#perhaps a sword would take it to an even higher notch. but would it be worth the casualties? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Ash Pt 15

Lip quivering the small boy in a tall tower inside an endless sea of creatures sure to tear him limb from limb he clung to the stuffed dog in a try to ignore the chain around his ankle. The Shadow Man wasn’t just in his dreams anymore. He had been in his room when he woke from his dream and snatched by the ankle and flown to this terrible place in a plume of smoke he just clenched his eyes and clung tight to the dog doll with an endless string of prayers that somehow he could be saved from this.

They had left him alone all night with just a worm infested clump of bread beside some sour smelling water in a tarnished and rusted cup. They left him alone. But they were coming back. He knew that. They had to. He offered them the ring he found and he begged and pleaded and apologized for taking it but that wasn’t what the Shadow Man wanted. Estel had no clue what he wanted, other than whoever Aragorn could be. The ring had been taken and slung around his neck on a rust coated necklace and each time he tried the boy couldn’t lift it with his hands even an inch. So all he had was the stuffed dog to cling to and his repeated prayers to the sound of a storm rolling in.

Mordor. The sight of it dropped the heart of every warrior on board. However to split the silence in your guide of the ship higher beneath you after a hushed conference on what you might expect Saruman raised his staff and beneath you summoned a storm to aid in cover from the enemy filled city. All around the chanting Wizard guards readied their bows to grant cover in case spotted, each comforted that at least you would have the higher ground advantage while you managed to uncover where exactly in the city Estel was.

Beside NoNo you stood on the front balcony to her whine and sudden drop back into her doll form that you bent to lift and lower into your bag resting at your hip that to the flinch of hope to those who saw gave warning that the boy was at least within ten miles away. Raggedly side to side the braid you had pulled your hair back into whipped back and forth while your eyes scanned over the bodies in the city beneath the clouds that were closing in and lighting up with flickers and streaks of lightning that Saruman hoped would drive the orcs and goblins for cover to grant you more of a chance to sneak the boy out unnoticed.

“Please tell me you have a plan that does not involve you leaving this ship.” Thranduil said that turned your head to look up at his tear brimmed eyes. “I cannot give another to this cursed city.”

“I have a ship and a compass. I wish I had a plan to tell you.”

“Your Highness. The compass is glowing,” Tauriel said in her approach turning both of your heads.

To that you said, “Means we’re right on top of him.” Back towards the back of the ship you walked however to avoid the growing argument that the Elf Lords seemed to be locked in to the side of the ship near the door you darted and leapt over the side silencing them in Thranduil’s broken call of your name. Over the edge of the ship right behind you a five foot long swan glider with a seven foot wingspan flipped out of its mount and dove underneath your feet and knees when you lowered onto it on all fours. Another feature the former ships did not have and through the churning clouds they caught glimmers of the glider that in the flip they saw the bottom was mirrored to disguise you at least from underneath.

There wasn’t time for them to have sat there and talk the argument down. Exactly what they were fighting over had you leap over the side. Estel was alone and needed you. No matter how furiously your heart pounded in each use of these gliders and how to activate them in the first place you had to go now. So down between the storm clouds you plummeted until the glider you knew would soar after you had met the soles of your boots and hovered to let you drop to all fours and lock your palms onto the rotating controlling overlapped rings. Even through the rough choppy wind and rain that stung your body the lower you dropped over the city packed with roars. Without the compass the best guess you took for a hiding spot would be the tower out of grey stone across from the one in the distance with a red beam of light firing out of it on a slow swivel. Down lower in a fight against the next harsh gust of wind to a sudden jagged streak of lightning across the sky that shot down to zap a wooden hut far below that burst into flames even with the harsh rain.

Bounces up and down found you stubbornly at the nearest window that you rapidly dropped out of sight from it at the gnarled face on the other side of it on a spike that another one armed gnarled figure was carrying around to mount near to the other spiked heads along the wall. Around the side of the tower you steered and went around to the next two windows until you rose up on your knees to the sight of Estel curled around your stuffed dog. Anxiously you wet your lips ensuring he was alone and to a lean into the open window frame without bars or glass pane you said, “Psst,” The noise opened the boy’s eyes and timidly they rose to watch your hand shift in a circle with fingers extended to disintegrate the chain on his ankle. “Come here,” you whispered and waved him over.

An unnecessary hand motion as he shot up to his feet and raced over to the window that you awkwardly squeezed your arm and shoulder through the grab and lift him into then out of to settle on your lap. His hands fixed tight onto your shirt while you said, “Hold tight, up we go.” You said and rapidly turned the controller to shoot straight up with your free arm around the back of the boy curled up against your belly and chest. The sudden sight of the glider again and not one but two bodies had everyone sigh in relief with each of them readying to grab the pair of you in case the landing of the glider would be rough. Quite gracefully however you came to a hover in a clear square of the ground they emptied just for you and the boy who sniffled in his gladdened murmur, “I knew you were after me. Shadow Man wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Gandalf came closer to Elrond’s shared swoop in to claim the boy for a tight embrace only to pause at the sight of the ring around his neck that you asked, “Where did you get that ring?”

Lip quivering to the max tearfully he said, “I found Shadow Man’s ring, and he wouldn’t accept my apology. Then he made me wear this ring on this itchy chain and he gave me wormy bread and sour water,” loudly he gasped for air still struggling to not burst fully into tears and ruin his explanation now that he was safe again. “Then he put me in chains.”

Elladan, “Chains?!”

You glanced from him to Estel again then to the boy to say, “Let’s take it off then,”

Gandalf, “Do not touch it!” Your eyes shifted to him and he continued, “It must be destroyed and you must not touch it, through us it could wield unworldly powers.”

“Ok…destroy it, sounds fine. No touching, got it. We going back to Rivendell then?”

Elrond answered that for you, “We must cast it back into the flames from whence it came. The Fires of Mt Doom.”

Curiously you blinked in wait for an explanation as to where or what Mt Doom was. The ship took a broad turn to not disturb the raging storm below still held by Saruman in his chants that never faltered the realization that Estel couldn’t get the necklace off even after you broke the clasp meant the small boy had to come with you to the lazily smoking dormant volcano at the other end of the city.

“It won’t come off,” Estel said to another failed attempt to remove the loose chain from the ring that seemed to be magnetized to his chest.

Elrond then still on his knee locked eyes with the boy to say, “Estel, you are going to have to come with us. I know this will be frightening but we are going to need you to be very brave. Once we get inside the mountain perhaps together we can manage a way to get the ring off of you.”

His eyes simply shifted to you in his ease of the stuffed dog in his arm a bit higher on his chest, “As long as I can take the dog with me.”

You nodded in note of the volcano the ship was aimed for and answered, “TikTik can come too.”

He nodded and his eyes shifted to your side and his free hand rose to clutch three of your fingers his small hand could fix around that much to the dislike of the Elves and Wizards who had seen you leap off the side of the ship had wished to coax you into remaining behind safe on the ship. Red patches were seen underneath the darkening clouds when you peeked over the side to peer at showed the light scanning over the city now erupting in roars and horns.

Elrond on his feet sighed and fixed his hand in the hilt of his sword to Glorfindel’s statement of, “It would appear they know Estel is missing.”

Thranduil remained fixed behind you glaring down at the clouds mentally preparing for anything to keep you safe. Shouting at himself for not having ordered someone to have fetched your armored outer robe from your travels like so many other guards who were surrounding you.

Suddenly a loud ear ringing screech with a pained squint of your eyes you saw the black worm faced Fell Beast that above the clouds rose to take flight as was ordered to do so. Sight of the rider on its back had your hand rise to fire from the side of the ship a pulse of yellow light that blasted the spiked club wielding armored creature that flew off over then through the clouds. The act long enough for Legolas to have dropped his hands from his ears to notch and fire off an arrow that had the beast plummet right after its rider for a thunderous crash and a chorus of screams and perplexed shouts to arms of the mysterious threat from above. Tremors in the earth followed after with angered swivels of the red beam of light that had you ask, “What is that lighthouse for?”

Thranduil, “That is no lighthouse. That is the watchtower of Sauron’s fea, the last piece of him here in these lands to corrupt these lands and people. Bound to that ring, we destroy it he is wiped out of this world and we can cleanse our lands and find peace.”

“Ah, so it was possession,” you said in the clear eye stinging waft of sulfur as the ship came to a dip beneath the clouds. The bowmen now all readied again to the second and third Fell Beast shot them down to crash into the city below before another debilitating screech could be unleashed. If you had imagined you had the essence of surprise that all faded when all you could see was red. A turn of your head had the source easily spotted as the giant eye topped tower with its red beam fixed on each and every one of you.

All at once the world seemed to slow to the growth of that same echoed whisper you heard from that same cauldron. Through the muffled haze the hand on your back jerked you back to the present. And the magma lit entryway had your focus again to Thranduil’s shout to name Tauriel in charge of the Silvan forces in his absence knowing Legolas wouldn’t wish to remain on board even if he had bound and gagged him on the lowest level with your potato plants. Down you bent to lift and prop Estel on your hip for the leap from the side door onto the ledge the ship hovered a couple feet away to avoid scraping the mountain. The distance was easily leapt and once aside your eyes swept over the city with numbers forming lines to charge up the mountain as you back stepped away from the beam of red light that began to glow brighter in the anger of the being powering the light.

Saruman above against the strain of whatever the light was inflicting upon him continued to channel the thrashing clouds and walls of rain with ample jolts of lightning to fire down upon the dark metal clad creatures that amply acted as perfect targets for each attack. Gandalf however leapt down in a joint agreed act to aid in your defense not knowing how powerful you might be after having heard of little to no magical spurts from you since being freed from your poison by Radagast.

Plumes of ghostly smoke appeared around the whole group and while you clutched Estel close to your side the armed Elf Lords encircled you both in Gandalf’s shift of his staff to have hold of it with both hands. Nine ghostly dark robe and armor clad figures wreathed in shadows and smoke chose their targets and in the split of the group to avoid the backswing of a blade you slipped from the group. While the swings of those you left behind varied between useful in collisions with the blades of the specters or blew right through their phantom bodies that had them then avoid the return attacks. Gandalf however to help Legolas with the approaching duo of black Fell Beasts sent off a beam of light that had his turn from the ship sparing them and granting the Prince time to finish with a second arrow to kill his and notch then release a third that killed the blinded one right away.

Towards the doorway you hurried in a means to simply get in and find a way to get the ring off of Estel’s chest only to squeak in the arrival of a ten foot figure in your path wielding a jagged edged long sword. His fiery eyes beaming in fury on a scarred face between hair pulled back with woven chains and metal bands in matte grey matching his body armor over blood red robes and pants ended in spiked boots. To the drop of the boy from your hip to ease him down behind you so your hands could be free you cast a barrier to block the first of a rapid series of blows. The speed of which found you in a backwards step to the formation of paper cut like slices down your forearms where he hit the bubble like barrier that was barely able to hold back the enchantment laced blade that might as well have cloven you in two for the searing pain each deepening slice it dealt out that began to gradually stain your sleeves.

“Too fast,” you muttered to yourself then in the stolen glance back your way between volleys of arrows to the forces failing to gain footholds on the mountain Tauriel from above granted you a moment’s reprieve in an arrow she fired off that caught the figure in the neck right where his armored chest plate dipped above the collar bone. Rapidly you bent to scoop up Estel in the stagger backwards to rush him and yourself along to at least be able to back your way in should the giant not die. Again to the snap of the arrow your body turned and you nudged Estel back to the doorway panting, “Get inside,” an order the boy obeyed to an extent, remaining near enough to see you in his hide behind the doorframe of the empty dead end walk into the volcano.

“Surrender the child! His blood is mine!” The figure all but roared to the crackle of the arrow shaft left in his neck that burned to ash.

“No,” you said, though how he heard you to the harsh shift of the wind that swept your loose braids across your face in the ready of your hands at your sides to block another barrage you had no idea.

“I see you, Loote-Viirin, once when I drained the lights from the world I stepped over the mangled corpses of those foolish flowers who dared to stop me! Now I will grant you mercy, give me the boy or your body will stain this ground! The blood of Luthien is mine to bathe in!”

“Drained the light, Morgoth?” Under his shadowy face shield his lips turned upwards into a wicked smile at your naming him and to his pause in belief you realized his power and would give in it granted you a chance to glimpse the futile battle your group faced against their nine specters then back to him again. “Older than the sun and just as dense.” That had his smile turn to a snarl, “You’ve never seen my kind before. The answer is no.”

His hand tensed in a ploy to ready the lift of his blade only for an echoing lurch of a groan to leave his chest to the spell you began to chant. You had no armor, no weapons to speak of, and definitely no reflexes to keep up block of his endless blows to what little barrier you could hold. He was unbelievably old, but so were some of your group, but you knew he was there at the beginning of this world by what they had shared, unlike them. So you tried to even the score. Not just older than the Sun and Moon, but the Two Trees and Lamps. Those who had heard the first song and opened their eyes to the first glimpse of stars in the sky were bound by this. Almost like intense gravity the weight of the air, sky, sun and moon forced them down into the dirt. Every move burned in the fight against the inevitable crumble to the ground where you would hold them. It was not fair, rather illegal in most duel circumstances but in this chance you had to bloody the rule book to survive for the punishment afterwards.

