#the storyteller tree is yellow you say? WRONG | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chemicalpink · 3 years ago

Text

Young Gods ❈ KNJ, JJK

❈ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader x Jungkook

❈ Genre: smut, f2l kinda, but also s2l, fantasy!au, fluff if you squint, gods!au, wizard/witch!au

➛ Part of the Namkook Moonrise Masquerade hosted by @jamaisjoons

❈ Rating: 18+

❈ Wordcount: 4.2k

❈ Warnings: it is jungkook centric, it does have a somewhat heavy plot, double penetrative sex, magical sex, teasing, slightest corruption kink.

❈ Summary: Legend has it that if you were to walk all the way up to Hallasan, and if the land is welcoming enough, you should be able to see the most beautiful lake where it is rumoured to home the most powerful being the world has ever had the pleasure to meet, so when young warlock Jungkook starts having trouble with his magic, who could blame him for travelling all the way there in hopes of finding answers only to be met with the hottest man he’s ever seen. and really, who could blame him for fostering the biggest crush on him without saying a word for ages? that is, until y/n, a long lost friend of Namjoon shows up. so really, who is he to blame if he lets the two greatest beings in existence use him for their pleasure?

❈A/N: SHE'S HERE. GOD THIS TOOK A WHILE. Please enjoy! ALSO, banner by @jamaisjoons, I do believe the only thing that keep me writing this was the banner lol. Do tell your thoughts on this bad baby, I was heading towards a larger fic but I didn't have time yet magical au is most definitely there for future fics.

The first time Jungkook realised just how powerful he was, he was fifteen years old, although his mother can recall him being around four and being able to master a potion that most common-born non-royal witches could only hope to get mediocre at once trained at their young twenties. Of course, his magic had soon become taboo around the village, having to hide himself behind years of his father’s training, his lineage a bit closer to royalty, not quite, but just enough for his son’s magic to pass as his own. If his customers notice how better his spell jars or potions get once Jungkook turns eighteen, they sure don’t comment on it. Not that they would be able to tell that the family was hiding a master of the magical arts that could rival the country’s most powerful witch in the blink of an eye. Those were just rumours going around, as far as the Jeon’s were concerned.

“Son, I believe it is about time you get some proper practice on your magic” his father mentioned bypassing one Sunday night as they both locked up the store. He turned to hi, somewhat confused.

“Look if this is about Seojun noona’s elixir being more powerful than it usually is I swear it was a rightful mixture, my trial was right beside her actual one and she entered the shop sooner and-”

His dad shakes a hand dismissively at him, rounding the counter into the small storage room, coming back in sight with a leather-bound book in between his hands, calloused fingers roaming the antique-looking pages “I am not quite sure how much truth an old man like your grandfather could hold, but it wouldn’t hurt to try” he turned the yellowing book towards him, fast and almost undescribable scribbles decorating the paper as he squinted down at it, his father handling the energy in it to make the content quite literally come to life, a storytelling spell all too familiar to him from his young age.

“Dad, you know I absolutely love bedtime stories, but I’d say I’m quite a bit too old now for-�� before he can even think about finishing the sentence, a mountain comes into view, alive straight from the book’s pages, standing tall and proud dressed in green, almost touching the sky, a magical aura surrounding it, one that he could even feel just by looking at it “What’s that?”

“The old man used to tell me stories about an ancient being, the most powerful of them all, living on top of Hallasan” the pages turn by themselves, the image changing to a faceless man, standing almost as tall and proud as the mountain itself, performing all types of magic, some of them Jungkook himself hadn’t even heard of “Legend says he was outcasted by royalty in fear of revolution, wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for he is a child of Earth herself”

“I-I don’t think I’m following”

His father sighs loudly before his magic shuts the book closed, all magic gone on a whim “Jungkook, whatever this man was, if my father was right and he really did exist, you might be like him”

“But-but I was born of both you and mum” he couldn’t quite yet fathom the extension of his own magic, much less think about the probability of being more powerful than any other being that had walked the Earth in millennia. Even if the man was real, would he even be alive still? If he was as powerful as he was presumed to be, would he even take Jungkook under his wing? What if he wasn’t as lucky as the man from the book and word got out and his life was endangered?

“Jungkook just think about it, you might be a child of the Earth”

“What if I don’t want to be” he couldn’t quite face his father, feeling his own heartbreak as the older man deflated. Jungkook knew that perhaps his dad had entertained the idea of his only son being a creature out of a legendary book, could feel how proud it would make him, for Jungkook to be a hero, make history with the power he presumably held within, yet he couldn’t help but feel like a small child again, afraid at the uncertainty that the future could hold. “I- I’m good with just running the shop and helping you and mother out with stuff”

His father sighed before placing a gentle hand on his shoulders, a small act that made him feel even more like a child, one getting subtly scolded by his parents as they prepare him for his inevitable future. “Jungkook-ah, your mother and I- all we really want for you is to live your own life”

His ears perk up, gaze facing forward as he catches his mother standing with her arms crossed over her body, the softest motherly look on her face “And if that means for my baby to go find himself at some faraway place, then so be it” she comes to join his father by his side, both of them bracing each other as the thought of their child growing up simmers down on them. “We just want you to grow up to your full potential Kookie”

.-.-

It had taken quite some convincing for him to completely make up his mind, the negging looks from his father as he helped around the shop, the longing yet scolding gaze his mother held over dinner until he found himself preparing a small bag for the long trip– almost burning inside his mind the map contained in his grandfather’s grimoire from the many times he had read over what he once thought to be a legend out of a children’s storybook.

The trip itself wasn’t as difficult as it was troublesome, having to hike up the highest mountain in the land, the difficult part–if the Jeon’s memories were anything to go by– was having the Hallassan land spirit to like you enough to show itself, even a step further to have the legendary witch to show his home.

For quite some time Jungkook entertained the idea of the immense possibilities on how the wizard could look, every possible image popping up in his head some variation of a wrinkly old man hunched over himself, staff in hand and he couldn’t help but laugh soundly at it, picturing himself getting nagged at by such a figure, perhaps he would end up looking like one of those old scholars that came to his village from time to time. But how wrong was he.

It took him three days, two cold sleepless nights in the woods and running in circles for at least two hours in the nothingness that was the top of the mountain for the valley to show up right where he had started to venture– he could almost hear the forest spirits snickering at him. He really tried to be angry at it, almost went back down just out of spite, yet the clearing before him had him doing a double-take, the space was bright and clear, none of the trees from before on sight, the small dipping in the middle of it leading to a sort of entrance– this was what he came for.

Jungkook had been raised better than what he found himself doing– walking into a stranger’s house uninvited. Was it really uninvited if after knocking for a few minutes the door opened on its own?

He walks inside, small steps, unsure of himself, his past resolve crumbling down completely as he walks further in where he listens to a hushed voice coming from his left, a mop of silvery hair turned away from him, green warm clothes cradling the figure, Jungkook entertains the idea of an old man still, yet not so much hunched over himself if the deep hushed voice and the hair colour was anything to go by. “...Now where did I last see-”

"Hello-"

"Oh! great timing! the pay is where it always is" broad shoulders are still facing him as the man moved around, a couple of won bills on the counter where he had waved his hand dismissively, not even bothering to turn around, for a legendary creature perhaps leaving his home door open was a recurrent thing, what with the whole clearing hidden from the public eye and all.

"Oh I'm not-" he had tried to make himself knows as definitely not the person he was expecting yet the man kept mumbling to himself, apparently in deep thought at whatever it was

""—So then if we are able to move this around we should -" he had started moving around the room, still not facing Jungkook directly, just pointing to places around the spacious room as his free hand busied itself with picking books from the humongous shelf against the wall

"I'm- uh" his hands couldn’t be still, grasping at the bag over his shoulder, knuckles almost white as he clears his throat "I'm not-"

"Did you forget where-" the man turns around and Jungkook feels whatever little poise he had gained leave him in the spot, right in front of him is the most legendary creature in existence, recorded alive for millennia, a god in more ways than one, no old man in sight but the prettiest human he had laid eyes on, fierce sight set on him awkwardly hanging at the entrance as the man keeps blinking at him "uh"

He bows down almost instinctively, 90 degrees, hair falling onto his eyes as he does so "Mister sir- uh keeper of Hallasan"

"You aren't Soobin"

"Uh.. no I'm not"

The man doesn’t even flinch at the information of a stranger setting a foot inside his house, deep voice calm as ever as he asks "How did you even get in?"

"Uh the door was open" he points to the door in a futile attempt for it to not make it seem like he was the weirdo picking locks or something at a magical creature’s home

"No it wasn't" he moves to the door in the most graciously way he has ever seen someone do it, almost gliding across the floor, eyes never leave him except for the brief second where his hand tries the doorknob "huh it was. Weird"

It took the man less than a minute after his initial shock to turn to Jungkook and invite him in, a pair of teacups resting against the table as they seated parallel to each other, him crossing his legs in a nonchalant manner as Jungkook couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat– he certainly never thought he could come this far.

“So what can I do for you, Jeon Jungkook?” if he absolutely preened at the way that his name sounded in the stranger’s mouth, that was certainly something only for him to know.

The words died right on his tongue. There were certainly a lot of things the beautiful man seating across from him could do, none of them necessarily involving what he had initially come for, yet as the words take meaning inside his mind, he seems to short circuit yet again “I uh- you know- you know my name?”

He smiles a big smile, eyes crinkling into crescents, dimples showing and a heat simmering inside Jungkook’s belly “I know a lot of things, Jungkook” he stares off into space “Social skills are rusty, but they come back after getting a good look at you” Jungkook’s eyes must widen at the implication of his words. Could he read minds? Could he take a look into souls? “Just general stuff about you, don’t worry about it”

The man could definitely read minds.

Blink if you’re hearing this. The man blinks and Jungkook feels like fleeing. Wait. Everyone blinks, stupid. Perhaps some other time.

He somehow finds his voice, remembering the lingering question, the sole reason for him to be there “Mister Hallasan keeper, sir”

“Namjoon is fine”

“Mister Namjoon-ssi”

“Namjoon hyung”

Jungkook is sure this time his brain shortcircuits for real, for this complete stranger. Namjoon he corrects himself, to give him permission to call him so affectionately after only a few minutes of knowing him. After technically breaking- not breaking into his home.

Smile if you’re reading my mind. Namjoon smiles, something doesn’t sit right with him, he could very well be reading his mind, or simply smiling out of politeness at the extended silence Jungkook had caused, again. I’m onto you Mister Hallasan Keeper. Namjoon just smiles more fondly at him.

Jungkook goes on explaining his situation, from his rapid magic learning to being unable to wield his magic, to his father even suggesting that he could have been born from the Earth herself, just like Namjoon did all those millennia ago. The blond man restricts himself to listen to Jungkook speak, gaining a serious pose when he drops the reason for his visit, asking him for help. Jungkook’s almost sure he will deny it as he goes on to explain how his last magical apprentice had been there almost sixty years ago, going on about how he is pretty much a loner, no reason more than a brief excuse of being an outcast for practice differences with the village where Jungkook comes from, giving it a few seconds of thought before he accepts to have Jungkook under his wing, going as far as to give him a spare bedroom to sleep in along with the longest set of rules he had ever heard of.

Months with Namjoon look something more or less like this: waking up at 6 am sharp– something Jungkook had never done in his life, the first few times he had woken up later than that, it was almost impossible to know where his teacher had gone to. Have a rundown on the day’s activities and breakfast until 7. Jungkook was in charge of gardening on the 30-minute window of Namjoon harvesting for the spells he was due to make for the day. An hour of light reading– he knew better than to comment on how a thousand pages book was most definitely not light reading, but he did it anyway. He would then shadow Namjoon on whatever mystical task he had to do for the day before finishing up with him running basic high-level training with Namjoon’s guidance in the clearing– Namjoon had said that the Hallasan spirit would keep him safe and sound if he were to screw up, although so far all the spirit and her friends in the forest had done was laugh at his mistakes.

Five months in it, the whole routine came as second nature, he couldn’t even picture a day without Namjoon on it, not that there was anyone else that could pick up on the energy shift within it, Jungkook had learnt a lot from his teacher, not only in the magic department but about him as a person, couldn’t hide the lingering eyes, the curious touches of skin, every bit of information about Namjoon expanding that fondness feeling inside his heart, Namjoon was a man of habit, a powerful one at that, yet all those millennia living couldn’t hide the fact that Jungkook could see right through him, a lonely soul, as powerful as none other, yet so inherently say. Not even the whole power in the universe could keep him away from his own greatest danger: himself.

If you can read minds, kiss me. The kiss never came so perhaps Namjoon could never even read minds in the first place.

Now here’s the thing, Jungkook might be a mess when it comes to magic, but not so much at hiding his feelings, at least the best he could, Namjoon was as intelligent as men come and he had yet to notice. Namjoon’s friend that just happens to show up on a particularly lazy day– his teacher had said his magic tends to run out from time to time and would rather rest it; perhaps not so much.

Jeon Jungkook is a weak man. A weak man for beautiful things, like Namjoon, or you. Who just happened to walk inside Namjoon’s home like you owned the place– could he count it as his home too yet?

He could feel his heart wanting to leap out of him as soon as you introduced yourself, and perhaps he was imagining the way your eyes grazed over his figure before going to tease Namjoon, not that he stopped having heart eyes for the man when you walked in, he had enough heart eyes for the both of you, even if he had to keep them to himself. You were easier to warm up to than Namjoon if it was anything to go by, smoothly falling into conversation after you three had sat down for tea, walking up to Namjoon’s massive library, picking out books from their shelves as you asked him about his upbringings.

“The Jeon family? Oh, dearest, your grandfather was as good as wizards come” his brain cuts short as soon as the words leave your mouth, just how exactly could you have known the old man? The old wizard was presumably thrown out of the royal house for being unfit for ruling over the land. You playfully push your elbow against Namjoon “And I say this while knowing Joonie”

The blond man groans at your teasing.

“You-you knew my grandpa?”

“Yeh, such a shame he decided to be a mortal” Your initial interest seems to diminish as you turn to face the books yet again, a particular red cover catching your attention.

“What”

Jungkook faintly hears Namjoon standing up from his chair to try and get in between his conversation with you, although all he hears seems to come as if the voices were kept under cotton inside his ears “Y/N you’re overwhelming the kid”

For such a calm and collected posture, he had maintained not only while learning with Namjoon but back at home too, hearing such a word coming out of him really tips the glass “I’m not a kid! Why is everyone always treating me like a child!” surely it did seem rather childish to have an outburst like that, yet his mind couldn’t help but reel in all those other times in his stay where Namjoon had dismissed him from helping, saying it was a rather complicated spell you should wait this one out Jungkook. Or something along the lines of when you get stronger. It did seem the type of things one would say to their petulant child.

“Jungkook waits” Namjoon groans as he retreats to his assigned room, you can’t help the softness inside you at the way that strong independent loner Namjoon reacts to his apprentice being pissed off, certainly a first.

“You pissed off the kid” your remark isn’t that much well digested as Namjoon throws a dagger-like glare your way, groaning as he throws his head back against the couch

“Why am I parenting again?”

You shrug your shoulders as you offer him a tight lip smile, you had heard a lot about Jungkook even before you had walked inside the wizard’s home, like a reader of a slow-burning love story, you knew that ‘parenting’ was most definitely not the dynamic in his relationship with the younger, not with the way Namjoon had described the little mannerisms of his apprentice, or the way that he described his figure as the strongest back I’ve ever seen with such a tiny waist when he sent you a letter asking you to visit him.

The thing with the dynamic you had with Namjoon had been one going on for hundreds of years, feeding off of the magic that only such powerful creatures like you and him could conjure, effective yet dependent as when either of you two was in dire need of a boost, you would have to pay him a visit to work your magic. Jungkook hadn’t appeared after his little outburst, probably hidden in his room, taking only a few minutes of Namjoon glancing expectantly at the place where the younger had disappeared before you dragged him towards his room in an all too practised manner.

The whole environment was always on the calm side whenever you two get to it, something along the lines of strictly business, yet an undeniable connection between the two. Namjoon had you against his door, a dimly lit lamp on his desk, strong hands holding you in place at your waist as he leaned down to connect both of your mouths, eyes fluttering shut as he did so. Your hands found themselves tangled in his blond tousled hair in no time as he deepened the kiss, moving the both of you towards the bed as magic started glowing dimly within you two, connecting and feeding off of the spark of the situation, magic so profound and delicate that only immortal beings could hope to master. Namjoon placed himself against his elbows as you straddled his hips, your figure teasingly humping his growing bulge inside his pants as his breath started to become ragged, his own magic reaching forward to yours, just the way his lips chased yours. Yet there was only so much ominous Namjoon could handle. His hands were quick to undress both of you in between hot caresses and messy kisses as both of your bodies seem to move on their own accord, the magic itself doing the most out of the tantric experience, moans slowly but surely filling up the room as Namjoon positioned the tip of his hard cock on your entrance, teasing your folds for a few seconds before you settled on top of him in a familiar manner, sinking down on him as he throws his head back, letting out a groan. You are almost sure Jungkook could hear you both, yet your mind so clouded you wouldn’t have given it a second thought with Namjoon’s cock filling you up so nicely as you moved up and down on his length, that is until out of the corner of your eye you catch the casted shadow outside the dimly lit room.

"Your puppy is outside," You say as you stop moving on him, not quite removing yourself from the situation, yet you feel the magic in the room flickering faintly as if going dormant.

"What" Namjoon’s eyes are surprised as he lets reality sink in, his magic safely sated from the small act

"The kid that has an obvious crush on both you and me?” you state matter of factly as Namjoon’s jaw goes slack “He's watching us from behind the door"

As if on cue, there’s a rustling behind the door, feet rapidly resounding against the floor "No I'm not!"

Namjoon sighs loudly "JK just come in, I know this might seem.." the door opens and you could swear Jungkook’s eyes are about to leave his skull at the image he’s present with "weird"

"incredibly hot," they say at the same time, rendering both of them speechless

"huh kid's horny" you start removing yourself from Namjoon’s cock as your magic starts tingling, now reaching out for the younger "i like it"

"Y/N please"

You gesture by raising your hands as if surrendering, yet you know just how the night had taken a turn, willing to satiate your magic’s needs “He doesn’t like your PG training, let me handle this”

Jungkook is still sporting his Bambi eyes as he feels himself pulled into the room, closing the door softly behind him as he can only stare at you as you make your way towards him, lips ghosting over his “So tell me Jungkookie” your hand trails down to bring him closer to your naked body, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to your ass “Just how much are you willing to render of yourself for me and Joon?”

“All of me”

Jeon Jungkook might as well had been an erotic wizard like yourself if by the way he manhandles you and surrenders you to Namjoon like a loyal apprentice would to his master was anything to go by. Namjoon’s stare alone has the young man pliant as he caresses tan skin under his fingers, achingly curious as the youngest takes turns to kiss the eldest and yourself, Namjoon’s fingers playing with his nipples, your own hands working his length to life after your magic had completely undressed him, feeling both your and Namjoon’s magic reaching for Jungkook’s in a way you didn’t know was possible. A few kisses and lingering touches in, minds clouded with lust, kissing noises and moans taking over the space, Jungkook takes no time in positioning you on top of him, back to his chest as his length stretches you deliciously, long fingers playing with your clit as his own legs separate your thighs as if offering you up to his master, Namjoon looking like a man starved as he positions himself against Jungkook’s cock, his tip meeting no resistance as he glides in and nestles next to Jungkook, stretching you like no other time you could fathom, groans and ragged breaths of the men under and above you working you to your own climax, babbled words coming out of the youngest’s lips along with a promise of becoming yet another young god under your spell.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #namjoon smut #bts imagines #btshoneyhive #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #bangtansorciere

180 notes · View notes

nctsworld · 4 years ago

Text

in a king-size, say i’m your queen

✩‌ renjun ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ prince!renjun | fluff | smut | ‌3.4k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you’re drawn to the kingdom’s prince staying at your family’s inn. on the night before he leaves, you exchange good-byes in the form of a kiss and more. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (near the end), unprotected s*x, f*ngering, oral s*x (m receiving), mentions of alcohol/drinking, commoner!reader, dash of angst RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature PROMPT ⇾‌ prince/royalty au // fluff + smut REQ BY ⇾‌ anonymous ‌

⇾‌ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

“Prince Huang, this is my family, who will be looking after you during your stay.”

Your father awoke everyone from deep slumber in the middle of the night, hollering at everyone to put on their work clothes in a hurry. Little did anyone expect the actual prince himself to be taking a rest at your family’s inn, for several days apparently.

As the youngest and only daughter among your kin, your father introduces you last in line to greet the prince and his companions. With sleep still in your eyes, you curtsy as gracefully as you can, once towards the prince and another towards his followers.

The sleep in your eyes disappears as your eyelids suddenly bloom at your first clear look at the man standing a few steps across from you.

