arguments are very rare.

Cook him cold soba and he will be happy!:)

Random Scenario

Shoto lay on your lap as your eyes flickered on his scar.

You gently traced it with your finger and his eyes stirred open.

"Does it look weird? I am sorry."

"Oh no Shoto! I was just admiring it."

"Why...?"

"Because scars are a reminder that you have fought the battle called life and actually won it. Life just left you with a beautiful trophy."

You leaned and kissed his eye gently, "very pretty."

Katsuki Bakugou

How...? HOW???! How the heck did you tame this guy?

His love language is...giving/receiving gifts

He is a cocky brat with a very high ego so keep fueling it and it will be fine.

He has nightmares from the Kamino incident.

He will never agree but he really loves when you comfort him

He really likes cooking for you!

Gods, when you cook with him it will be like trying to hold a flashlight for your dad...try not to get yelled at.

Ps: His mom really likes you and you two gossip behind his back sometimes

Random Scenario:

Katsuki woke up breathless, his chest heaved and sweat rolled down his neck. He went to the washroom to wash his face.

"Bad dream?"

"Pro Hero Katsuki Bakugou: should he be among the top heroes even after being the cause of All might's downfall?" He chuckled dryly.

"Stop Suki' media is flayed by money, today this is the news, the next day it would be something else."

You dragged him back to bed and wrapped your arms around him.

"You are my hero Katsuki."

He snickered and nuzzled his neck on your shoulder, "Idiot."

Izuku Midoriya

He really likes when you ruffle his hair

His love language is a mix between words of affirmation, acts of service and physical touch

You guys have deep and long conversations about hero society

He boops your nose whenever you say something cute

He is a very strong-willed and career-driven person and often neglects his health.

He has really soft skin and you can't resist pulling his cheeks :3

He is not into PDA much but will hold your hand.

He tries to avoid the media as much as possible as he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable.

He is fascinated by a lot of things and will be with you through every difficulty possible.

Random Scenario

You two were sitting in a cafe and overheard some of his fans talking

"Is that the Pro hero Deku?"

"I think it is."

"Should we go approach him?"

"No, that would make him uncomfortable."

"Is that his s/o with him?"

"Yea..."

"Really! I thought he would have more high standards. They don't look fit for him."

He saw how your face suddenly went blue.

"Uhh, excuse me..." he called his fans. They both looked at him shocked.

"Please refrain from saying any such thing about my s/o, they mean the world to me."

Hope you guys liked it! It took a lot of time and hopefully, the result is worth the effort. Please like and reblog it if you find it nice. The story is written by me and please do not plagiarize my work. If you find anyone copying this, please inform me ASAP. This took a lot of effort. If this fic inspired you in any way, please don't forget to tag me!! If you want to request any kind of prompt/fic please feel free to do so

Love~♥

@white-poppie

Be added to my tag list: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1eL2phObzdQPHb-8wBTwKOdX2gDhWhgveJ6mu13Bs-5Q/edit?usp=sharing

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myherowritings · 4 years ago

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PART 6. FUCK THE RICH, STEAL THEIR CANDY

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 3.7k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. enji...ew, some judgmental rich people, just a little bit of sexual tension and suggestive content to prep for the next part ;3

A/N. gala time omg let’s gooooo writing this made me 100% ready to fight rich ppl fjhjkgf and want to give shouto all the kisses ;p i hope you enjoy and tysm for reading!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

The only thing you hoped for this past week was for Shouto not to regret the events that happened in the dressing room. (Or, more precisely, the events that didn’t happen because of an interruption but you both had very much wanted to happen at the time.)

(Or so you hoped he did. It seemed like he did…)

You groaned, burrowing your face in your pillows after flopping back onto your bed after a shower. Why was this so confusing?

It wasn’t like Shouto was ignoring you or pretending nothing happened, but he’s just been so busy with work neither of you had time to sit down and really talk. You briefly got to see him for his daily morning coffee runs but you didn’t want to accidentally ruin what little time throughout the work week the two of you had by bringing it up. And now it was the weekend, which would have been the perfect time to talk about it, if not for the fact Shouto was picking you up to get ready at his place and then head to a super fancy gala in less than an hour!

With a charity ball full of strangers you had to prepare for, you supposed your potential romance could take the back seat for a little while longer.

At least the fruity little candies would be there waiting for you.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, your phone buzzed with a message from Shouto telling you he was less than 20 minutes away from your place. Within the last few minutes, you double checked you had the necessities, like your makeup and clothes and hair supplies and shoes and possibly every ‘getting ready’ product you could think of under the sun, all ready to go. Your dress was already hanging in Shouto’s house, ready for you to change into.

Apparently, there wasn’t a moment left to spare since you soon got a call with him telling you he had just arrived. Taking deep breaths, you walked out your door, lugging your bag of belongings in tow.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” Shouto greeted as you settled into his car. He smiled as you reached over to give him a quick side hug. He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Nervous about tonight?”

You tried to calm the tapping your fingers were doing against the inside of the car door. “Is it obvious?”

“Not really,” he assured. “Regardless, you shouldn’t worry. You’ll be an amazing date and we don’t even need to stay the whole time if you would rather not.”

Amazing date date? Or amazing fake date?

Would it be too forward of you to ask? (Not that anything could’ve been more forward than Shouto pinning you against a wall and almost kissing you just a few days ago.)

“You’re right, it’ll be fine!” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “After all, you’ll be there.”

A smile. “Hm.”

It didn’t take very long for you to get from your place to his seeing as he lived relatively close to his work and therefore yours. He parked in front of a luxury high-rise apartment that was characterized by glass windows and angled architecture. It looked like something straight out of Portfolio Magazine.

“All those ‘Japan’s Youngest CEO Bachelor’ tabloids are starting to make sense now,” you said with a teasing whistle, following Shouto into the building after being greeted by the security guards and receptionist.

He held his hand out to you and you placed yours in his palm as he led you to the VIP elevator that brought you all the way up to the top floor. His hand gave yours a soft squeeze when he noticed your gaze darting around the area nervously.

When the elevator doors opened, your eyes widened as you took in the ceramic floor tiles, the spotless walls, floor-to-ceiling mirror columns, and the natural light pouring in through the bare, glass windows. “Whoa— This looks like a wealthy bachelor pad if I’ve ever seen one.”

Letting go of your hand, Shouto offered to take your bag of belongings and brought it to a room for you to get ready in. “Do you...not like it?”

“Oh, that’s not it at all!” You shook your head earnestly. “This place is so beautiful! And a little cold.”

Both literally and metaphorically.

His penthouse was elegant and sleek, with tasteful decor that probably cost more than a month’s salary for you. But it seemed a little...empty. Not like a home.

Apparently, Shouto agreed.

“I live here because it’s close to work. But it’s a little unwelcoming,” he admitted wryly. “Not something I ever really settled into. Though my mother and sister did try to help decorate.”

You looked at the finely chosen contemporary paintings displayed on some of the walls. “They have good eyes.”

Shouto nodded but appeared to be in pensive thought. “If I were to ever settle down with a family, it wouldn’t be here. But this is what’s most suitable for now.”

Running your fingers against the cold glass windows, you peered down into the city in an attempt to calm your fluttering heart having just learned Shouto valued having a family in the future. Something in you just liked hearing he one day wanted to settle down with someone. You bit your lower lip to stop a hopeful smile from spreading.

“I’m sure you’ll be a great husband and father when the day comes,” you said quietly, still gazing out the window to avoid looking into his eyes. “But, um, anyway— I should start getting ready now! Don’t want us to be late for tonight.”

His hand that was reaching out to hold you suddenly dropped to his side as he stepped away at your words. “Of course.”

You silently cursed yourself under your breath, wishing you had waited a few moments to talk so you could’ve seen what he was going to do. Would he have tried to kiss you again? You hoped that was the case, but it was too late to know for sure now.

“You can get ready in here,” said Shouto, opening the door to what looked like a guest bedroom, your dress hanging on an armoire inside. “There’s your dress. And the bathroom is right there if you need it.”

“Thank you, Shouto.” You resisted the urge to plop right on the huge bed and jump on it while he was in the room. “I’ll try to be quick!”

“No need to rush; we have time.” He checked the watch on his wrist before turning to you. “I’ll be in the shower for a bit but if you need anything just let me know.”

In the shower? While you were under the same roof? Your stomach did funny flips at the thought.

“I’ll keep your offer in mind,” you said playfully, glancing over at the dress. You’d need his assistance sooner or later buttoning the dress up, but there was sadly no time for funny business if you wanted to make it to the gala in a timely manner.

When Shouto left the room to take a shower, you began getting ready yourself. You did your hair and makeup in a way that made you feel confident and happy, and by the time you were done about two hours had passed. All you had left was to change into the dress and throw on some fancy shoes and you’d be set with time to spare.

You were just wondering if Shouto was almost ready when you heard a knock on the door.

Speak of the devil. Or angel. He was much too sweet to be the devil, after all.

“Everything okay in there?” he asked, voice muffled from the outside of the wall.

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yeah! Just putting on the dress now.”

There was a shuffle outside then a pause. Then, “Did you want any help?”

“Yes, please.” You slipped into your outfit and pulled the front over your chest. The fabric was light against your body, making it feel almost ethereal.

After a while, Shouto cautiously opened the door to the room and you turned to catch sight of him. He was dressed up in a fitted black suit with silky red trimmings and a tie that matched the color of your dress. His hair was combed back and to the side, pulled out of his face and giving you a clear view of his forehead. That was one pretty forehead.

All in all, he looked as handsome as ever, but with some extra pizzazz.

“You look great,” you both said at the same time.

There was a beat of silence, then you both laughed.

“I’m only half in my dress and I’m sure I look a bit unruly, but thank you,” you giggled as Shouto walked over to grasp at the fastens on the back of your gown.

He shook his head. “You look beautiful like you always do. The dress just helps compliment it even more.”

His words brought warmth to your cheeks and you were glad you were faced away from him so he couldn’t see your all too pleased expression. “Smooth talker much?”

“Not flattery. Just the truth.”

Your smile grew even wider. “Hm.”

Shouto nimbly fastened the buttons on your back, cold fingertips lightly grazing your skin in ways that sent shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes and hoped that was only a phrase and that he couldn’t actually tell how much your body was affected from such a simple touch by sensing shivers in your spine.

You held your breath as he travelled up your back, skin sparking against skin. Time seemed to slow down as he closed the last few buttons.

“Finished,” he said quietly, though his hands didn’t move from their position on you.

Turning around, you caught his palms in yours, lightly stroking his knuckles with your thumb. Shouto looked down at your hands joined together then back at you.

You murmured, “Thanks for your assistance.”

The tips of your noses were almost brushing together as you stared up at him. If either one of you were to lean forward a few centimeters more, your lips would be touching. Just like in the fitting room last weekend.

And just like in the fitting room, Shouto’s hands encircled your waist and toyed with the buttons on your dress while you tugged at his color.

But just like in the fitting room, there was an interruption mere seconds before the kiss. It’s just that, this time, the interruption was from you.

“Wait! I have makeup on!” you cried, pulling away in despite the dissatisfaction you knew the both of you were feeling. “If we kiss it might get messed up and I’ll have to redo it and then we’ll be late to the gala.”

He made deep a sound of frustration. “Fuck the gala.”

You wanted to. In this very moment, you would much rather ditch the gala and fuck something else, but you had to remain somewhat rational. “But we made a commitment to show up, didn’t we?”

Shouto looked down like he had just been chided. “We did.”

“Plus… The candy!”

He blinked before a grin took over his face. He chuckled, “Of course. Can’t forget the greatest candy heist of the year.”

“Exactly!”

His smile was amused but his hands rested intimately on your hips. “Besides, you put in effort to get ready for tonight, it’d be a disservice to keep you from showing it off.”

Your cheeks warmed at his compliment as you let out a laugh. “Flatterer,” you accused, though your tone had no bite to it. Instead, it was teasing as you brought your palm up to cup his jaw. “We should probably get going if we don’t want to be late, hmm?”

“Mm.”

“But first—” You planted a kiss on his cheek, giving him just a small hint of what could come later that night. When you pulled away, there was a lipstick mark in the shape of your lips where his jawline met his cheek an you smiled, satisfied with your work.

His grip on you tightened as his gaze turned hooded. “If I’m a flatterer, you’re being a tease.”

“Sounds like a good combination to me.”

— ✩ —

Oddly enough, the Naruhata Charity Gala was going quite well.

The food was yummy, there were cute places for you and Shouto to sneak off and take obnoxious selfies, and—most importantly—there were bowls of free candies scattered throughout the entire premise.

A whole building was rented out for the charity ball to be held and the venue even had an outdoor pool and with complimentary champagne (not that anyone was exactly prepared to take a dip in the middle of the night, but the only thing that mattered to the guests was that you could).

Both of you were having fun.

You met some of Shouto’s friends, got complimented by the DJ for your...enthusiastic dance skills on the dance floor, and, for most of the night, Shouto was successful in avoiding making conversation with his father.

Things were going well. Until they weren’t.

You and Shouto were standing in a hallway just outside the main ballroom, exchanging jokes and talking about how many crabcakes a person could fit in their mouth. Totally business as usual, until you heard a group of people whispering only mere feet away from you.