Sluggishly still even against the ploy his attacks came, but now slow enough for you to be able to dodge at leas the follow up blow when his hold would swivel and replant to swing again the other way. And while Gandalf unfortunately along with Saruman felt the added weight of this on their powers as well the others markedly regained a footing in their skirmishes and now had the upper hand to hack apart those that dared to face them. Behind you however the cowering child’s eyes dropped from you to the ring that now had lowered an inch from where it had just sat. Each word and line marked the drop a bit more and in his glance up again the drip of the blood stain around the wrinkled elbow of your blouse that only urged the hulking figure on had the boy hold back any distracting shout. He had to destroy the ring, but in a swivel of his head he couldn’t see anything here but the walkway. He couldn’t see what he was meant to do. He only could remember something about the name of this place, Mt Doom.

Another avoided blow by means of a hunch and rushed lunge forward to duck underneath it and your eyes fixed on the specter that in Thranduil’s stab into the face and side of the one who had Legolas pinned to the rock wall meant to attack him from behind. A scribble of a ball of pink lightning like web charm fired out of your palm to encapsulate and drive that specter into the ground convulsing and flickering in its solidity to the effects of the attack disturbing its tries to remain on task. The snap of the ring on the figure’s bony finger however had come with a price to your watch of the body once wearing it wither. Just barely in time your hands came up again and the hard slash of the blade jaggedly sliced hard into the barrier and behind it your forearms cut nearly down to the bone. Sharp and fast you gasped and in a tremble your hands began to lower from the pain.

That gasp however turned not just Tauriel’s head again but the King’s, fresh from the destruction of his own specter in the slice of its ring from its hand two rapid arrows from the ship fired to plant in the back of the Black Foe of the World. No longer counted amongst the Valar but still dubious enough to strike fear into the King’s heart as to the fact his bloody One was alone in facing him. The arrows granted reprieve yet again but burned like the prior. They granted you just enough time to magically bind your forearms that would only grow more bloody with more depth added to the other gashes with the blows that followed while you again recited the same spell to the frantic King’s means to take down the remaining seven foe blocking his way to you.

Again and again you managed to block the spells until in a harsh pant Gandalf’s drop to all fours with staff in the dirt to the sudden relent of the storm signaled the Wizards could fight no more. A bad sign as one of the seven brought up his sword to stab Gandalf the Grey through the shoulders. In another risky sacrifice you fired off another pink encapsulating spell that to Gandalf’s relief took down another that once Elrond had severed the ring on his own was able to step in and shield the downed friend who was in a try to recover some semblance of strength. Morgoth hadn’t given up either, even in a grimacing drop to a knee when his feet could no longer withstand the pressure his body throbbed to succumb to. And your distraction was noted and used to his advantage. Hard and swift as he could muster straight into your thigh a blow landed and the shriek from the painful and startling wound stabbed deeper into the hearts of the battling allies than any blow or wound they themselves had taken.

For those who dared look to your drop backwards with hand planted atop the bloody gash you were seen in a means to scoot backwards by weight on your blood and now dirt stained hand behind you and pushes from your uninjured leg towards the barrier now cast to cover the doorway behind you. Another magical bind was conjured for your leg that freed your hand to block another blow and fire back a yellow energy pulse that blew the stunned giant hard and fast into the wall behind him in a hope to keep him from being able to attack you or anyone else by just getting him on his back. To tears down your cheek two more pink webs were shot off helping the group’s chances even more while against Gandalf’s grimacing groan laced hunch lower to the earth you again recited the same spell that was still buying you time.

Backwards to the barrier you had glanced to see how far you had to drag yourself before a welcomed collapse could be taken until victory was had and you saw Estel, halfway down the ledge dragging the chain with ring glued to the dirt after his notice of a loose stone that melted upon contact with the lava below. It was the only way he could think of to help you and the others and the only reason for him as to why he had to come here. All the way muttering to the Shadow Man who trailed his steps, “I don’t hear you. I don’t see you. You tell lies.”

Firm and fast however the hand on your ankle had you gasp and in just a moment atop you Morgoth loomed with hands once freed now folded around your neck. Still your spell to the tightening of his grip continued in rasps and squeaks for an enraging sight once more glances were taken your way.

Four turned archers now fired openly at the figure who remained fixed over you relishing the steady increase of his strength again to the falter of your voice. Broken free from the group Thranduil with blood red vision before him charged alone to hack whatever parts of the giant off he required to free you. All however oblivious to the boy behind the barrier you held nearly to the end now that the spell had weakened and he could pick up the pace during the unnoticed dip of your right hand into your enchanted bag.

“I warned you, Loote-Viirin” Morgoth crooned to a wicked grin accepting the next volley of arrows into his thighs in a means to weaken his stance, a risk that to the appearance of black dots granted you a fresh gasp of air to the moment of fingers that loosened only to clench in again.

Mistaken useless thwacks of your hands around his sides and chest however in the retraction of your hand from the bag were actually quite useful in the cast of chains that draped and locked in place woven together in their crossing. This star forged chain metal used mainly to support the sails of your ship however came with another handy use when facing shadowy figures such as this one. Hard however the hands pressed more into your neck to the double swords that crashed through the back and out the chest, both dripped droplets of dark blood onto your chest a good foot below and let loose more in the hard drag of those blades down along either side of the spine. Just as sharp the blades retracted from the roaring figure’s writhe in pain upwards in a contorted arch through his body’s means of healing itself, through which Thranduil’s boot collided with his chest to kick him off and away from your coughing self.

To his knees with half focus on the downed giant tearfully Thranduil’s hand cradled your cheek through another sharp gasp for air post pained groan to the stop of reflexive coughs. The moment his eyes met yours you whimpered in your native tongue to the seen forward curl of the giant’s try to get up showing his body was well underway into healing the meant to be fatal blows. “Pollux, I call you,” the squeaking tone had Thranduil’s eyes squint ever so slightly in pain at his lack of understanding for what you might be trying to say to him. The sudden ignition of the star chains that enveloped everyone in a roar inducing brilliant light that at once recharged the Wizards and mildly injured Elven Lords while the armies below cowered through the blast of light that withered the remaining specters the Lords had been battling. “Ascend,” you squeaked next and like a bolt of lightning straight up all that light whipped up after the giant’s body now hurtling up towards the stars where those chains would take him to whatever end may come to the self healing foe.

From an opal like haze of a mist that surrounded you Thranduil’s eyes dripped tears in the return of the blood and dirt stained view of his ethereal One that suddenly had him reach back to tear off his cape he furiously began slicing and binding your trembling arms and thigh to the approach of the slow stepping Lords and freshly risen Gandalf who all peered over their unlikely savior being patched up. It was Elrond however who asked, “Where is Estel?”

His eyes on a swivel until the boy called out from the end of the ledge in a glance back to his foster father, “Do I drop it?!”

Elrond promptly with full view of the small child where his ancestor once stood clutching a stuffed dog standing several feet below the adult form he may yet grow into should he choose the mortal coil several years past this cusp of childhood just beyond his toddler years by their Elvish reckoning, “Drop it.” No sooner than he cried out the words the chain was released and to the dog the boy clung in full view of the ring that fell into the lava as Legolas’ raced to fetch the boy.

To Thranduil’s cradle of you in his arms Elrond helped to guide him towards the ship while Glorfindel collected the remains of his cape and swords abandoned on the ground to race after them back to safety. One by one the distance was leapt and once accounted for the ship was steered away to rise and head for safer airspace away from this dark city. Down below while Legolas kept Estel on deck safe in a circle of guards with a smile to hear his recount of what the Shadow Man had said in a try to stop him a hard pulse heard behind had heads turn and a gust of wind that followed the beginnings of the collapse of the city while the volcano began to erupt had them all relieved at least in the ships coast away that there would be few survivors to mount a revenge attack. Swift and steady to a room they knew to have a bed in it the King carried you where some healing supplies had already been gathered from kits brought from Rivendell upon boarding.

The leg seemed deeper and bled twice as heavy so Elrond began there, unfurling the blood soaked cloth to reveal a lip clenching view of bone between pats of blood from the deep wound. Again from your bag your hand moved and a vial was offered to him that had his blue eyes on it then you to your pained squeak. “Few drops, it’ll heal.”

Glorfindel, “If you have had this, your prior injuries our Healers mended-, is it dangerous?”

“It hurts,” you squeaked out in anticipation of the pain that had their eyes flinch from the tear that escaped down your stained cheek to the cloth clutched in your fist. “You’ll have to hold me down.” You said to Thranduil who fought a shake of his head in the fall of a stray tear of his own.

Celeborn and the twins however readied to do what was needed to heal you while Glorfindel asked you about what he dreaded to hear, “The cloth?”

“Don’t want to scare Estel.”

The lid was unscrewed with the eyedropper filled and held over the wound and to the sloppy bunch of the cloth between your lips you inhaled and gripped the arm that Glorfindel used to hold down your shoulders. Useless almost the cloth proved to be by their enhanced ears in the eruption of a shattered shrill scream of agony from the restrained body that otherwise would be writhing in pain. Through which even Gandalf now with his hand atop your head by means of a try to lull you to sleep could feel the searing scorching pain of a burning sun those three measly drops inflicted upon you.

Three drops and still a slide remained, no deeper than a paper cut Elrond left for his own means of healing and blinked through the tears in his eyes to the recovering pained sobs that had Thranduil hunched over to press his forehead to yours through hushed tears of his own. Down a bit when you gave the nod you were ready for your arms to be treated they slid you to lay your arms over your head. Several gashes were here and after careful mental mapping of his regrettable attack your arms and body were braced for a second longer cry that had everyone fully grown on deck flinch and grimace through whatever means of healing you had to endure for your wounds.

One solid line both arms had scattered drops until the criss crossing shallow slices remained. All on his own Elrond removed the gag once Thranduil rose to the pat of his shoulder and he said, “No more. I can heal these cuts from here.” In a pat of your cheek he felt the pain’s crescendo lulling you to pass out and his voice faded out to his confirmation that sleep was best for you now, “Sleep now. Rest and we will-,” Tearfully he watched your eyes shut and head droop to the side into his hand and there he paused to simply put down the vial that had inflicted more agony than the wounds to be eased that now his work could bring you relief. Again when his eyes opened from a close that allowed a tear to fall down his cheek he turned his head to pat Thranduil’s shoulder, “She is resting. In that we can be easy.”

Thranduil’s eyes scanned over your arms and leg stating something near to unheard of by any outside of a select few Valar and Maiar blooded beings. “She took many blows.”

Gandalf stated, “And was able to bind us to the earth.”

Saruman along the wall stated, “No creature has been capable of that in a great many ages. And then bound the foe, to a star. Tulkas will have many a thing to say on this battle.”

Elrond in the silence that washed over them moved to the tonics and ingredients to crush and whip up a healing cream he laced with Kingsfoil water soaked cloths he laid over the cuts that in removal of your bloodied things by help of a pair of sheets to fold over your chest and hips were washed and bandaged. Timidly from your bag Thranduil found a simple but beautiful mint blouse they helped you into and some clean pants to follow with your socks and boots left aside once a soaked cloth was left to lay across your bruising and swollen neck they nestled you into the bed the King refused to leave. The others took their turns freshening up in your fountain fueled bath nearby the greenhouse while Celeborn went to the top deck to share the news you were physically healed but weary and the destination was now Lothlorien for the closest point of safe harbor until you had woken and regained your strength.

Pt 16

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

Ash - @devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00, @lilith15000

#thranduil x oc #Estel #Mordor #The Battle #Nine Wraiths #Fell Beasts #Sauron #Morgoth #Injuries & Healing #Off to Lothlorien

19 notes · View notes

frostsinth · 4 years

Text

Lost Time - Pt. 3

- Part 1|2 - NjordArt

Nrggarhhh... So I’ve had the majority of this done for a while. it was just the end that took me an extra few days for whatever reason! But here you wonderful people go: some lovely little angst for you.

This chapter is brought to you in part by @exophile3d, who would repeatedly chat “NjordNjordNjordNjord” in my DMs to encourage me to work on it! Lots of love and thank you for your motivation! Thank you to everyone who has expressed their adoration for these two so far!

Check out my MasterList for more of my inane ramblings, and feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there. I am thinking to have some NSFW exclusive art over on that page if I can figure out how, so be sure to check it out soon if you’re interested.

The leaves and branches seemed to shake around us. The whole forest seemed to be coming alive, breathing and rattling like a singular great beast. I gasped as the first emerged from amid the canopy, a shock for its small size despite the noise, but promising more to follow. My first instinct said ‘cat, but not cat’. It was a deep red, and human-like eyes flashed in a horned, child shaped face as it chittered and lunged for me. It was quickly followed by its brethren, so quickly I didn’t have time to overly assess their strange forms, varying in shades from deep scarlet to fiery orange.

My cry of surprise at the most forward creature dove for my face was dampened by the roar from Njord. With a mighty swat of his huge arm, he sent the strange beast flying. It screeched, falling into its fellows. Giving the half-second my huge green protector needed to scoop me back up into his arms. He tucked me into his elbow, his free hand reaching for the handle of his broadsword. Another of the creatures lunged, sharp teeth biting for his knuckles. But Njord growled, stubbornly grabbing the hilt and sucker punching the beast straight in its tiny humanoid face.