Everyone within the kingdom obviously knew of the royal family, but being this far from the mainland never granted you the chance to see them in-person. There were rumours far and wide of how captivating and beautiful the family was, especially the prince, but you assumed they were exaggerating, fueling the propaganda mill that all royalty were gorgeous, godly beings.

Oh, to be absolutely wrong.

Air’s snatched from your lungs when his warm smile burgeons, warming the room more than the fireplace ever could.

He holds his gaze on you, placing a palm on his chest and saying, “My dearest apologies for disturbing your dreams. It was a must though; we haven’t stopped anywhere in days and finally found your inn.”

Your father replies to his words, while you blink observantly at the royal figure. You wonder if it’s due to the lack of sleep or simply all in your head, but you swear his glances waver over at you more than your other family members.

“Well, I will retire to bed now and won’t be requiring your services until morning. Please resume your slumbers, and I wish you all the sweetest of dreams.”

Puffing his cheeks cutely, he bends his head slightly towards your family, while all of you dip and bow to him. When you two jointly look up, your gaze surely connects with his.

Funny enough, his wish comes true as his beauty rules over your dreams, molding them into sweet ones, for the rest of the night.

On the second morning of his stay, you watch him relaxing at the back of the inn among the luscious greenery. In a loose white-button up, he’s sitting by himself, save for a guard nearby, and lounging in a chair under the spring sun.

Prior to starting on your tasks for the day, you stroll towards him with a jug in hand. Smiling freely, his eyes are shut as you approach him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Your Royal Highness—”

His eyes flutter open at your divine voice and his smile deepens.

“But would you care for some lemon juice?”

The boyish man hums in acceptance and he’s glued to how you carefully pour the liquid into his chalice. His eyes track the path of your departure after you leave the jug on the table and head towards a group of trees in the farther end of the garden.

Though he delights in the picturesque image of you skillfully picking the yellow fruit, which he assumes are lemons, off the tree from your wooden ladder and dropping them into the bucket hanging from your hand, a desire simmers in his stomach to be in your presence. The prince's guard follows behind him discreetly as the handsome individual makes his way over and speaks to you from below.

“May I assist you?” he offers.

His appearance startles you for a moment, then your stare unintentionally drops over the exposed skin of his upper frame. You ponder over the smoothness of his skin and imagine yourself leaving kisses upon his clavicle, on his chest, going downward further and further...

Clearing your throat and shaking your head to focus, you airily laugh at his question. The highness’s eyebrows crease, perplexed by your response.

“Prince Huang—”

“Call me Renjun, please,” he interrupts, laying a palm against his chest. “I insist.”

“Prince Huang,” you reiterate, not wanting to breach the formalities. “It’s my duty—and an honor if I may add—to pick these lemons for you, not yours.”

“Well, as prince,” Renjun gently seizes the bucket away from your grasp. “I order you to allow me to assist you.”

Incredulously, you stare at him for a lingering moment and he engages equally, delving into your glowing aura.

Since you can’t reject his order, you yield and continue to pick the lemons off the tree, now plopping them into the bucket held by Renjun. Throughout the comfortable silence, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you for one second, admiring how elegant you are with the light breeze blowing through your hair.

He wonders to himself if you’re aware of your devastating beauty.

A couple of nights pass and during one evening, in the shared resting area, you find Renjun situated adjacent to the fireplace, reading a book alone (with a guard lurking close by, of course).

The prince’s features are already so soft, but he seems ethereal with the fire’s glow against his face. You’re reminded of the first night he arrived.

As you usually do, you query if he needs anything before you retire to your room.

He replies negatively, but then adds, “Would you like to hear some of the story I’m reading before bed?”

Shaking your head, you tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“Not at all,” Renjun beams. He gestures for you to sit in the seat beside him, and you do so with prickling cheeks.

His fingers flip a few pages back and he tells the short story from the beginning. Your cheek tips into your palm as you listen intently. Yes, the story is intriguing, but you’re also focused on Renjun’s voice. It’s soothing, yet lively with the specific parts in which he modulates his tone to flow perfectly with the storytelling.

And then you drift over his plush, kissable lips. You will yourself to focus on the story, rather than the reader.

In between his reading, he peers up from the pages to see if you’re still interested to hear the rest of the story, not wanting to waste your time nor bore you to death. He reads the dazzling expression on your face as a signal to finish until the very end.

When it’s over, Renjun asks if you enjoyed it. You hum positively and stand up, excusing yourself to formally leave for the night. You exchange pleasant good-nights and sweet dreams. While you shuffle off, before you’re past the doorway, he pipes up—

“Perhaps I can read you another story tomorrow evening?”

You turn around by the end of his sentence, grasping onto the doorframe.

Renjun continues, his grip tightening around the closed book. “If you wish.”

Your lips press together, in hopes to suppress a grin. It doesn’t work too well.

“I’d like that very much.”

Time flies, and it’s already the second to last day before Renjun’s departure. Your family decides to arrange a party at the inn, inviting the fellow townspeople to join as well.

Fittingly, Renjun sits in the middle of the long table alongside his associates and is entertained by the spectacle of the event. After the townspeople grant him gifts and dinner is served, the dancing commences. Throughout the evening, he keeps a constant eye out for you.

All night, you serve the guests and barely have time to properly eat your own meal. However, as the night lengthens, your parents urge you to live a little. In the middle of the hall, you rush to unite with your close friends, clasping onto their hands and dancing around in circles to the merry music.

The royal figure radiates, enticed from the scene of you laughing and jumping in joy, having never seen this side of you before. His heart flops at the endearing sight and an itch overcomes him. Taking a sip of his wine, Renjun anxiously wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and heads towards you onto the dance floor.

Gasps trail behind his steps as he floats through the domino effect of bowing people. He casually says his thank you’s to everyone in passing and as the domino effect finally reaches a stop within the middle of the room, you’re the last one to formally greet him.

“Your Royal Highness,” you curtsy with a small smile.

He acknowledges with a bow of his head and shocks you by holding his palm out.

“May I share a dance with you?”

Your heart pounds in your ears as you glance around the room to ensure he’s talking to you and not mistakenly someone else. Additionally, you’re surveying the prospects because you are definitely not the most worthy to dance with royalty; the mayor’s daughter should be owed this dance, not you. You also shamefully touch your work outfit, wishing you were wearing something cleaner and more extravagant.

“Prince Huang, are you sure you want to dance with me?” you murmur, despite how everyone quieted down and can hear what you’re saying.

“Of course,” he stretches out for your hand and possesses it in his.

“Who else would I want to share a dance with?”

Your friends and all other parties now disperse and surround the two of you, dancing to their own fulfillment as you’re left in an imaginary bubble with just Renjun. Every twirl, spin, and bounce generates endless vivacious laughter from the both of you. You dance deeper into the night until your faces and feet soon ache, until it was almost only the two of you on the dance floor.

Because of the aching, you stumble at one point, crashing into Renjun’s body.

He catches you in his arms. You look up into his eyes, then at his lips merely fingertips away from yours. Renjun’s liquored panting fans your face and you drown in it without reservation.

His eyes flicker to your lips too, and he gulps. Bravely, he raises his palm to caress your cheek, but as his skin touches yours, it jolts you to your core, popping you out of your secluded bubble and dragging you into reality.

Pulling apart from him, the prince asks if you’re okay.

You nod thoughtlessly, quickly thank him for the dance, and spew that you should begin to clean-up the hall, leaving him on the dance floor.

Renjun brings a finger to his lips and watches you run off.

The last evening of his stay finally arrives. In your nightgown before bedtime, forgetting to ask if he needed anything before you changed out of your work clothes, you knock on his room’s door with the guard on-duty beside it.

His muffled voice beckons you to come in, and you open the door ajar to creep your head through the space. Noticing it’s you, he immediately drops the book he was reading onto his bedside table.

“Prince Huang, did you need anything else before you leave tomorrow?”

Legs dangling off the largest bed at the inn, he thinks to himself for a few moments. He twists his mouth to one side, tapping a finger on his chin.

“I think I have everything in order...”

Then, he tilts his head to one side and puckers his lips. He darts onto his feet and adds, “Can you come in for a moment though? And please shut the door behind you.”

You’re taken aback by his request. Nevertheless, you fulfill it and close the door behind you as you walk in. Renjun’s eyes widen at the sight of you in your nightgown, clicking together why you didn’t fully come into his room in the first place.

You rub one of your arms. “Sorry for my indecent clothing—”

“No, I’m sorry, uhm,” he palms the back of his neck nervously. “I just wanted to say a few words, so I’ll be quick.”

He steps closer to you. Both of you stand in the middle of the room and he continues.

“Before I leave, I want to make sure you know that I quite enjoyed my stay here because of you and your family’s fine service, but I enjoyed it even more because of your cordial company.”

At his earnest appraisal and personal compliment, your cheeks flare and your jaw dangles. You bow with your head. “Thank you, Prince Huang.”

Renjun then faces the floor and picks at his fingers, trying to formulate his thoughts.

“I don’t normally do this and I’m about to ask the following not as a prince, but as a normal man. And let me preface it by saying that, as a man of my word, you are not obligated or pressured to agree to what I’m about to ask; you have every right to say no.”

He sputters everything so fast, it takes a bit for you to process his words. When it sinks in, you’re still unsure exactly what he’s talking about. Worried, you raise your eyebrows, anticipating his inquiry.

Noting your confusion, he exhales a lengthy breath and goes straight to the point.

“As a send-off and to demonstrate my gratitude…”

He meets your gaze.

“May I kiss you?”

Your jaw, along with your eyes, hangs this time. Awestruck, you blink rapidly and inhale sharply as you stay frozen in place.

“I know it may be one-sided, but at yesterday’s gathering, I thought we shared a special moment and perhaps it’s my fault I acted upon it since we were among people, so I apologize for that—”

“You may kiss me,” you cut him off, relieved to hear his thoughts, and close the space between yourselves.

It’s his turn to don the rapid blinking.

“Are-are you sure?”

Cautiously, his palm cups your cheek, mirroring the memory of last night, then he adds his other.

“Yes, Pr-”

“Renjun, please.”

“Yes, Renjun—”

You collide as he captures your lips. He exudes innocence and it shows in his kissing; he starts off gently and barely expands his mouth. Each movement is lovely and oozes affection. Your fingers tug lightly at his nightwear, body humming emphatically in response.

However, as he tests the water, his kissing is soon stripped of innocence and is replaced by a sinful hunger. While his tongue slips into your mouth, grazing against your teeth, his hands traverse your body and confront your waist and neck, squeezing them upon arrival. You eagerly reciprocate his change of pace, desperately running your fingers through his hair and angling your neck to better the searing, open-mouthed kisses.

Since there aren’t many layers covering either of you, you’re blatantly aware of Renjun’s growing desire against your body.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he pants, “May I take you to bed?”

You bob your head fervently and croak, “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

You grin into the next kiss at his playfulness.

“Yes, Renjun.”

In retrospect, being taken in a guest room at your family’s inn was strange, but you couldn’t think much of it within the moment.

At the moment, all you yearn for is Renjun’s weight on you, locking your body into the bed with his. Lip-locked as he lays you down, he satisfies your yearning hastily.

While he dominates your neck, one of his hands is rashly underneath your nightgown and ascends to the haven of your breasts. You gasp at the initial contact, your fingers tightening in his hair and over his shoulder blade.

He kneads the meat of your tits momentarily, but he’s more fixated on attending to your nipples. Renjun’s thumb tenderly rubs over them prior to his loving pinches. At this point, his mouth zones in and nibbles on your earlobe, so he listens to your rising panting and erotic moans crystal clear.

Following his massaging and playing of your other breast, he withdraws from you to disrobe your layer in one-go and you return the favour to peel away his.

Renjun’s purity ignites once more as he reveres your bare body, lovingly scanning all your curves and lines.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispers.

Fluttering your eyelids, you lightly bite your bottom lip between your teeth. Truly, it was too easy for him to make your cheeks spark this often. He converges with your mouth sweetly before he wraps his pretty lips around your nub.

“Oh, my God, Renjun—”

Because your eyes snap in gratification, you can’t see the smirk on his face. He indulges in you calling him by his first name, especially so melodiously and within this context. A hand finds purchase upon the neighbouring breast, and another hovers under your warmth. Your hips buck heedlessly, begging for his fingers to dive further.

They do so when he switches his embrace upon your breasts. Although you know he must feel it, the obscene, loud sounds of him fingering your sex confirm how wet you are for him. Renjun peeks an eye open to your wanton self. He adores the view in addition to your dripping pleasure contracting and spilling over his digits.

Moving ahead, he retreats from you and mounts himself on the bed on his knees, stroking himself to harden himself for what’s to come. Despite still being breathless from your high, you rise onto your knees to match his stance in front of him.

Your dominant hand grasps his possession, taking over for him. Simultaneously, your mouth finally has the chance to reign over the smoothness of his frame—his neck, his carved clavicle, the expanse area of his chest, and his soft abdomen. He sighs blissfully, eyes batting.

Your mouth proceeds lower to where your hand is located and aids to the swelling of Renjun’s desire. He gawks, mouth hanging, at the beautiful arching of your back and your enthusiasm as you engulf him.

Gripping him by the base, you stroke to the measure of your bobbing. To keep him enraptured, you occasionally focus on his tip, such as with the swirling and flicking of your tongue and initiating vigorous, targeted sucking. Not wanting him to reach climax yet, you pull away from him with a pop, but not before you leave a delicate kiss upon the glossy apex.

Once again, you recline downward onto the bed, except now with spread legs. Renjun pumps his wet length and lines it up with your glistening crevice. You stare at his cock upon penetration, and the flood of sensations from the impact causes you to crane your head into the pillow.

Hands encompassing your waist, the lover thrusts gradually at first, allowing you to acclimatize to his girth. After some time, he surrenders to his carnal urges and plunges deeper with speed. Your chest heaves as your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moons on his skin. Lowering himself, he secures your lips for a fleeting, sentimental moment.

To your surprise, Renjun picks up the rhythm even further, leading you to wail his name and incoherent noises repeatedly. In hopes to quell yourself, you lightly bite down on the meat of your index finger. It only partially helps since whimpers still trickle out from you.

Both of you are nearing. Aching to be even more intimate with you, his hand flees from the flank of your body and over your head to lace his fingers with yours. His intertwining compresses alongside the pinching of his face. With your finger in pain, you release it and let loose. As one, you moan in sync with Renjun and you break together. He extracts himself, painting your stomach in white ribbons.

Inhaling much needed air, you settle upon Renjun’s chest with his arm around you. He trifles with your fingers in his before he kisses the back of your hand.

“If you ever have the chance to come by the kingdom, I implore you to find me.”

Peering up at him, you agree enthusiastically. “Of course, Renjun.”

With pink tinting over his face, he cups you by your chin.

“Promise?”

Hesitancy pumps through your blood. You know the chances of you ever leaving your home town would be very unlikely, and even if you could, you two could never be together for he is of royal blood, and you of none.

Nevertheless, you dare not to break the twinkling, awaited expression upon his face, so you reply—

“I promise.”

Sharing another kiss, you stay with him in the bed for a little while longer, savoring the brief amour as much as possible.

966 notes · View notes

smallrainclouds · 3 years ago

Text

Made To Break

Yandere!Hypnos x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 5k

Warning: Yandere bevaiour, dubcon/noncon, sex in later parts

No beta. Read at your own risk.

A/N: part one of two. Enjoy.

Your father was a fool.

But perhaps You were just as foolish.

💮

When the letter arrived, you couldn't believe that the same man wrote it.

Your father always wrote in neat, tight letters but the letters You got were loopy, large letters that fused together at odd parts.

You sat in your car outside your childhood home. The front yard was nothing but overgrown grass now. You could see the lack of care the home had gotten over the years in the cracks and chipped off paint. The overcast skies and trees with just a few leaves holding on only added to the depressing picture.

You bit your lip as you pulled out your father's letter from your bag.

With shaky hands, you unfolded it again for what must have been hundreds of times.

'My dearest child.

I gave it all up. I have found a way to eternity. But it cost me everything.

Forgive me.

I just wanted to see your mother again.

Father.'

"Madness. Simply mad." You murmured. You could feel the tears welled up in your eyes, you knew your father loved your mom. Her loss had slowly eaten him alive since you were a child.

Now he was just a body in a hospital room. It was unlike any coma the doctors had seen before.

The doctor, an older woman with short gray hair and sharp blue eyes, had felt more like a grandmother than a doctor.

But even with her kind face couldn't soften the blow that your father will likely never wake up again.

You sniffed as you used your hoodie sleeve to rub at your eyes.

"Okay. Okay. You got this. This was your home too." You tried to smooth yourself with little success. With a deep breath for courage, you made your way to the house.

When you got inside the dark house, you stubbed your foot on the piles of books by the door and they promptly fell over into a heap.

"Urg, fuc-owww. Okay, Y/N great start.Just amazing." You pulled out your phone. You could make the numerous texts from your partner-no, now your ex but you just bypass those for the flashlight.

You shone the light around, there was nothing but a big mess. Books and papers had overtaken the house and you can smell the old fast food bags that piled into the corner.

You could see on one wall, writing in wasn't in English and strange markings. A single gold and red eye stared back.

"Fuck."

💮

Hours later, you had made headway in the madness that was now your childhood home.

At least your room had been mostly spared. Only some odd books here and there. And the many, many dried poppies on your floor.

You tossed the broom on the floor as you flop down along with it. You didn't realize how bad it had gotten. You only got your room back to normal, let alone the rest of the house.

Guilt swelled in your chest, you should have been more aware. You knew your dad wasn't the most stable person which isn't good but this was something else.

But…

But...

You had been busy dealing with your 'friends' group, the breakup and the last of your exams.

You covered your face, you already cried three times today and you weren't not about to start again.

Your phone buzzed, and you couldn't stop the laugh. Speak of the devil.

You rolled over to your side and pulled your phone close to you.

You swipe away the message, you were not dealing with any of your former friends right now. Your cheating jerk of an ex could keep them all. You had far more important matters to attend to now.

You opened up the gallery app, you took many photos as you could with the last of the daylight left.

You zoomed in on the writing, you had thought it was nonsense at first but after a few more looks,you could see the repeated words. You just didn't know the language.

There was something deeply wrong in this house. You could swear you could feel something was in there with you. But if friend or foe you weren't sure. You tried not to think about how your only protection was your childhood baseball bat.

But what did your dad do? You normally are able to pick apart what your dad was doing but this was something else unknown. You kept checking the pictures with the creepy red and gold eye in hope of finding something.

Slowly you could feel tiredness sinking in your bones, and before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut.

💮

A warm hand cupped your cheek, and you pressed into it with a sigh. You couldn't remember the last time you were touched so tenderly. You think for a moment it was your ex but they never did that before.

The hand left but then you were lifted up against a warm chest. You heard murmurs as sleep pulled you under again.

💮

Rushing water reached your ears and for a moment, you thought you could hear the sounds of birds.

It took you a moment to notice that you weren't in normal clothes but a tunic that went over one shoulder. You saw a brooch with two wings in its place. You should be more worried but you felt too tired to care.

You turned your head with a yawn. Whose lap were You using as a pillow? Before you could look, a hand covered your eyes.

"Not yet, You still need more time." A man's voice... but You didn't recognize it. You made a questioning sound but he hushed you gently.

"Blood and darkness, you are just as beautiful as I remember."

You reached up and stroked his hand, trying to understand what was going on.

"I don't remember… you." You slurred quietly.

"I know. It's not your fault. All it matters is that I found you again."

His thumb rubbed your cheek, "Now go back to sleep. I will be there soon."

You sighed as you sunk back into sleep.

💮

You stared at your bedroom wall, not able to breathe. There was someone else here and they apparently tucked you in bed, blanket pulled up to your chin and all.

You took a breath and tried to listen to any sounds. You waited, surely you would hear footsteps or something.

But there were no sounds, none at all.

It took all of your nerves to get out of bed. You grabbed your childhood baseball bat, it was small but you could still get a good hit in.

You remembered you left your phone on the ground and turned to look for it. It wasn't there, not on your nightstand or desk.

'Great, some creep definitely got my phone.' you tighten your hold on the bat, and after listening for a moment, you slowly push the door opened.

Without saying a word, you slowly walked out though the house. You were sure you would find out who invited themselves in.

The mess was still the same, the writing on the wall was still there. You went through the house twice and found nothing.

You heard the sound of a single bird singing in the backyard. You followed the sounds, it almost felt like it was calling you.

The bat dropped from your hand and You couldn't stop the tears in your eyes.

The backyard had been overtaken by red poppies, there was almost no grass left. the singing stopped when you stepped outside. But a soft hoot had You stared up into the tree and saw a single little owl stared back at you.

It's eyes were light yellow.

💮

It was late morning now, the overcast skies have darkened and You are sure it will start snowing soon.

You had given up finding your phone. You s out of your bedroom.

"Fine, you can have it! Good luck guessing the password, you jerk!" You shouted into the backyard. There was no response but you didn't expect one. You had already tried to find the owl but it must have flown off.