“Are you sure that’s them?” a woman in a red dress whispered—and you used that term rather subjectively since the whisper could be heard by practically half the room—as she glanced at you.

Seeing their gazes, you froze in your spot. Shouto must have heard them to since his brows furrowed as he held you closer to him, protectively.

“And you really heard them, right? Mr. Todoroki has a… You know…”

Another girl who you recognized as another customer from the dress store the other day nodded her head. “Yes, I overheard it with my own two ears when I was getting my outfit. That’s Mr. Todoroki and his sugar baby!”

You almost choked on your crabcake.

Shouto rubbed circles into your back. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” you said sheepishly, trying not to draw even more attention to yourself than there already was. On the plus side, at least more people would notice how hot you look in this dress with your hair and makeup done. (Though it might be for the wrong reasons…)

You vaguely recalled teasing Shouto about looking like a sugar daddy, and he joked back. But you didn’t think anyone would want to gossip enough to overhear a joke and spread it around as a rumor!

The group began chattering some more and seemed to gain a crowd. You even saw a large figure you recognized as Todoroki Enji walking towards you.

“I’m going to have to clear things up, aren’t I?”

Shouto shook his head, a frown present on his face. But you knew his displeasure wasn’t directed at you. “You don’t need to pay attention to this nonsense. People can think what they want.”

“It’s okay! I don’t want to ruin your reputation with the media when I was initially here to help it get better. Besides, they don’t seem to be doing it maliciously. They’re just curious.”

He looked at you, but before he could think of the words to say, you walked over to the group of gossiping partygoers.

You tapped on the shoulder of the one you saw at the store. “Hi! Excuse me…” All eyes turned to you and you tried not to shrink down. “I, ah, I know what you overheard that day at the dress retailers, but I just wanted to clear it up and say it was a joke! Funny right? Well, maybe not so funny to you guys, but it was just an inside joke between me and Shouto.” You laughed, growing nervous at the lack of response. “You see, I’m not actually his sugar—”

Just then, a booming voice interrupted, “Shouto! What are you thinking, son?”

You almost jumped at the sound and turned towards the direction of your date. As you whirled around, you made eye contact with him. Shouto had a furious expression on his face, but when his gaze met yours he tried giving you a comforting smile. Seeing his distress, you immediately made your way back to him.

“A nice woman to boost your media image,” Enji whispered, trying to lead his son to a less crowded area, probably so no one else would overhear or spread more rumors. “That’s all I asked for. Not a…a…you know!”

Was it a criterion that rich people must not know how to whisper? you asked yourself. Either, one, no one was actually trying to whisper, or two, they could not control their volume very well.

“Actually,” you spoke up from behind him. When Enji turned to look at you, you gave him a wave before walking over to Shouto’s side. “I’m not his sugar baby. But even if I were, what’s it to you?”

There was a hush of silence that settled around the room and you almost had to laugh at how comical it was.

��As long as it’s an agreement between two consenting adults, there’s nothing wrong with it,” you said, hoping it didn’t just go in one of his ears and out the other. “You could think of it as like a business deal, but...with more of a relationship aspect.”

Enji’s face turned a shade of red. “That’s not the sort of people someone with Shouto’s upbringing should hang around with. I don’t know how you were raised, but—”

“Stop it, father.” Shouto’s voice was angry as he clenched his jaw. But his arm was wrapped around your waist. You gently squeezed his hand with yours. “You don’t get to make assumptions about Y/N without ever even talking to them.”

“Shouto,” he said in a warning tone when he noticed more and more people were paying attention to them. This didn’t exactly seem like the attention he wanted. “We can talk about this later.”

Shouto frowned. “There’s nothing to talk about. All you have to do is say sorry to Y/N and then we can leave.” He turned around to the crowd trying to pretend they weren’t listening in. “And everyone else, you can stop eavesdropping.”

They look startled at the forward confrontation and you stifled a giggle, leaning into your date with a smile.

He gave you a chaste kiss on your forehead before murmuring under his breath, “Everyone attending a charity gala just to brag about how generous they are but then turning around to judge everyone who might not be in the same circle as them? How shameless.”

Although it seemed like he was whispering it, your hypothesis that rich people really didn’t know how to whisper was right, since it was loud enough for the whole room to hear. Not that you or Shouto seemed to mind.

“You know, if you’re not going to apologize to Y/N, there’s no reason we should stay any longer,” he told his dad as a stiff goodbye.

You nodded in agreement before taking a handful of candy from a nearby bowl. “Well, now there’s no reason to stay.”

Spinning on your heel, the two of you headed for the exit, somehow not caring but all too aware of the eyes on you at the same time. Before reaching the door, Shouto grabbed two bowls of candy in the reception area and walked out the door with it, everyone too stunned to say anything about it. You walked into the parking lot smothering fits of laughter the whole way, still in disbelief about the events that had just occurred.

“For you,” said Shouto as the two of you reached his car, still carrying the candy in his arms.

You choked out a laugh at the audacity of it all. He even took the bowls? The candies were free for the guests, but you weren’t so sure the bowls were. “I… Thanks, Shouto. I’m never going to run out of these candies now!”

“Hm,” was the approving noise he made.

When you both got into his car, he looked at you before turning the engine on. Now that the adrenaline had passed, he had a much more solemn expression on his face.

“Y/N,” he said, sounding apologetic, “I’m really sorry about my dad. And about the gossip. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t too bad, and none of it was your fault! Besides,” you said, giving his hand on the gear shift a squeeze. After pulling out of the parking spot, he let go of the stick and interlocked his fingers with yours. “I had the best date ever to make up for it.”

“I have to disagree with that because I think I was the one with the best date.” Shouto smiled playfully, squeezing your hand in his.

“Agree to disagree, then.”

He chuckled and you grinned. Tonight was going great until the last hour’s mishap, and while it was uncomfortable and disheartening to hear gossip about you from people who were supposed to be sophisticated, grown adults, you weren’t lying when you told Shouto he was enough to make up for all that bullshit. You were grateful for him standing up for you and basically saying fuck rich people and charity galas in front of them all.

Oh, and for getting you enough candy to last you at least a few months, of course.

He really was the best date ever.

As Shouto signaled to get out of the structure, he asked, “Now, should I take you back to your home or…?”

You shook your head, already knowing where he was going with this (and very much liking it). “Hmm,” you drawled, pretending to think about it. “How about we go back to your place to finally finish what we started?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

In all honesty, you were quite surprised yourself that you asked. But, damn, would you be glad you did.

a/n: woOO EAT THE RICH STEAL THEIR CANDY STEAL THEIR BOWLS HGFJKS, i’m already so in love with shouto but i have fallen in love with one (1) rich boy even more :3

what to expect in the next part:

yes. it’s time for u know what ;)

y/n and shouto finally……high five <3

jkjk

THE NEXT PART IS THE FINAL PART AND YOU WILL SEE WHY THIS SERIES OVERALL HAD TO BE 18+ KSKKFG

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ilballodellavita · 3 years ago

Text

Måneskin Europa Plus Interview Translation

Hi everyone, this is a translation for Måneskin’s interview in Russia on 01.09.2021 with the radio station Europa Plus. I translated using just the Italian/Russian translator and of course Måneskin’s answers since I only know Italian, so if you speak Russian and I missed something feel free to tell me <3 This is also my first time translating such a long video so thanks for your patience! :-) You can download the interview here (Thanks @definitelynotdamiano for this link!) Tr = Translator

[ ] = My notes

Enjoy! (Under a read more because it’s pretty long)

Tr: We had to meet you, we are also your fans because we were at your event last night. We’ve been in love with you since Eurovision

All: thanks!

Tr: After the event last night we came here this morning without even changing

Vic: Right on *laughs*

Tr: It’s the first time that we [the interviewers] have our makeup like this, it’s unusual [for us], the first question is do you put on your makeup by yourselves or do you have a stylist to do it for you?

Thomas: Depends

Vic: When we are working we are fortunate to have a stylist because-

Thomas: Exactly

Vic: -if we were to do it ourselves every morning it would be very bad

Thomas: Very very bad yes

Tr: Today your makeup looks very nice. How are you finding Russia? Is it your first time in Russia? Do you like it/not like it?

Thomas: It’s very pretty

Damiano: Yes it’s the first time we’ve come

Thomas: We haven’t been able to see very much however it seems very pretty

Tr: The Russian audience is very different from other European countries; are you surprised at the amount of fans you have here in Moscow?

Damiano: Okay, it’s not so different, it’s very very hot. But yes we were surprised at the quantity of the fans we have

Tr: How did you ever decide to come to Russia? No one knew, it seemed a bit, as they say in Russian, an “all of a sudden snow”

Damiano: People have been asking us for a long time

Vic: They messaged us to try coming there and therefore we are inevitably here

Tr: You are exactly the type of singers that listen to fans and go where people ask you to go in regards to other countries then?

Vic: Yeah if we can

Ethan: Absolutely

Tr: [One of the interviewers] is learning Italian and when she hears you speaking Italian she is already happy and jittery (in an excited way) so really you can talk about anything. Anything you want she will be happy.

Thomas: Great

Damiano: Perfect

Tr: After your Eurovision win, has your life changed a lot? Or even before were you pretty famous in your own country [Italy]?

Damiano: No, no we’ll say not too much [of a change] however of course in Italy we already had good results. Surely it was a big change from before really just touring around Italy to now going and touring around Europe.

Tr: What objectives did you have for Eurovision, did you go to have a little fun or with the goal of winning for Italy? To, let’s say, defend the honour of your country?

Damiano: No, let’s say, both the things but more so to prove to Italy and others we could win with a genre of music that’s different from the traditional Italian music that is always supported; music that’s more melodic and light. We wanted to make another side of music in our country.

Thomas: Exactly. This type of music isn’t very public or wide-spread and we’d like to see it grow obviously

Tr: I would like to thank you because every once in a while I listen to as well as share Italian music to impressionable kids and the [traditional Italian] songs are more melancholic and sad and I was missing that “drive” that you bring into our lives.

Tr: It’s been a pleasure especially to watch your press conference after your Eurovision win and in my opinion they should let everyone put their feet up on the table when they are responding to the questions of the journalists.

Vic: That’s my opinion too

Damiano: True true true

Ethan: I agree

Tr: A question for Damiano: as a singer, at times you will have problems with the voice due to stress, if you have these problems how much time do you need to recover?

Damiano: It’s a thing that can happen but I try to prevent it from happening with various techniques that I am happy to follow to do everything [I can] so that it doesn’t happen

Vic: Yeah it never happens

Ethan: Damiano is very disciplined

Tr: Therefore no chocolate or honey?

Damiano: Exactly

Tr: Why did Ethan say Damiano is disciplined? In what sense did he mean?

Ethan: Well, he’s a person that really looks after himself, and if he commits to something he will do it and will see it through to the end

Tr: During concerts you all seem very lively. But in your private lives you all seem very calm, preferring to stay at home with family, not going out too much, in your private lives are you more outgoing or the reverse?

Damiano: The 3 of them [Ethan, Vic, Thomas] are more outgoing in respect to me, I prefer to stay at home.

Tr: How were you all welcomed back in Italy after the Eurovision victory? Because the last [Italian Eurovision win] was 1990 if I’m not wrong.

Ethan: Full of journalists!

Vic and Thomas: Good!

Vic: Almost like a soccer team welcome!

Ethan: In short, when we returned after the victory to our country we celebrated with our families because we hadn’t seen them in a while

Tr: If I’ve understood well, you will do a world tour and therefore you still have little time to see family

Vic: Exactly. In general, we have little time to relax *laughs*

Tr: And maybe then you have a little time to write other songs too

Damiano: No those are-

Thomas: No, no we find the right moments for them, obviously we have moments of inspiration with whatever we are doing. If we are live, doing different promotions, or meeting different fans, we always find moments of pause whether its 3 hours in the day to be writing

Vic: Yes, exactly the most important thing is the need to be truthful; inevitably we will be too busy or too tired and we will say “Okay, wait we need time to write”

Tr: When you compose music, how does it work? Are you working together on some parts, waiting on a muse, or saying “no, today we’re going to make a song”

Damiano: No, creativity comes at unexpected moments but it’s also a thing you can train. We find that when we have the time to write for a couple of days in the studio it’s usually in the morning and the evening when we throw out ideas, search for influences… unfortunately you can’t always expect an epiphany; otherwise it’s a bit difficult

Tr: You all know Little Big, right? [Little Big is a Russian band Måneskin in a different interview said they knew of]

All: Yeah yeah

Tr: So then while we are talking about Little Big, they said that during the pandemic lockdown they lived all together in a house and every day worked; did you do the same thing?

Vic: Unfortunately no, during lockdown we could not be together so we had to experiment with different ways of writing at a distance… obviously it’s not the same [difficult] for a group that’s fundamentally together, so therefore until we could meet again we were doing that.

Tr: We want to talk about your style, it’s a little inspired by the 70s, glam rock… and is this a style that you have chosen or is someone giving you advice about what to wear

Vic: For us it is very important to choose because the clothes that you wear really express you and we want to represent that. Therefore we’ve always been ourselves from when we were little up until now.

Tr: Do you have any intentions of launching a clothing collection?

Damiano: For now we’re focusing on music but maybe in the future when we have more free time

Tr: Going back to your style, it comes off strong, do you ever come across people who don’t understand and maybe complain about it? How do you react to this “aggressive” perception [of you]?