Then the sword was up, and three powerful strokes cleared a notch in the swarm of creatures around us. I clung to him for dear life, ducking my head as yet another of the devilish looking cat-lizards attacked, diving straight for me. There were so many! Two dozen at least! Some flittered on wings, others bolted across the ground. Njord’s swinging sword barely keeping them at bay. A few fell to the side, badly injured or perhaps dead from his blows. But most were too quick.

He snarled, gracefully sweeping his sword out and around his head parallel to his body in a tight circle, dislodging one that had latched onto his shoulder by my head. He shouted something in his deep guttural language, and the wide, human eyes of the creatures considered him warily. Intelligently even. He managed to keep up his strikes enough that they did not dare venture closer. But it left us horribly pinned in the center of the camp, surrounded.

A tingling hum ran suddenly over the back of my neck, tearing my attention from the battle surrounding us. Then a soft whisper brushed past my ear, and I knew without looking there would be no source. Words I couldn’t make out, almost lyrical. I twitched, my eyes shooting wide. The sounds of the battle dampened and became muffled as if heard from under a blanket; Njord’s roar, the chittering of the strange horned creatures. I jerked, looking around but feeling as though I wasn’t moving at all. The colors of the world drained. There it was again. Then again, from the other direction. I wanted to turn my head, to move my eyes to search for what I knew was not there. But I couldn’t. I sensed something in it, something drawing me to it. Something… familiar, though I couldn’t even begin to fathom it. I felt a zapping, tingling energy in my palm. I stiffened, pulling my hand from around Njord’s neck. Looking down at it numbly even as I felt him duck and dodge around me. My center moving as he kept me clasped against him protectively. I felt as though someone else controlled my body, a familiar warmth seeping across my skin, lifting me like a puppet master manipulates strings.

The sounds of the battle came back in a rush, like a slap to my face. I jerked, turning my head. The beasts had coordinated an attack, and were lunging from multiple sides at once. And beyond them, I could see a dark ash gathering. Slowly beginning to pulse and take form. A deep dread pitted my stomach. I didn’t know what exactly was coming, though a small part of me flickered with a familiarity of fear. Nothing like the comforting warmth from before. I couldn’t remember how I knew. But I did know we didn’t want to be here when whatever was beyond that ash finally stepped through.

In the same breath it took me to come back to the present, I raised my tingling palm. Or more, the strange force did. The whisper seemed to shoot through me, lifting my hair and rushing out like a breathy exhale and suddenly… everything froze.

The wind, the branches and leaves. Flying particles of dirt and debris. And, most importantly, the swirling ash and attacking creatures. Each pinned in place; their eyes unmoving, unseeing, their teeth bared, their claws outstretched. Trapped. Like some sort of terrifying, life-like sculpture. My eyes nearly popped out of my skull. But I wasn’t about to question a blessing.

“Njord!” I cried, spinning.

At first, I thought he was frozen too. But I could feel his hitched breath in his chest and realized he was frozen only from shock. I saw his copper eyes blink, and his big jaw shift. I reached up, touching his face.

“Njord!” I cried again, and he jumped at my touch.

His eyes met mine, and he frowned slightly. Then nodded with a gruff grunt. The unspoken understanding going between us. One fell swoop cleared the frozen creatures to our right, knocking them aside like rocks tumbling from a stone wall. He had the presence of mind to grab a bag resting beside the opening of the spiked gate, perhaps previously readied supplies for the day. and hook it over his shoulder. But his long stride never broke, and the ground thundered with his footsteps.

Branches and leaves wiped at us, snapping at my skin and face. I curled into Njord’s chest, and felt him wrap himself tighter around me as I did. Sheltering me from the battering. I could feel his heart ramming against his ribs, and his arms constricted around me with each deep, huffing breath. On and on he ran. I lost track of how long, and strained my ears to try and hear if there were sounds of pursuit. But I could make nothing out beyond his drumming heart. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried myself against him. My own pulse racing and my thoughts swirling.

I jerked in a panic as he suddenly skidded to a halt, my hands reaching for better purchase on the straps of his armor. I felt him straighten warily around me, saw his big head turn and look over his shoulder. He was panting, his big chest heaving up and down. I laid my palm flat against it to find it damp with sweat.

Njord looked down at me at my touch. His thick lips worked around his tusks, and he seemed to have something waiting on them. But after a moment, he just shook his big head. Giving a final look over his shoulder, before turning and trudging on. Eyes set ahead of us. His stride was long, but steady, and I tried to pull myself higher to look over his shoulder as well. I knew that if we weren’t running again, he must feel safer. Though obviously not safe enough to stop entirely. Unless he had a new destination in mind. I felt a stab of remorse as I realized he may have just lost his home to those creatures. I looked back up at him, trying to tell if he was saddened or maybe angry by this fact. But his brow and jaw were clenched and unreadable. Another stab washed through me, thinking the appearance of the creatures might be the least surprising thing so far, considering... whatever I had done...

The sun was rising higher in the sky, and I glanced up at it pelting down at us through the canopy. I shook my head, slowly loosening my grip from his armor. Fear rattled me down to my core, and without thought, I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck. Pulling myself closer to him. I felt him stiffen at first, then his own arm curled tighter around me. Stilling my shivering.

“Anha wet, Shikobakin.” He murmured after a breath, his thick voice rumbling through his chest against my body.

My ankle and head both began to scream their protest at their rough handling in our escape. But I ignored them, unable to loosen my hold just yet. I felt myself lulled by his steady step, like the rocking of a boat on the ocean waves. Slowly, my heart rate quieted, and my breathing became less shallow. I felt his do the same, though his dark green skin was still coated in beads of sweat.

Finally, I eased myself back into the crook of his elbow and glanced around. I wondered where we were going, but I found this part of the forest looked no different than the last. I glanced up at Njord’s face, and although he didn’t look at me, I saw him turn slightly. Offering his unscarred side to my gaze.

“What were those things?” I asked him softly, even though I knew he couldn’t understand. I tugged myself up to look over his broad shoulder again. “Where did they come from?” I resisted the urge to shiver. “What did they want?”

Njord didn’t answer, unless I wanted to count the rumble in his chest. I didn’t care that he had no idea what I was saying. There was only one obvious thing that I could be asking about now. I glanced at his face again, but his heavy brow, while knotted with determination, did not seem to hold any answers either. I sensed he had never seen such creatures before. And I hoped I had not… They were horrifying. Creatures of orange and red, with scales and fur and horns. Faces of children with sharp teeth and elongated mouths.

I shivered involuntarily, and felt Njord’s grip tighten slightly. I sensed that we both felt very much the same way about those creatures. Even without the words to say it.

Not much later, the sound of rushing water filtered through the other forest ambiance, and my heart skipped a beat as it steadily grew louder. A river, I thought to myself, and a few minutes later the treeline fell away. Confirming my assumption. He made his way steadily down to the slow moving shallows, and I felt a little of the tension in his shoulders dissipate.

With a final scan, he slowly placed me on a large rock protruding from the water. His large hand lingered, brushing against my shoulder. I looked up at him, and his copper eyes seemed pinched with worry. It pained me, and I felt myself reaching up of its own accord. I saw him jerk, attention snapping to my extended hand. His own came up, wrapping gently around my fingers. He stared at it, then his big thumb pushed apart my fingers, running along my palm. My heart fluttered, and I swallowed hard. Wondering what he was thinking. The whole thing felt like a blur, and remembering what had happened… Was he afraid of me? What had I even done back there?? Or had I done anything? I remembered the strange but familiar force, yet had no name for it... My head throbbed as I tried to reconcile what had occurred. I sensed the answer was there. Somewhere buried in the fog. But it was still impenetrable, so I sighed deeply instead as Njord slowly released my hand.

I glanced down, then patted the rock and looked up at him sheepishly. “... Wutbat.”

He looked surprised, but it quickly faded into timid amusement. He nodded. “Ar’stok, Shikobakin. Wutbat... Rock.”

His big hand came down, and rested on top of mine. Covering the entirety of it as well as a large portion of the rock beneath it. I gasped, my eyes alighting on the back of his hand. I turned mine, catching his and bringing it to cup in both hands on my lap.

“Njord! Your hand!”

The back of his knuckles were covered in blood, and I held them gently. Inspecting the small puncture wounds there. He gave a deep grunt, crouching down properly to be more at my eye level.

“Ksapa, Shikobakin,” He assured me, “Non shet ‘vatna dun.”

I kept his hand in both of mine, even as he tried to pull it away. I scooched to the edge of the rock, sliding my good foot into the water and balancing myself against the stone. My bad one didn’t hurt much… as long as I didn’t touch it. I brought his hand down to gently douse with the cool, clear water. He gave another soft rumble, but didn’t resist my administrations. I looked him over as I carefully washed off the blood. I saw another deep scratch on the meat of his broad shoulder at the edge of his armor, and brought a handful of cupped water up to slowly clean that as well. He had more, smaller ones, zig-zagging up and down his arms. I wasn’t sure if they were from claws or the branches he passed through in our flight. I used both my hands to rinse those, running them up and down the length of his long limbs. My fingers and hands seemed tiny compared to his muscular arms, like pale leaves against a deep green tree trunk. It could take me all day to rinse him off, one small palmful at a time, but I didn’t care. I wanted to make sure he was properly attended to. No matter how small the injury. It was the least I could do. I heat settled in my stomach as I wished I could do more. Could comfort him. Answer his questions. Help him in some way.

He stayed still, his head bowed as I ran my hands over his shoulders and arms. I remembered the dampness of the sweat on his chest, and began to run my hands over his muscular breast next. All the way up to his thick neck. I felt him stiffen slightly beneath my fingertips, and I raised my eyes to meet his.

My pulse skittered, and my breath stopped. The intensity in his eyes… there were no words to describe it. I wondered how I had not noticed before how the sunlight made the color sparkle. We stayed like that, our eyes locked again, for a time so long I couldn’t count it.

He broke my gaze, dropping his and starting to turn his head. To present his untouched skin to me again. A hot poker stabbed at my gut as I recognized the repeating pattern of his behavior.

He flinched as I laid my hand gently against his cheek. On his good side first, then reached up with my other, still dripping from the river water. And cupped the opposite. I saw his hand coming up to pull mine away. I gently turned him back to me first, cradling his big head between my tiny hands. Running my palm tenderly over the knotted scar tissue. Tracing along his cheek with my thumb

“Please,” I told him, “Don’t be ashamed… don’t think you’ll frighten me away if I see this-” I ran my hand from his chin to his hairline, tracing the edge of the scar “-it doesn’t scare me. Or sicken me.” He watched me, his eyes tentative. I smiled, flattening my palm against his broad cheek. “I think you look…” I stopped, and my heart fluttered. But what did it matter? I told myself. He couldn’t understand me, after all. “... I think you look good… just as you are.”

His copper eyes watched my lips move, and his big hand froze halfway up to take mine. I tried to keep his gaze, but the intensity of it made my cheeks flush. A shy smile twisted the corner of my lips, and my eyes darted away. As if maybe he might have understood my confession. But I kept my hand on his cheek, and snuck a peek at him from beneath my pale lashes.

“You’ve been… very kind to me, Njord,” I told him softly, the words spilling out of me, “You’ve been understanding, and patient, and… and…” I felt my frustration welling in the corners of my eyes, the fear, the confusion; all compiling against me in that moment, “And I cannot even thank you… Not properly…”

His hand did come up now, cupping mine on his scarred cheek. My heart-rate spiked, and my breath fluttered in my throat. I looked up at him again, fearful that I had overstepped. Or that perhaps I had infringed on the traditions of his kind, or gravely insulted him. But I saw nothing like that in those copper depths when I finally met them. Instead, I saw warmth. Like the caressing tendrils of a lit fireplace in a familiar home. I was lost in the warmth, felt it spread comfortingly through my veins. Sweeping away the fear and frustration. I hardly noticed the brush of the fingertips of his opposite hand along my own cheek. But I did feel him lean deeper into my palm. Saw his dark lashes dip as his eyes fluttered. He leaned forward, and I found myself stretching up to meet him.

Njord delicately rested his broad forehead against mine. I breathed in his exhale, reveling in the scent of him. Drawing his breath into every inch of my own body, as if I could trace its progress through my veins. I closed my eyes, unable to hold the sight of him and wanting desperately to commit this moment to memory. A new memory, to lay soundly amid the fog of those I had forgotten. A fresh memory, like the first wet brick on a path. Leading out of my old life, whatever that was, paving a path to a new one.

My old life… A cold wash swept down my spine from the base of my skull, shooting a tingling numbness to the rest of my body. All because of a single thought that managed to pierce through the warmth of his touch like a hot arrow through snow. My old life… What if I already had someone?

What if I had a husband, or was already promised? What if I was in love? If there was someone looking for me? Waiting for me? I opened my eyes, the realization tickling through me almost painfully. If I did… I felt his shift, felt him lean back between my hands still cupped around his face. I met his copper eyes as they slowly opened with uncertainty and hesitation. I saw them study me, considering whatever now rested across my features. I struggled with myself, running my thumb back and forth over his scar. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t allow myself to… I blinked and shifted, wincing as my sore ankle bumped the rock with my movement.