You couldn't stand the smell of the old food anymore and tossed it. You found some tea that was still good and stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil.

You changed out your tight jeans and hoodie for a pair of much more comfortable jeans and an oversize sweater.

Thankfully, like your bedroom, the kitchen was also mostly clean. You found as many candles as you could, which wasn't many. Two kept the kitchen dimly lit.

You checked the light bulbs, nearly all of them had burned out. Just one more thing for you to fix.

You rubbed your face with a sigh, at least all the appliances were working. And you won't have to go without water either.

You flipped through your dad's notebooks in hopes of finding something. It was in the second notebook you finally found a name. It had been underlined and circled.

"Hypnos?" You murmured, "Who the hell is that?" It doesn't sound like a human name you heard of.

You made your tea, tucked the notebook under your arm. After cleaning off the big armchair and side table, You began going through the books in the living room. Nearly all of them were about ancient Greece, which you knew nothing about.

Your eyes went to the wall writings, that would explain why you didn't know any of the words.

Did your dad believe this stuff? You looked down at the open notebook in your lap. You skim some of the pages, the only name that came up was Hypnos.

"The god of sleep, huh?" You looked at the stacks of books. Why would your dad care about some god of sleep?

You keep looking though, and found a basic guide to Greek mythology. You flipped through the pages, "Come on Hypnos babe, where are you…"

You grinned when you saw the name in bold print. You skim past most of the information, but one part caught your eyes.

Despite being considered as a gentle and kind god, he has been known to strike others down. In the death of his lover by a human warrior (whose name had been lost to time) he had caused the world to go into a permanent state of sleep, never to waken again.

Only his mother Nyx, goddess of night, was able to talk him down or fight him depending on the storyteller and restore the world. In oral storytelling that has been recorded, it is said that he still uses dreams in hope of finding his lost love.

"Oh dad. No wonder." Your heart twisted, sad that your dad's last days have been spent on some myth. He must have been so far gone to think any of it was real.

But was he wrong? You stared out the window, knowing there was somehow a field of poppies waiting.

Your gut flipped, and told yourself it was just one of those freakish nature things.

💮

You didn't quite realize when you fell asleep. You sighed when you felt a hand touch your forehead followed by a kiss.

You tried to wake up, but the voice murmured something and you just hummed. Your eyelids are too heavy to open anyway.

When the arms scooped you again, you just sighed and curled against the chest.

💮

You felt soft grass tickle your face. You pushed yourself up quickly. You were in the tunic again and you could see a sea of poppies and other flowers surrounding you.

A thick fog of sleepiness tried to pull you back but you ignored it. Not again, damnit.

You stood up, your legs felt so wobbly like a baby deer. Dispise your best attempt, You fell on your knees, the call to sleep overpowering.

You gasped when a hand covered your eyes. You grabbed his wrist, "No, I don't want to go back to sleep." You could feel the fog of sleep growing stronger. You kicked at his legs but got nothing but air.

"I'm sorry, but not yet." His voice came next to your ear, you could feel his breath on your skin. You tried to move away but you fell against him. Your head lolled upward against a shoulder.

An arm wrapped around your waist and held you firm.

"Soon, I promise. I just have to handle a few more things. I will be here when you wake up." A kiss was pressed against your temple.

You wanted demand for answers but you were already falling back into the darkness.

💮

"Not again." You moaned. You sat up, the blanket pooled in your lap. What in the world was going on?

You were back in the oversize sweater and jeans. You press your fingers against your temple. Those kisses felt so real.

Are you going mad too? Just like your dad? You gulped, feeling so very alone.

An hour later and some crying, You somehow found the willpower to make it out of bed. Snow was falling down now and a healthy inch was already on the ground.

You made it to the living room when you saw him by the window, snow falling down against the glass. His sheer size made the living room seem smaller. He was reading one of your dad's notebooks in one hand, a quill floated around next to him.

Some part of you, deep inside of you knew were looking at Hypnos, God of sleep.

"It's you." Your voice cracked. His shoulders tensed up as he turned. Bright, yellow eyes stared at you. "Oh you were the owl too weren't you?" You said numbly.

He nodded slowly, "You've been crying again." He said concerned, his eyes scanned you up and down. He tossed the notebook to the side as he took a step toward you.

Unable to tear your eyes away, you grabbed for the first thing you could reach, a thick and heavy book. And with all of your strength, you launched it at his head.

"Blood and darkness!" He ducked to the side. You reached for another and hurled it.

"It's you!" You snarled, feeling like a rabid animal. "You did this! What did you do to my dad?! To my fucking phone?!"

The bastard ducked again. "Hey, I didn't do anything he didn't ask for!" He held up his palms, stretched out to show he wasn't a threat.

"I won't hurt you. I would never lay a finger on you, Y/N." His voice was soft, kind like he was dealing with some animal.

You stared for a moment, rage overtaking any sense you had. "You've been the asshole putting me to bed every night." You grabbed another book and hurled it. "How dare you!"

And of course, he sidestepped the book. Which just made you angier.

"I don't care if you're a god. Make my dad go back to normal. Or I will find a way to hurt you somehow!"

"He didn't tell you anything did he?" The god asked, a wry smile on his face. You picked up another book, and he just sighed. "Have you tried aiming? Sounds crazy, I know but maybe you could actually hit me this time?"

"You don't get to be disparaging, not with all the trouble you made for me." You gestured with the book as if it would help make your point.

You stood behind the armchair, using it as a shield. You knew you wouldn't win in a physical fight but you weren't going to make it easy for him.

Hypnos sighed, "No, no you're right. I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his curls, a soft smile on his face.

"I'm happy though, you are still as courageous as you always have been. I wasn't sure what I would find after all this time."

"What are you talking about? I have never seen you before. I think I would remember meeting an ancient god." You snarled, not enjoying whatever game the god was playing with you.

"Most people don't try to fight a god with books, my love. Not even other gods." Hypnos smiled.

"If I had something stronger, I would beat you with that. Be happy that I don't have my bat on me. You still didn't answer anything."

You pointed at the wall with writings. "I want answers and I want them now. You said we met before, when?"

Hypnos was silent, his eyes tracing the words on the wall. He stepped closer to the center of the wall, his fingers traced the words. "So that's where he messed up. I told him to check with me before doing anything." He murmured to himself.

After a moment, he looked at you.

"In your past life, you were going to be my consort. I've been looking for you for a very long time.."

You stared, quiet in your disbelief. He waved a hand toward the wall, "Problem is that the spell got messed up. I think your father was rushing and couldn't finish the spell the proper way. That's why you don't remember anything."

You shook your head, laughing "No, none of this makes sense."

"Y/N, stop hiding behind that ugly chair, and we can talk more about what happened." Hypnos' voice tried to sound calming, but you heard an undercurrent of eagerness. Of hunger to it.

You shook your head, "No, and don't take another step toward me. I can see what you're doing. That lighting thing your fingers are doing, Hypnos." You tighten your grip on the book, cursing yourself for leaving your bat up your bedroom. Not that it would be much better.

Hypnos' fingers abruptly stopped the magic spell. His smile faded and his eyes stayed on you, waiting for your next move.

You eyed him, you haven't been able to land a single hit on him but you didn't see any signs of super speed yet.

You might be able to get out of the house and into the car before he could get you. But what if he just could teleport or something you haven't thought of?

It was a risk you would have to take because since you saw him, he watched you like you were some prey for him and you didn't want to stick around to find out what Hypnos had planned.

The living room front way will be no good but the backdoor was in the kitchen, if you could make that, it would be a longer run but you would have far more chances for escape…

You dropped everything and took off like a shot into the kitchen. You almost sailed into the sink but used the motion for more speed.

You heard Hypnos yelled your name followed by something you were sure was a swear word in Greek.

The yard, full of poppies and snow greeted you, you hissed as your socks got soaked from the snow.

You almost made it to the gate, and past that, you could see your car.

Freedom.

You didn't see the root sticking out of the ground, but you saw it on the way down.

The breath knocked out of you when you slammed into the cold ground and mere seconds afterwards, you felt hands on your shoulders followed by a pressure against your back. Hypnos leaned down, his lips against your ear, and he spoke in must have been Greek.

"No. Nonono." You gasped, fighting for breath but he just shushed you. His fingers brushed against your cheeks almost lovingly.

Your eyelids slided shut.

💮

When you woke up, your fingers were curled against an unfamiliar red blanket. You sighed as your eyes drifted shut, you couldn't remember the last time you felt so….warm and safe.

You heard the sounds of paper moving around and your eyes fluttered open.

Hypnos must have cleared off the sofa and placed you there. You could see the written wall behind him, post-it notes dotted between the words and some of them were covered with lined paper, new words on it.

Hypnos was sitting on the ground, notebooks and paper surrounded him. A quill tip between his teeth, his golden eyes almost glowed in the dim lighting.

It took a moment of staring but you noticed Hypnos's cloak was gone. Your fingers tighten when you realize you were under his cloak. You took a moment to look at him as he kept reading the notebook

While he wasn't the broadest person you've ever seen, there was a solidness to him. You could see the lean muscles in his arms and shoulders. The gold bands he wore only highlighted the muscles.

You tore your eyes away. 'Jerk.' you thought even as your cheeks warmed.

"I don't like you very much." You spoke, voice rough with sleep.

Hypnos looked up to you, not saying anything. He took out the quill and twilled it between his fingers.

You rolled your eyes at him, unmoving your spot under his cloak. He stared, looking thoughtful for a second before he leaned toward you with a wide smile on his lips, "If you don't like me then you should return my cloak."

"No, it's mine now." The words slipped out your mouth before you knew it.

You blinked at his laugh. You thought he would be upset.

Hypnos chuckled fondly, "Word for word."

At your questioning look, he continued.

"You don't remember yet but the first time we met, you were trying to find medicine for humans. I think you were upset at me because you got lost in my cave. I brought you back home and I gave you my cloak so you could get warm."

You sat up against the arm rest, holding on to the cloak. Not ready to give up the feeling of safety yet. You bit your lip, not quite sure what to say.

His eyes glazed over, the quill still spinning between his fingers. His voice turned quiet. "You were so beautiful, so strong, so determined. You fought for humanity, not that they even remember, those worthless animals, the whole lot."

He seemed lost in a memory so you just waited it out, letting him talk.

"You hated the fact I took half of their lives away from them. And that I often took more."

His eyes meet yours, and his whole face softens. You flushed at the realization that you could make him do that, to have that much power over another being let alone a god.

"I couldn't give up the half, it was mine by birthright but I was slower afterward, let them have more time to themselves. And I never took more than half. The only reason I got called a kind god was because of you."

You stood up, still holding on the cloak and walked over to him. His eyes never left you, and you had to tell yourself to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

You kneeled next to him and after a second, you reached out to touch his shoulder. You were surprised at how warm he was, how human-like he felt. Maybe you were wrong about him.

"Hypnos. I-I I'm sorry you lost them. I can hear how much you love them, especially after all this time. But I am not whoever you think I-"

"How much I love you." Hypnos interrupted, his hand covered your own. "I never stopped looking for you. I just need more time to fix this." He waved a hand to the wall.

You shook your head, "I am not then though. You are just like my dad, always looking for a person who isn't there."

"No, your father was. The woman who birthed you died and is in the underworld now. You, however, are here in front of me." Hypnos leaned closer, he tightened his hold but it wasn't painful, it was almost comforting. "You are them, your eyes, your lips, your nose even the way you move and talk. You are them, given life again."

"How?!" You said despairing,surely even he could see what nonsense he was saying? "How could a god become reborn as a human? Or even go back to being a god?"

"There are ways. There is always a way." Hypnos replied darkly. He took your other hand and held them between his own warm hands. "You haven't even let me talk to you, to tell you what happened."

"I don't want to." You whispered, "I don't need to know what happened. I just want to know what it will take for you to understand that I am not them."

Hypnos didn't say anything for a few minutes and the silence grew heavy.

"Did he summon you?" You asked, trying not to feel guilty, looking at the swirls of words on the wall, in the middle of the circle was a single red and gold eye staring back.

Hypnos stared at the wall along with you, "He really didn't tell you anything did he?"

You dug out the letter from your front pocket. "This was the last thing he wrote to me. This isn't his normal writing."

Hypnos read the letter, his eyebrows rose and reread it again. "Blood and darkness, what a damn fool."

"Hey, that's my dad you know." You murmured, "Also you guys are both doing the same thing, you with me, and he with my mom."

"No, not nearly the same thing." Hypnos scoffed. You rolled your eyes at his words. You moved on, tired of this fight for now.

"Where did dad get this information anyway?" You asked.

Hypnos sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "From me. I loaned out the books I have for this kind of stuff. He told me that he could handle the translation since it had to be a two person spell, think of it as a bridge, your dad could visit your mom every time he dreamt. But I had to be on the other side to help build it."

"You trusted him? I mean you seem like you don't like humans."

"I didn't. This whole mess just proved my point. But…" Hypnos shrugged, "I knew you wouldn't let me just take you without making sure your dad wasn't alone. I wanted you to want to come back to me, especially after everything I've done."

You brushed your fingers along the cloak, "Are you talking about when you put the whole world to sleep?"

"And most of the gods." Hypnos added. "I still don't remember much of what I did. My mother or brother still hasn't spoken to me since then."

Hypnos looked so worn down, his brow furrowed and you wanted to smooth the stress away from him but you held back. You already let him touch you even if it made you want to run. Toward him or away from him you couldn't say.

"I've been so blinded by the thought of having you in my arms again, I didn't foresee him going rogue on me." He murmured quietly.

Hypnos fixed his gaze on you, but you looked away, cursing the flush on your cheeks.

"I took care of the stuff he wouldn't have been able to do. With the underworld and stuff. But he fucked up, he changed the spell without telling me. And he did it badly. He tried to bring her from the underworld and you can't do that, and now he has to deal with the punishment."

"Well, can't you just erase it? Or do a new spell? I mean, you are a god right? Do you even need this stuff?"

Hypnos slid his fingers under your chin, making you look at him. "Listen to me." His serious tone kept you from pulling away. "No one can't take the dead from the underworld. Not me, not Hades or even my mother. It's the cost of life. Right now, he is being punished for his pride and when he does die, there is a good chance he won't be able to find your mother."

You swallow, your heart breaking, "Is there nothing you can do?"

"I don't know." Hypnos said. "I was already putting my neck on the line just to let them have a link."

"What if I agree to go with you, to see if I am the one you are looking for? I will do whatever you need me to." You asked.

Hypnos didn't respond, his eyes glazed.

"Hypnos, please." You begged, "I can't just let him die like this-"

He spoke finally, "I will talk to Persephone. I can't promise anything. I'm still banned from the house after the 'Great Sleep'."

"Thank you! Thank you, Hypnos." You felt dizzy with relief and hugged him. You squeezed him, and buried your face in his neck. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." Hypnos chuckled, his hands on your back,"You might not like what you'll get."

#hypnos x reader #yandere #self insert #hades hypnos

112 notes · View notes

black-is-beautiful18 · 3 years ago

Text

A Different World Ch 2: The Part Where Secrets Are Revealed Part 1

A/N: It seems like it took me forever to decide on how to write this, it’s been like three days so it wasn’t, but I decided to put this chapter into two parts. I didn’t want it to be long and who doesn’t love a bit of a cliff hanger? I hope you enjoy my story. Please don’t forget to leave likes and reblog! ❤️

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

My heart is pounding like a drum in my ears.

It’s been doing that a lot lately.

Maybe I should go to the doctor for that? Heaven knows what all this stress will do to me at such a young age.

Great. There’s the blue house aka my house. The only blue house on the entire freaking block.

“What’s wrong with blue?” You may ask. Don’t get me wrong, blue is my favorite color. This isn’t just any type of blue though. It’s haint blue. It’s bluish-green color is meant to represent water, cuz it’s said spirits can’t travel across water. It’s oddly good at keeping birds and bugs away too.

Ok, and I may have exaggerated a bit. The entire house isn’t blue. Just the ceiling of the porch, the front and back doors, and the shutters mom had installed when we moved in. Something about it being good for storms. We can close them so the windows don’t get damaged. And of course to keep evil spirits away.

I remember when we first moved here. I was about five and I was excited cuz this house looked similar to the one in Louisiana. Imagine that. A Creole cottage in New York, and it surprisingly didn’t stick out. We hadn’t even been here for more than an hour before mom pulled out the paint and got to work on covering the doors and ceiling of the porch in that familiar blue.

Now you may be wondering about why all these precautions were taken. You already know I’m a daughter of Hades, but long story short: I come from a family of…peculiar people. A long line of storytellers and witches. Some things have been lost to time but a lot of us are born with certain abilities such as being able to see and talk to the dead. Definitely something that would draw in my dad, but as much as I’d love to go into my family history, that’s for another time.

Right now, I’m trying to get the courage to open the door to my own house. Ugh! Stupid bottle tree. I’m so lost in my mind that I don’t even notice the way my friends have their eyes on me. Their eyes still full of concern and confusion.

“Dia…you ok?” Hazel grabs my hand giving it soft squeeze which thankfully brings me back to reality.

“I’m good just…nervous. I knew we shouldn’t have been anywhere near that tree but I didn’t say anything.”

“Technically you did. You’ve actually talked about the tree before, but of course it would take seaweed brain and Valdez to actually cause one of the bottles to fall.” Annabeth interjects sending a glare to the two boys who quickly try to hide behind the others.

I can’t help but smile.

“So you believe me?”

“It’s a bit strange but we’re willing to listen to you Nadia.” Jason sends me a comforting smile.

Nico nods in agreement.” If any of them gives you any trouble I’ll fight them for you.”

Laughing, I nod. If anyone’s got my back I know it’s Nico. He takes being my big brother very seriously.

“Ok. Well with you guys with me I feel a lot better.”

As I turn around and get ready to take my key out the door suddenly swings opens. In front of us is an older woman. Standing at least 3 inches taller than my 5 foot 3 inches, she leans against the door with an uneasy look on her usually smiling face. She’s on alert. Peeking out the doorway she looks left then right. Checking for something. Her grey hair is covered by a yellow head wrap. It goes perfectly with her shirt and blue jeans.

Looking at us she steps back.” Quickly, come in. We can go to the dining room.”

Her voice is rich yet light. A voice that always brings me comfort when I need it, but one look into her eyes and I can tell I won’t be getting that comfort today.

Turning to Nico I motion to the door.

“Can you take the others to the dining room? You know the way.”

Nico looks me over before slowly nodding and silently leading the others inside.

Stepping inside I bite my lip as nana closes the door before turning to look at me. She has that look. You know that look an elder gives you that basically says ‘I know what you did’.

“Ok, before you say anything…Yes. Yes I was near the tree. I tried to get us all to move along but everyone just sort of stopped and it’s not like I could force them to leave without sounding crazy.”

My nana simply shakes her head.” Relax. I’m not upset. I just expected you to be more careful. We’ve talked about this more than once.”

I wince slightly at the disappointment in her voice. Geez Nana. Can you not do that?

“While a bottle was broken, it wasn’t me. I don’t know if it was the wind or Percy and Leo playing near the tree after I told them not to. I don’t know how it fell. It just did.”

Rolling her eyes, Nana can’t help but laugh as she gently pushes me towards the dining room where everyone else is gathered.” Leave it to demigods to actually break a bottle on a tree that’s over a 100 years old.” She muses.

I scoff and smirk.” You should know by now that we aren’t exactly the most lucky people on this planet.”

Nana sucks her teeth making me laugh.

Entering the dining room I’m not at all surprised when I see everyone sitting down. Plates of my mom’s famous apple pie and even a few slices of pound cake float around the room quickly setting down in front of surprised demigods. Well except Hazel and Nico. Hazel stays here sometimes whenever she’s on this part of the country and isn’t at Camp Half-Blood. I drag Nico here. Sometimes we have sleepovers. It’s a totally normal sibling thing.

Finding my own seat next to Hazel who happily eats her piece of pie.

“Am I dreaming?” Frank asks softly.

“No honey. I’m afraid your not.” A voice as sweet as honey comes from a door that clearly leads to the kitchen. Coming through the door is a woman wearing a blue dress. Her tight curls frame her face almost like a halo. With a bright smile and warm eyes that could possibly melt the coldest of hearts, she looks at everyone around the table. With the way the sunlight catches on her skin I’m sure most people think they’re looking at an angel whenever she’s near.

“I’m Ruby. Nadia’s mother.”

“Whoa. You’re pretty.” Leo whispers in awe drawing a laugh from my mom and an eye roll from me.

“Don’t make me come over there Valdez.”

Mom laughs and pinches his cheek.” So sweet, but we need to talk.”

Her eyes land on me.” What’s this I hear about y’all messin’ with that tree?”

The room is silent for a moment as I try to find the right words, but Percy speaks up first.

“Dia told us not to go near it and we didn’t listen, so it’s not her fault. We thought she was just being…well silly. We’d like to help in anyway we can though.” He says sincerely. Classic Percy. Always standing by his friends.