Damiano: In reality, even now that we have success, those types of comments get sent to us and we just rise above them. But when we were playing on the streets it was particularly difficult because there was a concentration of people just yelling insults at us, but luckily there are four of us and we support each other and grow to be more confident in ourselves.

Tr: Before coming out on stage at your concerts, do you have any particular rituals that bring you luck? That you do every time and it brings you luck?

Vic: Ehhh there’s some swear words

Ethan: We say “C’mon c’mon c’mon!”

Damiano: “C’mon c’mon c’mon” is the censored version

Ethan: Exactly

Tr: Before going on your transmissions, now every time you will change out the swear words!

All: Exactly *laugh*

Damiano: In Italian though

Tr: We have noticed that when someone doesn’t understand Italian, you can say anything in Italian [to them] and it just sounds really nice

Vic: Thank god *laughs*

Tr: What music do you listen to, what music inspires you? Are there artists that inspire you but you never listen to them? To avoid contamination and eventual plagiarism in your case?

Thomas: For us contamination is a very important topic… anyway we listen to different artists big and small and we search to mix them and we have a clear idea of what we want to do. It’s really important to take inspiration from many different artists and take the best parts from each of them.

Vic: Yes, of course we have particular artists that we take lots of inspiration from but we search to listen to a lot of music and center in on the little details we want.

Tr: Why did you decide to do a cover of Beggin’, did you have any fear before doing it?

[Damiano scrunches his face at this, I’m actually not sure if I translated it wrong or if that’s just a weirdly phrased question]

Vic: No, in reality it was very very small [that is to say, not scary?], compared to the first songs that we played together and now that we’ve written our original songs. In fact we never expected this [Beggin’ becoming a hit] to happen.

Tr: And maybe it’s the first time that a cover became big before your own songs; you’ve had such resounding success even on social media everywhere

Damiano: No no yeah it’s absurd

**Instrumental break where 2 songs play, Damiano gets up and comes back**

**A caller speaking Russian calls in, it seems they are playing a game with the caller about their Måneskin knowledge. During this time Måneskin does not speak except to each other, which cannot be heard**

Tr: We have received a bunch of questions but there are 3 questions that everyone is asking in particular. I will ask them now.

Tr: Is it true that you all have matching tattoos?

Damiano: Two

Tr: Where? Let us see

[They only show them the heart with arrow tattoo, not the Må one]

Damiano: How can I show you, uh, *unbuttons shirt to reveal his*

Ethan: *turns around and moves his hair to reveal his on the back of his neck*

Vic: *rolls up her sleeve to reveal hers*

Thomas: *rolls up his sleeve to reveal his*

Tr: The question for Ethan from yesterday [this is the same translator from the other interview and he was asked this yesterday] is “What shampoo do you use”

Ethan: I use shampoo based one hundred percent from love

Tr: The last question, and maybe the weirdest question, who of you follows the cosmos [space, like NASA] account and why?

Ethan: It’s me, I follow it because I've followed it a long time from when I first started following things on social media, because when I was little like 12-14 years old I had a love of astrophysics and therefore I followed all the pages.

Tr: Going back to your hit, I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE, what inspired this song. What message did you want to transfer to the public with this?

Damiano: The inspiration for the most part like all our songs comes from personal experience and this piece talks about the various “hidden” aspects of sex, like the “strange” or “excessive” acts and we wanted to normalize it by writing a song because we live like this ourselves.

Tr: When can your fans expect a new song? Do you have anything ready?

Vic: Yes

Damiano: Believe believe believe

Tr: You probably don't have any more secrets for your new album?

Damiano: We are full of secrets

Tr: We’ll try the other part, we know that you had a collaboration with Iggy Pop, do you have intentions of collaborating with others?

All: It’s a secret! *laughs*

**At this point they ask Måneskin to create a playlist of songs they like on a piece of paper, Thomas goes first, then Vic, then Damiano, and finally Ethan**

Damiano turns to Thomas: Can I tell you something? Scratch this out because no one can read it. It’s impossible. *Damiano tries to read it, then says no* *He then further insults him, but this is in good fun*

**Vic begins to draw Damiano, and Damiano, Ethan, and Thomas comment on it saying it’s nice and giving tips on what to add. Thomas says to add earrings and the snake tattoo on his chest, and Damiano asks her to “please give him high heels”**

**They then are given posters to sign while they look at Måneskin’s list**

Tr: Who wrote Death II - Pulp

Vic: Me

Tr: Do you have any intentions on covering Death II - Pulp? Or a collaboration? Or is it a secret?

Vic: We have a lot of secrets but they’re secrets from everybody

Damiano: Why not

Tr: Who wrote this one? [Even Flow - Pearl Jam]

Damiano: This one is mine

Tr: Ethan has chosen this one [Achilles Last Stand - Led Zeppelin]

Ethan: Yes

Tr: All the children now are going to school listening to this song so it will be a hell day at school

All: *mild laugh*

Tr: Who wrote Paranoid Android - Radiohead? Thomas.

Tr: After this interview where are you going, there is a crowd of fans outside you must get through to get past

Vic: To sleep!

Tr: In Russia, like most of the world, we are waiting for your concerts. Do you want to play in Russia, and do you know when?

Damiano: We still don’t know when but surely we will

Tr: It’s another secret?

Dami: *laughs* No this one we don’t know for real

Tr: We hope that the next time we see you there will be less secrets. Anyway we are waiting anxiously for your album. We will listen to it. Yesterday we had a lot of fun at your concert and here in Russia you have a lot of fans. We wish you a lot of success and we will always wait here.

All: Thanks very much

Here is the playlist mentioned above, and Vic’s drawing of Damiano ^

#maneskin #Måneskin #damiano david #thomas raggi #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #translated interview

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tender-rosiey · 4 years ago

Note

Hello!!💗👋

If I am not being a bother, may i request a little idea? 💡🤩

It's about Dazai Osamu falling for a doctor( of course she is nowhere near as good as Yosano ). She is a warm,bubbly and funny girl who knows nothing about the Port Mafia, Armed Detective Agency or the abilities. She loves life and people being just complete opposite of Dazai. Maybe he found her when she was doing an investigation and she was the victim's friend or something. He approached her to get some informations about her friend. Of course , she did feel attracted to this mysterious and charismatic man without knowing his identity. So, they kept in contact. But Dazai knows being near him is dangerous and he wants her to be safe and feels guilty about lying to her about himself ( but telling her about him will only increase the dangers and he is also afraid she will hate him if she knew who he really is and what he has done) . However, he can't help but feel attached to her smile and the warmth she gives him that makes the void in his heart being fulfilled.

And this request being about the conflict he has with himself whether to let you go or not.

I know this request has a lot of unnecessary informations and annoyingly detailed and I am sorry.😐😥

Thank you very much for reading this nonsense.💞🥺

Feel free to ignore this.

❥— Wrap My Heart

❥— ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ғ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

❥— ғʟᴜғғ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴɢsᴛ

❥— ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.1ᴋ

ᴀ/ɴ: hey dear! you are not a bother at all! also this fic is a little short? in my eyes at least anyhow my deepest apologies that this came late, i do hope you enjoy it nonetheless and i hope you have a great day! ☺️💕

Dazai had an undeniable charm and it was obvious, and it worked on even you, a sweet and lovely girl, who is a doctor and just genuinely loves helping others.

You met the brunette one day as you were one of the witnesses of a recent incident and Dazai was assigned to be in charge of getting any information about it from you, of course you looked rather ravishing by default, however, he wasn’t going to let his instinct as a man lead him down a pit fall; he never let it take the best of him, so why is he worrying about it now? But you are being so sweet and friendly, how could he not feel the least bit of welcomed in your presence? Even if turns out as a fake, he thinks he will enjoy it while it lasts.

“So Miss Y/N, may you tell me about what you know about the incident?” He asked, voice as smooth as silk as if he was flirting; you nodded smiling sweetly before going on and giving every piece of information you had an idea of.

As you were done, you saw Dazai being a little spacey so you gently called out his name “Dazai, you alright?” Your voice snapped him out of his daze that he was not expecting, for as much as he liked to slack he is usually very focused on his cases in the end, perhaps it’s your honey-dripping voice that is a beautiful melody to hear or maybe it’s your eyes that he got lost in ever so easily, wasn’t he known for being composed most of the the time.

“Yeah sorry, is it alright if you repeat the last part? Your beauty enchanted me that is all.” And he wasn’t lying, but you laughed and brushed it off because you saw him flirt with multiple women before speaking to you and did as he asked retelling your story.

As you both felt a mutual interesting towards each other, you ended up exchanging numbers and talking almost every night; oh how it was heaven to listen to your voice and the joy behind it every time you talked to him before he dove into a deep slumber, if he died right now he would be happiest man, he thinks while his eyes slowly close as you bid him a goodnight.

Dazai was greedy, he wanted to spend more time with you, so what’s better than getting himself injured on purpose and going to you instead of Yosano? It gave him benefits in two ways, one avoiding Yosano’s traumatizing treatment and the second being in your presence for furthermore time.

And that’s how you found him every day at your clinic with a new injury different than the others; and while you are mending his wounds, he starts conversations with you and you both ended up having the time of your life every visit.

But as greedy as he can be, dazai loved and loves or at least thinks he does, he knew it would all go down hill if you kept in touch for a longer time. He was afraid you would follow the path his old friend Oda took. And even more you were getting dangerously close to the fragile heart he hid behind masks and walls, he didn’t want to take the risk of you breaking it; yet even so he knew, even while scared of your reach, that your touch is gentle and the way you cradle his heart is even even more tender.

You have been nothing but a sweetheart to him, showing him the wonders of the world and how beautiful it is to live in it; he always thought about how overwhelming sweet in a good way was seeing the world with you, so he concludes that if you can make an empty man like him feel like trying to give life another shot, then you are probably gonna save lots of lives rather than his that he thought was a lost cause.

But as he thought about it, you didn’t see it all, you didn’t see the boy, the 15 year old boy, who slaughtered hundreds of people, you didn’t see the man that manipulated everything in the worst way for his advantage, you didn’t see the man behind the broken mirror, you didn’t see the man that his hands were tainted by blood everywhere he goes, if you did would you leave him?

If he displayed it all on the table, would you still accept him? Would you still be the sweet and bubbly girl he first met? What if you turn your back on him and crush his heart with those delicate fingers instead? What would he do then?

He wants you to be with him, but wants you to leave; he wants you to be safe and happy, but still wants you by his side. He is conflicted, should he be selfish or let you go to bloom somewhere else?

Dazai was more than aware that being his or being related to him in any way is very threatening alone, so he tried pushing you away; but his trials weren’t always successful, especially with you. You were an enchanting blossom that shines like the light brightly in his dark garden, one that he touched as gently as the clouds so he doesn’t hurt you like the rest, you didn’t deserve being hurt.

You were too good for him and the world, you don’t deserve to be corrupted by his poisonous touch, but when you are the one reaching for his black petals with such tenderness, how is he supposed to hold himself back and push you away? He expected for that beast inside of him to assist him in all of this, to let the cold exterior come out and drive you away from his embrace.

He longed for nothing but someone like you, a reason, a motive to live through this hell we call life, and he thinks once again about it all. If anyone was to touch a single strand of you, then he will teach them that you are not something to be stained by their filthy hands, he promises.

So maybe if you keep treating him like he is made of glass and are cautious with his feelings and reactions, then maybe letting you wrap his heart with your arms isn’t so bad, maybe it isn’t so bad that he is buried into your embrace right now, and maybe dazai osamu really has the chance to love and be greedy for one more time in this life.

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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still-a-morosexual-help · 3 years ago

Text

OBEY ME! LESSON 56 DETAILED SUMMARY AND DISCUSSION/THEORIES

*I wrote this days after the lesson was first posted and never bothered to go back and edit it so meaning there will be me theorizing about the next lesson as well

*I write a small para for each chapter and I write it immediately after finishing that chapter so there’ll be theorizing about the next chapter too

*I swear more than usual here

*Some of the dialogue is heavily plagiarized and a few is lifted directly from the story, the game is to figure which is which.

*Summaries and Discussions/theories for all the other lessons can be found on this blog under #obey me spoilers or #my theories or #my headcanons

This has one locked lesson cause of course it does

Belphie’s upset that their names got called on the loudspeaker as if they were the lost children and not Diavolo. MC says the others won’t let them ever live this down if they found out and Belphie says he’ll be teased for centuries. Belphie tells a story about how he once got lost in the Celestial Realm and spent hours in a tree crying, MC asks why he was on a tree, and he says cause he thought he’s be able to see the direction of the celestial palace from there. It had eventually been Raphael who found him and he ended up taking a liking to the tree so he would climb it and nap up there whenever he wanted to avoid work. MC asks whether he like Raphael. Belphie says he never thought about it either way but that Raphael always looked like he had it rough (course he did – he had to try to get Belphie and his brothers under control cause Lucifer was much more lenient those days. I’ve mentioned this before but I’m certain that Lucifer blames his leniency as what got Lilith killed and that’s why he’s unreasonably strict with the brothers now) MC asks what Raphael was like – he says he worked hard for little reward and his job was looking after Michael’s needs no matter how unreasonable (and they really are the Lucifer and Diavolo of the Celestial Realm aren’t they!?). He was meticulous and methodical and he always had a sullen, irritated look making him always seem like he was in a bad mood. And his evil eye looked so evil you could almost mistake him for a demon. Belphie says he hasn’t seen him in a ling time and wonders how he’s doing. Belphie says all this with a smile on his face and this is the first time we’ve heard someone talk about Raphael in a positive light and this supports my theory that Belphie sees the Celestial Realm in a more positive light than the others probably do (which is why he irrationally directed all his anger at the humans). I’m also 10% certain the person Simeon was meeting with was Raphael not Michael cause I don’t think we’ve heard Belphie mention Michael once so it makes sense that they would have him recognise the angel he would later talk about. They get to the desk and Belphie goes to give their names but MC cuts in with ‘snoozy’ before he can say his. The employee comments on the name and Belphie blushes and says it’s embarrassing and asks MC to stop laughing about it. The employee gives them the note which happens to be a ransom note. Lol this guy is fucked.