That broke whatever spell we had been under. He dropped his hands, and I let mine fall as well as his gently scooped me up by the waist and settled me properly on the rock. I watch him numbly as he pulled the sack from over his shoulder, slinging it down and digging through its contents. He mumbled things in his own tongue, deep in his throat, nodding along as he did. When he glanced back up at me, I felt my heart skip.

I had to know. I had to know for sure that there was no one else. It pained me to think of denying… whatever this was growing between us. But it pained me even more to think I might hurt him if my old life did come back. If I had a husband, or a lover. Maybe even a family! My hand went unconsciously to my abdomen, my head swirling, my heart aching. Had I ever lain with a man? Had I ever born a child? I would know, I thought silently, trying to reassure myself, I would remember. I would sense it. The truth though? I couldn’t say. I couldn’t say with any certainty and without hesitation… I just didn’t know...

I prodded at the fog in my mind, trying to find the answer. But there was nothing, like I was cupping sand between open fingers. The hint of something there, but it quickly slipped from my grasp before I could analyze the grains. My eyes trailed over to him as he pulled out what he had been searching for, grunting with an unmistakably pleased tint. A rolled up piece of parchment in hand.

“The map.” I said aloud, recognizing it as he spread it over the rock next to me.

Not the same one, I realized as he grunted the affirmative. This one was smaller, more focused on the local region. Most specifically, the villages surrounding the forest. He pointed to one spot, along the river, speaking in his own tongue. His hand briefly gestured to our surroundings, and I nodded my understanding. When his big finger returned to the parchment, he traced it along, still explaining, leading the way to a village. The nearest one, it seemed. He tapped his finger on it.

When I looked up from the map, he was looking at me again. He nodded, then tapped the map again. “Ntol’ma, ya liell.”

I glanced down, and a small frown formed on my lips. I put my smaller finger on our spot by the river. “But why did you go this way?” I asked, tracing along the same path he had followed, or very near to. “This way looks quicker.” I retraced my finger, and then moved through a different part of the forest, then across a short open plane, in a more direct line to the village.

The air felt stiffer, and when I looked up, I found his brow thunderstruck. He swallowed, rubbing at his chin with one hand. His eyes seemed… troubled, and instantly I straightened. Reaching out to him before I had even realized what I was doing.

I quickly dropped my hand, and saw his copper eyes watching the movement. He glanced back down at the map. Then gave a small, curt nod. Speaking in his own thick tongue. His big finger came back to the parchment, and he traced along the route I had drawn. I saw his finger hesitate over the clearing, which seemed to connect to the larger planes of the map beyond. But then he continued on until he reached the village.

“Dun echetu. Ya liell, Shikobakin.” He mumbled, his deep voice oddly thin somehow.

He rolled back up the map and put it into the pack before slinging it over his shoulder once more. The waters splashed about his ankles as he shifted, stepping over and holding out his hands to me. I hesitantly nodded my consent, knowing what his touch would elicit, and he scooped me back up. I tried not to think about the warmth of his arms around me as he trudged through the shallows to the opposite bank. Resisting leaning against his broad chest and inhaling his thick scent.

I swallowed hard, and noticed him glance down at me. Those copper eyes sending my heart into spasms. This was going to be a long, hard road...

....

To be continued ...

#orc #orc lover #orc boyfriend #monster x human #monster romance #monster lover #slow burn #angst #Lost Time #terato #exophilia #language barrier #monster boyfriend #citrus #update #oc

72 notes · View notes

sockori · 3 years

Text

The Akatsuki But. Pokémon (2)

Not trainers, not preexisting Pokémon- but Pokémon themselves. I mean, Kishimoto’s original plan for them was to all be monsters- so why not reimagine them as pocket monsters?

(Notes:

- Covers Kakuzu, Hidan, Kisame, Itachi, Sasori, and Deidara.

- See Part 1′s notes. )

Kakuzu

(The Zombie Pokémon)

(The Ragdoll Pokémon)

Type: Dark/Ghost

(Dark fits the greed aspect, Ghost fits his transformation.)

Abilities (1): Cursed Body “May disable a move used on the Pokémon.”

Hidden Ability: Heart Harvest “Steals the stat changes of the Pokémon it takes out.”

(Can only happen once. If multiple faints by a spread move, the first Pokémon that faints gets stolen from.)

General Stats: Largely set on Attack and Defense; rounded everywhere else, with slightly higher HP Stat.

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

A story told: wronged by those it once trusted, this outraged Pokémon stole the hearts of its superiors, literally- transforming itself into a horrifying beast of immortality. It takes the appearance of a ragdoll, a form made of loosely stitched up parts, its core a mass of strange, elusive black threads.

It holds a reputation for taking other’s wealth, eliminating powerful Pokémon and trainers to steal their riches, hoarding the treasures in an unknown location. Because of this, many have desired to capture it to become rich themselves- though, such a daunting task has, so far, only resulted in many... unfortunate disappearances.

Mega Evolution

Type: Dark/Ghost

Mega Ability: Mold Breaker

“Moves can be used on the target regardless of its Abilities.”

(still not sure on a Mega Ability- resorted to this one.)

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

The Pokémon’s entangled core bursts forth, rapidly expanding the physical form into a terrifying mass of threads. It rapidly repairs the body, quickly stitching back up the parts it loses along the way, though the effort is not exactly permanent.

The rapid physical transformation reveals strange masks on the Pokémon’s back, each a heart of the superiors it once trusted long ago. These strange creatures aid Kakuzu in masterfully performing Fire, Water, Electric and Flying type attacks, despite not having priority.

Hidan

(The Cult Pokémon)

(The Voodoo Doll Pokémon)

Type: Dark/Fighting

Abilities (1): Reckless

“Powers up moves that have recoil damage.”

Hidden Ability: Justified

“Boosts the Attack stat when it's hit by a Dark-type move.”

General Stats: Very high Attack Stat, with moderate speed and slight but relative bulk.

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

A wild, cultish Pokémon with no desire for pacifism, it eliminated the peaceful village it came from in the name of violence. Hidan now roams the surrounding region in search of blood, looking for people to sacrifice in the name of a paranormal beast known as Jashin.

Hidan possesses strange power in immortality, able to suffer great injury, even severing, without a care in the world- perhaps even enjoying it. It shares bonds in immortality with Kakuzu, another Pokémon with similar zombie-like qualities.

Mega Evolution

Type: Dark/Fighting

Mega Ability: Cursed Blood

“This Pokémon, upon fainting, takes the opponent down with it.”

(Guaranteed Destiny Bond.)

General Stats: Equal Boosts to Attack, Speed, and Defense.

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

It draws a strange symbol below its feet, activating an inner dark, arcane power, the sheer aura tainting its skin with a skeleton-like pattern. It can now pass its suffering to others if it so desires, making it a living voodoo doll of sorts.

Fueled by cultish energy, its newfound abilities in pain splitting give it the wild desire to maim in the name of Jashin. It tortures opponents it ensnares in its odd circle, passing on each injury, howling with nefarious laughter all the while.

Kisame

(The Shark Pokémon)

(The Swordsmen Pokémon)

Type: Water

Abilities (1): Rough Skin

“Inflicts damage to the attacker on contact.”

Hidden Ability: Shark Skin

“Inflict additional damage on the opponent when making contact.”

(Attaches Rough Skin to contact moves.)

General Stats: Emphasis on Attack and HP. Slow but bulky, with relatively high defenses.

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

Losing its faith in the world, it lost the desire to stay in the Mist region, now affiliating itself with the mysterious Pokémon of the Rain. Despite its large, intimidating appearance and thirst for combat, this Shark Pokémon is actually relatively docile, intensely loyal to those it gains trust for.

Kisame possesses one of the legendary Seven Swords- a scaly-skinned, sentient weapon known to absorb the power of anyone it pleases. The bond Kisame holds with this weapon is strong, perhaps even affectionate, giving the strange creature poffins after battles.

Mega Evolution

Type: Water

Mega Ability: Dry Skin

“Restores HP in rain or when hit by Water-type moves. Reduces HP in harsh sunlight, and increases the damage received from Fire-type moves.”

(casually puts skin abilities on Kisame)

Stat Boosts: Trades out its bulk for offensive power, with crazy high Attack and Speed, but lower defenses.

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

It fuses itself with the legendary Sword, inheriting its regenerative abilities, transforming into a large, more shark-like beast. It captures opponents with its strong jaws, dragging them under the surface without mercy.

Now fused with the legendary Sword, it fights with every last effort against its opponent. Its strange loyalty compels it to fight, willing to exert everything for those it trusts- even if it means sacrificing itself.

Itachi

(The Illusive Pokémon)

(The Optical Pokémon)

Type: Psychic/Fire

Abilities (1): Illusion

“Comes out disguised as the Pokémon in the party's last spot.”

Hidden Ability: Illusive World

“It traps the foe in illusions whilst they’re confused, reducing their HP.”

(Bad Dreams but different. Tsukuyomi would be Dark Void for Confusion.)

General Stats: Highest in Special Attack, good in Attack and Speed. HP is moderate, Defenses are low.

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

The legendary Pokémon known as the Uchiha were wiped out in a single night by the mysterious Itachi for reasons of testing strength- or so many assume. It now walks outside of the Leaf region, refusing to walk its home grounds once again, though sightings of the Illusive Pokémon inside its borders persist anyway...

It is infamously known as The Optical Pokémon, for its strange changing eyes that are said to stare directly into the soul. It channels Psychic energy into them, generating life-like and sometimes horrific illusions on its opponents- though, doing so further wears down its eyesight.

Mega Evolution

Type: Psychic/Dark

Mega Ability: Susanoo Armor

“The Pokémon’s stats are dramatically increased (3.5x), though it reduces its HP (1/6) every turn.”

(a unique ability, but not signature- as obviously the other Uchihas can have it as well. The HP reducing sucks but without it would be absolutely broken)

(Susanoo Armor is the Mega Evolution stats boost.)

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

A gigantic armored spirit appears, enveloping the Pokémon in a virtually indestructible armor. However, this armor also dramatically strains the Pokémon, inciting excruciating pain the longer it continues.

Due to the drawbacks of the armor, this Mega Evolution is relatively short-lived. Despite this, it spreads mass destruction, able to topple a nation in just one swing of its sword.

Deidara

(The Explosive Pokémon)

(The Transient Pokémon)

Type: Ground/Rock | Ground/Fire (I’ll let you choose.)

Abilities (1): Flame Body

“Contact with this Pokémon may burn the attacker.”

Hidden Ability: Firecracker

“Gives priority to bomb/ball moves.”

General Stats: Great Sp. Attack and Speed. Moderate everywhere else; slight advantage in Attack.

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

An intense Pokémon with a taste for art, it searches the region for inspiration- and destruction. Championing the art of “Transient Beauty”, it takes pleasure in bombing and setting fire to anything it finds pleasing, typically without any regards to who may be there.

The odd mouths on Deidara’s body churn up fiery power into clay, giving it an unusually explosive quality. This Explosive Pokémon regularly uses its mouths to create destructive clay creatures; they follow its every will, dutifully guiding themselves into their target like missiles.

Mega Evolution

Type: Ground/Dragon

Mega Ability: Transient Art

“Powers up Bomb/Ball moves by 40%.”

(Yeah he gets two unique abilities. What Of It)

Stat Boosts: Both offensive stats and speed stats boosted. Minor boosts here and there.

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

Deidara churns up an intense amount of clay, forming a massive, strange white creature in the shape of a dragon. It churns out explosive attacks on the opponent in rapid succession, taking a notch off of its tail in the process.

Creating a giant clay dragon, Deidara hops onto its back and hovers into the air. It proudly proclaims its Transient Art from above, raining down a series of bombs on the opponent- and whoever else is in the area.

Sasori

(The Scorpion Pokémon)

(The Eternal Pokémon)

Type: Poison

Abilities (2):

Poison Touch “Coming into contact with this Pokémon may cause poisoning.”

Battle Armor “Hard armor protects the Pokémon from critical hits.” (In reference to Hiruko.)

Hidden Ability: Contaminated

“All contact moves this Pokémon uses gains a 45% chance to poison the opponent.” (Contact moves that already have a chance to Poison get boosted by the same amount.)

General Stats: High Attack and Speed Stat. Slight emphasis on the defenses, moderate everywhere else.

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

Unfortunate events turned this Pokémon toward inhumane reason. Fascinated with “Eternal Beauty”, Sasori performed an unknown technique that altered its appearance with semi-immortality. The specifics of this strange transformation remain undiscovered.

This poisonous Pokémon roams the sandy dunes, stealing items and trainers for its grizzly fascinations. It is said that the poison it excretes is so powerful, not even a basic Antidote can cure it. Unlucky victims undergo three agonizing days before meeting their fate.

Mega Evolution

Type: Poison / Steel

Mega Ability: Merciless

“The Pokémon's attacks become critical hits if the target is poisoned.”

General Stats: Massive increase to Attack and Speed. Loses some of its bulk in the process, but its relatively minor.

Pokédex Entries (1, 2):

The Pokémon takes off its cloak, revealing the secrets of its transformation- an intricate puppet body. It uses its sharpened blades and deadly poisons to cut through waves of opponents. It is merciless in its outrage, sparing no sympathy for those it targets.