Mom takes in his words before nodding.” Alright then. Y’all wanna help then you can help, but you have to promise to listen to us. I know it may be a bit odd seeing how this isn’t what you’re used to, but as long as you follow what we say you’ll be just fine.”

All demigods present nod ready to help in anyway they can. Call me sentimental if you want to, but this causes my heart to swell.

“Well if you’re going to help,” Nana’s voice draws our attention”, Then you’ll need to be caught up.”

There’s a thud as she sets down a huge book on the table. ‘Baptiste’ is printed on the cover in red while gold swirls form what look like animals, wind, and even waves. Some of them even look like strange creatures that no one but my family would know.

Opening the book a glow fills the room bathing Nana in a gold light causing me to smile.

“To understand the now we’ll have to go back to the beginning, and don’t worry. We know exactly how to keep your attention.” Nana muses.

I look to my companions smirking.

“And our story begins with ‘Once Upon A Time’.”

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

@stars8melanin @prettyvintageafternoon

A/N: I still don’t know who to tag but if you’d like to be you can dm me or simply say you wanna be tagged in the comments. I’ll be glad to add you.

#percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x black oc #percy jackson fanfiction #black oc #percy jackson x black character #daughter of hades #nico di angelo #hazel levesque #annabeth chase #jason grace #leo valdez #piper mclean #frank zhang #a different world #african folklore #african american folklore #unique writes

24 notes · View notes

doodleimprovement · 4 years ago

Text

Ghostly Friend - An Entangled Fates Fanfic

Why yes, this IS a fanfic of a fanfic. I never said I had any shame

Because frankly, @ahatintimepieces made too fun a concept for me to pass up giving the two a little diversion.

Enjoy !

“Oh, this is the timeline with the cool blue ghost!”

Luka wasn’t sure what to think of the girl’s excitement as they trekked through the alternate Subcon, the two of them taking a detour from their adventure- albeit accidentally.

This Subcon Forest had a.. different.. air to it. Less lonely, but… somehow more ominous.

Hattie led the two of them out of the denser forests dank air and into a field of muted closed flowers and rather unusual plants that climbed so much taller than you’d expect. Off in the distance we’re some conspicuous shallow hills with no trees. Perhaps man-made?

“They’re here!” The girl squealed, running through the taller grasses that went all the way up to her waist

“Wait, Hattie, what are you talking about? There isn’t anyone-” He tried to keep up, yelling after her while stumbling through the field.

And then the scenery moved.

Those were not shallow hills

The being- whatever it was- rose from its laying position as if sitting up in bed, and stretched out, it’s curling hair constantly floating as if suspended in water, billowing like dark clouds.

They turned to face the sounds approaching them, revealing glowing, Cyan eyes and a gentle gaze - a far cry from Snatcher, whose yellow eyes nearly always betrayed some form of chaotic energy when Luka met the ghost in dreams.

“Hi!!” Hattie waved and grinned “I’m the Hattie from the other universe. I came here with a friend by accident!”

The large ghost tilted their head for a second, before giving a fanged smile and letting out a low chuckle, the echo in their voice feeling as if on a different level from Snatchers, rattling the young man to his bones

“Hello there, my dear” the ghost greeted, reaching over and offering their large hand “It is lovely to see you again, mistake or not.” Hattie motioned for Luka to join her, and he cautiously followed suit “Let me get a look at you and your friend, hm? I need to introduce myself to them”

The hand lifted the duo up towards the ghosts face and their eyes narrowed in scrutiny as they gazed at Luka

“Well, aren’t you familiar” the ghost commented, seeming more amused than anything else “I go by “the ghost of the flowers”, most days, but you may call me Nell”

… Where had he heard that name before?

“Luka. I go by Luka”

“Ah” the ghost responded “So what brings you to our forest, hm?”

“We were jumpin’ through universes and went to the wrong one” the girl explained succinctly “but it’s nice to see you too!”

Nell chuckled once again “And you are her guardian, I assume?”

Luka nodded “Yes, uh, well, someone has to”

The ghost leaned back against some sturdy trees “Indeed” they agreed, before placing their hand on a lower part of their body, where legs might have been “How about you tell me what you have been up to, hm?”

Luka didn’t say very much for the next few minutes, letting Hattie ramble and rave and storytell to her little hearts content about the perilous journey they’d been on. Once in a while she’d turn to him to get his affirmation on some of the more fantastical details (or what her definition of the word was, at least) and he'd give an encouraging nod, or a “yup, that happened” in response.

Her grin was worth the time they were wasting, it was the most excited she’d seemed in some time.

Nell, for their part, listened with what Luka assumed was interest. It was the kind of interest that reminded him of when the head college nurse would let people ramble about how they got hurt while she diligently treated -

… Wait.

“Luka?”

The man was jolted out of his realization

“You okay?” Hattie asked.

“Yeah uh, can I ask you a question, Nell?” He tittered.

“You may”

“Uh, would your full name happen to be uh, AnnaBella?”

There was a pause to their expression, a large chunk of their amusement gone. The expression now seemed surprised, but contemplative.

“Little Harriet” Their glowing eyes fell on the girl. “I need to speak with Luka. Can you go find My Yellelily basket? It’s by the lake”

Harriet- seeming to read the aura better than Luka could, and slid off of the ghost’s hand, disappearing behind foliage.

Luka very suddenly felt very, very nervous.

“I’m sorry, was that not supposed to be said? Was it rude?”

They didn’t respond at first, lifting his sitting form in her hand while scrutinizing him, eyes thin.

“Full name”

“Hm?”

“What do you think is my full name”

“Uh, uhm” Luka’s mind tried to remember the nurse’s last name. Something long.. Italian

“Uh, Bounatti? Close to that” He weakly answered… and they chuckled.

“Bounacci?”

“Yes, that!”

“The full name should be AnnaBella Gracia Buonacci” They corrected “And how do you know me, dear?”

“Uh, you’re the head nurse at the college medical center”

“Huh” They nodded “A nurse? That sounds accurate. I was an apothecary in life”

“... So, you’re a ghost?”

“What else might I be?”

Luka shrugged a bit helplessly. “I don’t know. I just wasn’t sure what could’ve happened to you. You seem very… mild-mannered, where I’m from.”

“Huh…” They moved him down onto the ground “Tell me… is there a “Vanessa” in your timeline?”

“Oh, yes!” He jumped a bit once he landed in the grasses. “She’s my girlfriend, she’s wonderful! Is she here in this universe? .. Is she a ghost like you?”

“.. In a manner of speaking” they vaguely answered, as they pulled themselves up and turned, their form twisted, like the smoke of a candle, and their form shrunk, taking on a more humanoid shape, though their hair remained flowing and ethereal.

“Heh… uh, what do you mean?”

Their eyes narrowed at him, approaching him.

“Heed my warning” They maintained eye contact “I loved her. The only person that loved her more was her husband”

His heart partially stopped beating at the idea of them marrying

“But be wary of her.”

That feeling left

“After all, if this was her kingdom, and she is all that is left of it’s legacy.. Who is to blame?”

There was a moment of pause between the two of them

“... My… My Vanessa isn’t like that” He responded.

“Mine wasn’t either” Was all the ghost responded with

“Ahem”

The two turned, seeing Hattie there with a wicker basket filled to the brim with beautiful, golden lilies

“I uh, picked more of them for you!”

A smile reappeared on Nell’s face. “Wonderful, dear” They reached and took it “Once refined, this will make the finest salve for Titter-Ivy” They explained “You two should probably get going, hm?”

Hattie nodded “Are ya ready, Luka?” She reached and grabbed his hand

“Oh, uhm, yeah” He nodded “Uh, thank you for your time, Nell”

They gave him a smile. It seemed… sad? Melancholy? It didn’t feel like a happy smile

“Tread carefully, you two. And Luka?”

“.. Yes?”

“Don’t be a stranger, hm?”

The man blinked, unsure what they meant, but before he could respond, the Ghost turned with their basket, and faded with a twist into smoke.

“.. Are you okay?” Hattie asked

“Yeah… let’s go, hm?”

The girl just nodded, pulling him back into the dense thicket of the forest.

But the ghost’s words couldn’t leave his mind

“Mine wasn’t either”

#ahatintimepieces #entangled fates #luka #hattie #ahit nell #ghost nell #antonia writes #this was fun #antonias fandoms

19 notes · View notes

flowercrown-bard · 4 years ago

Text

Birds Still Sing When They Fall From The Sky

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 belongs to this

Content warning: this is where the memory loss begins. It’s not much and nothing too bad I think, but it’s there

“’Don’t go’, cry her sisters, but the little siren would have none of it. At night, she swims to the deepest, darkest part of the ocean where the sea witch lives, uncaring of the danger that lies ahead, for her heart is stronger than her fear. ‘Don’t go’, cry her sisters, but the little siren would have none of it. At night, she swims to the deepest, darkest part of the ocean where the sea witch -“

Geralt shifted in his seat, a frown carving deep lines onto his face that almost matched Jaskier’s, though Jaskier’s lines surrounded eyes that were sparkling with enthusiasm and not with confusion and barely hidden concern.

“- lives, uncaring of the danger that lies ahead, for her heart is stronger-“

“Yes, but how does it continue?” An annoyed voice piped up and Geralt’s chest felt tight, making it hard to breathe. His eyes darted from the child who had spoken to Jaskier, who must be heartbroken at the reaction.

But no. Jaskier had not stopped talking. His eyes hadn’t caught the perturbed look on the child’s face or the unrest of the adults present. It was almost as if he didn’t see them at all, too captivated by the roundabout of his own words, never finding their destination.

The parent of the child shushed it non too subtlety. “Just let him tell the story, honey.”

“But he’s not telling it right,” the child said with a frown. “He’s said the same sentence three times over already. I want to get to the part where she actually meets the witch and gets her legs.”

“Maybe if you’re quiet and patient, he’ll get to that part.”

The child crossed their arms with a pout, but turned their attention back to Jaskier, who leaned forward as he always did when he got to the most suspenseful part, not noticing the disruption.

“-to the deepest, darkest –“

Geralt’s jaw clenched tightly, when he saw the child opening their mouth to complain again. An unknown spike of fear shot through him. He didn’t understand what was going on. Sure, Jaskier often got lost in his own stories, but never quite like this. He never lost the story itself.

As quietly as he could he weaved his way through the usual audience of children and parents until he reached Jaskier. Carefully, he touched his elbow.

Startled, Jaskier stopped his flow of words and looked up at him, a smile lighting up his face, but disorientation clear in his eyes.

Geralt swallowed tightly. “The siren,” he said with all the gentleness he could muster. “What does she do after she swims to the witch?”

The confusion leaves Jaskier’s eyes and his smile takes on a conspiratorial note, as he falls back into his narrator voice, as though the past minutes of repetition had never happened.

“She followed her heart. For a siren’s call is strong, but nothing can drown out the call of a loved one, even if there is an ocean keeping you apart.”

The tightness in Geralt’s chest loosened, as Jaskier told his story as it was meant to be told, but he kept his hand on Jaskier, reluctant to let go. No one needed to notice how his grip tightened a bit, whenever Jaskier trailed off or got that distant look in his eyes that forebode another loop of words. Time and time again, it pulled Jaskier back to the here and now with no sign that he had even noticed that he had ever been anywhere else.

Geralt let out a shaky breath, when Jaskier made it to the end of the story. It didn’t make sense, but for a moment there, Geralt had been irrationally scared that maybe the siren and her lover wouldn’t get their happily ever after this time.

Geralt’s hand squeezed Jaskier, as the children applauded. There was no trace of annoyance left in their faces; no sign that they remembered something being wrong.

The same could not be said about the parents, who threw Jaskier strange looks. What are you looking at? Geralt wanted to growl. So he stumbled a bit over his words. So what? That’s normal. That can happen to anyone. Not to Jaskier though. It never had happened to Jaskier.

The storyteller looked up at Geralt when he felt his touch getting tighter again, beaming up at him. Geralt returned the smile. For the first time, he hoped Jaskier wouldn’t be able to read the real emotion behind it. How could he, when even Geralt didn’t know what that strange restricting feeling was? All he knew was that Jaskier didn’t deserve to get subjected to it as well.

What happened wasn’t that bad. Just a little slip up. It could happen to anyone. It wouldn’t happen again.

It happened again. Not the next day, and not the day after that, but gradually, Jaskier lost the grasp of his stories. At least his newer ones. The older ones, the one with the farmer who had a cockatrice instead of a cock or the one with the cursed princess left Jaskier’s lips as they had when he had first written them, the words tumbling out of his mouth like the rain fell from the skies; clear and unstoppable. Washing away all the remnants of the mud that seemed to seep into his mind at times.

On days like these, Geralt could almost convince himself that nothing was wrong. On the other days… he held onto the fact that Jaskier was too far gone into his own mind to notice the adults in the audience exchange pitying looks.

“Maybe he should stay at home today.” The words rang like thunder through Geralt’s head. The miller had meant well when he had suggested it, he was sure, but that didn’t stop him the anger from boiling in his chest. Jaskier was brilliant. No one could hold their audience’s attention like him. He had brought tears to the eyes of the most stoic and hard-hearted kind and a laugh to the lips of mourning widows.

But one look at Jaskier and Geralt’s shoulders sagged in defeat. That unfocussed look was back. His eyes are still blue, he told himself. They will always be. Even if right now he can’t see the yellow of your eyes.

If Jaskier noticed the way people avoided his eyes as they headed back home, he didn’t show it.

Or that’s what Geralt thought until Jaskier steered them away from the path leading to their home, towards a small forest. It was small enough to barely deserve the name forest, but the smell of trees and earth was comforting.

Jaskier inhaled deeply with closed eyes and leaned against Geralt, one hand brushing against a tree, lingering there as if to memorise the texture of the bark.

Geralt watched him, unsure of what to do.

Eventually, Jaskier broke the silence. “Is there something wrong with me?”

A muscle in Geralt’s jaw twitched. “No.”

A smile tugged at Jaskier’s lips and he opened his eyes a smidge, to shoot Geralt a sideways look. “You hesitated.”

Geralt sighed and laid his hand next to Jaskier’s on the tree. It felt familiar like a memory he hadn’t thought of in years. He flinched at the thought.

“I did hesitate,” he said finally. “But I didn’t lie.”

“I can feel it though. There is something… or rather something isn’t there. I don’t know what it is. I can’t… I don’t know how to describe it.” He let out a shallow laugh. “Imagine that. Me, unable to find the right words to describe something.”

“You’ll find them. It doesn’t need to be now.”

Jaskier nodded, his eyes downcast. “You don’t think I’m broken?”

“Never.”

Geralt’s hand moved from the tree to Jaskier’s hand, threading their fingers together. It wasn’t like an old memory. This was something familiar like the air they were breathing, like the beating of his own heart. Nothing he could ever forget.

Jaskier gave their hands a long look. “They didn’t want me to tell them stories today,” he said quietly as if saying it too loud would burn it into his memory. “I am not a bard anymore.”

“They’ll ask you for stories again. Just…not today. Other days will come. Better days.” He pressed a kiss against Jaskier’s hair. He had to lean down to do it. When had Jaskier become so small? “You’ll always be my bard.”

The smile was back. “Even when I mess up?”

“Even then.” He leaned his forehead against Jaskier’s and closed his eyes. “Tell me a story.”

“Which one?”

“Whichever one you want.”

Jaskier hesitated for a moment, before beginning to talk, quietly, not like a performer, but like a man in love clinging onto his beloved like a lifeline, begging to be pulled into the lifeboat. Geralt pulled. He listened.

He would listen when Jaskier’s voice cracked and when he got stuck in a loop. He would listen when Jaskier forgot what story he was telling and switched halfway through. He would listen when Jaskier’s voice was bright and excited, sounding like sunshine and laughter.

Because it was Jaskier. His stories might be different than they used to be, but they were still his and that was enough. He was still radiant. How could Geralt ever tire of hearing him repeat the same words over and over again, when they were his words? As long as Jaskier had anything to say, Geralt would be there to listen.

There were better days. There were days when Jaskier had an audience other than Geralt. There were days when he didn’t. There were days when Jaskier didn’t tell his stories at all. On those days he would sit for hours in their living room and write.

It rarely happened while Geralt was at home, but on his hunts that by now where few and far between, he would come back to Jaskier having ink smudged across his fingers, sitting in deep contemplation over his notes.

What used to be one notebook standing lonely on a shelf, became too many to keep staked in there. A treasured external memory for when Jaskier couldn’t find the words himself anymore.

Every once in a while, Geralt caught him writing something else. He never got more than a glimpse of it and Jaskier would snap his notebooks shut when he noticed Geralt looking. “Not yet” he would always say and Geralt would leave him that part of his mind that he wasn’t ready to share just yet.

Apart from that, Jaskier would share his notebooks proudly with him, with the same look he had gotten whenever he presented a new song to him, before an audience would get to hear it. Geralt didn’t react the same way he had back then. Now he smiled and embraced Jaskier, ran his fingers over the words like they were the most precious thing and asked Jaskier why he had chosen certain phrases. Jaskier noticed. He smiled, threw Geralt looks that held too much emotion to bear, but that Geralt couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

There were still times when Jaskier told Geralt his stories by heart, only chancing glances down at his notes to make sure he still got it right, despite Geralt telling him he didn’t mind a different, unexpected version of the story. It was worth it though, for the proud look whenever he got it right.

Some days, Jaskier read him his books in front of the fireplace. And some days Geralt read them to him, when they lied in bed, the lights dimmed so that only Geralt was still able to read the words anymore, Jaskier’s head on his chest a pleasant weight, as his own words lulled him to sleep.

He felt Jaskier smile against him, as he read him the story of the mermaid. “You’re no good as a storyteller,” he mumbled fondly.

Geralt hummed and ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “You’ll have to tell the tale to me again tomorrow,” he answered softly. “To make sure I get it right the next time.”

He heard Jaskier chuckle as he nestled his face against his chest. His breathing evened out, already asleep but Geralt continued reading the tale until its end.

17 notes · View notes

mollymawkwrites · 4 years ago

Text

- Tell me a story, bard.

Jaskier huffs a tired laugh, tightening his grip on the Witcher in his arms. The stars reflect in the half-closed golden eyes, sticky wetness drying between them.

- The great Geralt of Rivia, asking for a bedtime story. Who would have thought.

- I won't ask again.

- Okay.

The bard takes a deep lungful of air, searching for inspiration, entering his role of storyteller. His voice grows naturally deeper, steadier, even though he still speaks quietly, intimately, just for the both of them and the moon above.

- Once upon a time there was a lark. It had a beautiful singing voice, and it flew from branch to branch, never settling anywhere as it grew bored everytime it stayed in the same tree for too long. The other animals loved its singing, and found it pretty and funny and very entertaining, but they, also, grew bored of it after a little while. So it kept jumping, from the oak tree to the birch tree to the ash tree, singing and singing all the time. It wished secretly to build a nest somewhere, but it had just not found the right place yet. And it wanted to see the whole world before, to sing under every constellation, to feel the wind under its wings. So it traveled, and sang, and flew. And one day, it met a wolf. A big, white wolf, that all the other animals were scared of, because its eyes were too yellow, its teeth too sharp, and it growled all the time.

- Jaskier.

- Yes, my love?

- I know what you're doing.

- Is that so?

- Your metaphors have never been subtle.

- It's not a metaphor, it's an analogy.

- Well, your analogies suck too.

- Do you want the story or not?

- Hmm.

- So. The bird saw the very grumpy and very rude wolf, and it only saw how lonely it was. So it flew over, perching itself on the wolf's shoulder, singing into its ear. And the wolf snarled and bit and shook its whole body to try and dislodge the lark, but it refused to leave. After a while, the wolf stopped fighting, thinking the bird would get bored and leave by itself. It didn't. It stayed, and kept singing. They traveled together, and saw the world. The bird had already seen a lot of it before, and the wolf even more, but they had never had a friend by their side for it. The wolf had been alone for so long, but the bird, too, realized how lonely it had been before they had met. Things weren't always easy, for the bird and the wolf were two very different animals, and they fought often, usually for very stupid things, like who had read the directions wrong and gotten them lost.

Geralt huffs a laugh.

- You did; he says without opening his eyes, his voice a whisper so low Jaskier has to stop breathing to hear it.

- We agreed to disagree on that one. Do you want me to stop?

The Witcher shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly with the effort.

- But sometimes; Jaskier resumes; the fights were big and devastating like thunderstorms, and they would both come out of it very hurt. They would separate for a while, the lark flying away to find some more amenable company, the wolf scurrying in the bushes on its own, enjoying the peace and silence of the forest. But they'd always find each other again, because at the end of the day, they were each other's world.

Jaskier's voice cracks on the last few words, and the squeeze of Geralt's hand in his is too weak for the strength that usually thrums under the man's skin. He squeezes it back lightly, and brings it to his cheek where tears and blood have left wet trails that reflect the moon's silver light.

- And then... What happened? asks Geralt in a choked wet breath.