Belphie complains about Barbatos failing to teach Diavolo not to walk off with strangers (in my very first theory/headcanon posts I compared Barbatos and Diavolo’s relationship to the one between Alfred and Bruce Wayne and I completely stand by that. I think Barbatos is significantly older than Diavolo the same way Lucifer’s significantly older than his brothers and similar to Lucifer and his brothers I think Barbatos had a hand in raising Diavolo. Given that we now know that Barbatos might have powers that rivalled the demon king it’s possible that he may be as old as him, or just slightly younger, than him as well. Tldr; Barbatos gives off heavy Alfred Pennyworth vibes). Belphie doesn’t want to deal with this and MC says they can’t just ignore it (also they will be murdered twice over if they do) and Belphie says he knew they’d say that and agrees to humour this stupid fucking human. He says he doesn’t wanna get tortured by Lucifer and Barbatos but the idea of going and rescuing Diavolo like one of his good little pawns makes him sick too. They head to the circus tent and are greeted by a happy and beaming Diavolo sitting on a chair with a man holding a gun to his head and demanding money (what a fucking amateur ass kidnapper at least give ‘em time to go and get the money! What you think people just walk around with wads of cash in their pockets!?) Belphie ignores him and scolds Diavolo for just waiting around for them to come get him and for leaving them in the first place. The man panics and tells them to stop moving closer unless they want him to shoot Diavolo. Diavolo also ignores the man , apologising and saying with a bright smile after the ride he was feeling sick and this man stopped and checked he was alright. Diavolo calls the man considerate cause he promised to help diavolo find the two of them and look! He kept his promise! Bsdjfjibvdmck this poor fucking kidnapper… Belphie groans and asks Diavolo if he even realises what’s going on rn and says even after being from a royal family he can’t be this sheltered and oblivious. The man’s just getting more stressed at how no one here seems to care about him as he keeps screaming about being serious and blowing Diavolo’s head off his shoulders (This poor guy – even MC who’s lived the most normal life from the three of them has faced more threatening life or death situations to give a shit). Belphie just tells the man to shut up with the most bored expression on his face. He then transforms into his demon form resulting in the man screaming his head off. Belphie just tells the man he talks too much, casually asking if he should make it so that no one has to ever listen to the man run his mouth again. The man stutters, calls Belphie a monster and tells him to stay back and panicking points his gun at Belphie. MC either using their very on magic creates a wind (called ‘wind of protection’) strong enough that it stops the bullet when he shoots or a raging fire (called ‘fire of judgment’) that takes over the bottom of the screen that’s powerful enough that it actually melts the bullet mid-flight and then rushes to the man making him scream and making the whole screen flash red (I had a moment of ‘HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT DID MC JUST BURN A MAN ALIVE!? DID ALL THIS LEAD UP TO MC COMMITING MURDER!? WHY AM I LOWKEY EXCITED!?’) but no the guy’s still alive, I think the fire just made him move back from all of them. (but can we talk about how powerful MC’s own magic is and how it seems to be at its most powerful when they’re protecting the people they love? (like when they unconsciously counteracted all the curses in the reaper’s cave that should have killed the brothers, or when they saw Satan use a healing spell once and were later able to effectively use it on Mammon later despite the fact that the were having trouble picking up the spells Satan was actually trying to teach them). The man screams asking what the two of them are (ajfkjfcijzh didn’t Solomon say just last lesson that they were supposed to keep this all secret!!!!???) Belphie says bullets can’t actually harm him but he still smiles and thanks them. Diavolo seemingly in shock says that the man fired his gun at Belphie and that he was trying to hurt Belphie (despite the fact that Diavolo knows a gun wouldn’t hurt Belphie it’s the fact that the man didn’t know that and had the intention to hurt Belphie that sticks with him and I think that means a lot), A pale purple aura starts swirling around him and he instantly transforms into his demon form, looking furious and screaming “HOW DARE YOU…!” The man screams.

The man drops his gun and runs away. Diavolo says, serious for once, that they can’t let him run away and that he’ll contact Barbatos to get the royal army and – (bro you’re gonna start a war bro chill), Belphie says he can’t bring the army here he might accidently bring about the destruction of the humans (funny how a couple yrs ago Belphie would have been all for this plan) and Diavolo looks sad saying he can’t just let this go. MC and Belphie both get Diavolo to try and calm down, with Belphie telling Diavolo he wasn’t hurt and transforming back to his human form, before saying that Diavolo didn’t need to transform as well & that if Lucifer and Barbatos find out Belphie’ll get in trouble. Diavolo transforms back and says the man tried to harm a dear friend and he couldn’t help but get angry. Belphie blushes and can’t come up with words. MC teases Belphie asking if he’s blushing and he denies it while still blushing. Diavolo also notes that he’s flushed and is worried that it’s a sign that he’s been hurt somehow. Still blushing Belphie says he’s not hurt and to stop worrying about him and that they should leave. Diavolo says since they’re here at the circus tent they should watch the circus perform since Belphie likes human world circuses. Belphie’s surprised and asks Diavolo how he knows that, Diavolo says Lucifer told him a long time ago, Belphie asks why and Diavolo says when they’re alone Lucifer talks a lot about his brothers, specially Belphie (Lucifer also has random pictures of his brothers that he takes without them knowing as they go about their daily life… This man is such a proud dad. He pulls out his wallet and a whole roll of pictures unfold all the way to the floor and across the room and he’ll tell the story behind each picture to anyone who listens.) He’s also told Diavolo about Belphie’s favourite tree in the Celestial Realm and the story of how he found that tree. Back then Lucifer always thought whenever Belphie wasn’t with his siblings he’d be up in the tree napping or down in the human world watching the circus and that’d made diavolo determined to see the circus too. Diavolo then asks if they can see the circus together. Belphie’s still shocked but then he blushes again and agrees. Inside Belphie and Diavolo are both clinging to MC as they cheer, scream and argue about the safety of the trapeze artist. MC can ask Diavolo if he wants them to cover his eyes cause he’s scared for her safety despite Belphie telling him there’s a net, ask Belphie if he wants to hold their hand cause he’s just as nervous or excited or comment to no one how they’ve got a demon attached to both their arms.

It’s night out and as a reward for coming to get Diavolo Belphie was allowed to pick all the rides they went on, Diavolo looks like he’s gone through hell, stuttering and asking if that was all. Diavolo asks how MC’s doing they say they threw up in a bin and are feeling better now (or they can say they had fun) Diavolo says he threw up in so many bins he lost count. He asks if they should head home and Belphie says there’s one last thing he wants to ride, Diavolo starts stuttering again. Belphie says it’s the ferris wheel, Diavolo’s shocked and asks if it’s cause Belphie remembered him saying he wanted to ride it, Belphie tries to deny it but Diavolo doesn’t buy it – instead he smiles brightly and gushes about how nice and sweet Belphie is which makes Belphie blush and demand him to stop. Diavolo marvels at the lights from up in the ferris wheel and how they look like stars, Belphie says he’s getting too excited. Diavolo ignores this and points out his hotel and the brothers’ manor. Belphie says he sounds like a child and Diavolo laughs and says that Lucifer says the same. Diavolo, while still smiling, says that in a way he is a child, a child who spends his time alone and never gets to do anything interesting (and holy shit that’s sad – he really did grow up alone in that huge castle…) Belphie doesn’t know what to say to this and Diavolo asks what’s wrong. Belphie says he’s surprised cause he never knew Diavolo saw himself that way. Diavolo laughs and says he never expected Belphie to treat him with kindness and Belphie asks what kind of heartless monster did Diavolo imagine him as (look despite all the shit I give Belphie I do really love him but also I mean…. He does kinda make it known how much he dislikes diavolo…) Diavolo laughs it off, he says today he learnt things about Belphie that even Lucifer hadn’t told him and that there’s probably a lot about Diavolo that Belphie doesn’t know about either. Diavolo says he knows they’ve had there differences, specially cause Diavolo had his position to consider and that he had been very strict with Belphie in the past and that he still doesn’t consider that a mistake (YES!! FINALLY!!) and that despite all that they were still able to get along well today, he thanks MC for their help in bringing them to this point. They say they didn’t even do anything special, Belphie says that he agrees with Diavolo and that they did help. Diavolo says he wants to talk more with Belphie and if Belphie agrees nothing would make him happier. Belphie’s silent for a bit before he slowly agrees. Diavolo thanks him and says there’s one more place he wants to drop by.

They end up at the brothers’ place. Asmo welcomes them back, Diavolo says “I’m home!...just kidding pardon the intrusion” AND you just KNOW this man wishes he wasn’t kidding and that he could really live with all of them. Asmo asks how his day went & Diavolo says he had fun. When beel asks Belphie says he’s really tired. Asmo invites Diavolo to stay for dinner, saying Lucifer & Barbatos are cooking. Diavolo says he’ll go and help them but Belphie makes him sit down and tells him to relax after the day they had. Diavolo beams and thanks Belphie for worrying about him and Belphie blushes and tries to deny it, saying that since him & MC aren’t helping if Diavolo goes to help it’ll just make them look bad. Diavolo says he actually wants to help and that the other two can wait here (hey Lucifer and Barbatos are Diavolo’s closest friends right? And you tend to tell your closest friends everything that happens… MC & Belphie are so fucked). (this next interaction has such strong sibling vibes? Like I’m telling you I’ve had this exact same conversation before) Levi & Mammon seem to find the whole interaction between the two of them interesting and make noises about it, when Belphie asks them what, Levi says it’s nothing and Mammon asks how it went. Belphie says they went to a park and now they’re back. Satan says the others meant how it went with Diavolo. Belphie says like he said before there was nothing to it. Asmo says the interaction between the two of them says different and Satan agrees. Beel congratulates him and Belphie blushes and says he has no idea what they’re talking about. Mammon then asks MC if there were any problems, if they wondered off and got lost. MC either denies it so harshly it’s immediately unbelievable or says no…not really. Levi asks what ‘not really’ means. Belphie asks Mammon why he asked that and if he remembered the time he got lost in a park. Beel also then remembers that. Mammon says he’s not the one that got lost and that it was the twins. The three of them then argue about who really got lost. Asmo tells them to each say their side of the story. Mammon had been playing darts when the twins disappeared and he’d ended up searching all over for them and he’s been really freaked out. The twins say they went to buy soft serve and when they came back Mammon wasn’t there and they ended up going around finding him. MC, Satan and Asmo says it sounds like all 3 of them fucked up. Diavolo then calls them for dinner. (This whole arcs gives me ‘taking your new partner’s kid who hates you on a day out so that you can bond’ vibes with MC there solely to act as the buffer)

During dinner they talk about their day at the park, apparently they rode the freefall of death thrice in a row and Belphie happily tells Diavolo that next time they go they should ride it again. Diavolo very obviously reluctantly agrees to, which Mammon points out. Diavolo said he did enjoy it but next time he wants a break between riding it over and over again. Belphie says it wouldn’t be a marathon if they took breaks. Diavolo says next time they should all go together and maybe even try out a different theme park. Levi suggests a space themed park with another insane ride that tries to kill you, Mammon reads the description of the ride and immediately nopes out. Satan teases Mammon for being scared which he protests to, Beel asks for a place with good food, Levi says he was waiting for Beel to say that and Diavolo happily laughs and after being alone for so long a lively dinner like this full of people he cares about who care about him in turn was probably something he always wanted. After dinner in the warmly lit music room Barbatos brings Lucifer coffee, Diavolo and Satan are playing chess, Levi is rambling to Asmo about the game he and Diavolo were playing and Asmo happily tells him he has no idea what he’s talking about, and Belphie asks to talk with MC. He tells them despite how much he initially complained he had fun and he thanks them, they say they’re happy things turned out well. He says he never thought he would end up feeling like this. Lucifer then calls the both of them to him. He says they did well today and seeing the relaxed way Diavolo’s getting along with the others like there’s no tension between them is a relief. He thanks them. Belphie smiles as he says that Diavolo looks like he’s having fun with the others. “By the way…” Lucifer says with a smile ‘Diavolo told me about what happened today you little fucks’ (told you he’d snitch to Lucifer) Belphie’s shocked and speechless. A purple aura starts rising off Lucifer as he smiles sweetly at them, “Perhaps you’d like to explain to me exactly what happened?” “DD! …Why’d you have to tell him!?” screams Belphie before he accepts his fate and the screen goes black.