A wide-eyed, empty stare is plastered over the face of this now revealed puppet. This Pokémon believes it is sparing the foe it poisoned by fainting it swiftly and powerfully- it spares no mercy for those it shreds.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #akatsuki #naruto akatsuki #kakuzu #hidan #kisame #kisame hoshigaki #itachi #itachi uchiha #deidara #sasori #crossover #see part 1's tags

21 notes · View notes

virareve · 4 years

Text

Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange Recommendations

The time to cram has come! T-minus 12 or so hours until the author reveals so I thought I’d make a little plug for some stories I enjoyed that came out of the @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange

First off, I am VERY behind on reading the collection. I received a concussion around the time that the fics came out so my reading has been limited first by the light sensitivity, then the work catch-up in week 2 ( I had to take off work due to the concussion), and now me on short weekend vacation (yay!). I’ve perhaps touched thirty fics at this point (I still have to get to my gift fic which was posted today :D ) so this is by no means a whole evaluation of what’s been put out. The whole collection has been extremely high quality and I hope to come back later and post some more recs. I thank the mods for taking the time to wrangle with keeping this so organized. It’s been a blast.

Modern AU:

Man With a Heartbeat You’ve likely seen this story come up in recs a million times but it’s Just. That. Good. With a unique writing style, and a cast of characters that includes some cameos by some personal book faves (minor as they are), this one is sure to sweep you off your feet with it’s very different take. I mean...antique dealers? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fanfic touch on this before and I was 100% here for this. Also Brienne was highly relatable lol. Lesson Learned: ALWAYS plan your proposals or at least make sure the desire for marriage is clearly communicated and understood between both parties. #rip

To a Distant Stranger Jaime is super hot rocker who runs into Brienne again and again and again, despite her attempts to create distance between them after their implied (crazy off the charts, soul-mate inducing chemistry) hook-ups. Eventually he drops his rocker life and takes up as a bartender and true lurvvvveeee blossoms. :D Lesson Learned: No bartender experience is needed when the course of true love doesn’t run smooth.

all these people think love’s for show (but I would die for you in secret) The author wouldn’t know this but the majority of my first bookmarked fics on AO3 were spy AUs. This sexy piece hit a very weak point for me since spies and schmexyness makes me go weak in the knees. (Also this title is prob my fave line from my fave TS song, did Author have to go so hard at me like that? It was a double whammy T.T) Jaime and Brienne are BRIMMING with sexual tension and from the first meeting I was already sitting on the edge of my seating thinking “Now kiss!” The author makes it worth it with some very bonding, emotional adventures that make the payoff feel so worth it.

if one thing had been different (would everything be different?) I just adore the premise that Jaime is Brienne’s landlord here. Lots of sexiness going on and feels where Jaime’s been nursing a crush for one LONG hot minute (read: several years) on B and our girl is sure he’s been bullying her FOREVER (tbr Jaime’s flirting isn’t as clear cut as the boy would like to believe)

Just as Sweet (just as thorny) OOOHHH this had me feeling many things because I just wanted Jaime and Brienne to be in love but man, many feelings having to be sorted out since Jaime and Brienne met and developed feelings under the cover of Jaime’s fake persona. Selwyn Tarth also makes a fun cameo that helps Jaime’s chance at making it with his girl and Brienne’s life at the end of the story is on the up and up (romantic relationship aside. Did I mentioned I love spy AUs? This read is a MUST.

My Best Friend’s Wedding Brienne hires a professional party date who is (of course) our man JamLan. I have a huge weakness for fake relationships so this just knocked me down after all the spy AUs I read from the exchange. It’s all the parts you love about the movie The Wedding Date and more. The fic also gave me a lot of feelings about one of my favorite places in the world Mackinac island which I was delighted to find out in the AN actually served as a source of inspiration for this fic. :D

Backpfeifengesicht I know you’ve seen this recc-ed before so I’m going to say that what everyone says is accurate. It’s funny, it’s sexy and the friendships are top notch. I’m personally rather proud that I posited a question about the type of table mentioned in this fic and sparking a discussion that descended into who the author might be based on height of various authors around the fandom. Yes, I will take credit for that madness XD

The Knight and the Thief Cat Burglar AU. There’s a bunch of sneaking around here that hit’s me the same way as it does with Spy AUs. Of course Jaime wins the day with his biggest steal yet, one sapphire-eyed wench.

The One That Got Away Jaime and Brienne meet in College after knowing each other in high school. Reading Jaime try and fail to convince Brienne of his affection was a humorous trial and half. Favorite line in this fic: “You’re not just the one that got away. You’re the one. Period.” A very swoon worthy story that builds up perfectly. 100% worth the read!

Jaime, Brienne, and the Bachelor Party on Wheels Having attended uni in a college town where partying was the main event, seeing these bicycle drinking carts was a common occurrence and I knew as soon as I saw the title, this fic was going to be a must read for me. Jaime and Ygritte as good friends was the friendship I didn’t know I needed and I am totally taking notes now to put it in fic at some point. There’s a lot of rowing references I wasn’t familiar with but all the innuendos were very clear in their intentions. ;)

Book Canon AU:

A Matter of Honor Oh man this one is sexy as hell. This fic delves into ‘what if the Tarth’s were the wealthy noble house with royal favor and the Lannisters were the disrupted, down-on-their-luck Lords Paramount?’ A lot of fun is involved in this battle of wills, whether it’s Brienne, deciding to stick by her vow to marry despite her reservations about her husband-to-be, Selwyn Tarth, trying to convince to break her betrothal, or Jaime, trying to decide if maybe he actually is into his potential new wife. There is so much fun and sexiness here that I couldn’t get enough. I may have also read this three times...XD

A Wench’s Kiss Have I ever mentioned how much I love a clearly communicated sex scene where both parties involved know each other’s needs? Well you do now! While the roles here are clearly defined as to who is who in this Dom&Sub role-play dynamic, it is very clear that every action done is done as communicated by the partners preferences and needs.

Other AU

Brienne Tarth and the Quest for the Lost Swords Brienne is Indiana Jones and Jaime is the Nazi lady from movie three with a better heart and better intentions (in the end). Fortunately, the end for these two is much better then it was for Indy and his doomed lady love (Jk I was always team Marion but stillll).

#Jaime x Brienne fic exchange #reading rec #jaime x brienne #braime

35 notes · View notes

malereader-inserts · 5 years

Text

Never Say Die

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Tormund Giantsbane x Male!Reader Summary: Tormund and You were a pack, so that means you aren’t dying on his watch. Word Count: 1,687 Request: @theravioliformula “Could I request a tormund giantsbane X male reader where it's set at the massacre of hardhome and the reader gets injured, fighting the white walkers, and tormund is really distressed about it. Please and thank you 😚” A/n: I’ve learnt that no matter how much I write, fights are hard to write. Sword fighting, magic fighting, superheroes vs villain fighting, all hard. I forgot how Hardhome looked like so I had to rewatched it ten times to follow it and write it down.

Tormund and you have been a pair since you two were a babe.

Both growing up the be fierce men, you were best friends and eventually lovers. You and he sometimes don’t see eye to eye, most often not, you would side with Jon always arguing if it means to protect your people.

But, your people know one thing, Tormund and you will never give up on each other. You two were all or nothing kind of duo and if you two didn’t work out. The wildings wouldn’t have believed in love because no matter how much you two fight you always bounce back to each other.

Whilst you were with the Thenns back at the gate, Tormund and Jon were loading wildings onto the boat. You rather not partner up with Thenns especially Loboda, who pissed you off.

“I don’t like you,” Loboda looks at you, “Sucking off that King Crow’s dick.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m standing by Tormund, if he trusts Jon then, by all means, I’m sucking his dick.”

Loboda grimaced as he clutches his axe close to him. You huffed a harsh breath, ignoring the puff of your breath in front the sounds of a storm are heard and a mist starts to pour over the cliffs behind the settlement of you. The sounds of a storm are heard and a mist starts to pour over the cliffs behind the settlement.

You could hear the dogs whimpering as you cast your eyes over to cliffs, standing up straight as your dominant hand flew to your waist, clutching the hilt of your sword.

“Shut the gates,” You bellowed as Loboda snaps his head to you, slightly nodding in agreement.

As much as you didn’t want to shut your people out, you needed a higher chance of survival meaning any entrance to where you were and the people at the docks were off limits. You watched how men, women, children rush through the gates.

“Shut the gates!” Loboda exclaimed again.

You watched the abandonment of thousands of your people as the gates closed fully, you flinched as you could see the free folks behind the gates were trying to push through, screaming, pleading for you to open the gates.

Tormund worriedly looked at the gates, trying to find you in the crowd as he looks at Jon again before staring into the mist over the cliffs. Whilst pleading for the gates to be opened, those trapped on the other side are suddenly silenced and walk away from the gate.

Loboda looks at you, you shrugged your shoulders at the sudden halt of screams and pleads, as you watched him take slow steps towards the gates. You draw your bow and arrow in case, as the Thenn peered through the hole of the gate. You realised your breath was stuck in your throat as there was a faint scream in the distance, then a wight charges at the hole in the wall.

“Ready your arrows!” You bellowed, hearing the wildings notch their arrows to the gate.

Suddenly, you with your wide eyes, you see axes attempting to chop the wood off the gate. A hand appeared through a hole in which Loboda chopped it off with his axe. More hands started to appear as you and the wildings started to fire your arrows at the hands, in hopes it buys times for the rest of your people to board the ships.

“Fucking cunts!”

You had run out of arrows as you throw your bow to the ground angrily as you whipped out your sword and joined Loboda at the gates, slicing and chopping the undead grabbing hands to enter.

As Tormund and Jon looked in concerned at the impending doom, unable to stop the wildings from rushing into the water in a panic.

“If they get through, everyone dies!” Tormund shouted at Jon, his heart racing, deep down he knows you’re on this side of the gate and fighting with every fibre to murder the bastards.

Tormund takes Jon’s back as the two of them, Karsi and the Nights Watch tart heading their way to where you and Loboda were stationed.

One wight tries to climb under the gate. A barrage of arrows flies at the wights trying to get through the wall. Most of the arrows land. The wight crawls even further under the gate.

The wights start making holes in the gate. It was getting impossible to keep the gate shut. A sword sticks through the gate coming close to Loboda on the gate. Loboda and you share a look as Loboda dodges the sword, looks down to see the wight crawling under the gate, and stomps its head in.

“Lobada!” You exclaimed, releasing the pressure of your shoulder on the gate, “We have to back off!”

The wights have knocked a hole into the gate big enough to crawl out of. One breaks through, tears someone apart, and then is taken down. A group of wights storm through the same hole. Your eyes widen at how strong these creatures were despite being just bones and some clothing.

You grunted and shouted as you swung your swords at any foes that dared to touch you.

“Argh!” You swung your sword over your head and brought it down in a fit of anger onto its skull, watching it crumble down at your feet, then stomping on the skull for good measures.

“(Y/n)!” You snapped your head to hear Tormund’s cry of concern, he tried searching for you but it was hard to make you out in the mist.

“Tormund!” You shouted, frantically before a small axe had struck you in the side, “Argh fuck!”

You turned and beheaded the undead as you pulled out the axe out of your body, Tormund comes face to face with you and seeing the bloody axe he knew it wasn’t due to the undead. You clutched the small axe in hand though and threw it at Tormund’s head, well, the side of his head, killing a wight behind him.

“(Y/n)...”

“Later,” You growled, “I’ll be fine.”

He looked at you sceptically as he stood by your side with wide eyes, though it quickly turned into determination to protect you from getting any more injuries.

Truth be told, it wasn’t bad as you were heavily clothed to fend off the harsh winter air. But, it was bleeding and that was enough for Tormund to worry and lose focus in the fighting.

“Concentrate, Giantsbane!” You howled at your lover as his eyes glared to the undead.

Back to back, you swung and fought off the dead, protecting each other. You could feel Tormund’s distress, you knew him all too well. His anger materialised quickly, how dare they attempt to kill you?

Jon looks up through the mist and sees 4 White Walkers on horseback on the top of the cliff. You and Tormund are by his side, you grimace at the sight. “The Dragonglass!” Jon exclaimed as you and Tormund looked at him if he was insane.

“You’re with me, lad! Now!” Loboda calls out as the three of you looked at him.

“Go!” You and Tormund shouted in sync as you two sliced up to charging wights as Jon and Loboda charge towards the cabin.

You stumbled and leaned on Tormund, “Love?” He questioned, his eyebrow raised at you as you shake your head.

“I’m good.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, shit!” You roared, your sword penetrating another of a wilding turned undead, “But, right now, you got to stop focusing on me and focus on your fucking self.”

Tormund sighs as the two get into the rhythm of fighting side to side. You two seem to zone out as in the background you could hear Tormund shouting, howling and growling all over the place as you made your own sound effects.

The pain in your side searing more than ever as the gate starts creaking then comes down. You and Tormund looked at each other before he grabs your hand and starts dashing it.

He looks over his shoulder, pausing in a run, allowing you to adjust what he was doing, “Wun Wun to the sea!”

He yanks you again, but this time you're able to keep up as best as you could, whilst muttering to yourself “fuck” as the pain was jarring at you now. As you and Tormund had caught up with Jon and Edd as you four dash to the docks.