A trembling sob escapes Jaskier's lips.

- Then... Then they lived happily ever after, my Wolf.

#i wrote this in an hour #it wouldn't leave me alone #it is unbeta'ed #a demon of angst possessed me #geraskier #the witcher #tw: character death #short fiction #geraskier fic

58 notes · View notes

suf-lives-rent-free · 4 years ago

Text

Fragments

Everything below is just my opinion; I am in no way trying to say that how I feel about this is the one correct take or whatever.

I know a lot of people like this episode and what happens in it, but I don’t. I totally understand that some people just don’t want to see any negativity, period, but negativity is not inherently bad or wrong.

Negative opinions, even about something you enjoy, can be valid too - regardless of whether you happen to agree with them or not.

Also I get very salty near the end of this, and that might be entertaining to people who stan this episode?

I am aware that a lot of people – the majority, I’m pretty sure – think that the episode is a masterpiece. And on some level, I see where they’re coming from with that assessment.

The episode is boarded beautifully, the backgrounds – especially during the training montage – are stunning as always. The music is fantastic, and the performances are great too. In these respects, Fragments is a stand-out episode; I agree.

(Like look at this. Gorgeous.)

However, something that’s bothered me since I saw the episode is the writers’ decision to write it into the story that Steven shatters Jasper.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: I just don’t get it. I’m purposefully misinterpreting the story to say it’s bad. Steven brings her back to life; and it’s not like he meant to do it in the first place. I just don’t have the capacity to understand the sublime nature of the show’s storytelling. I’m an SU crit and all I want to do is make the real fans feel about themselves for liking it.

Uhhhh... no. Nah. That ain’t it chief.

It’s true; I am not a writer. I’m just a passive consumer of media. However, I do not agree with the viewpoint that in order to properly understand or critique a thing you need to have the expertise and/or experience in order to make something similar.

For example, if I were to put something I drew when I was 10 years old next to something I drew yesterday, it shouldn’t take a person who has had an education in fine art to tell you that the latter drawing is better-looking than the former.

That’s how I approach media consumption and criticism; when I criticise a writing decision, I am doing so as a consumer. I’m not saying I could write it better, or even that my opinion is objectively correct and the writer is wrong or bad. I’m just saying that I didn’t like a thing. Which, I would hope, is allowed?

Okay, defensive hedging over, back to the point; I don’t like that they had Steven shatter Jasper.

[I get markedly saltier from this point on, fyi]

Full admission of bias here: one of the things I really cherish about the original show is how they wrote Steven’s character; he’s a boy with interests that don’t rigidly conform to gender stereotypes. He likes ‘boyish’ things and ‘girly’ things, and that’s okay; thats just him. In cartoons when I was growing up, characters like Steven would be the butt of jokes about being ‘girly’ or thinly-veiled homophobia. I find him very relatable, and I want to acknowledge that yes, that is probably a significant part of why I have such an issue with this episode’s twist.

I am not trying to say that he’s a perfect baby angel or whatever; Steven regularly gets frustrated and angry. He does some pretty manipulative and dickish things to people around him (stop trying to make Larsadie happen, Steven. It’s not going to happen). He is a flawed character who fucks up sometimes. And he’s not 100% peaceful either; he acts violently when he defends himself against corrupted Gems and Homeworld Gems (and Crystal Gems on occasion *cough*Bismuth*cough*).

However, he has a pacifistic temperament; whenever it’s possible, he prefers that problems be solved without needless violence or hurt. And I like that; in most media, it’s rare to have a male protagonist who wants to solve their problems without jumping straight to punching things.

When he accidentally frees Centipeedle, he convinces the Gems to step off and allow him to try and rehabilitate her peacefully; he even notices that the Gems’ weapons are a trigger for her, and make them put them away. He frees Lapis against the Gems’ wishes because he recognizes that keeping her prisoner is wrong, and when she steals the ocean, he talks it out and heals her so she can leave Earth peacefully.

He tries to aid Jasper when she starts corrupting, fixes Eyeball’s gemstone when she’s cracked and tries talking Bismuth down when she attacks him with the breaking point. In all of these situations, his words and help are ignored or rejected; he’s forced to resort to violence. And it traumatises him.

We get an entire episode dedicated to the fact that he’s been struggling with processing these awful things that happened.

Even in Future, Steven shows hesitation about engaging in unncecessary violence; he gives into Jasper’s goading for a fight after what’s implied to be dozens of failed tries at making her come to Little Homeschool, and he spends an entire episode trying to keep Lapis from squashing the two rogue Lapis Lazulis.

The only time he hops into a fight willingly is after Eyeball and Aquamarine hold Greg hostage, and even then they pose a clear threat to his and Greg’s safety and have made it clear that they want to hurt him emotionally and physically. Even at that, he stops and switches tactics to talking them down as soon as they lose their focus and start bickering with each other.

(I mean, he fails. But it’s the thought that counts.)

I personally find it really jarring that the writers found it appropriate to write it into the series that this same character – over the course of three (3) days – goes from disliking mindless violence for mindless violence’s sake to happily engaging in the destruction of plants and animals* and has done a total 180 on his willingness to spar with Jasper, to the point that he instigates their rematch.

*(You best believe plenty of small mammals and birds – y’know, like the nest Steven saved in the first episode – died as he and Jasper felled tree after tree, not to mention all of those displaced by the destruction of their habitats, and the potential loss of food sources from some of those trees.)

You’re telling me that it’s a reasonable character beat for this boy to gleefully laugh like an anime supervillain at his sudden new-found joy in fighting, then pin Jasper in place, taunt her for helping him get so strong, and hit her so hard that she breaks into pieces and dies?

You’re telling me that that’s an in-character thing for Steven Quartz Diamond Cutie-Pie DeMayo Universe do to another character?

(And yes I am purposefully dancing around talking about the mental health stuff because if I did that I’d have to go on a whole other tangent about Growing Pains and fuck I just don’t feel like it right now lmao)

Going back to Mindful Education, another big thing we see Steven struggle with is the idea that his mother shattered Pink Diamond. This knowledge sits heavily with him; it makes him sympathetic to the Diamonds, even under the circumstances in which he sees them (escaping from the Human Zoo, and being on trial for said murder).

He sees their grief, and he feels awful. He questions who Rose Quartz even was. He knows, based on what Garnet said, that Rose had to do it; there was no other way to free Earth. But he still feels awful seeing the pain that Pink’s loss has caused Blue and Yellow Diamond.

In Steven Universe, shattering is clearly equated with execution/death multiple times. When Pearl and Garnet fret over the crack in Amethyst’s gemstone worsening. When Blue Diamond threatens to break Ruby. When Bismuth introduces the breaking point, and Steven recoils at the sight of what it does. If you want to take the fact that Gem shards are sentient and desperate to become whole again into account, you could even argue that it’s a fate worse than death. This particular act of violence is treated very, very seriously.

When we find out that Rose shattered Pink Diamond, there is a season and a half long arc unpacking the implications and consequences of this one action, and how this knowledge forever alters Steven’s mental image of his mother. And she didn’t even kill anyone. It was a lie!

In Steven Universe Future, Steven shatters Jasper 4 episodes before the end of the series. And it’s only brought up twice; once for a big *gasp* moment during his breakdown in Everything’s Fine, and in I Am My Monster by Pearl, when she has to fill-in Bismuth, Lapis and Peridot. Notably, it is never discussed around or by Jasper. Y’know. The person who actually died.

No indication of how (or even if) what Steven did is affecting his own self-image after his initial breakdown, how Jasper feels about what she went through beyond falling back into the Era 1 and 2 mindset. No inkling of how the knowledge that Steven killed somebody has affected how anyone in his life thinks or feels about him; when Pearl brings it up in I Am My Monster, she seems to not even really believe it’s true.

If there are any consequences or talks about this incident, they’re skipped over between I Am My Monster and The Future, and we’re expected to assume that Steven and his therapist are dealing with it, I guess?

And yes. It was an accident. He did bring her back to life. But it still happened. If you hit someone over the head and they stop breathing, just because the paramedics are able to resusitate and stabilize them afterwards doesn’t mean you never hit them.

But here, it’s shoved aside because dwelling on it would take far too much time, and risks framing Steven in an unsympathetic way when he’s meant to be on the cusp of a breakdown.

It just feels like careless writing to me. They really, really wanted their big action scene with Steven and Jasper, but didn’t think (or maybe weren’t interested in thinking) about the seriousness or consequences of what Steven shattering someone would entail.

In my opinion, Steven shattering Jasper is one of the cheapest, laziest things they could have ever done with his character (and hers, for that matter). To me, the entire thing feels entirely out of character. It’s pure shock value; nothing more.

So yeah. That particular writing decision just does not work for me. And if you disagree... well that’s fine? It’s fine. We can agree to disagree? I’ve read a lot of defense/praise for this episode, and honestly even after processing all of those opinions and all the time my thoughts about this plotline have been stewing in my brain, I still feel the same way.

#steven universe #steven universe future #negativity #cw death

7 notes · View notes

razorblade180 · 5 years ago

Text

Rosebud prep 9

[Vale Hospital]

Today, today was supposed to be a glorious day. A day of laughter and new beginnings; the next chapter in Ruby’s fairytale. Unfortunately it wasn’t. The fairytale was over; the ending snatched away right from her arms. It was time to go back to reality. It’s been hours sense the incident. Ruby was finally awake again and sitting up in her hospital bed for roughly half an hour. Only the doctor had come to see her. She could only imagine why. Quietly she stared at the window and into the night sky with such a vacant expression. No one had to tell her the state of the situation. Deep down she already knew it wasn’t good. Knowing how bad it was would only serve to hurt her more is most likely why she left alone. Or so she thought. A click at the door brought her attention back to inside her room alarmingly. The shadow on the other side told her it was a man but it didn’t ease the anxiety. One too many people have walked through a hospital door into her room today that didn’t like her; anything could happen. Ruby slowly lifted her body off the bed a little as if to dive off of it and catch the person by surprise just in case. Her fears were put the rest though when the first thing to peel into the room was a crooked cross.

Ruby:Uncle Qrow....?

Qrow:*walking in* Hey kiddo. So you are awake? That’s good; I assumed the worst when Tai called.

Ruby:You spoke with dad?

Qrow:Yeah. He called as soon things calmed down. Thought I would want to head over ASAP. He wasn’t wrong....

Ruby:So.....what’s the situation?

Qrow:Ruby, I think right now you should focus on-

Ruby:I’m not a little kid anymore Qrow....

Qrow:....

Ruby:I need...I need to hear someone say it. Where’s Dustin?

There was a tremble in her voice. One born out of pain and pure frustration. Both hands gripped the sheets to the point her knuckles looked white. Ruby’s eyes met Qrow’s with nothing but vulnerability. His heart was breaking at the sight of it.

Qrow:He’s...he’s gone. We don’t know where Cinder and Neo went. Everyone is out looking everywhere and I do mean everyone. You have friends all over the world keeping an eye out. Even Raven is out with Tai searching Anima with Ren and Nora. Weiss went back to Atlas and having all bases sweep through the airspaces they can. Blake and Yang went to search all over Vale before expanding to a few miles outside the kingdom. Team SSSN has called earlier. Your house is just fine and nothing out of the ordinary is making its way through the streets of Vacou as it yet. Glynda assigned extra huntsman here. Oz himself is searching spots that are hard for most people reach and many more.

Ruby:....What about Jaune?

Qrow:He’s....processing. He tried to go off with Yang but we got him to help gaurd the hospital. Figured protecting you was more beneficial.

Ruby:Yet you’re the one giving me the news instead of him.

Qrow:Don’t think poorly of him. Jaune just couldn’t handle telling you the news. I barely can.

Ruby:I know. I just..... *tearing up*

......

Ruby:I’d like to be alone now please.

Qrow:Of course. I’ll keep you posted. *grabs knob* I swear to you Ruby, we’ll find him. Cinder won’t get away with this.

Ruby:Uncle Qrow...?

Qrow:Yeah?

Ruby:Don’t make promises you don’t know if you can keep.

Qrow:.....

He closed the door and left the room after that statement. She knew it came of cold but it was the truth. Hope wasn’t what she wanted right now. She wanted results. Payback; and she wanted it with her own two hands. Tears hit the sheets as she did everything in her power to hold back a scream of pure frustration. Cinder caught her when she was weak, defenseless, forgiving. Ruby wasn’t gonna make that mistake ever again.

xxxx

It wasn’t long before Ruby was finally able to be released from the hospital. The only person there to escort her out was Jaune. She didn’t mind; it meant everyone else was still looking. The two of them didn’t say anything to each other at first; not even a glance. What could you say in a time like this? No words could comfort either of them. Even so, Ruby reached for his hand and held it tight; almost as if she was afraid it would disappear too. He looked at his wife who still faced forward as she walked with tears in her eyes. He returned the handholding with equal force. Their love was still there, but so pain. Too much pain for anyone to deal with alone; yet too steep to truly let anyone in. They were together, but they never felt so lonely.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Before anyone realized it, roughly a year passed. No sign of Cinder, Neo, or Dustin. Almost like they vanished into thin air. No one ever truly gave up but plenty still had to worry about their own lives constantly. As a result, more people took a passive role into searching. Ruby couldn’t blame them but she never stopped. Mission after mission she kept owning her skills in baited breath for the day she could end Cinder’s life. It was her ultimate goal if the worse had happened and her child was long since gone. Ruby didn’t even revel in the fact her old dream had come true. Most likely she didn’t realize it yet. Greatest huntsman of her time; of any time most people argued. Finally had she passed the status of of Grimm Reaper. Maria was proud of not sad at the circumstances. Most knew Ruby Rose by one of two very popular names. The Crimson Reaper; not for the color of her attire but for the sight anybody would see if a grimm or for challenged her. The other name was more inviting; a way to let the innocent know their lives would go on without meeting an unfortunate or unsatisfying conclusion by the hands of tyranny. They call her The Storyteller. There wasn’t a day that went by that she wasn’t focused on her goal. Not even today of all days; a special day that everyone took time off for. Everyone but her.

xxxx

There’s a lot of beautiful places in Anima. Each with its own unique charm and way of making the smallest moments feel like the most precious. In one specific forest there’s a meadow of flowers; a garden of peace where everything is graced with the appearance of spring even though it’s currently the middle of fall. Birds sing happily while butterflies dance their gentle wings on the warm breeze that pass through wind chimes to give off a feeling of tranquility. The perfect place for a new beginning. The perfect place for a wedding.

Two sets of chairs were set up perfectly in the middle with plenty of friends and family on both sides for the celebration; while a white carpet ran in between them. It led to a giant majestic tree that was filled with magnolia flowers. Under the tree was a very nervous but excited Blake who was dressed in a dark black tux that was accompanied with gold trim and bow tie. Every so often she would glance at her parents that were giving her the biggest thumbs up for encouragement. She tried not to laugh when attention was directed a few seats back to see Neptune holding a sign that said. “rock that dragon” with a tiny picture of Yang that had her hair glowing and spiky. Sun was behind her and tapped her shoulder which made her flinch. It was probably the tenth time today he had to remind her to breathe or else that suit would be a sweaty mess. Truly the easiest choice for a best man. Wouldn’t be long now. She hoped the brides maids weren’t giving Yang a rough time who was in a log cabin nearby getting ready...

Nora:All I’m saying is a little makeup on her wedding day would show how committed she is!!!

Weiss:She’s a natural beauty! Makeup ruins that!

Ilia:Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!

Yang smiled as she watched her enthusiastic bridesmaids bicker in their teal dresses about the finishing touches. The bride to be turned around to look in the fool body mirror yet again to see if she thought she was truly bringing her best self out there to her beloved. Long hair that slightly curled? Check. A bouquet of sunflowers? Double check. Wedding dress?Triple check and stunning. Yang would not call herself a dress kind of gal but she fell in love with this one.

The strapless dress started of white around the chest area put will slowly go into a yellow that only got more intense as it went down. Right at her waist is where the dress spread out several inches before almost touching the ground below it; Yang joked many times over the past few months that she felt like she was showing up as a wedding bell herself. Silk gloves that followed the same color design went up to her elbows. The silky attire had a intricate lace kind of design at the bottom that matched the midsection. How her sister wore such complicated things like a corset she would never know. After all she didn’t show up to any practices, the bachelorette party, or anything. Not even a phone call. All she did was send a present.

As happy as Yang was to get married it didn’t seem right without her baby sister chanting for her along the way. Ruby was so happy about the proposal back when it happened; when she was expecting. It was two big news at the same time. No doubt she couldn’t think about the wedding without thinking about Dustin. Yang already made up her mind months ago not to hold this against Ruby. Still, right now there was a stinging in her heart where her sister’s smile should be.

Yang:No makeup....

Weiss:Ha!!

Nora:What!? You can’t be- Yang?

Yang:*tearing up* I would just ruin it, so no makeup.

Weiss:*frowning* Yang those don’t look like tears of joy right now.

Yang:I’m fine. Just feeling a lot of emotions right now.

Ilia:....Let’s give the bride a minute alone shall we?

Yang:That would be nice. I’ll be fine in a minute.

The three girls slowly walked out the cabin. Almost like they were waiting for Yang to stop them, but she never did. This day was almost perfect. Most things are in Yang’s opinion. She never believed in true perfection but if one thing could’ve changed that it would’ve been today. For crying out loud, her mother was here and was gonna walk her down the aisle with her father. “Let’s make this the most unconventional wedding there is!” They told her with a spark in their eyes she had never seen before. She prayed it would lead to some sort of mending between them. They deserved love and it was plain to see their love never truly died.

Yang:(Okay Yang, no more moping around. Despite everything, today is a beautiful day and you’re getting married. Perk up and everything else can be dealt with another day.)

knock knock knock

Yang:I’ll be out in a minute you three!

Jaune:Uhhh just one person.

Yang:!!!? Jaune? Is that you?

Jaune:Yeah. Can...can I come i-

Yang:*swings open door*

Its been awhile since she seen her blonde headed brother in arms. After a couple of months things got pretty hectic and everyone seemed to slip through the cracks when it came to actually checking in. It was something Yang really regretted. Jaune’s hair had grown to his shoulders and stubble was on his face. He greeted Yang with a small smile but she knew it wasn’t genuine. His eyes couldn’t hide how tired he was. Faint dark circles could be seen under them.

Jaune:Hey, been awhile.

Yang:Y..Yeah, sorry about that.

Jaune:Don’t worry about it. Things happened. You look beautiful.

Yang:Thanks. You look....

Jaune:Rough?

Yang:I was gonna say like my dad when Summer died.

Jaune:Ah, so worse; sounds about right. It’s been quite the year.

Yang:Wanna sit down?

Jaune:No I don’t wanna take up too much of your time. I just wanted to-

Yang:*pulls out a chair* Butt.....in the chair.

Jaune:*sits down* Sigh still don’t take no for an answer. You think I would know better by now.

Yang:*smiles* Don’t let this dress fool ya. It’s still me under all of this fluff. How have you been? No lying either.

Jaune:Yang I didn’t come here to bring down the mood. I just wanted to see you one on one so I can congratulate you before things got busy down there.

Yang:*holds his face*......

Jaune:.....

.........

Jaune:I haven’t been doing well. Slacking on missions, eating, sleeping......

Yang:How is Ruby allowing this?

Jaune:I barely see her.

Yang:What?

Jaune:All she does is take missions. Long ones at that. I see her maybe twice, three times in a few months. Even when she’s home it’s for a day at most and we don’t talk. Haven’t since...you know.

Yang:Do you know where she is now?

Jaune:*shakes his head* I never do. Ruby she won’t, she just won’t slow down; and I can’t keep up. That house *trembling* it feels so empty it might as well be haunted. Sleeping in that bed doesn’t feel the same. Then there’s his room.....

Yang:You can’t get rid of it, can you?

Jaune:I can’t even go upstairs anymore Yang.

He looks down at the floor before his head was brought up to see Yang looking at him with an expression that could only be described as pure empathy. Her right hand rubbed his face gently before taking both of her arms and wrapping around him in a loving embrace. Yang could feel the warmth of his tears land on her collarbone but she didn’t care. She just continued to rub his back as Jaune slowly started to wail.

Jaune:I....I......

Yang:Ssssshhhh it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay I promise. I promise....

Jaune:How do you know!?

Yang:Because I know you two. There’s nobody else I know who can go through so much and come out on top. You both are fighters and I’m sorry I wasn’t there as much I should’ve been. I think there’s a piece of that was little scared to. I mean what’s to stop some terrible thing from happening to Blake and I. The thought drives me crazy. Weiss too.

Jaune:You all have a reason to be. We were caught so off gaurd. So unprepared for all this. I don’t know how to recover from this. Not without help. Not without Ruby! *sniffling*

Yang:I won’t let you be alone anymore. Nobody will. It might take a little more time but we’ll think of something. Until then let’s focus on things one step at a time.