MC leaves the house to walk Diavolo and Barbatos to the street to drop them off, for which Diavolo apologises for troubling them. Barbatos says he could have ordered a car to come right up to the door of the house (Barbatos pls read the room!) and Diavolo says he doesn’t mind catching a taxi from the street. Barbatos is silent and contemplative for a moment before he says he forgot to tell Lucifer something and heads back inside (he read the room!). When they get to the street Diavolo worries cause Belphie had seemed really pissed when they left, he says when Belphie told him to keep it a secret he’d genuinely thought Belphie meant the picture they took together. He assumes Belphie told him not to tell about the ransom right after he told him not to tell about the picture but Diavolo had been so thrilled by the picture he hadn’t processed most of what Belphie said. He worries he messed up all the progress he made during the day. MC says though Belphie’s mad now he’ll get over it in time. He’s still worried that next time Belphie won’t be as willing to talk to him like he did today (he was still calling him DD though even when he was pissed so I don’t think it’ll be a problem. I hope they keep up the nickname Lucifer will hate it and that at least should be incentive for Belphie to keep using it). Diavolo says he had a lot of fun today and that he’ll never forget it. He goes on to say that growing up he lived a very sheltered life and that he’s never felt more free than he did today, though the ride was too much for him. He says even thinking about it makes his hands shake and he shows them to MC. MC can either take his hands or do nothing. If they take his hand he blushes and says it’s strange but that made him calm down. He says he wants to spend more time together and asks if they can go for a walk. MC agrees and he’s delighted by it. He says he’ll message Barbatos to let him know but that it’ll probably not be necessary since Barbatos went back to give them space anyway (You know Lucifer saw Barbatos come back alone, figured out what is happening and is now pacing a hole through the floor

They go to a park with a lake from where they can even see a ferris wheel in the distance. Diavolo asks if they think it’s the ferris wheel they rode today or a different one. He then laughs and says the human world’s really beautiful from the trees in daylight to the buildings at night. He asks if he can hold their hand and they can do that or put their arm through his. If they hold hands he says they almost look like a couple. If they do the second one he’s shocked but smiles and says they saw through him and realised what he actually wanted to do even though he wasn’t smooth enough to ask. He says his mother dies during childbirth and his father was always very strict with him, and he doesn’t know if that’s cause he was training him to be the next demon king or because he resented Diavolo’s birth for taking away the love of his life (I also HC Diavolo looking a lot like his mom. ALSO this confirms what I said earlier in one of the other lesson summaries about demons being born through biological reproduction like humans and unlike angels). He says growing up he never got a chance to talk to anyone outside the castle until he met Barbatos who told him stories of the outside world that fascinated him (this really does give the vibe that Diavolo was a child while Barbatos was an adult at the time). He liked Barbatos so much he begged him to stay with him. Barbatos had kept saying no but Diavolo had refused to give up. He’d thrown a tantrum then and said he’d refuse to be the next demon king unless Barbatos stayed with him and Barbatos had given in. Then he gets sad saying that what Belphie said today hit him, and how he always used his royal status to get others to do what he wanted. He asks if it’s possible that he’s forcing Barbatos to stay against his will. (and I get that what diavolo did was shitty but the fear he must have had for the rest of the day since Belphie said that cause he thought Barbatos will leave too and he’ll once again be truly alone in that castle is heartbreaking). MC who spent the last two lessons with Barbatos more or less talking about Diavolo (or Solomon) reassures Diavolo that Barbatos is staying cause he wants to. Diavolo’s happy for a bit before he becomes sad and doubtful again. He then says MC reminds him of Lucifer cause Lucifer is also constantly saying similar things to him (AND THE IMPLICATIONS!!? FIRST IT WAS THE OTHERS COMPARING LUCIFER’S FONDNESS FOR MC TO HIS FONDNESS TO DIAVOLO AND NOW IT’S THIS!!? Can I just say again: remember how the twins wanted to share MC if they ever got together with one of them? I think Lucifer x MC and Diavolo x MC make a lot more sense if it’s all three of them together. And in any case where MC doesn’t choose one of them, they get together like the LIs in The Arcana do). He asks if it’s possible that Lucifer and MC flatter him too much. He then says it can’t be fun listening to his childhood stories but that he wanted them to know about him and that he wants to know more about them too. He asks what kinda food they like. The options are sweet, spicy and sour. He likes sweet too. He asks if they like animals. Options are they love them, don’t or it depends on the animal. Look after all the time in the devildom, after two paws events, after bathing Cerberus and after the brothers all having their own vastly different animal representatives MC can’t not love all animals. Diavolo says imagining them playing with different animals is really sweet. He says he’s known them for quite some time now but there’s still so much he doesn’t know. He blushes and asks if they can do things like this more often, where they just spend time together. He then confesses and asks how they feel about him. If they say sorry he smiles and asks them not to apologize, saying that he didn’t say it to make them feel bad but that he understands. He asks if they’re in love with one of the brothers an they can say yes, no or stay silent. He smiles sadly and says he guessed. He says that even though they don’t have feelings for him it doesn’t change the fact that he still loves them. He says he still wants to get to know them more and asks if they can still meet up. He thanks them for being a part of his life. (While I still don’t think the side characters liking MC makes much sense and I still much prefer them as very close friends I like how all their confessions are very one and done. The brothers romantic plotlines with MC are still going on and there’s never a “I love you, do you love me? No? okay I still love you but I’ll back away too” moment. MC never gets the chance to reject them. But with the side characters MC rejects them, they understand that MC loves someone else, they accept the rejection really well and they go back to being friends and I really like that. It feels like it probably won’t be explored again after you reject them.)

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iconic-ponytail · 3 years ago

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How did @imreallyloveleee, @satelliteinasupernova, and @kesleyjo know to tag me in something right as I was starting to attempt productivity for the day?? idk but thank yall :)

How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 8, I guess? I guess I tend more towards verbosity than prolific-ness.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

349,536 (... see above comment I guess lol)

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Only Riverdale. Well, a little but of Harry Potter when I was like, 12. And I have (1) Nancy Drew CW draft that is sort of aimless and may or may not ever see the light of day.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. revelation in the light of day

2. when you're young you run

3. what doesn't kill me makes me want you more

4. in case I stand one little chance

5. i'll be (your) home for christmas

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! I am behind on a few fics though, for sure... but I always eventually get to them! I appreciate that people will engage with what I work on and often say both very kind and insightful things.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don't think I have a single one. I love writing angst, but I don't love ending on it, I like it to go somewhere distinctly happy. That might have more to do with Betty and Jughead than like, any ship I might ever write for, but I only write them, so...

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I mean I wrote a 23k sappy af ending to revelation and it felt like the most cathartic to write of all my happy endings. I for sure cried multiple times in the process.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

No, and I guess never say never? But I love an AU. I did write a arrested development AU drabble that felt a little unhinged lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not a lot, I have gotten a couple comments that hit me kinda weird, but only one I've ever deleted because someone was annoyed at me for something I had tagged and mentioned several times in authors notes, at which point... like just don't. Get a hobby, yo.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes, though "what kind" is... I'm not sure? As loveleee said, usually more of the M territory than E? I guess I would say I don't write a ton of smut for the sake of smut, it usually has a purpose to the characters/story. (But don't get me wrong, smut for the sake of smut is great and I read it readily.)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, but the people of Ao3 are good people and took it down very quickly after I emailed them! I only found it by accident, but this person had plagiarized another bughead fic as well. It felt very violating and upsetting, but also relieving to get justice. Google your own fic every once in a while, I guess?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

With the one and only @heartunsettledsoul! Listen, that fic is very fun to write, but we are both eternally burying ourselves in projects. But it will continue :)

What’s your all time favorite ship?

The one I've written 350k for, obviously.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Nothing I've posted, I try not to post anything I don't intend and have a plan to finish. I have two unposted WIPs that I very much plan to post and finish but I'm trying to avoid writing another fic that takes me two years and change to finish, so I'm trying to push them both further before posting.

I guess I have two shorter WIP ideas that may or may not ever turn into something but I also never want to say never!

What’s your writing strengths?

While plotting is not *easy* for me, I also love a plot that snaps together like a puzzle, without becoming dominated by the plot alone. Character driven plot, perhaps. Reflecting on comments I receive, I think tone and pacing are another, and all of this is probably why I gravitate towards more long form fic than one shots.

What’s your writing weaknesses?

Repetitive action verbs. Run on sentences. A lot of nitty gritty technical stuff. Sometimes wanting a particular self-indulgent moment or comment and while fic is certainly a place to be as self-indulgent as you want, sometimes it doesn't work. Also, trusting things to be conveyed by showing-not-telling is hard, and sometimes I drift into doing both, which feels like overkill.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't do it much, some Spanish via Veronica, I guess, and then I often use a lot of phrases that I am familiar with/know are used colloquially. (I don't speak Spanish well but I am immersed in a bilingual space daily via my job.)

What’s the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter, on fanfiction.net

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

For the sheer effort/blood/tears, a revelation in the light of day. For something I just still get a *nailed it* feeling about, years later, in case I stand one little chance. And honestly, the one I'm working on now is a Western-ish AU have been dreaming up for over a year, I'm psyched out of my mind about (if I can figure out how to plot the last 30%)!

Tagging @heartunsettledsoul @stonerbughead @jugandbettsdetectiveagency

#this was diverting #tag game

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years ago

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Weeping Statue | Feeding Habits Update #6 & let’s chat about quitting writing

Hello! Are we back for another Feeding Habits update (finally)?? Let’s chat chapter 7, Weeping Statue.

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Can we talk about struggle? Because this chapter was IT. I believe I started it in late July and finished it earlier this month. I’ve taken my time with chapters before, but this was next level--the amounts of changes I went through in one chapter was astronomical, and reminded me of drafting chapter three earlier in the summer. I went through so many stages writing this chapter: from enjoying it, to feeling no joy from writing at all, to nearly quitting this book altogether!

Scene A:

Harrison and his mother Suzanna simultaneously avoid each other over breakfast after he failed to return home the night previous

She lowkey calls him out (calling out his denial of missing Lonan)

Scene B:

Harrison goes to a farmhouse owned by Theodore Harvey, a friend of his mother’s, to drop off the rescued litter of kittens from chapter 6. He realizes he is missing one kitten and concludes Reeve has stolen one after dinner the night previous.

Scene C:

Harvey invites Harrison inside for coffee where he admits his coffee machine is broken.

Harrison fixes the coffee machine, and is hired by Harvey to flip the rest of the farmhouse as he and his wife are moving.

Scene D:

On his way home, Harrison stops at a gas station where he buys a bouquet of tulips for his mother, a dog collar for the puppy he found in the kitten litter, a pack of gum, pastries, and sunscreen before heading to a beach.

At the onset of a lightning storm, Harrison swims in the ocean and has an epiphany--he decides to accept his miserable life (a development!)

Scene E:

After the beach ordeal, Harrison returns to his apartment ready to accept the plainness of his daily life when an old ghost from his past (his! ex!) Lonan appears to be having dinner with Suzanna

This chapter brought so many things. A) many... breakdowns lol (I cried a lot!), B) many false epiphanies that wound me back into ruts, C) a desire to quit this series that was just as terrifying as it sounds and D) an ideology I never would’ve gotten on my own. Just have to thank my sister Sarah for telling me a few weeks ago after I insisted that I knew what needed to logically happen but couldn’t write it no matter how hard I tried. She said: “It’s not about what works, it’s about what you want” << literally changed my philosophy on writing, even as someone who tries their best to advocate for care and enjoyment in writing. Not sure if it’s because of the timing when she said this, but I’d probably never had made it out of the rut without having this said to me.

I was *not* planning at all to have my boys reunite so soon in the book. Technically, it is not very soon and we are almost done the book, but for some reason, I really didn’t think it would work so early because I felt Harrison’s POV was so undeveloped already (I still think it is). HOWEVER, the fact of the matter is: it was not working at all. I knew exactly what I needed to do to get to point A to Z but the thing about writing is, it is not formulaic! I tried to make fit what I thought worked, but as time progressed and I immensely struggled, less and less did I want what worked. Writing was miserable and that’s not what I want writing to be for me. So I took Sarah’s advice, and I did what would make me happy, and that was, and has always been, seeing my boys interact.

Now that I’ve finished this chapter, I’m not sure if I made the right decision! I have yet to write the boys interacting so I don’t know if it will work, but what I liked about this method is that it freed me from this constriction I’d written myself into and opened a new avenue to do something that DOESN’T “work” for the story but that does work for me. To me, this project, this series, is more important to me than making something “work”. Sustaining my health and happiness (which were declining on the path I was on) is critical for me and my writing journey.

EDIT: by the time I’m editing this post, I have written the boys interacting and haha yep this was the right decision! Was doubting myself for a sec, added in a lil robbery, and now it’s all good (oops)

Excerpts:

I don’t have too many for you because this chapter does need an edit to “set” it in place (right now it feels like liquid Jello that has been in the fridge but is yet to set up). I know it needs one more scene but I cannot :) write :) what :) it :) needs :) no matter how hard I have tried, and so I am giving that section of the story a break instead of over-kneading it and toughening up the dough unnecessarily.

Here is part of the opening scene! There are things I don’t like about this but I am trying not to self-hate, so !!!