Jumping onto the boat as Tormund comes crashing into you, but gripping your waist to keep you from falling from the sea.

“Hey,” You murmured softly, “Glad you’re here.”

Tormund couldn’t help but smile as he moves his hand up to press against your wound, you hissed as you leaned your forehead against his shoulder. Tormund holds you still as the boat starts to move, he looks over your shoulder to gaze over to the shore.

“I’ve got you, you ain’t dying on me boy, you and I had a pack that if we die, we die together.”

“I’m aware, Tormund.” You uttered, “I’m not giving you up so easily.”

You tilt your head to look over, your head resting against his shoulder watching how no wights dared to enter the water. Watching how the leader of the wights, perhaps the king, raised his arms and those killed in the massacre start rising from the ground.

You gripped Tormund tighter, “I’m ten times glad you’re here.”

You hear him softly chuckle at you, his other hand stroking your hair, “I’m glad you’re here too, I wouldn’t be able to fight you.”

“I know,” You moaned softly, wincing in pain, “I’m feeling dizzy.”

“Don’t you worry, lad, I’ve got you,” Tormund reassures you, “I’m not letting you go so easily.”

You smiled at him as he leans his forehead against yours, “I love you, Tormund.”

“I know.”

“You’re supposed to say it back.”

“I know you know I love you too.”

“It’ll be nice to hear it some times.”

You scoffed but his chuckles, pressing a light kiss upon your temple.

“I love you too, lad.”

#Tormund Giantsbane #tormund giantsbane imagine #tormund giantsbane x male reader #x male reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of throne x male reader

279 notes · View notes

catyo90 · 5 years

Text

The Hunt: Chapter 34

Y/n stayed at the camp and for a few moments, the silence was too much for her liking as she started to worry for the others. as she sat there thinking to herself, she couldn’t help but wonder if she went too far with Thorin beforehand. She never wanted to upset if but sometimes her timidness would disappear even though she hated it when she became bolder. She was an Omega it was hard to be more straight forward with him being the Alpha let alone being her mate. She smiled to herself as the thought of him entered her mind. She wouldn’t want anyone else. That she knew with her whole heart. After a few moments, she heard a loud yell. It was Kili.

“Bilbo!”

In an instant, she stood up running toward the sound as she looked behind a few bushes she saw three hideous trolls in front of the others as they looked up to see Bilbo being held by the arms and legs looking at the others in terror. She saw Thorin stop Kili from getting any closer as one of the trolls spoke.

“Lay down your arms or we’ll tear his off.”

She could see Thorin thinking to himself and with an annoyed look placed his sword into the ground. Y/n felt the urge to attack the trolls to at least draw them away from the others. As she notched an arrow she aimed toward one of the hands of the troll. With a quick release, the arrow met its mark as the troll she hit squealed in pain as a bit of blood dripped onto his hand.

“We missed one! Go after them.”

Y/n quickly turned around as she ran toward one of the few trees with a small opening to the inside of the trunk. However, the loud and quick stomping of one of the trolls catching up to her caused her to trip over herself. The troll had managed to grab both her arms together as she was brought back to the campsite but not without complications as she did her best to kick and wiggle her way free. The troll in annoyance threw her toward the others as they struggled to put her in one of the small sacks. As the others were forced into them as well while the others were tied up over the fire to be cooked. The troll placed her next to Thorin who at this point was trying to come up with a way to escape. Y/n winced in pain as she felt a small bit of blood dripping from her head, most likely from tripping earlier. Thorin noticed this and became even more enraged at these trolls, so much so she could hear him growl as the others struggled out of their bags. Y/n overheard the trolls arguing on how they would cook them. Y/n looked around to see Bilbo standing up as he spoke to the trolls.

“You don’t want to do that. You're making a terrible mistake.”

The others tried to stop Bilbo saying it was a waste of time as they called them half-wits. Bilbo continued to talk to the trolls on how to cook them correctly which confused her as she managed to catch a glimpse of Gandalf in the bushes. She looked over as one of the trolls help up Bombur to place in its mouth. Bilbo quickly stopped the troll.

“No, not him! He’s infected with parasites, in fact, all of them are.”

The others started to yell at him claiming that they weren’t infected as Bilbo rolled his eyes as they started to ruin his plans. Thorin looked at Y/n who nodded to him as he kicked Kili to stop talking as the others caught wind of what was going on. The others started to claim all of them were sick as the somewhat leader of the trolls started to catch wind of what Bilbo was doing.

“What would you have us do, then, let’em all go. You think I don’t know what you're up to? This ferret is taking us for fools.”

Bilbo looked at the troll in annoyance as the sudden sight of Gandalf coming from out of the trees onto a higher boulder.

“The dawn will take you all!”

Gandalf struck the boulder with his staff, splitting it in half, allowing the sunlight behind it to pour into the clearing. As soon as the sunlight touched the skin of the trolls, they started turning into stone as they screamed and howled in pain. Within seconds the three of them became statues as the company started to cheer as the others on the open fire grunted in discomfort.

As the sun rose over the clearing; the others started to help each other out of the sacks and the spit. Gandalf walked up to one of the now stone statues, thumping it with his staff, with a pleased smile on his face. Thorin was helping Oin care for Y/n with the wound as the others helped in getting their equipment and weapons back. Thorin looked over to Gandalf knowing he needed to say something but he did not leave Y/n side. Until she motioned for him to go to him. He merely agreed as he told Oin to watch over her. He walked over to Gandalf giving him a questioned look.

“Where did you go to, if I may ask?”

“To look ahead.”

“What brought you back?”

“Looking behind.”

Thoirn smirked as Gandalf spoke. He looked over the trolls and became quite confused by them occurring. Gandalf looked over at Bilbo and Y/n talking to each other and smiled.

“At least your all in one piece.”

“No thanks to your burglar.”

“He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that, well perhaps Y/n as she did stall them.”

Thorin looked repentant as Gandalf seemed to look troubled over the trolls.

“They must have come down from the Ettenmoors.”

“Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?

As the two conversed on the odd sight Y/n spoke with Bilbo, giving him praise for thinking so quickly in helping them.

“You did very well, Bilbo. I was truly worried for you.”

Kili and Fili started to chuckle as they pretended to be wounded.

“Oh but no words of kindness for us.”

Y/n looked at the two of them as she brought them in for a hug with Bilbo being caught in as well. The two of them started to laugh as Y/n brought them closer.

“You both safe and that’s all that matters.”

Thorin looked over to see the four of them smiling. He didn't want to admit it but Gandalf was right about the halfling. He brought his attention back to Gandalf who mentioned that the trolls could not have moved in daylight. That could only mean there was a troll cave nearby. After a few moments, the company found a large cave nearby. Y/n, Bilbo as well as Kili and Fili followed after them to see the cave filled with treasure. Nori started to complain about the stench filling the cave as some of the others started to cough and retch for the pungent smell. Gloin and Bofur quickly noticed the piles of gold and other treasures and trinkets. While exploring Thorin noticed two swords covered in cobwebs as Y/n found a few bows next to them.

“These were not made by any troll.” Thorin said as he offered Gandalf one of the swords.

“Nor were they made by any smith among men.”

Gandalf drew the sword in out of the sheath while Y/n brushed off the cobwebs and dust from the bow.

“These were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age.”

Thorin realizeing these were of elvish make started to put them away in disgust.

“You could not ask for a finer blade.”

Thorin reluctantly held onto the sword, drawing it out of the sheath. Y/n could tell that even tough they of elvish make he clearly admired the craft.

“Let’s get out of this foul place.”

Thorin said as he called for Bofur, Gloin and Nori who were busy diggin some gold into the ground much to Dwalin’s displeasure. On his way out of the cave following the others out he stepped on something metalic. Y/n who heard the sound looked behind him to see him picking out an elvish dagger. As he walked past Y/n he noticed the bow she has was also made from the First Age but not of elvish make. He called out to Bilbo who saw him holding the dagger which for him would be a well enough sword for him. Bilbo looked at the blade.

“I can’t take this. I...I’ve never used a sword in my life.”

“The blade is of elvish make which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby but I hope you never have to use it. But if you do, remember this: true courage is knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.”

Y/n smiled at the sight as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“The road is long and dangerous and you will need to watch over yourself. Never can be too careful.”

The sudden call from Thorin caught everyone’s attention. All of them started to run away from the cave into the nearby clearing as all of them readied their weapons.

#the hunt #@thewildomega #Chapter 34 #romance #thorin x reader #thorins company #thorin imagine #the hobbit

9 notes · View notes

onemilliongoldstars · 6 years

Text

a crown seldom enjoyed- chapter 11

To maintain the fragile peace between north and south, Clarke of House Tyrell is sent to live in Winterfell as an act of faith between the two kingdoms. There, she is put under the protection of the first queen in the north, Queen Lexa of House Stark, Daughter of Wolves. A woman draped in steel and silver, wolves at her heels and rumoured to be a manifestation of the fury of the old gods; Clarke refuses to be awed be her quiet violence and cold smile. Instead of fostering unity, the meeting of the wolf and the rose lights a spark that spreads through the rest of Westeros, threatening to burn it to the ground.

11/25

clexa game of thrones au

read on ao3

Book One: Chapter 11

The sky is clear and blue above her, as Clarke makes her way through the mazes of small courtyards in the Winterfell grounds. The castle is surrounded by a labyrinth of enclosed spaces, in which warm springs sometimes bubble and the warm air is caught by the walls to keep the courtyards temperate, as if they are not open to the elements. In her many times wandering the castle, Clarke has found that the courtyards make for a pleasant place to read or draw, the warmth of the springs reminding her of the forgiving climate back in Highgarden. It is in search of one of these courtyards that she finds herself stumbling upon a small, private space, with straw and sawdust scattered across the stone paving and few windows looking down upon it. In this courtyard, the queen practices her swordplay alone.

Clarke has thought before that the queen’s sparring often looks far more elegant than she would expect, and once again her eyes are drawn to the lean curves of the woman’s body, barely hidden by her soft jerkin and hose. Her movement tells of strength and speed, her eyes steely with determination and Clarke imagines that on the battlefield she would be a force to behold.

So wrapped up in her training is the queen, that she doesn’t notice Clarke’s presence until the lady announces herself.

“Your majesty.”

Lexa startles, reeling around in surprise as her sword drops to her side. She almost stumbles upon her own feet, so surprised is she at the sight of visitors, and Clarke privately retracts her thoughts of elegance.

“Lady Clarke,” Lexa is so taken aback that Clarke is given the rare pleasure of seeing her utterly unmasked. Her eyes are wide, and Clarke hesitates over her words, momentarily stunned. Never before has she noticed just how green the woman’s eyes are, like the forests of the Wolfswood, and it steals the breath from her chest.

“I- you said you couldn’t dance.” Clarke manages, at last, and Lexa arches at eyebrow, looking her over with interest.

“No,” She corrects at last, “I said I didn’t dance.”

“Is there a difference?” Clarke challenges her, tearing her eyes away from the queen’s face to resume normal thought.

“Of course,” Lexa gives her a slight smile, clearly intrigued, “I find it better not to dance at those sorts of gatherings, but I could if the need arose. I was not utterly uneducated as a child.”

“I thought you said that you were taught swordplay rather than dancing?” Clarke takes a curious step closer, her eyes drawn to the shining blade in the woman’s hand.

“They are remarkably similar,” Lexa explains, with a wan smile. “Though far more deadly.”

“Clearly, you have not had to displeasure of dancing with the lords of Riverrun,” Clarke raises an eyebrow in her direction, and Lexa laughs freely, her eyes filled with mirth. “They are the least graceful creatures I have ever met.”

“Thank goodness you inherited the grace of the Tyrells, my lady,” Lexa’s words draw a smile to her lips and a flush to her cheeks.

“And who did you inherit your grace from, your majesty?”

“My grace with a sword was drilled into me by hours in the courtyard with Ser Indra and Lord Mormont,” Lexa admits, twisting the sword within her grasp so that the steel catches the light. “Not as enjoyable as your dance lessons, I suspect.”

Clarke bristles, just slightly, and tells her cooly. “I’m not so sure, my dance instructor was from Pentos and he had very little patience. I expect he could have broken the spirit of stronger women than you, your majesty.”

Lexa’s eyes widen in surprise at her words, and for a moment Clarke thinks she will take offence, but then the queen offers out her sword, “You think that swordplay is no real challenge, my lady?”

“I think it can be taught just as easily as dancing,” She answers, gingerly taking the sword into her hands. It is heavier than she expects, the silver wolf pommel cold beneath her touch, and her arm begins to ache only moments after accepting it into her grip, though she does not admit it to the expectant woman watching her. “Your blade is quite impressive.”

“Thank you,” Lexa is watching her with a keen interest in her eyes, “You said your father had a similar weapon? Did you ever hold it?”

She is surprised that the queen remembers, her stomach curling a little at the mention of her father, but she nods, a mischievous smile playing across her features as she remembers. “Only when I was not supposed to.”

Lexa laughs again, shaking her head so that her braids fall across her shoulders. “Did you have any training with weapons at all?”

Clarke’s lips press together, as she thinks of the poison still hidden in the slit in her mattress, but she shakes her head innocently. “A few archery lessons, but I showed no real aptitude and quickly lost interest.”