She finally lets go of him and helps him stand up. His eyes are now a bit puffy but she has no doubt that her eyes look exactly the same. Yang smiles at him and is given one back in return. This time it’s one that feels more real. There’s still pain in it but also an understanding. He’s not alone. Yang will never let him feel alone.

Yang:Care to walk this emotional mess of a bride to her mom and dad? I think everyone has been waiting long enough.

Jaune:*Nods* You’ve gotten pretty good at this whole comforting me thing. I owe you.

Yang:We’re family Jaune. The only thing I want from you is to see you happy. So after I get hitched why don’t we make that happen?

Jaune:I think you should enjoy your honeymoon as much as possible. Don’t worry about me. I can endure a little longer and lean on others for ideals.

Yang:Keep me informed?

Jaune:Always.

Yang:Good. Now then, hand me that ridiculously sized bouquet. Wedding time.

Jaune tossed her the flowers but did so a little too suddenly. Yang’s pinky didn’t even time to twitch before her face was full of petals and pollen that made her sneeze and hair light up. The two of them stared at each other silently before breaking out into a fit of laughter. All while never noticing the presence of someone else on the other side of the door.

xxxx

Days proceeded to blend together for those trapped in grief. Ruby had just completed another mission solo despite the warnings of of it being at least a three man job. It probably would’ve been for normal huntsman. She’d elevated above that a long time ago. That didn’t mean it was a piece of cake though. The young woman found herself tired as she walked through the sands of Vacou to her home; her only company being the moon shining above her. Much like Jaune, her appearance was somewhat altered since the incident.

It’s been a long time since she bothered to cut her hair. The majority of it reaching her shoulder blades and few strands that fell across her face to the left side of her chin. Her red cloak was tattered from constant battle yet the damage would make it seem like it was only three or four tough adverse that made Ruby strut her stuff. She had gotten really good at not being touched. Red thigh high socks ran up her legs and were only visible by a decent sized slit in a black skirt that went just below her knees. The frills on it made it look layered and flowed effortlessly in the breeze. Pregnancy did a number on her body but finally she was back to black and red corsets that had the pattern of thorny stems crawling towards the top from the side. Long gone were the days of feeling like a kid compared to most of her female friends. Ruby filled out nicely even if she was still a far cry from her older sister, she definitely wasn’t small anymore. The many eyes of men and women staring right above the corset line or paying way too much attention to hips on the opening some of her skirt told her that much. Anyone who tried anything would have the pleasure of getting to know her combat boots. She had gotten used to heels finally but they didn’t fair to well in sand. Lastly she wore her wedding around her neck. The ruby gem matching nicely while the silver band went with her exhausted eyes. At least she finally made it home.

Ruby:*opens door* I’m home.

.......

Ruby:(Guess he’s asleep. Makes-

Creeeeeeeek!!!!!

Without hesitation Ruby back stepped right back outside and whipped out her scythe. Any trace of tiredness left her body and was ready for a fight.

Ruby:Whoever you are, step outside into the light right now!

???:After all this time and you’re still kicking off with the wrong foot. I suppose some habits are hard to crack even for the most exceptional huntsman. I don’t have to tell you that though now do I Mrs. Rose?

Ruby:*tilts head* Ozpin? Is that you?

The man walked through the door way and onto the moonlit porch. The use to be farm boy and ancient hero wore his professor outfit as he twirled his cane casually. Much like Ruby, Oscar’s body had grown up nicely. A shame it wasn’t truly his anymore. Broad shoulders, significant height increase, his skin as tan as ever; no doubt women would’ve been crawling all over him. Especially with his hair. The white contrasted the rest of his design but it also seemed fitting.

Oscar:You can put that away. I thought we could have a chat.

Ruby:So you decided to wait in my house without the lights on?

Oscar:Of course. I don’t pay your power bill so why should run it up when I didn’t know when you would return.

Ruby:......I’m not in the mood for this. Just tell me why you’re here and- gasp! Did you find something on Cinder!?

The man looked at woman who’s eyes seemed to grow big with anticipation. Unfortunately he had to shake his head no; causing what little excitement she had to fade away as her body began to slouch.

Ruby:Should’ve known.....

Ozpin:I might not have come here with the news you hoped for but it is about the same topic. Ruby....I think it’s about time you’ve accepted the reality of the situation, and press on.

Ruby:*jolts up* Excuse me?!

Ozpin:What I’m saying is-

Ruby:I know what you’re saying! I just can’t believe you had audacity to say it! Press on? How could you think I could just move past this?

Ozpin:I never thought that, which is why I’m here now. It’s been over a year and not once have we found clues to where they went. I’ve personally turned Remnant upside down at least twice and never found a true lead. I can imagine how many times you’ve done it by now.

Ruby:What’s that supposed to mean?

Ozpin:It means I’ve been watching. Everyday I look at the mission boards across all the kingdoms. A high ranking job never failed to be crossed almost as fast as it appeared. Low ranking jobs seemed to come in go like the wind and almost all of them had your petals floating in it.

Ruby:A pro huntsman job is to get results quickly right. Of all people I thought you’d proud of my progress, or are you scared I’ll slip up and you’ll lose one of the most valuable chess pieces you ever had? Hate to break it to you but I distinctly telling you once before I’m not apart of your game anymore. No one has been since Salem was killed. Sounds like you’re the one who should press on.

Ozpin:*clenches fist* This has nothing to do with-....*breathes* There’s only one kind a person who gains so much recognition in such a short amount of time. Those who push everything else out. Do you even know where your husband is right now? Because I promise that he is not in that house.

Ruby:.....

Ozpin:It’s a simple question. Do. You. Know. Where. He. Is?

Ruby:*walks away* If you’re not gonna help then stay out of my business.

Ozpin:Jaune has been living in Patch with your father for almost two weeks now. Ever since your sister’s wedding. It was real shock when the maid of honor wasn’t the bride’s loyal sister all because she never answered. Instead she was chasing ghost for all she knows. Is this even about Dustin anymore?

Ruby:*stops walking*......

........

Ruby:Out of respect I will give you a warning; tread lightly Oz. Say his name again and I’m gunning for you.

Ozpin:Then start aiming. *readys cane* Du-

She vanishes almost instantly and appears behind him ready to slash his back but is blocked by a swift pivoting attack. Oz new better than to go into this thinking he had the upper hand. This wasn’t a Ruby he knew. This one had a years worth of anger behind her attacks. Ruby wasn’t deterred by the block. She charged straight at him; cross slashing and firing at him with every move she had. Constantly she kept her scythe spinning like a saw with each advance she made towards the man blocking attacks. Sparks flew with every collision of the two metal weapons trying to bully the other out of the way of their wielder. Ozpin had enough of skirmish and stopped Ruby’s next over head attack by grabbing each end of the can and slaming it upward. The vibration of the block rattled his bones and numbed his arms.

Ruby:Despite it all, Oz I don’t want to hurt you.

Ozpin:That goes both ways.

His cane drops to his side and pulls back before raming itself into each of her ribs and smacking her clean across the left side of her face. Oz doesn’t giver her a chance to breathe and springboards off of her chest; sending her right into the sand. Ruby hits the ground hard then vanishes into rose petals immediately. The wind kicks up the sand around Oz to mask her location in a tiny cyclone.

Ozpin:Recovery time like that comes with practice. Tell me, when did you figure out a skill like that?Maybe it was Tai’s birthday or Weiss’s? Better yet, it was probably Penny’s. You know she just knew you would show up. I mean even James took time out of his busy schedule. Why wouldn’t her best friend?

Ruby:SHUT UP!!!

A streak of red breaks through the sand and crescent rose hooks around Oz’s can. The sound of the trigger pulling back is enough warning to tell him to clench his stomach as a sniper round hits right above the man’s navel and simultaneously yanks Long Memory from his hands. Ruby charges right at him in a fit of overwhelming emotion. Each attack hitting nothing but air and scarring the ground as Oz continuously dodges the assault. He might’ve been an expert at fighting but he couldn’t credit himself entirely for his well time movements. Not when his opponent was too busy fighting the tears rushing to her eyes...

Ruby:Do you have any idea how much this hurts!? What you’re telling me to do!? Every night I have the same clip replaying in my mind over and over again! His face! The way he fit so perfectly in my arms. Those eyes....he had my eyes Oz! All I saw in them was a future filled with potential, but then I wake up and realize it’s gone!

Crescent Rose extends out and Ruby puts all her force into a thrusting attack that Oz side steps easily passed. The ground below Ruby betrays her as she tries to pivot back around. Landing the woman face down in the sand. A gentle breeze blows between them that brings a chill to their fighting area. Oz stands normally over his former student who is now on her hands and knees looking at the ground. He can see her entire body fidget and shake as the sound of her strained voice begins to finally cry.

Ruby:I never dreamed of being of mom; of having a family of my own. But the moment I held him in my arms I knew right then and then. This was it. This was the moment I’ve waited for. I’ve never been so happy in my entire life. *sobbing* Then they took it away from me Oz. They took my son. How am I supposed to live with that!? When does the pain stop!?

Ozpin:*kneels down*.....It doesn’t. Not entirely anyways. Kids, they take a piece of you with them the moment their born and all you ever want to do is protect them. When I lost my daughters I might as well died five times over that night. Salem left me feeling truly alone that day. Robbing me of her love and there’s forever. Till this day I find myself closing my eyes too and them hug me tightly before I wake up to a world where they aren’t around anymore. *tearing up* I’ve had blessing and curse to have lifetimes to cope with such pain; something no one else has. However, you have everything I wish I had when my world crumbled around me.

Somehow Ruby managed to lift her head and meet the eyes of a crying man starring right back at her in quiet agony.

Ozpin:There are people in your life right now who want nothing more but to help you grieve and put yourself back together again. There is someone who loves you more than anything suffering a very similar pain to yours and guarantee you that all he wants right now is his wife by his side; trying to heal and endure together. No one is truly going to stop looking for Cinder but you can not waste your life aimlessly searching for her to beat her. Don’t give her that power over you. Don’t be me. Be better. Learn to be happy.

Ruby:...*wipes tears* You....you really think they’ll forgive me? I missed a lot.

Oscar:They’d have to be mad at you to do that. Ruby, do what you do best. Keep moving forward.

He offers his hand to her and she takes it slowly. Ruby’s heart was still in shambles. Her mind in complete disarray from the wave of pain she’s been holding in. It should be one of the worst feelings imaginable and yet it wasn’t. Crying felt good; amazing even. Finally progress in something felt like it was being made. Even if it wasn’t in what she had hoped for, it was what she needed. Ruby was finally ready to take the first step towards her new ending. She had no idea where it would lead but she knew one thing as she held her ring. Ruby was going to keep her vows. The journey wouldn’t start without Jaune.

Ruby:Patch, right?

Ozpin:Yes if you leave now then you’ll probably make it by-

Ruby:Not yet...

Ozpin:Hmmm?

Ruby:I can’t face him quite yet. Not like this. There’s someone else I need to face first....

Part 8

#rwby rosebud #rwby #ruby rose #jaune arc #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #nora valkryie #ilia amitola #qrow branwen #rwby ozpin #rwby lancaster #bmblb #bumbleby

98 notes · View notes

cringyanimename · 5 years ago

Text

Storyteller Chapter 2 (Updated)

Authors note: As of when I'm writing this chapter I have 2 likes, and I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but that means so much to me. ~

"Said Rabbit to Red Fox, in a silken quiet tone,

'The field of voles has a story you will want to hear.' Red fox scoffed, and responded in gravelly tones.

'Why should I, the greatest huntsman of the valley, trouble myself with a story from the rabbits, and voles?' Rabbit shook her head and tutted.

'Your pride will end you fox. My ears hear all the whispers of the wood, and you will be huntsman no more lest you hear their words as well."

The forest was starved from the faded light of the moon, leaving Aria with only the beam of the flashlight to guide her. She could not see an arms length away on either side of her only what lie directly ahead. As she ambled through the woods, there was no denying the unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her steps were slow, silent, precise. As if she were passing a sleeping beast. Her heart stopped for a moment when she felt a breeze passed her shoulder, a hot breeze, breath.

Slowly, carefully, she turned her flashlight behind her and inch by inch revealing a large head and two round massive eyes. Eyes that peered silently down at her. Then it spoke, exposing long yellow teeth.

"Are you lost?"

Her flashlight fell from her hand. She darted through the trees, and leaped over rocks, she ran until her lungs burned. She could still hear the crunch of leaves under it's feet getting ever closer behind her. She had to think of something and quickly. She heard the rushing water ahead of her. It was her only warning of the river ahead of her the bank rose high above it. The rise of the hill concealed the body of water. Perfect.

She could hear it's deep voice calling out to her, attempting to coax her out of hiding.

"Where did you go"

The bark of the tree was rough against her hands as she pressed her back as flat as she could against the tree trunk that separated her from the monster. It wouldn't last her long, but it wouldn’t need to. She picked up a stone by her feet and threw it across the water landing in a bush on the other side.

"there you are"

As the creature ran passed the tree Aria grabbed its leg and the great beast toppled headfirst into the river. Aria didn't wait to see what had happened to him She hightailed it up stream.

She moved quickly, but did not run, half because of the noise, half because of the darkness that now choked the surroundings without a flashlight to guide her. When she could go no further she stopped to rest. She did her best to squish herself between two large mossy boulders. She'd slept in more comfortable positions, but she was too afraid to sleep in the open and too tired to build a proper shelter. Exhaustion overtook her and she fell into dreamless sleep.

The next morning she was woken up by the sound of voices. Her Curiosity demanded she get closer. She skulked over to the muddy riverbank and found the monster from last night. In full light she could see he looked like a cross between a wolf and a bear with a head much larger than both wearing green and blue armor. He was still damp from the river. Next to him was a little green toad like creature in brown robes, funny hat and was holding a staff. Listening closely she caught the end of the big bear-wolf's sentence.

"-With Inuyasha and that priestess, uh, Kagome if I remember it right." He's seen Kagome. "By the way, have you seen a human girl around here Jaken? I think she may have dropped this, this, I think it is a torch." He held out Aria's flashlight. He seemed much less threatening now, Aria thought. Aria began to slink noiselessly down the bank, and cautiously approached the pair.

"Why should I care about a lowly human?" Jaken griped.

"Firstly she almost killed me," Said the other demon, "And second most she came from the well wearing strange clothes, she might know the priestess,"

"I do know Kagome." Aria declared. Both demons jumped, but the beast with the large eyes, and easily 7 feet tall hid himself behind Jaken who himself stood three feet tall hat included.

"You are the mortal who nearly felled Royakan, I hardly believe that," Jaken said, unimpressed with the woman's disheveled appearance. Literally sleeping on a bed of stones is not good for beauty sleep.

"And you shouldn't," said Aria. "He was chasing me and didn't see the river, he fell"

"You tripped me!"

"You fell." She insisted. Aria pointed at his paw like hand still holding her flashlight. "That's mine, can I have it back please."

"Oh, of coarse. Are you a friend to Kagome?"

"Yes, are you?"

"I am," His ears perked up and his tail did a happy swish, like a very threatening, but still very endearing giant puppy. A thought seemed to occur to him. "I am Royakan, gaurdian of the forest"

"Well gee now I feel like an ass,"

"I understand humans find demons to be frightening, but not to worry I don't eat humans anymore." Aria decided it was a much better idea to stand close to Jaken "You should come with me to find lord Sesshomaru. Kagome may be danger." Aria's eyes shot wide and she began to feel the constricting pull of panic.

"What's wrong with Kagome, and who is Sesshomaru?"

"You do not know who Lord Sesshomaru is?" Jaken balled his fists and stamped his foot on the muddy bank.

"Enlighten me."

"He is the single most powerful demon in all the land, he is the half breed Inuyasha's older brother, but he hardly compares." Jaken took a moment from his ever so captivating speech to think "Even still I wouldn't mind having Inuyasha as an ally now"

"If he's so almighty, Why does he need Inuyasha?"

"He does not!" Jaken protested "He can defeat the panther demons all by himself!"

"But" Royakan interrupted "last time we lost-"

"Those cowards ran for the hills, they knew Lord Sesshomaru would deliver their deaths" Jaken turned his back to Royakan. Royakan didn't seem to notice he gazed into the distance with a mournful expression.

"Many of my friends died in that battle."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Aria said softly.

"Thank you" He seemed to relax, "Last I knew the Panther demons were after the jewel shards, Kagome carries some I think."

"Jewel shards?" she asked, and Royakan fumbled with an answer

"Um well, they are pieces of a jewel"

"Yes I got that part." Aria deadpanned. Jaken lacking the patience to listen to Royakan ramble, offered a more concise answer

"They grant incredible power to those who possess them"

"Does Lord Sesshomaru possess many shards then?"

"Fool! he great demon lord has no need for such gimmicks."

"Jaken, is this where you have been?" Aria followed the voice, Smooth and cool, to a man in elegant clothing of white and red, and pristine spiked armor. He looked like he was about Aria's age, had tattoos, or maybe paint, stripes on his cheeks, a crescent on his forehead and long white hair. When sharp gold met Aria's doe brown eyes, and the corner of her lips quirked up just a bit. He certainly was handsome, she thought.

"Please forgive me Lord Sesshomaru," said Jaken bowing with his entire body on the ground. Lord Sesshomaru said nothing as he walked passed Jaken. This irked Aria to no end, and she suddenly felt a smidge protective over this little green goblin. Royakan also bowed, before Sesshomaru as he passed, and addressed him.

"Lord Sesshomaru, I Royakan, Would be Honored to serve you once again,"

"Not necessary"

"Please I beg you to reconsider" Royakan pleaded. Jaken began to speak on Royakan's behalf in order to sway Sesshomaru.

"Royakan," Said Sesshomaru, Royakan perked up. His tail doing a little flip flop "Leave before I lop off your head" Royakan's expression dropped, "Only you shall accompany This Sesshomaru, Jaken."

Jaken's eyes began to water, and he wiped his sleeve across his face. Aria followed Sesshomaru, if he was after the panthers he would lead her to Kagome. Jaken raced after them both, and when he caught up to them scoffed at Aria.

"Lord Sesshomaru did not say you could accompany him!" He said.

"I'm not, we just happen to be walking in the same direction at the same time." She corrected.

"Just like how Royakan fell into the river"

"Exactly like that, yes"

Sesshomaru stopped walking. "Follow me and you will die" He said. Aria continued until she stood next to him.

"I'm not following you" She insisted. He focused on her in a way that made her feel jittery despite her ever present smirk. Something seemed to click behind his pools of molten amber, or at least that’s what Aria thought she saw. It was hard to tell, he was very stoic and she was a little distracted by his feathery pail eyelashed. He turned from her and continued up the riverbank.

"This one will not protect you"

"I don't need you to"

#sesshomaru #sesshomaruxoc #fanfiction #storyteller

8 notes · View notes

lollytea · 5 years ago

Note

can you tell us more about the snufmin kids, if thats okay?

Oh of course, of course!! i love those children so much dude!!!

[Original OC post]

Beginnings

-Torben’s origins are kinda a downer but basically his mom was a witch on the outskirts of a little village (real far away from moominvalley) who was killed after a lot of fearmongering. they raided her cottage afterwards and found baby torben and assumed him to be a child she stole.

- They couldnt find the “real mother” and he ended up in the care of a childrens’ home. He actually bounced around a few of them until he ended up in the home where he met with his future siblings. according to those working there, he had a rather unnerving stare and a lot of them felt there was something not quite right about him. (the rumor going around was it was something the witch had “done to him” and that “the poor child might never be the same”) he was a lot more sullen as a baby who didnt have much of an interest in toys and had a hard time connecting with the other children. He brightened up considerably when he found Birch and Essi

- Birch was an oddity from the start. (Species headcanon from here) Its natural for woodies grow in groups, usually from trees and bushes, so theyre biologically social creatures who are hardly ever seen alone. But Birch may have been a spectacle of his species, as he was formed in a moss patch and born all on his own.

- Another thing that was considered strange about him was his lack of imprinting. Woodies tend to latch on to the first “safe” person they meet, who then forcibly becomes their “parent”. (Woodies are produced asexually and have no “real parents” so finding a person of protection is often done as a survival tactic. It’s recommended that one stay away from woodies if one is not ready for children.) Baby Birch was discovered by a farmer and surprisingly did not take to him right away, like any woodie does. Actually he was rather standoffish and even bit if the old man touched him. He was sent to the home not long after.

- Space was tight and there werent a lot of cribs/beds to go around, so Birch didn’t have one to himself. Instead they just squeezed him into 2 year old torben’s crib for the two children to share. Here they became inseparable, with Birch, maybe not imprinting but forming a close bond with somebody and finally finding a source of comfort. He bit a little less after this. Likewise with Torben, who gained a caring gleam in his eye once he had a little one to care for. Even when Torben was old enough for a proper bed, he insisted Birch sleep with him and would not budge on the matter. The home gave in and allowed it.