The next morning, Harrison gets up at dawn to drop the kittens off at the farm, and Suzanna makes coffee for one. This is unusual for both—Harrison rarely leaves the apartment, and Suzanna always makes coffee for two. In his room, Harrison combs his hair and twists his earring, its blue gem pearling in dribbles of sunlight. In the kitchen, Suzanna stirs coffee like it’s wronged her. Harrison dabs cologne onto his throat and blinks off his hangover. Suzanna flecks her spoon onto the tabletop so it leaves an egg of amber on the surface.

When he approaches the kitchen, Harrison pretends he does not see his mother and his mother pretends she does not see him. They move like this, repelled, one moving left, the other moving right, one opening the top cupboard, the other opening the bottom.

Harrison stops at a convenience store and buys a hodge-podge of things (also the beach scene which yes mirrors the last scene in Lonan’s POV hehe I indulge myself):

He picks up the best bouquet of fuchsia tulips, a collar for the dog he left in his bedroom even though it’ll be weeks until she’s big enough to fit in it, a pack of spearmint gum he doesn’t need, a package of pastries, and a tube of sunscreen—SPF 30. He almost drops every item at least once on his way up to the register, and definitely drops them when his receipt is spitting from the machine and the store clerk says she likes his earring—is it vintage—and he nearly vomits in the parking lot, trained against the hood of the taxi—is it even his taxi—the plastic bag teetering from his wrist, rain coiling against his cheek, the air so humid, his clothes so heavy, it is no wonder the next place he ends up is the beach.

It is never smart to swim during a storm. If he thinks hard enough, his mother’s voice warns him to keep from the shore, stand behind the yellow line, stay safe, stay where you are, don’t run under a tree, and even more, don’t run into the water. He does everything wrong in an even worse order—dollops sunscreen into his palm before opening the pastry so his teeth freckles with zinc, chews the gum and the pastry at the same time so his tongue becomes a slime of crumbs, rests the tulips too close to the shoreline so they wilt under a wave, misplaces the dog collar in his own left hand, and dives into the water fully-clothed.

Harrison getting very angsty about Lonan’s future (which he’s predicted completely wrong haha):

He will die alone. Reeve will not think of him again and he will deserve that. Somewhere in the city with the missing kitten, drinking bottles of holy water because there is no drink more fitting for a woman so sacred. His mother will miss him only briefly, and then return to her daily life of no longer needing to clean up after him. Maybe she’ll find the tulips. Put them on display until they wither, then use their carcasses as fertilizer. Save electricity. Use the coffee machine less. Downsize to a smaller, cheaper, prettier apartment with arched walkways and stained-glass windows. Harvey will think he is a fluke who missed his first day of work and will never think of him again. The dog isn’t old enough to recognize him. Suzanna will give her the collar. And Lonan will continue his life in Las Vegas, tottering after Eliza, refilling her wine, getting neon at house parties, watching French silent films without captions because he’s probably learned another language, cut his hair, gotten a tattoo, learned how to cross-stitch, bought life insurance, a yacht, a coastal summer home, learned how to play the mandolin, perfected his lamb sous vide. He’s probably married. Him and Eliza family-planning. He’ll expand a future, and Harrison will do the opposite. There is something freeing in being unmissed.

Lightning snaps across the sky like a wishbone, sounds like the prick of tambourines from under the water. Everything turns violet—the clouds, his skin, the waves. Tomorrow will be a better day, as he sinks lower into the current, tomorrow will be a better day, as the light fades and dissolves into blackness, tomorrow will be a better day, as seaweed wraps his throat, as the freezing water impales his ribs, as he burrows under and simultaneously, rises up.

This next part comes right after!

In the stomach of a tidal wave, the sky is so much bluer. An unrolling of cyan like fractals of a baked marble. There is so little to remember. No grocery lists, no fresh turmeric, no shift of portabella mushrooms. No outstanding to-dos—no kibble to by, no resume to update. Harrison folds in blue and lets it gorge his eardrums. He gives his body to that wide chasm of water and breaststrokes not into a second life, but a third.

Here is the last bit:

He buzzes back into the apartment at 3:00AM, tracking in saltwater and SPF, puff-pastry gummed to his palm, a dog collar wound around his ring finger, a sheath of tulips shedding into the elevator behind him.

He hits every floor button twice and is undisturbed when the elevator lurches and reopens in sixty-second intervals. A man rotating a jade cuff on his wrist gets on at the fourth stop and gets off at the sixth. A woman wearing a lynx cape gets on at the eighth stop, breaks up with two girlfriends, and gets off at the eleventh. Two children in coveralls tail in after she leaves and throw jacks at each other’s eyes until one of them bleeds, and by then, they are on the fifteenth floor and the children are leaving like they have not left behind accidental shell casings. On the sixteenth floor, a deer head chihuahua patters in with no owner and barks at the door chime the moment it releases and lets him out. A mother and daughter shell pistachios on the twentieth, a maintenance man introduces himself as David though his nametag says Maxwell on the twenty-second, a flock of teenage girls in whirl about a new way to blend oil pastel on the twenty-third. So it is no wonder by the twenty-fifth floor, Harrison misses his stop and becomes one of these people too—the man with zinc down his eyes like a weeping statue, juggling pastry and a dog collar and a seedy bouquet of tulips.

He tracks seawater in that hallway, parts of him scattering with the zinc, the petals, the crumbs. Like a way to get back home even though he hasn’t started at his destination, he moves through the labyrinth of halls, both starving and nauseated. Tomorrow he will rise at dawn and taxi to Brooklyn and hammer four nails into two pieces of plywood and repeat. He will feed his dog. Learn how to cook something that will impress his mother, something French that he can’t pronounce like brasillé or oeufs cocotte. Find liberation in the constrict of routine or at least pretend to. It will be good for him, the rising, the taxis, the hammers, the nails, the dog food, the cooking—it will all be good.

By the time he gets to their door, his fingers are oiled and dripping with sunscreen. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. He nearly drops the house keys. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. Tomorrow will be his arrival. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. His beginning swelling as he turns the lock. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. There is no other way out.

The apartment is dark when he tracks in. The scent of cinnamon steeping the air like Suzanna’s pulled a saucepan of papas off the stove. At first he doesn’t hear it, but he should, the voices leafing the kitchen like a flit of moths. He steps out of his shoes but never sets anything down, even after he passes the coffee table. Two plates ringing the centre, streaked with and caldeirada and bayleaf. A pitcher of lemonade sweating onto the glass. It is almost like he never left, like he and his mother shared dinner, sipped from each other’s cups, cleaned the tines of each other’s fishbones. And he almost believes it. He never went to the farm. The kittens are where he left them, just a few feet away, not in Brooklyn. He doesn’t have a job to tend to. He never fixed the coffee machine. He didn��t go to the convenience store. He is not slathered in sunscreen, not holding a dog collar or pastries or a bouquet of tulips. He never dove into the ocean like it was some port to asylum and didn’t emerge soaked and walking half-dead to his apartment because he never left. This reality is so easy to believe, he is unfazed by the voices and how they get louder when he reaches the kitchen, when one says “Were you shopping for the apocalypse?” and the other one chokes on its drink and apologizes for its rudeness and stares at him in daydream, those eyes like forget-me-nots, gas fires, seafoam, the wing of a starling, his drop earring.

Harrison is grateful he is soaking wet when he enters that kitchen and Suzanna and Lonan sit at the table sharing a box of petit fours. At least he has an excuse when he drops everything.

That’s it for this update! The tea starts HERE!

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr #writingupdates #fostered #mothwork #feedinghabits

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onthepageoftears · 4 years ago

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Kill Your Darlings Ch. 19 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: Second to last chapter! Let’s goooo!

Your comments and feedback are always encouraged and mean a lot to me!

Summary: What you know is not necessarily the truth.

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of death/killing/kidnapping, mentions of blood, ANGST, gore/violence, manipulation, language, pain, DID I MENTION ANGST??

Words: 3,480

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Furious couldn’t even begin to describe the way you felt.

Even though you were practically jumping out of your skin, for some reason in the moment you were paralyzed in your spot. Watching the guards grip Jaskier’s arms like he was just another piece of meat, watching Rauf roughly let go of his chin, making his head fall over his chest once more—

You wanted to pounce, but you knew you had to strategize. Acting on instinct was not the way to go right now, and you needed to keep a level head.

“I’m very happy for you company, bard, but I was having a lovely conversation with my niece. Which reminds me.” Rauf turned back to you with a knowing look. “Before you try anything, I’m going to need that knife from your boot.”

Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. How could he have known?

Rauf laughed, ”Please. Do you really not remember who taught you that trick?”

Biting back a vicious remark, you reached down and took the knife from your boot, handing it to him with the best glare you could muster. You had never wanted to punch your uncle so badly.

He placed it gently down on his desk in the midst of unorganized papers. “Rules are made for a reason, Y/N. I thought I taught you that when you were young.”

You scoffed, “You also taught me that rules only attempt to hold back those stronger than the authority that is trying to subdue them.”

Rauf nodded appreciatively, “That does sound like me, doesn’t it?”

His lighthearted tone made your stomach swirl. How could he be so casual in a situation like this? How could he pretend like nothing was wrong?

You watched him carefully in the dimly lit room. The lantern atop his desk flickered beside him, its illumination casting shadows along his face. For a moment, you didn’t recognize him at all.

“Why are you doing this?” You said once you finally trusted your own voice.

Rauf shook his head, “Were you not listening? Consequences must be shown for your actions. We’ve all learned from our mistakes, and so should you.”

Rauf placed a hand on your shoulder once again, and you had to practically bite off the tip of your tongue so you wouldn’t push him away. His touch sent fire along your skin, but not the same as with Jaskier. This made the bones in your body tense with fury.

“Consequences for what? It wasn’t a mistake. I told you, he’s innocent.” You lowered your voice, “We don’t kill the innocent.”

Rauf sighed. The way he shook his head made you even more uneasy.

You nearly stepped back,“What? What is that face for?”

Rauf clicked his tongue, “Now is the best time to break the news, I suppose.”

“What? What…news?” You could feel your eyes widen in anticipation.

“The fellowship is no longer sticking to its original code.”

This time, you actually did step back, “It’s—no longer…what?”

“There’s a reason why we aren’t called vigilantes, Y/N.” He tilted his head slightly, “Why do you think business has been so good? Why do you think we got this new guild?”

“I—no, you didn’t—“ You brought a hand to your forehead as if that would help you collect your thoughts. All you could say was, “We…don’t kill innocents.”

Rauf’s eyes softened at the shock on your face, “Everyone has some evil in them, Y/N. We just…don’t ask what exactly that evil is anymore.”

Your heart was pounding so viciously you thought it might explode. The fellowship is no longer sticking to its original code. The fellowship is no longer sticking to its original code. The fellowship is no longer sticking to its original code. Since when? How long had you been kept in the dark about this change? And why had no one told you? Said anything?

You were staring at the floor beneath Rauf’s feet when you spoke, “How many innocents did you have me kill?”

“Would knowing really make you feel better?”

You hesitated. In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t. But your feelings didn’t matter. What mattered were the innocent lives you were possibly responsible for taking.

Your mind found itself back to your fight with Joneta. You claimed the same thing you always did, something you believed in wholeheartedly — the thing that you now knew was a lie: We don’t kill the innocent. And then she responded: You don’t kill the innocent.

She knew all along. She knew that Rauf was lying to you — had been lying to you, for much too long. And she didn’t even bother saying anything.

A cough interrupted your thoughts.

“Y/N?” You whipped your head to the side, where Jaskier had lifted his head to look at you. He was conscious, barely. With him looking at you face-on, you breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn’t beat him up too bad — there was blood on his skin and clothes, but only some bruising on his face.

You sent Jaskier a look, hoping he’d get the hint to stay quiet. He did, but that didn’t stop him from glaring at the guards that held him.

Behind his glare, you could see the fear he was harboring. Seeing him like that made your blood boil.

You gritted your teeth as you turned to Rauf, “You were lying this whole time.”

“It was necessary—“

“For who?” You didn’t let him answer, “Lying to me made your life easier. Not mine.”

“There are many things that you would thank me for keeping from you.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Rauf shook his head in disbelief, “I don’t understand you, Y/N. You owe nothing to this man. We kill for a living. Innocent or not, this is how it has always been. You wouldn’t be this angry unless you—” He watched you for a moment, confusion turning to realization. “No, you don’t.”

Your chest heaved as you practically fumed in your spot, not trusting yourself to respond to his words.

But you didn’t need to. Rauf leaned forward to look into your eyes, “You wouldn’t be this mad unless you were in love with him.”

The words sliced into you like a knife. Love? No. Could you? Was that why, all this time, you put so much energy into this assignment? It definitely wasn’t love at first sight. It wasn’t even like at first sight. You did want to kill him. But over time…that changed. You cared for him unlike anyone you’d ever known. But was that the only reason this mattered to you? Because you were in love?

No. That wasn’t why. You cared about this because it was wrong. Rauf was wrong.

You moved your eyes back to Rauf, who was now standing in front of you, “I don’t have to love him to know this is wrong.”

“But you do.” His eyes weren’t as angry anymore — they softened as he turned away and leaned against his desk. “Love can do dangerous things, Y/N. I…I would know.”

You practically rolled your eyes. What would your uncle know about love? Besides spending nights at brothels and seducing the local farmer’s wife, Rauf didn’t have much experience with romantic relationships. And you really didn’t know if you could sit through a fleeting sob story while Jaskier practically gasped for breath.