“That’s a shame, I think you would be rather lethal with some training,” Their eyes meet and something unspoken and hot flashes between them, catching Clarke’s breath in her throat and leaving her cheeks to heat as Lexa tears her gaze away and continues, her voice a notch hoarser. “Besides, everyone should know the basics of swordplay to defend themselves should the need arise.”

“I fear my lack of experience would scare off any potential tutor,” Clarke shakes her head, handling the weapon with ungainly hands.

“I would be happy to teach you a few things,” The offer seems to surprise them both, because when Clarke looks up, her eyes wide, she finds Lexa looking back at her with equal shock. “Though,” The queen stumbles over her words, “Of course- you need not-”

“No,” Clarke dares to interrupt her, though Lexa seems grateful for it, “Since the attack I… I have been worried. It might put my mind at ease to learn how to swing a sword.”

“Then… I would be happy to help.” Her smile is so kind that for a moment Clarke feels as if she is looking at someone utterly different. “Though you should perhaps start with a lighter blade.”

“Yes, I think you may be right,” Clarke admits, happy to hand the heavy longsword back to the queen when she holds out her hand. The queen crosses the courtyard to exchange it at the rack of weapons pressed against the wall, and Clarke takes the moment to look over her shoulder. To her relief, Octavia has taken her post outside the courtyard archway and has her back to them.

“Here,” Lexa’s voice startles her, bringing her attention back to the queen, who looks at her with eager interest. In her hands, she offers out a shorter, wooden training sword, the like of which Clarke has seen young pages practicing with, and Clarke smiles wryly. When she takes it from her, their hands brush softly.

“I suppose this is safer for everyone involved.”

“Not that I don’t trust you, but it’s easy to be injured training, as you’ve seen before.” Lexa grins, and holds up her own wooden sword. “There are several basic principles to swordplay,” She switches so seamlessly into the role of teacher that Clarke wonders whether she has taught her brother before, or some of the younger pages. “Timing and balance to name a few.”

“Doesn’t sound so different to dancing, so far.” Clarke teases, and Lexa actually rolls her eyes good naturedly.

“Maybe not so far, but there are several things you have to learn before you can even cross blades with someone. For example, stretch out your sword please?” When Clarke does as instructed, she tuts, her eyes narrowing as she examines her form. “I… I’m sorry but your grip really isn’t very good.”

“I think I know how to hold something,” Clarke remarks, and Lexa’s eyes flash up to her in surprise, before the queen steps forward and with one deft stroke knocks the practice sword straight from her hands. It lands in the dirt at their feet with a clatter and Clarke splutters her outrage, looking to the queen for an explanation.

Lexa’s expression is not forgiving; instead, the queen arches an eyebrow, and asks. “Did you expect this to be easy, my lady?”

“No,” Clarke huffs, bending to collect her weapon. “I suppose you ought to show me how to hold it.”

“Curl your fingers further… that’s right, a little higher,” Lexa watches as she adjusts her grip, “No, your thumb needs to be stretched out.” She edges closer, and only catches her reaching hands at the last moment. Green eyes flicker up to meet hers, and Clarke barely realises how close Lexa is when she asks, “May I?”

Clarke can only nod mutely, and watch as warm, calloused fingers gently adjust her own. This close to her, she can see the smooth cut of Lexa’s jawline and curve of her neck, the arch of her nose and brush of her eyelashes against her cheek as she focuses on Clarke’s hands. The sight is enchanting, haunting, and for a moment she is no longer the queen who brought the south to its knees, but a beautiful girl, under the sunlight. Clarke wonders what would happen if they had met in a different world, if Lexa had been a visiting noble to Highgarden and she had shown her through the orange groves, and stolen away with her into the sunlit groves where wandering hands and lips could not be seen.

“There, that’s perfect.” Lexa’s words draw her so sharply from her reverie that she pulls in a sharp breath, her cheeks colouring when Lexa’s eyes find hers, gentle with concern. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” Clarke is ashamed of how breathless her voice is in Lexa’s company. “Yes, quite well your majesty.”

“I think… in these circumstances… you should call me Lexa.” The queen looks at her with eyes so open and soft that Clarke feels her heart constrict.

“Then you should call me Clarke.”

Lexa’s lips pull up into a smile so bright it could rival the evening stars, “Thank you, Clarke.”

---

As Spring settles across the north, the snow melts away and the roads clear enough to allow travel. In Highgarden Clarke rarely stayed in the same place for longer than a few weeks. It was easy to sail down to Oldtown, or ride to Kingslanding to see Wells and take in the excitement of the city, so her confinement in Winterfell grates upon her the longer she is kept within the cold grey walls of the castle. When the queen tells her that the Kingsroad to the Wall is passable now, she jumps at the chance to accompany her on her visit. It takes some preparation, though they expect to only be there for a day or so. It buoys her spirits, which have been low since the spring festival came to an end and the lords who had been filling it returned to their own lands.

A messenger scrambles into the courtyard the morning they are due to leave. He clambers past the waiting pages and soldiers, the horses and carts that accompany a trip with the queen, and rushes to the kitchens as if he's being chased by the old gods themselves. After some berating, he is able to hand over his charge to a serving boy, and collapse in front of the fire to beg scraps from the cook, as the boy delivers his message to Lady Clarke.

The southern lady turns, startled by the knock on the door. Her handmaiden tuts where she is gathering the last of her things, and Faith’s ears perk up from her place curled in front of the fire, but the door swings open at her call to show Octavia and a serving boy clutching a letter.

“A letter from the south, m’lady.” The boy holds it out for her, but keeps talking even as she takes the letter. The seal is a golden stag. “The messanger said he fell ill just over the border, apologises for the delay.”

“Are you sure he didn't just fall into a whore house?” Octavia mutters darkly and the boy flushes and fumbles for the right words.

“How long was the delay?” Clarke asks, as she tears into the letter.

“Several weeks, m’lady.” The boy flinches at the glower she settles him with, and is glad to escape when she waves her hand to dismiss him.

Octavia hesitates in the doorway, but Clarke is so focused on her letter that she barely realises the soldier is still there. It is written is scrawling, spiralling words, the letters spiked with panic and fear. There are places where the ink is stained and smudged, as if smeared by wine or an unsteady hand, and the writing veers from large, uneven letters to a tiny, cramped scrawl. Her eyes scan over the words, her stomach sinking as she reads, and a breath escapes her, so loud that Octavia says her name curiously.

“My lady?”

Clarke tears her gaze up, landing on Octavia and blinking as if she had forgotten the girl was there.

“Are you alright?” Octavia steps closer, her brows pulling together with concern. “What does it say?”

“Nothing,” Clarke answers, after a beat of silence, and strides across the room to toss the letter into the flames. “Only a letter from my mother. Could you check my trunk has been properly stowed?”

Octavia eyes her as if she doesn’t fully believe her, but when it seems that Clarke will not relent she nods, and turns to hurry from the room. Clarke’s feet feel frozen to the spot, her eyes drawn down to where the flames lick at the corners of the parchment, easing across her friend’s words. Wells’ letters have long been troubling, but this panicked spiral of words has left her feeling deeply unsettled and fearful. The prince writes of wrongs he has committed, and things which cannot be undone. He begs her forgiveness for burdening her with this, but she cannot decipher between the words what it is he has done, and the worry for her friend sends her hurrying to the trunk at the bottom of her bed to pull out parchment and a quill. In a letter so short she is almost ashamed to send it, she pleads that he be more direct and allow her to help him, but even as she seals it with a green wax rose, she knows it will not appease him. Her stomach curdles with her desire to travel to him and ensure his wellbeing, but instead she must be satisfied with thrusting the letter into the hands of a messenger when she makes her way down to the courtyard and instructing him to run all the way to Kingslanding.

“My lady, we are not quite ready to leave yet.” A knight who is part of their retinue tells her as she climbs into her carriage and she feels so suddenly trapped that she leans from the window and barks.

“Then you had better make haste, because I will be leaving now with or without you.”

---

The journey to The Wall takes several days, if they keep at a good speed. Their caravan is small enough, with only Lady Clarke’s carriage to slow them, and Lexa rides near the head of the procession, her black mount glad of the chance to stretch his legs. She runs a hand down his neck as they keep a steady pace onwards, and enjoys the sound of the hoofbeats around her and the cold breeze plucking its fingers at her hair and cloak. She cheeks are flushed, her nose stinging with the cold, but she is intensely glad to be on the road again. It has been some time since she last checked in on the Wall, and the much needed provisions she supplies will be received gratefully, she is sure.

At her side Anya rides, ever faithfully at her side, her white cloak billowed out across her horse’s rear like one of the knights of old. Lexa smiles privately at that thought; certainly, Anya would not appreciate being compared to one of those prancing princes. Titus, to her quiet relief, remains in Winterfell, with Aden there to act as regent in her stead. She had spoken to him at length before she left, and though she knows he is ready and capable, and surrounded by Gustus and Luna to help him, she worries about how he will fare on his own. Still, it is not enough to dour her jovial spirits, with the land stretching out around her, she already feels refreshed and lighter than she had in the castle. When the sun finally reached its highest point she calls for a stop to feed and water both her horses and men.

They slide from their horses, the less skilled riders amongst them wincing already and rubbing at their backs and buttocks. There is much todo, with the clanging of swords and shouts of men reaching Lexa as she guides her horse carefully back through the halted caravan, until she reaches the carriage that holds Lady Clarke. The vehicle itself is northern in design, made to withstand the cold temperatures and rough roads that will greet them the further north they travel, and beside its open door stands Octavia. The soldier leans inside, her face twisted with irritation as she argues with the woman inside and Lexa’s brows quirk. She pulls her mount to a halt and slips from the saddle, startling Octavia away from the carriage and handing her reigns off to a nearby horse boy.

“Octavia, is everything well?” She steps closer, until she is able to peer inside the carriage at Lady Clarke. The woman sits on the edge of one of the benches, her hands clasped in a fur muff and a thick cloak sitting heavily around her shoulders. “Lady Clarke?”

“All is well, your majesty,” Clarke rolls her eyes, standing awkwardly, half bent thanks to the low ceiling of the carriage. Lexa edges back and holds out a hand to assist her from the carriage, smiling at the touch of her hands. “Octavia was just trying to persuade me to ride for the rest of the day, and I told her I would rather not.”

“Really?” Lexa looks at her with interest, folding her hands behind her back to ease the ache of losing her touch. “You do not like riding?”

“She does!” Octavia protests, fiercely, and mutters her apology when both Clarke and Lexa shoot her a glance, though her chin stays stubbornly jutted out.

“I seem to remember you telling me that.” Lexa agrees, reluctantly, and Clarke simply shakes her head, arching an eyebrow.

“A lady doesn’t ride a horse where I come from, it isn’t the dignified way to travel.”

The words pull a slight laugh from between Lexa’s lips, and she offers her arm to placate the lady, “But much more fun. Should you consider changing your mind you would be welcome to ride beside me.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, just barely, and Lexa’s smile only grows. “I won’t, but thank you, your majesty.”

---

They make better time than expected on their first day, and stay in a village on the shore of Long Lake, a frosty body of water running along the eastern edge of the Woolfswood. Clarke is glad to stop travelling for the day; the second half of their journey had led them through the thickly wooded Wolfswood, where she knows from hearsay that the guard who had helped in her attempted assassination was found and killed. The fir trees stretch high and block out most of the sunlight, leaving them to tread the Kingsroad by torchlight. When she peered out the small window of her carriage, she had seen only darkness and trees, illuminated by the flickering flames, and it had been enough to make her shiver and retreat back into her dark carriage. Emerging onto the shore of Longlake had been like waking after a long sleep, and when she looked out this time, she could see the vast expanse of silvery water, frozen where it clung to the stony beaches.

The village is in a cleared copse, land reclaimed from the forest and constantly fought for if the tree stumps that scattered the edge of the village are anything to go by. It consists of a few houses, the largest of which looks like a crude long hall. They are all built from the dark timbers of the Wolfswood, and beside the wide white sky and shining lake there is something striking about them. The villagers immediately agree to Lexa’s polite request for shelter, especially when she reveals what she is willing to give them in return, and most of the soldiers are given a place to lay a bedroll in the long hall, while Clarke and Lexa are given beds in two family homes.

At suppertime, Clarke steps into the long hall, her cloak wrapped around her shoulders to keep away to cold northern night, and finds a loud, bright, jovial scene awaiting her. The long hall is filled with both Lexa’s soldiers and the villagers themselves. In the middle of the room burns a large fire, and the smoke escapes from a chimney in the roof. Upon the fire roast two pigs, their sweet smell filling the hall, and bread and mead has already been handed out. Around the fire people crowd, soaking up the warmth, and children and dogs wander around the hall, including the direwolves that Lexa had brought with her. Lexa herself sits near enough to the fire, on a high backed chair, with Anya at one side and the leader of the village at the other. She seems to be in deep conversation with the villager, but when Clarke steps inside she glances up, her lips tilting into a smile when their eyes meet.

Lexa gestures, and Octavia helps her to pick her way through the eating men and women to join her. Anya, to her surprise, gives up her seat to Clarke’s use, and as she sinks down Clarke basks in the warmth from the fire blazing before her. Something warm butts at her legs, and she finds Faith beside her, panting excitedly.