- Essi’s origin was a simple one, of just being born at the wrong time. In a house packed with mumrik children, one more simply could not be accommodated. I dont want to say her birth parents were terrible people but with the amount of kids they had, they were rather jaded to a fresh baby face and werent too emotional in deciding they need to be rid of her.

- She was never an angry or intentionally misbehaved baby when under the care of the home. She just needed a lot of stimulation that she wasnt getting and tended to tear up her clothes, curtains and bedsheets. It was also concerning that she never cried, or babbled or made any sound at all. It had falsely interpreted as some fort of defect child. They didnt know if it was right to mix her with the other babies, seeing as with the damage her claws had already done, they felt she could be dangerous. She was left on her own a lot.

- The other two met Essi when they were caught stealing food from the kitchen and locked away on their own to think about how sorry they were. But being tight on space, the only isolated room was the one where Essi was kept. They had heard about her being “the baby who didnt cry” and were very intrigued. but upon further inspection of the wriggling little girl in the cot, Torben observed that she looked lonely. They wondered if she simply wasnt capable of crying, which would be awful if one wanted to express their sadness. After entertaining her throughout their isolation period, the two decided that she was now their baby. And they would be her siblings. They would all belong to each other. As a family.

Miscellaneous HCs:

-Torben sleeps like he’s fucking comatose. There is no waking him. Even when living with Moomintroll and Snufkin, he and Birch still share a bed and Torben kicks and Birch (a light sleeper) hates it. But no matter how much arguments and late night brawls this causes, they still refuse to get separate beds.

- Essi has a crib in Moomintroll’s room and sleeps there until she’s like 4. (She always magically ends up from her crib to her papa’s stomach by morning.) They tried to get her a “big girl room” when she was bigger but she didnt adapt very well as she couldnt sleep when she was alone. They had to move her into her siblings’ room. She slept soundly after that.

- Moomintroll and Snufkin often tell the kids stories from their youth, sometimes using anonymous names to work as “fictional stories” lest they frighten them (or for the sake of their own dignity). Essi is very disturbed by the story of the the hobgoblin’s hat, while Birch can only scoff and wonder aloud what sort of idiot was that moomin who went and put the thing on his head. Moomintroll stares dead ahead and refuses to meet eyes with a highly amused Snufkin.

- Early on in his training, Alicia gifts Torben with his own witch hat. With much excitement, he immediately plops the thing on only for his whole head to disappear under it. Alicia laughs, informing him only a fully trained witch can wear it properly and the hat will adjust accordingly once he’s ready. (The hat freaks Moomin the fuck out. He does not care for magical hats anymore.)

- Essi has a little stuffed yellow bird that Mymble got her, which she carries around (often in her mouth) everywhere. She named him Comet, based on the story of when her papas first met.

- Speaking of Mymble (the younger), she loves doing Essi’s hair, although it took her a while to get accustomed to the little mumrik’s big mop of curls and couldnt understand why brushing it was so hard at first. She’s familiar with it now and often weaves in little flowers and ribbons.

- Birch is very close with Snorkmaiden who thinks his flowering skin is very pretty and encourages his writing and curiosity. (Being a huge fan of the written word herself, mostly fairytales.)

- Moominpapa is also supportive of his eloquent grandchild (Splendid! Another writer in the family, eh?) but he’s a little more pushy and it takes a bit of chiding from moominmama to get him to stop saying “have you considered writing about Me??”

- Torben loves Snork. Snork.....hates Torben really. Well, its not that they hate him, its just that Snork has spent their entire life on this flying machine project and torben+flying broomstick= a mockery of it all. Not to mention Torben is annoying as fuck and spends way too much time pestering Snork about god knows what.

- Essi and Little My hunt bugs together. Lov the cronch

- Birch is afraid of thunderstorms. The whole family usually piles into his bed on thundery nights to make him feel safe.

- Once Torben is at an adequate stage of witching training, he’s allowed a familiar. Of all creatures, he chooses Essi, the closest thing to a black cat he has. She happily obliges and spends most of her late childhood, mid teens operating under this duty.

- Snufkin has composed a tune for each of his children that he plays when alone and thinking about them, or by their bedside and playing them to sleep. Torben’s tune is called ‘Bonfire in the Rain’ Birch’s is ‘Baring Shards of One’s Looking Glass’ and Essi’s is ‘She Who Stirs the Stars’

- To help with Birch’s collecting hobby, Torben enchants a little velveteen pouch an gifts it to him. It never overflows and Birch can fit the whole forest in there if he wishes. It’s very handy to carry around when Birch is vagabond. Extremely light luggage.

- Torben also gifts Essi with a locket encapsulated with the essence of a star. Just enough heat and light to illuminate her way and keep her warm at night. It’s her prized possession.

- Birch is ace and a he/him nonbinary. He’s not entirely sure if he’s aro as he feels pretty picky about close friends too. but romance has never appealed to him much.

- Essi is bi. She’s only briefly been involved with like 3 people before meeting the love of her life, Sislaf.

- Torben is as fluid as can be. He doesnt really have a way to describe his sexuality, he just knows that he loves and loves and loves a lot. He’s a bit like Mymble in the sense that he dates a lot and is always very naive and devoted right away, only to get himself hurt later. He’s quite sensitive about all that.

Futures

- Once the kids are grown, they do end up going their separate ways in life but remain close and visit eachother frequently. They keep in contact by letters. Birch is eternally pissed about his messy handwriting compared to Essi’s beautiful scrawl and Torben’s neat yet flashy one.

- Torben becomes the Moominvalley Witch, now that Alicia’s family have moved on to other places. He builds himself a small cottage on the outskirts so he can have time alone to think and brew. He’s still a walking distance from his parents home though. Flying distance if he’s feeling lazy.

- Birch’s travels become longer and in time and through word of mouth, the tale he tells become quite well known. He’s a famous storyteller now, whether he wants to be or not. Luckily, he’s begrudgingly embraced it (better than Snufkin did with his fame) and spends a lot of time in taverns, entertaining the regulars.

- Essi was the one who found it the hardest to grow up. Shes a family oriented person so she didnt want to be alone but she also dreamed of adventure and couldnt just drag her whole family along with her (especially her papas who were at the point where they just wanted to rest and settle down) But she found her calling. Criminal. Leader of a pack of criminals actually. Some were old friends from moominvalley, some she met along the way but Essi was lucky enough to find herself a group that became like a family to her. They traveled land and sea, doing all the righteous work and righting the injustices that Snufkin used to do. Only this time, its not just one little man. Its one little woman and her gang.

- The siblings meet up a lot, usually around a campfire where they share a pipe and laugh about nostalgia. Torben’s particularly good at animating the smoke into moving images, while Birch tells a story to accompany it and Essi claps along. And even when shes grown and tough, during moments like this Essi still feels the comforting warmth of being a baby sister

10 notes · View notes

lordraveondagooseofdolallytap · 5 years ago

Photo

I assert ownership over this work

David Kitchen. March 24th 2020

Working the line

I’m going south-east on the A14 to a municipal park on the far side of Ipswich. I get an info text a few days ahead from the events company but it’s only the core stuff: working hours, type of event, where it’s at and who is in charge. And a reminder if your fifteen minutes late, the company call it a no show.

After delays at every junction and crawling traffic in between, I make it to the park gates for twelve. Maybe 20,000 Ricky (Soul Man) Palmer fans will be showing up shortly. Who the hell pays a £100 to see him?

Just about all the jobs on-site are for day workers who, like me are on zero-hour contracts. They were somewhere else yesterday and won’t be here tomorrow. It’s pointless asking any questions because they will know nothing beyond the confines of their remit. So I show my ID and drive into the park looking for clues as to where I should go. The fans will be parking up here to catch buses to the concert location in town. My job is to get them parked and then point them in the direction of their onward transport. I figure if I can see a double-decker bus then I should head in that direction. My job will be nearby.

And after a couple of false starts, blocked roads and a lot of frantic driving that’s what happens. I find a hole in a fence, drive my car through and park up in line along with the others.

The ‘Event Manager’ calls me over. He is The Somebody in overall charge of controlling car movement for this event. I worked with him at the Grand National back in April when it rained solidly for all three days. I don’t expect him to recognise me but he does. I’m old, I’m tall and I’m fat and I live in Norfolk and look a little like Mussolini so maybe I stand out. He gives me an orange Hi-Viz jacket which won’t fit across my belly. Its ten minutes to ‘gates open’. He points me on to another supervisor who is organising the teams. It’s good to be remembered. This game is transient. Every day another crowd of people to work with and another boss but reputations stick.

There are five thousand cars about to come through the gates of this park. Our job is to guide them, slot them into a fast-moving queue, direct them into one of four fields, and then park them up with their front bumper just hanging over the white paint line in the grass and with enough space either side of the car for the doors to open. Not an inch more. We place the cars in doubles: that is a front row which will pull out forward at the end of the day, and a backline which will reverse out. Either way, there is just enough space for a medium-sized family car to pull out, straighten up in one go and drive away before they hit the next set of doubles. Mobile homes and vans go at the end of the row and we don’t like them. They make our lines messy and take up scarce free spaces

Speed and flow are what it’s about. Moving wheels mean happy customers. Stop-wait-go gets them tetchy.

The last bus from here into the city concert venue is at 7 pm. At just after eleven the same buses will bring the people back but it’s a simpler task: we just man the channels and deal with blockages. I tell my boss it’s a lot like plumbing. His eyes light up. I tell myself the man is shocked that someone else gets it. That’s how I think of it. A large occupancy building with tanks and pipes to be supplied, filled and empties. No mistake there is a science to this. We are not just men and women in Hi-Viz. We are your secret heroes. Working at the job I get nice remarks shouted out through car window. “Thanks for getting us out so quick”. Things like that.

Twelve men of us line up alongside the company van. We will be at the centre of the operation today. Tasks are allocated, it’s a little like picking teams for sports. They need someone at the gate, someone at the junction, then two teams of three for the actual parking, then two more workers to cover disabled parking and drop-offs plus two for break cover. That’s twelve, no spare capacity for now but there could be a lad coming in later for a 2-8 shift. “It’s going to be hell-of-a hot day, we will get you extra breaks out of the heat”. Welcome words that lift us a little.

I’ve only known the people around me for a short time. I know who I want to work with and who I don’t. Its instinct. Your day can be hell if you stuck with a weirdo or thick bastard, or somebody with a bad attitude. And it makes you look bad. And the heat will compound it, its forecast a high of 34c and it will feel like a lot more out on this shade-less dusty field. I’m wearing my floppy white bush hat. The interior has a brown-yellow sweat line running all around the middle of the crown. Disgusting. And its smells. I get nobody I wanted.

Three of us start in the direction of Field Number One. We sort out jobs along the way. Director, Pointer, and a Parker. In time all will get a turn of each but its best for the first in as a parker to do it for a while. The pointer is important but the parker is king. It all rides on their speed and skill.

Coming over the field at a half gallop is the old half Indian guy I met when we're both doing Stonehenge Summer Solstice parking. Then I saw him at Santa Pod Raceway for a few days. Stan’s his name. Works as a pair with his wife. Both are in their seventies. Got a great big motor home. He shouts over at me, “Hey it’s Septic. I’m on Disabled Parking. God, I thought you were from up north”.

I holler back “Twenty years in Norfolk now. Try and keep up. Catch you for stories later”. Stan’s a great storyteller. Travelling types him and his wife both. They call me Septic. I’m a Patrick but they misheard it the first time.

We, the people who do this job term the field a ‘panel’. That’s the phrase used. A panel is divided into two halves, left and right. Our group go to the endpoint of the first white line, in the upper outer corner of the right panel. This will be our beginning point for the day. Our parking line is fifty yards long. We will fill that and then do a second line directly behind that first row of cars, then jump and repeat as the new drivers pick their way in our direction. This we will repeat all day long till the stream of cars slows, becomes a trickle and then ceases.

For now, I will be The Pointer. A late-middle-aged man called Tim, with a very tentative way about him will be The Director. He goes back to the feeder track which is marked out down the middle of the panel by cones and plastic tape. As the cars roll toward him over a dirt track he will direct them with an (emphatic) arm gesture to make a diagonal route across the grass in the direction of where we will be filling the parking line. Drivers are sneaky. They try and park in the wrong places. Seeking some imaginary advantage for the end of the day. Tim the Director Man has to spot these delinquents, these black sheep and like a good shepherd get them back to where they should be. Tim seems lacking in life force and I wonder if he has the neck to manage the task.

I am The Pointer Man. At the approach of a driver, I raise both arms like a flag to signal my presence and progress to ‘come-hither’ movements with outstretched hands. Drivers panic and go blind sometimes but I am their keeper. When the target is fifty yards out I drop one arm and make a precise pointing gesture with the other. The cars take a ninety-degree turn and at that moment see they are on a straight-line approach to a perfectly presented parking space and I hope they get the feeling that a pilot might get bringing his plane into land. I like to think like that when I am parking cars.

Our ‘Parker’ for now is ‘No-Nonsense Sue’, a big girl in her early twenties with fleshy arms. She stands on the line and as a car approaches raise a finger and sternly points at her feet. I will soon wonder why she does not smile.

These automobile pilots give themselves away. Some have overly generous ideas of themselves and like to do their own thing, and at speed. One must be careful of them. Others are smooth and precise. Their cars glide in, front wheels exactly on the line and front bumper hanging over just as they ought to. They lean out and ask “am I right” and I say “yes that’s great” or “you’re a champion” or something but I know that Sue will just grunt and step along to the next space along. Then you have the drivers who panic and forget how to drive and come close to running you over. They are the reason for standing to one side when the car is ten yards out. Some drivers turn into headless chickens and their feet lose all memory of which pedal to depress. These are the people who can break your legs or crush your feet.

Our little team are all in place and ready: knowing once the first car comes in sight that will be the beginning and we shall not rest again today without permission. I get on the radio and in my most confident voice say. “Norfolk Boy to control, Team A in position and ready, over”

Five minutes pass and then Car Number One appears from behind a row of trees half a mile away. Even from this distance, it’s possible to sense the driver’s hesitancy until they spot The Panel Man at the first right-angle junction, and pick up speed. It’s like the layout becomes suddenly clear and they proceed confidently point to point to point. It’s so like the game where silver balls roll through channels and drop into holes.

Then there is a second car, this driver watches the first and follows suit, and then a third and so on. In a minute or two it’s a stream. At the endpoint, we accept the flow and take it in. Fluidity is the aim. They move like a stream but when they arrive the cars present to us like a tilting wave and only the smallest of hand gestures are needed to bring them in. No delays and as they say, a frictionless experience.

Our team of three moves down the panel like an old fashioned teleprinter then switches across to the left side and starts over.

Two hours later it’s up at 34c and feeling hotter and we are sweat-soaked and caked in dust. Weary legs of course, but our brains are feeling fried. The Supervisor Man has been around with bottled water. It shifts the dust in your throat but we are working flat out and need a respite from the sun most of all. The boss gets this and over the radio drafts in the six-hour chap, Ronnie to replace each of us in turn for half an hour so we can get into the shade and have a break: eat some energy foods and rehydrate.

Tim is most exposed to the heat and dust so he is sent off first. This allows a switch around. Sue goes out to Tim’s spot and Ronnie becomes The Parking Man. He wanted it.

I know his face. He did the heritage drag-racing event at Santa Pod but worked on a different panel. There was some kafuffle involving him but I am struggling to remember details and dismiss the mental alarm, then drift onto other thoughts. Men called Ronnie should not look like him. They should be in their mid-fifties, five feet ten, broad in the beam and be fans of Rugby Union and time in the bar. Ronnie’s that age but the rest is wrong. Spindly, excessively thin, angular and jerky of movement and everything a little too fast and intense. The sight of him made me uneasy. The tingling alarm in my brain is active again.

The Supervisor Man rolls over in a company van. One of the younger ones, an easy manner, burly, ruddy face, thick tufty red hair, looks like he should have been a hill farmer. His backstory, I find out later is the army and being unable to settle to anything afterwards. I learn this and more bits over the next few hours. He goes from one event to the next all summer, working seventy hour weeks and sleeping in his motorhome. There are a wife and kids in Cheltenham. I ponder on how that might work.

He leaps off the front seat of the van like a latter-day cowboy “Hi how’s it going? I know. You’re doing great. Everything flowing easy. No back up on the A14 or even at the roundabout outside the gate. The police are happy and that means the promoters are as well. It’s bloody hot so one of the girls went out and got us Ice-Pops. Put them in your pockets, till you have a chance. They will cool your balls off”.

All this is said while the cars are flowing, I’m a man that needs a hearing aid but this man’s voice carries and can be heard over anything else. “It’s just turned 2.30, between now and five is the peak, then by seven it’s all done with those going in. Then we rest till ten when they all come back and fingers crossed we get them all out easy”.

Ron bawls out “we are the team skipper, we shan’t let you down”. We all cringe and sense immediately we are no longer a team. Supervisor Man looks ill at ease, hands out the ice pops and gets away.

Ron shouts over at me, “I used to be in food and pharma process technology. It’s all the same. Keeping the shit moving hey?” Ron proves to be pickier than most about the positioning of the cars and is not your man for banter and rapport with drivers. The idiot is passively rude to people and that puts my teeth on edge. Part of this job is Show Business. Moving along, giving it some spiel, getting a laugh from the punters and keeping people on side… and happy. A bit of all that and the punters will do anything for you. Ron is odd and I am thinking about how to get rid of him.

It’s just then that an Indian lad, possibly a college student and his friends, in tiny three-door leaves too big a gap between himself and the previous car, a Merc and rolls well over the line so his bonnet is a clear metre ahead of all the others. Ron barks at him “back up my friend and come in again, and this time watch and follow my instructions, hey?” The driver is looking like he has been zapped with a stunner and in his incomprehension puts a foot on the wrong pedal and almost scuttles Ron, who curses obscenely, waves his arms and shouts “back! Back! You stupid twat”. The lad finds reverse and backs up a little too fast in my direction. I jump out of the way and he almost hits a Bedford van coming in. Ron directs him forward again and brings him in too close to the Merc. The passenger door won’t open but Ron ignores this and moves on with a dismissive gesture.

That mess up has caused a delay and given us a problem. I scream over at Sue to stop the cars at her point on the track. I have ten cars all askew in the field and two are driving off in their own chosen direction to find a spot. I shout at all my drivers (if they are on my panel then they are mine) and tell them to stop and there you have a snapshot of human nature. The ones who instinctively think of the common good and the other lot who hate self-important fat old bastards in Hi-Viz jackets like me telling them what to do.

I call over at Ron, “Hey mate, are we good to go again?”

And he bawls back “everything under control here. Roll ‘em big fella”.

I hate Ron…

Supervisor Man comes over on the radio. “Is there a problem? The cars aren’t moving down here at the gate?

“Ron here, no problems skipper, just some Western Oriental Gentlemen who cannot drive. On track now”

Supervisor Man snaps back, “Ron we cannot talk like that, please stay professional on the radio”. Reggie’s face fills up red. Starts at his neck and rises. He is the colour of beetroot.

I glance back over at ‘No-Nonsense Sue’ on the access track. She is bent over a car window. I can just see a young woman shouting at her, and then the driver pulls hard right and speeds at ninety degrees to the middle of the panel entirely ignoring us. Other cars break out of line and follow suit and in a second this insubordination has spread and maybe half of the hundred cars in the queue break out and drive off in every direction…something that reminds me of one of those starburst fireworks.

I turn back and see the most astonishing thing, Ron is aiming punches at the face of an old man in an ancient Morris Traveller who is using his forearms to shield his head. “Ron, Ron what you doing man?”

“Norfolk Boy to control. We have a problem. Could you stop all traffic at the gate until we sort this out? We have lost…” And that’s when Ron punched me on the chin and I fall to the ground like a felled tree. He leaps onto my body, places a knee ether side my torso, and then puts his hands around my neck. My denture plate has snapped with the punch and has fallen into the back of my throat. I’m choking but manage to grab Ron by his ears, fold my right leg and push off with that so we roll over and I spit my teeth out. Ron scrambles back on top of me so I kick off against the ground some more and we roll again. Cars and vans are treating us like a traffic island and driving to the left and right. Ron’s is screaming something about standards and trying to push his thumbs into my eyes.

2 am. The whole site is empty apart from our cars and a couple of wind up, illumination towers. Stan and I are the only ones left on the site apart from Mark, the Supervisor Man who is down by the gate talking with the police about Ron. Our timesheets need signing before we head off so we wait.

I’m having some problems swallowing, there’s grazes on my back and head, and a black eye is coming out. I ache rather than hurt. Ron was pulled off me by Sue who then decked him with a head butt. I am grateful. I suspect his time in food and pharma process technology had not been without issue.

Stan’s day has been quiet over in disabled parking. No more than twelve cars all day and all very civilised and social. Drivers and passengers spread themselves out on the grass for picnics. Stan sat in, chatted and shared their sandwiches. Of course all the shouting and the sound of car horns and revving engines had drifted over on the wind but at his age, he felt it best to remain at his post.