“I’ve kept the truth from you about my past. Your past.”

You frowned. What the fuck was he talking about?

“I was selfish to keep the truth from you. About everything.” He continued, “But now I see that you need to know. Especially now.”

He gestured to Jaskier, who had his head down again.

You blinked, “Know what?”

“What I told you about your parent’s death was not entirely true.”

Your whole body went stiff. It felt like the air in the room was gone; like you could practically feel the blood rushing through your body, practically feel the beat of your heart in your ears. You didn’t even know what Rauf was going to say, but you felt the urge to scream and grab Jaskier, just so you would never have to find out.

But you stayed put.

Rauf avoided your gaze. “Your mother was a kind woman. She was smart and beautiful and talented in more ways than one. She had your father’s heart, and many other men’s. Including…mine.

“My frequent visits to your village weren’t always to see your father, though he was still a good friend of mine. Which made it hurt more that I fell in love with his wife."

You blinked, trying to register his words. “You and my mom…” You shook your head, “No.”

Rauf sighed, “Yes. Your father worked way overtime, and when I would visit, we would spend time together while you played outside. It’s why you never realized, I suppose.

“After a while, I knew I was in love. I wanted to be with your mother, forever, to call her my own. And your father was rarely ever home. You both could be with me, and I wouldn’t take you for granted like your father did.

“When I told your mother this…she didn’t like it. She cursed at me, told me to leave her for good. Even after what we’d been through, how much love we shared, she said she couldn’t just leave your father.”

The horror was clear on your face as you spoke, “So you killed him.”

Rauf nodded, only then meeting your gaze. When he saw the disgust on your face, he stood up from the desk with a huff, “Don’t look at me like that. Do you know what I did for you? What I had to do to teach you how to survive in a world like ours? You of all people should know how this feels. You killed your best friend for a bard that doesn’t give two shits about you.”

“Y/N, don’t listen to him—“ A gust of breath was forced out of Jaskier as the guard beside him punched him in the gut.

Rauf’s voice pulled your attention from Jaskier, “I couldn’t learn one of the most important lessons — to kill the people who love you most, before they destroy a part of you.”

Your mind was reeling. “Wait—“ You shook your head, almost not believing his words, “If my father didn’t kill my mother, and you didn’t kill my mother…”

When Rauf didn’t answer, you answered for him, “My mother is alive?”

“Yes.”

Your eyes widened as you stepped forward, pushing against your uncle’s chest. “All these years, and my mother was alive? You…you kidnapped me!”

“Y/N—“

“How dare you?” You hit him harder, but he barely moved. “How dare you?”

“She wouldn’t have been able to take care of you on her own—“

“Because you killed my father!” By now, you were screaming. “Do you really think you were right? That this was the best possible outcome?”

“I did what was best for you.” He placed his hands on your shaking shoulders, “I raised you like my own. Taught you everything I learned and didn’t learn.”

Your tone was venomous, “You still haven’t learned a lot.”

“And neither have you. You killed one of your own for a bard you barely know.” Your stomach flopped at his words, “I was always right by your side. Joneta was too. Because that is what we do. That is the fellowship. We stick by our own. But this time…you didn’t. You turned your back — and worse, you stabbed Joneta in hers.”

You blinked incredulously, not even noticing the tears that fell down your face. Suddenly, it felt like a weight was placed on your entire body. You felt tired. And now, with Rauf wiping the tears from your cheeks, you felt like a little kid again. You felt…comfort, despite all the shit you just heard. It was like none of it mattered — all you could think about were Joneta’s lifeless eyes staring back at you, judging you.

Rauf spoke quietly, and for a moment, you forgot there was anyone else in the room. “I’m trying to help you not make any more mistakes, Y/N. Because I came back from mine, and I want you to come back from yours.”

You only frowned at his words, still trying to wrap your head around everything that you had just learned.

Rauf kept his hands on your shoulders when another guard burst through the door. They barely hesitated when they saw the scene before them, “Sir, someone broke into the guild. We think — we think it’s the witcher.”

Rauf’s eyes immediately found yours, a look of betrayal traced across his features. But you were too busy focusing on your racing thoughts to care.

“Take care of it,” Rauf said, turning back to his desk with a huff. The guard left, closing the door and leaving you all to stand in the air thick with tension.

But soon, Rauf broke the silence, “I want what’s best for you, Y/N. I want you to see what I am trying to tell you from my mistakes. People like this—“ He gestured to the bard, who was now pleading you with his eyes. You avoided his gaze as Rauf continued, “They only hold you back. They don’t help you. They hurt. They make you someone you aren’t. Someone you don’t recognize.

“I raised you like my own child. And every father lies to their child to protect them. And to protect you, I need you to do something, to learn what I never did.” He was in front of you now, the regret etched on his face. He took one of your hands and placed your knife’s handle in your palm, wrapping your fingers around it for you. With a short nod, he told you what he wanted you to do.

You turned towards Jaskier, who was watching you with wide eyes.

The bard wasn’t afraid. He was…sad. Tired. Pleading. His eyes reminded you of your own. Broken. And as you stepped toward him, you couldn’t help but think about the way he looked at you before. The smiles, the grazed touches. The fear when you first met, to the annoyance, to the pleasant smiles whenever you relented and joked with him. You had been through so much in such a short amount of time — a time that Rauf wanted you to end.

Jaskier watched you, looked over your face, over the conflicting emotions you showed with only a glance, and then he nodded. He accepted what you needed to do to him. He understood.

You blinked and gripped the knife tighter in your hand as realization took over. This wasn’t about Jaskier, it was about you. It was always about you.

“I’m sorry,” you felt yourself saying, the pain in your voice clear.

Jaskier continued to watch you with knowing eyes — the eyes you had grown to love, the eyes you wished you would never have to live without. He fought to keep his head up, to look at you. But now, you weren’t focusing on him. Your eyes weren’t focused on anything, because they were blurred with tears. Tears for Jaskier. Tears for your uncle. Tears for yourself.

And then you plunged the knife right into his heart.

You ignored the way the warm blood seeped out of the wound and onto your hand, instead focusing on his eyes. They were wide with surprise, just as his mouth was. It was almost like he would yell at you if only he could form the words.

But you didn’t give Rauf the chance. Instead, you ripped the knife from his heart, and as he slumped to the ground, you pivoted and threw the knife to Jaskier’s left, hitting the guard right in the eye.

But you couldn’t focus on that victory. Instead, the other guard was coming towards you now, abandoning Jaskier, who leaned against a nearby wall. Your knife being stuck in the first guard’s eye left you weaponless, so you grabbed the closest thing.

You smashed the lantern from Rauf’s desk into the bigger man’s head — he was barely fazed. He launched at you, reaching his hands towards your neck. Despite the pain in your leg, you dodged his attack, slipping under his arms and landing just beside him. As he nearly fell into the desk that was behind you, you took advantage of his disorientation — with one swift movement, you kicked your good leg into the back of his knee, causing him to fall to the ground. Without hesitating, you grabbed the back of his head by his hair and smashed it into the edge of the wooden desk, once, twice, three times, until his face was unrecognizable. Then, you smashed it again for good luck.

With heaving breaths, you turned towards Rauf, who lay on the floor with his eyes glazed over. It looked like there was a small flicker of light in his eyes still; his mouth was slightly agape in surprise, and you almost felt like he would say something.

Your heart clenched at the sight of your uncle, but the feeling was quickly replaced with anger. He killed your father. He took you from your mother. Kidnapped you. Turned you into a monster. You were about to walk over and kick his defenseless body when he spoke.

“Y/N?” You frowned. The voice was full of fear, but it wasn’t Rauf’s. You snapped your head back to where Jaskier was leaning a hand against the door. His other hand was clutching his stomach — but it was covered in blood.

“Julian?” Your voice felt distant as you ran just in time to catch him from hitting the ground. You lowered him slowly, trying to balance him in your shaky hands. “No. No, Julian.”

He frowned, as if confused at the pain he felt.

“Jaskier don’t you fucking dare, you hear me?” You ripped the edge of your shirt and tried to tie it around his waist, but it wasn’t long enough. “You weren’t supposed to — shit.”

Ignoring the way your body shook, you crawled over to the dead guard and ripped the pants from his legs. Your hands were shaking, but you managed to get the fabric wrapped around Jaskier pretty quickly.

“Why did you take the knife out? Who even stabbed you? Fuck.” There was so much blood. It was all over your hands, already seeping through the makeshift wrapping. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to do.

“Y/N.” Your wild eyes met Jaskier’s — he was losing consciousness, but his mouth was open like he wanted to speak. You did the first thing you could think of.

You slapped him across the face, not too hard, and his eyes widened in confusion. “Sorry, sorry. But you have to stay awake. You can’t leave me.”

You let your hand rest against his cheek, nearly melting at the way he leaned into your touch. You kept your other hand on his wound, despite the blood coating your fingers.

“I’m not going to leave you, darling.” He reached up and wiped a tear from your face. “I want to kiss you,” he said, but all you could see was the fading in his eyes, the clouds that began to form over his blue orbs.

“No. No—“ You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. Warmth erupted in your chest, battling with the fire that spilled from your veins. Jaskier’s fingers threaded into your hair, grazing your scalp as his lips moved with your own. But almost as soon as he responded, his motions went still. You pulled back, watching his hand fall from your head.

“No, no, no Julian wake up—"

The door swung open, but you didn’t bother looking up from Jaskier’s face. You moved your hand from the side of his face, pressing it against the wound on his stomach. The taste of his lips lingered on your own as you screamed in distress, watching the tears from your face fall onto your blood-covered hands.

Geralt kneeled down on the opposite side of Jaskier’s body.

“He’s not dead. He’s not dead, Geralt—“

Geralt nodded, “No, he isn’t. But his heartbeat is slowing.” Clearly, his words didn’t calm you. You choked on a sob, shaking your head as you pressed your hands harder into the wound. “Y/N, listen to me. I know someone who can help him, but we have to go now. You have to trust me.”

You looked back at the witcher, not bothering to wipe away your painful tears. Moving Jaskier was a risk, but leaving him there was an even bigger one.

With one last sob, you nodded your head and let the witcher pick him up.

———————————————————————————————————

:)))) sorry :))

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 4 years ago

Text

The Guardian’s Oath, Part One

This is the first thing I’ve written in the “spirit of the season”. I've always been a huge Halloween geek, probably because it falls close to my birthday, so when I was little, it kind of felt like all this fun stuff was somehow related to me.

I usually avoid writing for characters who are already popular in wrestling fan fiction because I figure that there’s already so many good things to read and I don’t have anything particularly new to offer, but this idea couldn’t have worked with anyone other than Finn Balor. I’m not claiming that this is incredibly original either because it absolutely is not. Anyone who’s read any classic gothic stories will recognize that this comes close to outright plagiarism in bits. Nevertheless, I started writing it to see where it went and this is what happened. Well, it’s the first part of what happened. This is about half of what I have written thus far and there is more coming.

The setting is 19th century Ireland, about which I know precious little, so please forgive me any egregious errors.

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 3,706

Content advisory: Nothing other than that it’s a slow burn so some people are going to find this section a little flat (more fiction than fan content here)

It was one of the first warm days of spring when I arrived at Wynn Cottage. I was practically trembling with nervousness, waiting to meet my new employer. Although the education I had received from the church was a good one, the offer of a position as governess for a priest in the hamlet of Bray came very quickly after I was ready to work. Indeed, the offer seemed to have come from nothing, from a chance meeting of a deacon at my church with a parishioner from Bray. I liked to think that it was fate, that the position had come to me at the exact moment I was ready because this was where God intended for me to be. While the arrangements for my transfer to Bray were conducted mostly by the two churches, I had been touched to receive a kind and welcoming letter from my new employer, Reverend Feargal Devitt.

He explained in his letter that he was a widower and that because the tiny protestant population of the county was widespread, his work required him to spend a great deal of time travelling from village to village. He needed a governess who could care for and help to educate his two young children, a boy and a girl, one whose faith was in line with his own.

I alighted from the carriage and took my case with all my meagre belongings from the driver and stepped through the gate into my new life.

As he had promised, Reverend Devitt was waiting for me with his children. There was a slightly older woman, clearly a servant of the house standing with them like an equal member of the family. They made a lovely picture, standing before their quaint cottage under the dappled sunlight that broke through the apple tree just next to it.

"Miss Miles," he greeted me warmly, "welcome to Wynn. I hope your journey was easy."

"Quite easy, sir. It was my first time on a train, so it made for a rather nice adventure."

He beamed and placed his hands on his children's shoulders, gently pushing them a step towards me. "This is my son William and my daughter Sophia. Children, this is your new governess, Mis Miles."

The children were an odd pair. I knew that the boy was eight and the girl nine but they gave the impression of being quite a bit further removed in age. The boy figured his father with his large blue eyes. His sandy hair was lighter than the Reverend's but I could imagine it would darken to the point where their resemblance would be quite striking. He was a little small for his age, although his fresh complexion and proud stature showed all the signs of perfect health.

His sister, by contrast, was tall, almost to my shoulder, and dark. Her hair and eyes were the colour of coffee and her skin a warmer, like the shell of a walnut. As she tilted her heart-shaped face in my direction, I was struck by the keen intelligence in her eyes, mixed with a hint of apprehension. I could not fault her for that and I only hoped that I could win her over.