“Me and my wife are having a crisis”. Their youngest daughter: a first-time mother at forty has just had a baby. “Septic, the wife wants to settle. Rent a flat somewhere near our daughter and help with the baby. I want to see the kid… of course I do, but don’t see myself in a pokey flat on an estate in Barking. I thought she would keep with me but seems this is it. So it’s going to be good friends and past good companions and I don’t know what else if anything. I’m flying off to Toronto tomorrow night. This game and bar work will fund my doings all the summer”.

I tell Stan I’m flying out to Samarkand in September and joining the Silk Road all the way back to Istanbul. Backpacking, trains, buses and cheap smelly hotels. “If the company has not been doing their criminal records check, I could be in for a bonus”.

Stan puts on his wistful philosophical face, this man could turn a watering can into an object lesson about life, and “Who would have known it Septic? Looking at two old buggers like us in our Hi-Viz, who would credit it? We are like modern day cowboys. Battered but undefeated. Riding till we drop. Yes, I’m telling you, we are modern-day cowboys…who park cars”.

youtube

#Short Story #creative writing #Latterday #cowboys #event car parking

0 notes

muszyart · 5 years ago

Text

Ewoye and the Rain: Short Story

(Short Story) In a dry season, a boy and his best friend, the village bard, journey throughout the five villages and wonder when the rain will come.

In the last village, on the edge of the world —well, the Frenchman says there is more world beyond— there lived a boy named Ewoye. The other boys in the village found him strange. He was always asking questions about the world and nature, or what he called “the Green,” that they could not answer. They would often laugh at him. But all that did not matter to Ewoye, because he spent all of his time with Old Bako.

Old Bako was a griot: a musician and storyteller, and to Ewoye, he had all the answers. The stars, the trees, the grasslands, the flowers, the crops, where they all came from, where are the Frenchmen from, who built the five villages, and everything else in the Green could be explained through a story. One about the spirits, their ancestors, or the legendary hero Endegwe the Builder.

Occasionally, the land of the five villages would have a dry season. But this dry season lasted longer than any usual one, and the elders became worried. This made the grown-ups worried. To the other children, this problem did not really matter at all. But this did make Ewoye confused.

“When will the rain come?” Ewoye would ask his father.

“I do not know. But I hope it does.” His father would sigh.

“When will the rain come?” Ewoye would ask his mother.

“After the last four times, I still do not know.” His mother would groan.

“When will the rain come?” Ewoye would ask the Frenchmen.

“I not know when come rain. Only Lord know.” A Frenchman would say, smile, and point at the sky. This made Ewoye even more confused. It is the gods and spirits who control the rain, why would the lord –the king– of the center village know?

“When will the rain come?” Ewoye would ask Old Bako.

To which Old Bako would say: “The rain will come when it comes. Now, let me tell you a story.” He would place Ewoye down from his shoulders, tune his khalam, pound his drum, and begin.

The first week after the dry season was to have ended, people were worried yet hopeful. Old Bako and Ewoye went to the ovens, for Old Bako needed to make bricks to repair his well. The ovens usually bake bread and yams, but without a new harvest, people wanted to save their stores. Ewoye asked his question, and Old Bako told his tale.

He told the story of how Endegwe built the ovens. The hero had challenged the Water Goddess, so for her first test, she made it rain forever and no one could cook food with fires.

“Oh, how I wish we could have rain forever!” Ewoye interrupted. Bako stopped playing and dancing and glared at him.

“No interrupting!”

“But I’ve heard this one-”

“Ewoye!”

Endegwe searched far and wide for a dry place to make bricks for a dozen ovens. Eventually, he found a cave where the monster, Ikemba, lived. Ikemba, hairy, with sharp claws and fangs, the size of the tallest tree and the largest hut, roared and challenged Endegwe. The hero grabbed his spear that he always had ready and the two fought, neither could outmatch the other. They reached an agreement: Endegwe could use the cave and build the ovens; however, the food they would produce would only feed the monster. Endegwe agreed, but while he built the ovens, he also built a wall at the entrance of the cave, explaining it needed to block out any rain that would come in. Endegwe would always slip through a small entrance to lay the bricks he would make, and once he was finished, he sealed it. The wall was so strong that the monster could never come out to eat the people’s food.

Ewoye knew the story and enjoyed it, but he did not see how it explained the rain. The second week after the dry season was to have ended, people were anxious. Old Bako and Ewoye went to the bridge to fish, but it was so dry they could simply grab the fish from puddles. Ewoye asked his question, and Old Bako told his tale.

The Water Goddess knew that Endegwe’s best friend, Okorie, lived on the other side of the river in his own village. So she overfilled the stream and summoned a wind spirit to live in it, so the water always rushed rapidly towards the sea. No traveler could cross. But Endegwe and Okorie worked together felling nearby trees and throwing them across. Three times they attempted to build a bridge, tossing materials to each other from each side. The first was of log, which the wind spirit knocked into the river. The second one was of planks which the wind spirit knocked into the river. The third one of bricks was and still is magnificent. Because of their perseverance, the wind spirit grew tired and returned to the grasslands.

Ewoye knew the story and enjoyed it, but he did not see how it explained the rain. The third week, the fourth week, the fifth week after the dry season was to have ended, people were desperate. The Frenchmen began to move away, back to their village across the sea, saying the land was lost. The Green began to wither. The soft, green grass turned into hard, stringy yellow. The leaves of the trees turned brown and their branches slanted and sagged. Food was scarce.

And Ewoye asked his question many times, and Old Bako told many tales. The third week, he told the story of how the Water Goddess sent sea folk to attack the center village, Endegwe’s village, and the hero, in order to stop them, quickly built the great walls in one day while they marched. The fourth week, he told the story of Endegwe and the Great Wave, when the Water Goddess wanted to wash away all his villages. But the hero built the dam, and the Great Wave could not climb over it. The fifth week he told the story of Endegwe’s canal, when the Water Goddess gave Endegwe a final test, by drying up the river they depended on, so the hero built the canal, which diverted water from the largest rivers in order to save the Green.

Bako always enjoyed telling his tales to Ewoye, but each day he grew more and more tired. He did not eat. He did not drink any water, he always gave it to Ewoye. The boy loved these stories, but his father and mother were tired and sad, the rest of the village were desperate and confused– and Bako never answered his question. He snapped.

“Bako! You won’t tell me why the rain doesn’t come! I’ve heard all these stories before, and they don’t make me happy anymore. We’re hungry, we’re thirsty. The Frenchmen are gone. The gods and the spirits hate us, and all you’re doing is telling stories!”

Bako closed his eyes. And he said. “The rain will come when it comes.” After their fight, Ewoye’s mother wanted him to stay home in order to help her with the chores.

After a long day in the field, Ewoye’s father finally came home. He did not walk proudly through the door like he always did.

“Father, what is wrong?” Ewoye asked.

“Have courage son, I just heard. Old Bako has died.” Ewoye’s heart shattered. His eyes darkened. His back bent.

“What happened?” His mother sobbed.

“He died in his sleep. I only heard from neighbor Emeka while going home."

Ewoye did not eat. He did not speak. He could not sleep. He would have cried a river of tears if the world was not so dry. In bed, he stayed quiet, with his father and mother close. He closed his eyes, his eyelids sealed with saltwater, and Ewoye’s mind wandered throughout a forest of his memories, searching for Old Bako. He will never again awake to Old Bako playing the drum. He will never again lay beside the old man, gazing at the stars or the Green. Never again sit on Old Bako’s strong shoulders. Never again hear all of the stories of Endegwe the Builder. Never again would they be told by Old Bako. Ewoye found his father’s axe, and he began hacking at the trees. He began to destroy the Green and every tree came crashing down, but each one grew back immediately. Everything turned dark. Blindly, he chopped. He hacked. He screamed. But he could still hear Old Bako humming. He could still smell his cooking. He could still feel the earth shake when he danced while telling his stories. Ewoye’s mind could not forget any of it. And suddenly his eyes opened.

The world came back to him. The insects still chirping, and the stars still in the sky. He wanted to leave, but his mother, still asleep, was holding him close. His father laid on his back, the hut creaked with his every breath. Ewoye couldn’t leave the forest, and he couldn’t leave the house. He couldn’t cry, but he couldn’t be happy. Instead, he cursed the gods. He cursed them for taking the Green. He cursed them for taking the water. He cursed them for taking Old Bako.

A spirit must have taken pity on Ewoye, for he awoke late in the morning, after a long and restful sleep. He got dressed, he grabbed his things, and he made his way to Old Bako’s hut just like he always did. Ewoye thought about how this would be the last time that he would take this path.

“I’m sorry.” The last Frenchman said when Ewoye entered the house. The medicine man was there saying goodbye to the family. “Heat. Must put Bako in dirt quick.”

Ewoye could never understand the Frenchmen. But the last Frenchman’s eyes spoke a language that he knew. Ewoye nodded his head and turned towards the door, but one of Old Bako’s daughters stopped him.

She carefully held in her hands Old Bako’s drum and khalam. Old Bako would always mention how his father gave him the old khalam, that one of his ancestors had carved the instrument’s body, but the strings were always new. Ewoye stood there silent for a long time. Confused and saddened to see the khalam, not on Bako’s back, and the drum not under his arm, the two were as a part of him as his arm or leg.

“He would have liked you to have them.” She smiled. The kind woman placed them in his shaking hands. “Take them.”

The rest of the household smiled. The Frenchman smiled. Ewoye hugged her, then ran out of the door, to the land of mud and clay.

Ewoye ran, but first, he grabbed his father’s axe. He ran around the ovens, under the bridge, past the walls, across the dam, and through the canal. He raced through the wilted fields and brittle forests of the five villages until finally, he came to the land of mud and clay. Old Bako once told him that the spirits live in this place. The good are buried in the clay and the evil spirits drown in the wet mud. He found where Bako was buried and placed his instruments down. He was going to build something for Bako, so everyone would remember him. Just like Endegwe.

He needed to make a spear, a branch would not do, so he decided to find a thin tree. He swung his father’s axe, it was heavy, and the tree was strong. The blade bounced off the trunk and Ewoye fell. The boy scrambled up, and he swung again. The blade lodged into the tree, but the log did not fall. He cursed and attempted to dislodge it. He pulled and pulled and finally the blade broke free, but the sharp wood scratched Ewoye. He shrieked with pain and fell to the ground. How could he build something for Bako when he cannot chop a tree? Ewoye stood up and swung with all his might, with anger and courage, this time, he remembered Bako, he remembered Endegwe, and he remembered the Green. The blade smoothly sliced through the thin tree. He shaped it and sharpened it, this would be his spear. The mud was dangerous, evil spirits lurked there.

The mud he would bake into bricks. All in rows, long little piles on dried bark and leaves. Eventually, he fell, tired, needing rest, and he realized he had never seen so many bricks. He must have made hundreds of them. He laid down for a brief moment, then shot straight up. There was no time, the bricks needed to bake in the sun, but he needed to protect them from the evil spirits. He kept his spear close.

Finally, Ewoye built higher and higher, laying the bricks with his spear close by. Every noise he would hear from the mud, he would jump from his work, spear at the ready, and patrol around the site to make sure he was not sabotaged, just like Endegwe. He placed and climbed and built, with the same raw power he had in his dream. He used it not to destroy but to create. Tears dripped from the corners of his eyes. As the sun began to set, Ewoye jumped down from what he had built. A tower, taller than any man, even his father. A tower of bricks, so anyone near could see and remember Bako. One could climb to the top and watch the sunset, just like Ewoye would on Bako’s back. He went home in triumph. His father was proud. His mother was overjoyed. That night he slept happily.

Then it rained.

#things fall apart #short story #historical fiction #flash fiction #folklore

0 notes

nuzblog · 7 years ago

Text

November 2nd, 2017

Hey there everyone. So... how about that failure, right? It disheartened me a bit, but I'm fine, I'm back at 'em, I'm ready to rumble! I did transfer everyone, living and dead, to my Pokemon Bank. By the by, the theme was South Park characters. Not sure what made me pick that, but it worked out fine.

I restarted yesterday, and I also got to Cerulean again yesterday, so we're gonna be rushing through things. A lot of it was pretty uneventful, but even still there's a lot to cover, so let's get going! But first, I do want to say that while the ruleset hasn't changed yet, if it does prove too difficult yet again, I might just end up changing it. "No healing items in battle" is a popular one, and it is definitely the healing-related rules that have been the biggest obstacle for me. We'll see how it goes. If you have any rule suggestions for the event of a fourth failure, send them in!

I named my player Arthur. Why? Because I was watching a Potter Puppet Pals video when I did the restart, and wanted a name that wasn't like, immediately identifiable as Potter-related, but was still. So I named him after Ron's dad. My rival, on the other hand, is named Dingus, because... he's a Dingus. I dunno if I like the whole thing of like, naming the rival an insult, but at least Dingus is relatively innocuous. And I... am bad at thinking of names!

I rolled my random calculator and got a Squirtle, who I named Minos. As before, if anyone catches onto the naming convention, you can get one of the Pokemon from the run!

Same ol' routine as ever. Potion, parcel, a level up on Route 1, heal at home, deliver the parcel, get the dex, then back up to the Mart for balls relatively uneventfully. Once I have balls, I decide that captures are gonna be top priority, starting on Route 1, which yields a Pidgey! Aaand... I killed it. This bodes well. Oh well, there are other Routes!

Route 2 yields... another Pidgey! This one, I caught. Its name is Horus.

Route 22 yields a Rattata. Oh well. No Nidoran for me! I name the Rattata Pincho, and get grinding on Route 1.

Whoops. I was spacing out, not really worrying about grinding, and, well. Pincho doesn't quite make it. Oh well! I'm sure I'll see another Rattata somewhere. Not that I really need one.

Speaking of spacing out while grinding, I may have done it a little much. Both Horus and Minos ended up being Level 12 here, which is... quite a bit more than Dingus' Pidgey or Bulbasaur who I still haven't fought. Curious, I decide to head up to Viridian first, to catch something there, exhausting my options, since 2 Pokemon isn't much.

In Viridian Forst, I catch a Metapod, whose name is Xuth. Now, the thing about Metapod, is that it only knows Harden. This guy is Level 5, meaning I need to get it to Level 10 to evolve it using the switch out method. This... takes a while. I do try for it, first by grinding in the grass, and then, frustrated by how long that is taking, I decide to go fight the trainers in Viridian Forest. My free Antidote from the tree is depleted pretty quickly, and while the XP haul is pretty solid... in a battle, both Horus and Minos get poisoned, and me with no Antidotes. I count my steps carefully, using the first of my two Potions on Minos before even leaving the forest. Horus had more health left, and it was my hope that it would survive on the way to the Pokemon Center, which I also didn't want to use, since I had hoped to have it still unused before Giovanni, but we don't always get what we want, right?

Unfortunately, Horus was at one health just outside of the Center. It was pretty hilarious, but it also meant I had to use my other potion, depleting both of my Potions AND my Pokemon Center heal from Viridian City. Pretty bogus!

When Xuth does hit level 10, it evolves into Butterfree... and I realize that Butterfree learning Confusion at Level 10 wasn't the case until Yellow. In Blue, it still only knows Harden for two more levels. Not patient enough for that, I go ahead and box Xuth up to fight Dingus. Who... crumples like paper to my way overleveled Horus and Minos. Welp! No problems there. Better than losing, anyway.

Since I've already cleared out the forest, heading back up through it to Pewter is no problem at all. I grind on Route 2 (Pewter side) until Xuth learns Confusion, I heal in Pewter City, I box up Horus, and I face Brock. Who... I also crush with no effort. Again - overleveled, a little. I don't even need to heal again afterwards - I just go right through Route 3, easily tearing apart trainers on the way.

Speaking of Route 3, I do get to encounter another Pokemon there! It's a Spearow! Normally, this wouldn't be particularly exciting, but in this generation, I could trade a Spearow for a Farfetch'd, so I'm pretty down to catch it... and then Minos crits and murders it. This is the downside to being overleveled - everything is cardboard, even the stuff that I don't WANT to kill.

I heal outside of Mt. Moon, and head in. My catch there is, of course, a Zubat. (Someday I'll hit that 5% and get a Paras...!) I name it Vlad. I'm... probably just plain not gonna use it? It's so garbage. I carry it with me but I don't grind it or train it at all. It's still at the level 7 I caught it at.

Mt. Moon is Mt. Moon. Again, I'm overleveled, so it isn't giving me very much trouble. I do go back to use my Brock heal before facing the fossil nerd, but that's more because Confusion was out of PP than anything else. While in Mt. Moon, since out of the 7 Pokemon I could have, I only have and am using 3, and they're already high level, my team stays ahead of the curve. Minos evolves into Wartortle, and Horus evolves into Pidgeotto.

I pick the Helix Fossil this time, but again - I'm not reviving any Fossils. I still want to do... Things, with Cinnabar Island.

Leaving Mt. Moon on the Cerulean side, I do catch a Spearow on Route 4, making up for the last one I killed but also depriving me of that sweet sweet Sandshrew. Ah, Leopold... we hardly knew thee. Oh well! Spearow's name is Lanius. As I said, I'm probably gonna trade this for a Farfetch'd in Vermillion City. I actually am shocked I caught it, given that it also took the brunt of a critical Tackle, and ended up holding on with one health.

In Cerulean, my team consists of Vlad at Level 7 who I'm probably about to box, Lanius at level 12 who I'll be trading but I'll use until then (actual flying type moves are nice!), Minos at level 18, Horus at level 19, and Xuth at level 19. Like I said - overleveled.

How's that for pacing? From start to Cerulean in one day!

Next time: Rival, Bill, maybe Misty? Also captures on Routes 24 and 25!

November 3rd, 2017

Just kidding. It's actually this time. I kept playing after I wrote that, but didn't actually make enough progress to make into its own post.

After the briefest spark of grinding, I potion up, shove Vlad into his home in the box, and head for Nugget Bridge, preparing to fight my rival. My plan at this point: Start with a Pidgeotto vs Pidgeotto, no items, final destination, sending out Horus at the lead. Switch to Lanius to mooch XP off of Abra. Rattata has the strongest base power attack here, with Hyper Fang, so Minos, with the highest defense, goes next, and then for type effectiveness, Lanius goes up against Bulbasaur until it's too weak to risk, and then switch to Xuth. Nice, safe plan... right?

Well, while it would be good storytelling to have such a plan go horribly wrong, things do not always work out quite so poetically when documenting true events. My plan was executed, with Horus's weakening to 8hp in the process of battling Pidgeotto as the one point of concern in an otherwise easy battle. Abra is, of course, of no worry (yet!), and Rattata goes right down in one hit. Sweet litttle new-to-the-team Lanius, shockingly enough, holds its own, not even needing to fall back to Xuth to finish the job on Dingus' starter.

Nugget Bridge is, from there, pretty easy. I'm past a point where money is hard to come by, and I have no qualms with spending the vast majority of funds at this point on potions (although I do stock up on repels, in the event that they become advantageous for trying to get certain Pokemon as first encounters, or for protecting my ass from death). As such, I'm going through Nugget Bridge a lot smarter. Also, having both Peck AND Confusion in the party made the still imposing Level 18 Mankey a piece of cake. For that matter, much the same strategy holds for Route 25.

Speaking of the routes, on the other side of Nugget Bridge, I make sure my first step is to enter the tall grass, before fighting any trainers. First, I avoid the Jr. Trainer to get in the grass further towards Cerulean on Route 24. My encounter here is an Abra! Alas, my kingdom for a Great Ball. I take the chance of throwing a ball at it, and of course it fails amd Abra teleports away.

I head right over to Route 25's grass, behind the hiker there. It's... ANOTHER ABRA. CHRIST. I throw my ball, and because of the consistently EXTRAORDINARY luck of this run through, it of course doesn't miss.

Also hey, what's the deal with dual-encounters in this run? Route 1 Pidgey killed, Route 2 Pidgey caught immediately after. Route 3 Spearow killed, Route 4 Spearow caught just on the other side of Mt. Moon. Route 24 Abra ran, Route 25 Abra ran. Weird stuff!

Anyway in retrospect, my chances would probably have been better if I had Xuth in front to use stun spore. Sigh. Not that they would have been good chances anyway.

Still, hurts to not have that Bellsprout for Misty.

Anyway, Route 25 ends up taking enough out of me PP-ways that, as I had already expected, I needed to use my Cerulean City heal. But, unlike last attempt - no disastrous loss of party here. All good, all around. I get to Bill no problem and I clear out the route no problem. Then, I get going on grinding a bit, making sure to hit the gym trainers. Lanius is now Level 19, just one below Xuth's 20, which is itself just below Horus and Minos' shared 21. This is a much better level situation to be in than last time. I use my heal from defeating Dingus...

And pause there, before fighting Misty. I do teach Minos the TM Mega Punch, though. My current plan, when I resume play, is to use Minos and Horus. But I'm gonna make sure I get this out FIRST. Like as in I'm gonna post it right now.

#entries #pokemon #pokemon blue #nuzlocke

1 note · View note