"This is Kate, our cook. She's been with us since before the children were born. Any questions you have about the house or the town, she'll be able to answer."

The woman gave me a smile, her round, pink cheeks pressing her eyes nearly shut. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Susan, one of the girls from the village, comes by to help with the cleaning and upkeep and Mr. Jones is the gardener but they don't live with us. You'll meet them later."

It was only then that my eyes came to rest on Reverend Devitt and truly take in his appearance and I felt my breath catch in my throat as I did.

His eyes were bluer and clearer than any sky I had ever seen, the highlight of his handsome face with its squared jaw and neat beard, shaved in such a way that his full lips were still visible. He flashed me another smile and I felt my heart quicken in response. I had never met any man, or any person, who inspired such a reaction in me and, as rash an idea as it was, I believe that I fell in love with him at that moment.

"Please," he said softly, "come in."

I picked up my case and Kate immediately moved to help me."

"Your rooms are in the garrett," he explained with a hint of embarrassment. "It's not too large and the ceiling is a little low but it's warm and dry and there is a window that gives a nice light. On clear days, you can even see the ocean."

"I am certain it's more than enough for me, sir. I expect I shall be spending most of the day with the children anyway. And I should very much like to see the ocean. I've only ever had it described to me."

The Reverend looked shocked. "You've never seen the ocean? At all?"

"Never in my life sir." I caught a look that passed between the children and looked down, ashamed. My situation had never permitted me to travel any distance from the inland village where I was born. It was not until I uttered those words, however, that I realized what an ignorant peasant I must seem as a result.

If Reverend Devitt saw the look on his children's faces, he gave no sign of it. He only gave me another of his thrilling smiles and said, "Well it's settled then. We shall go for a walk while Kate prepares dinner."

I felt my cheeks color at his words. This hospitality was far beyond anything I had dared hope for and I wondered if he would have been so congenial with anyone, or if it was possible that it was something he did just for me.

Kate and I carried my trunk to my rooms and while the light was strangely mournful in the late afternoon, the accommodations were better than I had been led to expect for a woman in my position.

"You don't want to see the view?" Kate asked, noticing that I avoided looking towards the window.

"I don't want to spoil the surprise," I answered shyly.

She gave me a smile that was every bit as warm, although not as beautiful, as her master's.

"I hope it's not too forward for me to say, but I believe you'll fit in well here."

I was a little surprised that the shore was so close and so easily accessible. I had always imagined the coast to be a series of tagged cliffs towering above the wild water but here the land gently rolled down to meet the water, a soft stretch of sand the bridge between them.

Reverend Devitt took my hand to help me down the last few steps to the beach and I had to turn my face away so that he could not see the effect it had on me. He kept my hand in his until he was sure my feet were steady on the unfamiliar surface.

The children walked ahead of us. William rushed off and started gathering stones and shells.

"He collects them," the Reverend informed me. "For what purpose I'm not sure but he's done it for years."

Sophia strolled on her own. She ventured closer to the water, which struck me as a very good thing to do. Many of the stories I'd heard of the ocean involved people being swept away into it. From time to time, her brother would call her over but each time she returned to the water's edge, as if it were only there that she was happy.

"I'm too indulgent with them," Reverend Devitt sighed, noticing how my eyes followed Sophia with concern. "I try to keep discipline but I find it hard. They lost their mother young and their father is off helping the lord's flock rather than his own."

"Well I hope I can set your mind at ease on that score, at least a little," I offered.

He turned to face me, his smile a little softer and sadder. With the light behind him, it was like he had a golden halo. I had been delivered to the home of this angel of a man and once again, my heart rushed at the feeling I already had for him.

I was so much in his thrall that I was startled when both the children rushed up, to their father and to me.

"Look what I've found!" William cried excitedly. He extended his hand to reveal a live crab, its legs grasping at the air while the boy dangled it by his shell.

"It's a big one," Sophia added, a mischievous little grin spreading across her face.

"Put your hand out, Miss Miles," William goaded. "He can hold him. He won't hurt you."

"William, hush," his father tutted. "Don't ever speak to her like that again."

Both children had their gleaming eyes fixed on me, as if their father were no longer there, waiting to see what I did next.

I disliked the crab, finding it like an armored spider, and I shivered at the movement of its spindly legs, but something in me hated the idea that I might fail an early test from my charges, strange though it might be.

"No," I quavered, holding my palm out flat. "He can put it in my hand. I don't mind."

Not one of our group could have believed that I didn't mind. My hand shook almost violently as I offered it. Nevertheless, I nodded to William to proceed. I hated the sensation of the legs of my hand, too light for the size of the creature. And despite William's assurance, I felt certain that it would happily snap one of my fingers with its grotesque claws.

What should we do with it, Miss Miles?" William cajoled me. He and his sister leaned in closer, their eyes bearing in on me with even greater intensity.

"You take it back and put it back exactly where you found it," his father ordered without waiting for me to reply. "Now."

The two of them scampered off and I saw William toss the crab back, none too gently, into the rocks where he had found it. From there, they walked together, Sophia taking his hand in hers and pulling him close as they spoke to each other with animated expressions. I knew instinctively that they were discussing me.

"So what do you think of the ocean?" Reverend Devitt asked after a long pause.

"It's very beautiful."

I paused and took a deep breath, my nostrils filling with the briny scent. At that very moment, looking out on its endless expanse, I wasn't sure if I liked the sea or not.

"I feel like it's all around me, even here on land. The smell and the sound and the mist in the air.."

He looked at me with a tenderness I had never known. "You get used to it," he promised.

We headed back to the house as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of flame and rose and indigo. He took my arm and rested his hand on my back as he helped be back up the path away from the beach and I felt the echoes of his touch as we took our dinner together, as I watched him read from the bible and a book of fables to his children, and even after I retired for the evening.

I had hoped that the air I'd taken in on our walk would make me fall asleep quickly but it was not to be. I felt I could not get comfortable, either hot or cold and the sounds of the house were different than I was used to. The thing that made me the most anxious, however, was that I could hear the waves rolling in the distance. It left me unsettled, as foolish as I knew that to be.

The Reverend stayed at home most of the next day before he headed out to visit the adherents of the faith where they needed him. I learned that he was normally gone from Monday afternoon until Saturday night and I had to hide my disappointment that I would see so very little of him.

I reminded myself that I was a servant in his house and my role was to tend to and educate the children, not to pine after him. Although it was late for lessons by the time their father had gone, I did have both the children practice on the small piano in the drawing room before dinner. They did so without any resistance and paid respectful attention when I corrected their mistakes.

After we had taken dinner, I was about to send them to bed when I was startled by the sound of something creaking and banging loudly from outside. My nerves were already on edge as a storm and blown in as darkness fell, the coastal wind being much wilder than I was used to, so I gave a startled cry at the sound.

Kate rushed in and her face softened upon seeing me standing, hand on my chest, my gray eyes wide with fright.

"I'm sorry, miss, it's just the back gate's come loose again. The Lock's needed replacing for a while now but Mr. Jones keeps forgetting to do it."

"We'll get it," Sophia cried, grabbing her brother's hand and rushing past the two of us.

By the time I'd recovered my wits, I heard the back door close. I don't know what I thought might befall the children but I tore after them, practically falling on the wet grass as I rushed to the gate.

Sophia stared at me as if I were a crazy woman and William laughed a little.

"What on Earth are you doing?" I panted. "You mustn't run off like that, especially after dark."

I wiped away the rain that slashed at my cheek and motioned for both of them to get inside. There was a wooded area behind the gate and with the wind up and the leaves blowing, I felt myself unnerved by the shifting shadows within.

"Don't be silly," Sophia reassured me with excessive sweetness. "It's just the gate in our own yard. Besides, you don't know the trick to it. If you don't know the trick, it'll just blow open again."

"And then you'll have to wake us to do it for you," William chimed in.

Each of them took one of my hands and steered me back towards the house, as if they were the adults and I the child. It wasn't until we were back inside and I had sent them to get ready for bed that it occurred to me that I should have asked them to show me the trick.

I went upstairs with the Bible in hand to read to the children on my own for the first time. I had thought of a passage or two that I believed would be instructive at their age but I still felt nervous.

It was a great relief when they sat in their beds, poised and quiet, listening attentively.

"Do you have any questions?" I queried, closing the book on my lap.

They exchanged a glance and Sophia spoke for both of them.

"No ma'am."

"I know your father read you stories from another book. Would you like me to do that?"

"We've heard all those stories before," Sophia sighed.

"When Kate or Susan put us to bed, they tell us fairy stories," William added excitedly.

"Oh, is there a book of those you'd like me to read from? I don't mind."

"Oh they don't read," Sophia laughed. "They just tell us the stories they know."

"They tell us about the creatures here."

I bit my lip. "I'm afraid I don't know any fairy stories from this area."

"What monsters are there where you come from?" William asked a little too sharply.

"Well I'm not going to tell you stories about monsters when you're going to bed or you won't sleep."

Sophia laughed as if I'd said something foolish. "Oh we're not afraid."

"Do you have Bog Maeve where you come from?" William pressed, his excitement only growing. "She's the old lady who lives under the bogs and pulls travelers under."

I felt like I had somehow lost control of the conversation and yet I found myself wanting to impress the children, hoping to overcome the impression left by my cowardice in the face of the storm.

"I believe we have stories of something like that, but the name is different."

"What about ghosts? We have the White Man. He walks around the edge of the graveyard and leans against the church wall, crying for his wife."

"You mustn't carry on like that, William," I chided.

"Tell us about a spirit from where you grew up."

"Well there are woods all around, so we mostly have stories about wood elves and sprites that inhabit the trees. But those are just folk tales." I gave a proud little smile to show them I was unaffected by such things.

"You mean woods like the ones behind the back gate here?" Sophia asked coyly. William giggled.

"I suppose they're a little like them." I felt increasingly desperate, like I was being drawn into some sort of trap.

"Do you have Finn Bálor where you come from?" William asked.

"I don't think so. Or at least I don't know that name. What is he supposed to do?"

The two of them exchanged a quick look and began reciting in unison:

Finn Bálor comes in the dark of night

With his seal black skin and his eyes of white

He comes for the children and takes their breath

Or spirits them off to certain death;

But even worse for the maiden fair

Who he drags away to his watery lair

And though her screams are still heard through the wind and rain

His maiden will never be seen again.

Sophia furrowed her brow. "They wouldn't have Bálor where she comes from."

"Why not?" William responded, as if he were reciting the script to a play.

"It says Bálor's lair is watery. So he must live near the ocean."

William made a soft noise as if he was disappointed.

"That really isn't a story for good Christian children," I stammered, a little shocked at the ugliness of their rhyme.

"Everyone around here knows that story," Sophia answered.

"Well, I think it's time to stop the stories for tonight and for you to get some sleep."

"Just a little longer," William pleaded.

We won't sleep for the storm," Sophia cooed.

I didn't want to think I'll of a child but I felt like she was mocking me over my own nervousness about the storm.

"You don't have to tell us any more stories like that," she continued. "You could just tell us about yourself."

A little hesitantly, I settled back in my seat. "Very well. What would you like to know?"

"How did you end up working as a governess?" Sophia prompted.

"This is actually my first position. I had just finished my education through the church in Killfoyle and they found this post for me."

"Why did your parents not do that?" William asks, his eyes so innocent I could scarcely believe this was the same boy who had recited that ghastly rhyme just minutes before.

I lowered my head, wondering how much of my story I should tell. "My parents have been dead for some time."

Sophia slid to the end of her bed and rested her hand on mine. "You poor thing."

The maturity in her voice was a little unnerving, but I nonetheless gave her a little smile before motioning for her to lie back down.

"How did they die?"

"William!" His sister snapped. "Don't you ask such things!"

"But I was lucky and my church took me in and saw that I was educated. They made sure I had prospects for a good life."

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" the girl asked gently.

"No." I paused, feeling uncomfortably like I was lying. "I had a younger brother but he died when he was small."

"Did he die with your parents?"

"William stop it right now!" Sophia's dark eyes were furious. "I'm sorry," she said to me, composing herself, "he's a baby and he doesn't know any better."

"I'm not a baby!"

"You hush this instant! You're upsetting her! How do you expect her to like us if you act like that?"

"Oh but of course I like you!" I insisted. "You're lovely children. He's just speaking rashly because he's tired."

Sophia's expression was skeptical. "He had no business speaking to you that way."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Please don't be angry."

"I'm not angry. But now I really think you must sleep."

I stood up, wondering if I should give them a kiss but deciding against it.

"Miss Miles?" Sophia said primly.

"Yes?"

"I hope that you will be much happier now that you're here."

"Thank you, Sophia. That's very kind of you to say."

I knew that the children hadn’t meant to hurt me, but my heart felt heavy as I retired to my room for the night. Thinking of my family was always harrowing for me. It reminded me how narrowly I had escaped a miserable fate. Although my heart soared being here, living under the roof of such a beautiful man and his precocious children, I knew there would always be a part of me that lived in fear that everything good could be taken away from me as it had been before.

I spent another fitful night, unable to clear my head enough to sleep, my mind a turmoil of memories and uneasy thoughts of the sinister Balor and the chilling rhyme the children had shared, set to the sound of the crashing waves in the distance.

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