“Hello, I haven’t seen you all day,” She tells the direwolf fondly, rubbing between her ears.

“They’ll have been hunting,” Lexa says from her other side, and Clarke turns to give her a smile. “Good evening, Clarke.”

“Good evening,” She settles back into her seat, “This is… interesting. I can say I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“It’s a good way of keeping up spirits in our journey,” Lexa gazes out over her celebrating men and women, “And Thornwood was kind enough to give us use of the long hall for the night.”

The man on the other side of Lexa gives them a slight smile. He is clearly cowed in the presence of the queen, despite Lexa’s gentle treatment of him, and Clarke tries to offer some reassurance by nodding.

“Thank you, it’s very generous.”

“Anything for my queen.” He tells her, quite seriously, and she knows it is true.

“I hope you don’t mind forgoing a table, just for tonight,” Lexa teases her, lightly, as a girl scurries up with pork sandwiched between two thick slices of bread.

Clarke takes it gingerly, frowning a little when the grease drips over her hands, but her stomach growls and she takes a bite. A moan escapes her, and she flushes, chewing the rich, succulent meat as Lexa turns away to give her a little dignity, though Clarke can still see the smile on her face.

Once she’s swallowed, Clarke manages to admit, “I think I can allow it, just for tonight.”

As the night eases onwards she settles into her seat, occupied by listening to Anya and Lexa talk and feeding Faith slithers of food every time Lexa’s attention wanes from them. Octavia disappears into the crowd to find her own food, and Clarke thinks she sees her talking with Ser Lincoln, of the Queensguard. A woman appears beside Thornwood, a cap covering her wild hair and an apron over her skirts, and behind him Clarke spots a small body, peering out from behind his mother’s skirts. Thornwood says something to her in a low voice, and the woman gestures at the queen and then down to the boy at her side. It’s enough to pull Lexa’s attention away from Anya, and Clarke watches with interest as Lexa gestures the woman forward.

“Your majesty,” Thornwood introduces them, “This is my wife Nessa, and my boy Matthew.”

Lexa’s expression clears to understanding and her eyes brighten, “Well met, Nessa, and you Matthew.”

“Well met, your majesty,” Nessa dips a clumsy curtsey, and the boy shifts further behind her, his hands clutching at her skirts. “Sorry to disturb you, only my boy… he wanted to meet you.”

“Of course,” Lexa’s smile softens, turns warm and friendly, “I’d love to meet him,” She does them the service of pretending the lad isn’t cowering behind his mother.

Nessa puts a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder and ushers him away from her. The boy’s eyes widen and he gaze flickers between his mother and father, wide with the betrayal, until they fasten onto the queen. Lexa doesn’t look very regal to Clarke in her comfortable riding clothes and dark cloak, only her direwolf pin and a few shining pins in her hair marking her out as anything more than a commoner, but the boy is utterly transfixed at the sight of her.

“Hello,” Lexa’s voice is gentle and friendly, as if she is tempting a flighty horse back to her side. “Your mother says you wanted to meet me. It’s very nice to meet you Matthew.”

He stares up at her, his mouth hanging open, and there is utter silence between them all for a few painful moments, before his mother speaks.

“He wanted to know about your wolves.”

Lexa’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and she tilts her head in interest, looking down at the boy. “My wolves? They’re with me now if you’d like to meet them?”

Matthew’s eyes widen in amazement and he nods so hard that Clarke thinks his head will fall cleanly from his shoulders. Lexa’s smile widens and she clicks her tongue until one of the wolves- dove grey, with whitened ears- paces closer. The wolf pauses before the boy, eyeing him thoughtfully, and though he trembles, Matthew plants his feet and stares up at it. The wolf is so big that it stands taller than him, and it tilts its head, for a moment an unnerving reflection of the queen herself, and observes him closely, its ears twitching. A beat of silence passes, and then the beast sits contentedly, its tail flicking around its legs.

“This is Patience,” Lexa says at last, reaching out to touch at the wolf’s ears. “She will not hurt you.”

As if envious of the attention, Faith appears at Clarke’s side again and settles her head upon pthe girl’s lap, closing her eyes blissfully when Clarke scratches between her ears. Before her, the boy takes a faltering step closer, and then extends his little hands until they brush experimentally against Patience’s coat. When the wolf does nothing but twitch her ears in response, he becomes braver, and closes the distance between them until he can pat at her nose and rub her neck, beaming.

“She likes you,” Lexa observes, a smile still playing at her lips, and the boy turns to look at her with delight.

The amazement must loosen his tongue, because he asks, excitedly. “Is it true you ride them into battle?”

His father’s mouth falls open, eyes widening with horror, but they are all disarmed when Lexa throws back her head and lets out a hearty chuckle.

“I’m afraid I ride a horse, but they come with me.” She tells him, kindly and the boy’s eyes shine.

“Is it true they can tear a man in half?”

“Only if you make them angry enough.” Lexa assures him, and his grin grows, eyes darting between the placid wolf he’s patting, and the queen.

Patience, apparently tiring of the boy’s attentions, pulls away with a growl in the back of her throat and looks up at Lexa expectantly. The queen acquiesces easily, and when she throws a chunk of pork to the ground, both Patience and Faith dive for it. They fight for a moment, growling and snarling, and Clarke reels back. Despite seeing Faith kill a man before her, the wolf is so calm around her that she often forgets that the two animals are innately wild in a way that trained dogs are not. Unlike her, Matthew’s grin only grows, and he turns back to Lexa to continue questioning her.

She is gentle with him in a way that Clarke has never seen her before, answering his questions with a balance between truth and excitement, and the boy watches her with stars in his eyes. Soon, their conversation attracts other little feet, and several more children creep closer, their eyes like the moon as they listen to the queen speak. It is kind of her to entertain them, Clarke thinks, but a small part of her can’t help but think that Lexa is clever to tell tales to the young ears that will one day grow up to be her people. Something warm settles low in her belly, and runs through her veins, more than the mead she has been drinking all night, and the next morning she opts to ride, rather than travel in her carriage.

The sight of Lexa’s smile when she appears next to her in the procession is enough to make the chafing and aching legs worth it.

---

They reach the Wall after two more days of travelling. It is visible from leagues away, a towering wall of ice and stone, the tallest structure in the north, gleaming blue in the sunlight. Privately, Lexa is pleased that the sky has brightened over their final afternoon on horseback, the sun shining brightly despite the blistering cold that settles beneath their bones. There is still snow on the ground this far north, and the sun reflects off the immense, icy wall until it is almost blinding. Stretching in every direction, the vast structure was created by the First Men to defend the Seven Kingdoms from the creatures and wildlings that lingered in the land beyond it. Lexa’s father had always told her that there was magic woven into the bones of the Wall, and now, with direwolves pacing around her, Lexa believes that it is true.

At her side, Lexa hears Clarke’s intake of breath when it first comes into view, and she has to press down her proud smile as they continue riding.

“I’ve never seen anything so…” Clarke murmurs, and Lexa turns to look at her. The girl cannot tear her eyes away from the side in front of her, “The Hightower in Oldtown maybe but this is…”

She trails off and Lexa lets her collect her thoughts, only the clanking of metal and the thud of hoofbeats to fill the silence, until eventually she says.

“I thought it would look different.”

“Really?” Lexa looks at her again, curiosity painted through her features, and enquires, “How so?”

“I pictured it dark and grey, frightening almost. From here it just seems beautiful.”

The words linger with Lexa as they approach the Wall. It is mid-afternoon when they arrive at Castle Black, the largest fortress on the Wall, the most heavily manned and the seat of the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, the group of men who guard the Wall from invaders. Lexa knows the Lord Commander well; after the War of North and South was won they had exchanged many letters about the upkeep of the Nights Watch. A particular point of contention between north and south, Lexa had pushed hard and made concessions to ensure the continued assistance in funding the Nights Watch from Thelonious Baratheon, and now the watch is better funded and armed than it has been in years, to Lexa’s relief. The stirrings of the direwolves had left her wondering, in the wake of her victory, whether the old magic was creeping back into the north. Tales of more wildling activity from beyond the Wall worried her, and with more people flooding into Winter Town every day, she hears stories of mages and spirits. With this playing on her mind, she sleeps easier knowing that those who protect them from what lies in the deep North are eating well and have sharp swords.

Castle Black is not a true castle, despite what its name suggests, instead it is a collection of towers and long houses, with a large training courtyard at its heart. The Wall stands at its North, towering so high that the top is covered by clouds. The only way up is a metal cage pulled up and down the wall by a pulley, unless one wants to climb the thousands of icy steps cut into its side. Lexa had sent word of their progress, and so the gates stand open, the Lord Commander at their centre to welcome them. Lord Commander Harris Arryn is a lithe, weathered man, with a shrewd gaze and a fair heart. Though originally from the south, Lexa had found him an easy man to talk with, and he often reassured her that he had given up his loyalty to his homeland when he had joined the Nights Watch. Smart and straight talking, Lexa privately thinks that much of the north has rubbed off on him in his many years as part of the Watch, and it is for this reason that she happily dismounts and strides forward to meet him in the gateway, nodding as he bows.

“Your majesty,” He greets her formally, just as she knows he would greet Thelonius Jaha is her stead. The Watch is sworn to stay out of the wars of men, and Arryn had kept that promise throughout the War of North and South, despite many of his men protesting. “A pleasure to have you back with us.”

“Only for a few days I’m afraid Lord Commander,” She gestures back to where Lady Clarke has slid from her own mount and is hesitating behind her, “May I introduce Lady Clarke of House Tyrell. Lady Clarke, this is Lord Commander Harris Arryn.”

“Lord Commander,” Clarke steps forward, and graciously accepts his bow, smiling prettily. “How nice to hear a familiar name.”

“My lady, you have your father’s eyes,” Lord Harris tells her, with an ease that surprises Lexa.

“You’re too kind,” Clarke flushes, her smile warming sincerely, “How nice to finally meet you.”

“We met when you were a babe,” the Lord Commander tells her, with certainty, “Before the last Winter, I spent some time in Kingslanding and met your father and mother.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were acquainted,” Lexa’s curious gaze turns to Clarke, “Or I would have brought you here sooner Lady Clarke.”

“Lord Marcus Arryn is a friend of my mother’s,” Lady Clarke explains, and the Lord Commander nods his support.

“Lady Abigail stayed with my brother Ivan when she was a girl. Lord Marcus is my nephew.”

“I see,” Lexa’s eyes find Clarke again, narrowing just slightly. Lord Jacob seems to be close friends with many of the high lords in Westeros, by all accounts he is a charming and friendly man so Lexa is sure he doesn’t struggle in that regard, but still she cannot help but think it is a sage path to take. She wonders whether his daughter inherited his wisdom.

“Let me welcome you inside, your majesty.” Lord Commander Harris steps back to allow them in, and Lexa nods her thanks. They enter on either side of the Lord Commander, and the members of the Watch gathered in the courtyard stare at them. Some bow, while others remain stiff and furious, anger written into the set of their faces. Anya’s presence at her back brings her some comfort, but Lexa’s hand still rests upon the pommel of her sword. Despite the slowly changing attitudes in the north, the Nights Watch is still made up of only men, all of whom are forbidden by their vows to marry or lie with another person again. Though Lexa has visited Castle Black before herself, she usually does so in sensible riding gear and heavy cloaks. Lady Clarke, on the other hand, wears a northern gown made from heavy, red material, a necklace settled between her collarbones and a jewelled net in her hair, catching the unruly golden curls. Lexa can feel the eyes of the men upon her, like hungry vultures, and her jaw clenches, her eyes narrowing as she sees men’s lips slide into smirks.

She is glad when they are shown into the King’s Tower to freshen up after their long ride, and are hidden from the prying eyes of the brothers of the Nights Watch.

---

Before the sun sinks below the skyline, Clarke steps out of the great metal cage that stretches up the Wall and onto the frozen wooden walkway which is embedded in the ice. Her legs tremble despite herself, from both the cold and her time spent suspended in the iron cage against the Wall, which had swayed whenever a particularly strong breeze came along. A hand wraps around her elbow, steadying her, and she finds Lexa’s eyes looking down at her, kind and ever so green. Her hand wraps around Lexa’s arm and they edge their way more steadily onto the Wall. The wind whips around them, tugging on their clothes, and Clarke is glad that she has her cloak, thick and heavy around her shoulders. They cross the wide walkway on the top of the Wall in silence. The men of the Nights Watch turn to look at them in curiosity, peering out from the warming hut in which a fire flickers. Pushed up against the edges of the walkway, where thick walls of snow and stone stand head high, are stationary catapults and barrels of stones to be thrown at the enemy. Wooden pillboxes and outlets stretch out into the air, to give a clear view of the land beyond, and it is to this that Lexa leads her.

The forests have been cleared away from the Wall, so that for about a league or two there is only icy snow, before it is taken over by fir trees thicker and larger than any Clarke has ever seen. If she had thought that the north was a wild wasteland, it is nothing compared to the scene that awaits her here. Beyond the Wall, the land seems to move differently. It twists, like a snake slithering from view, and refuses to be seen or understood. In the distance, she can see mountains rising from the forests, their peaks so high that they seem to reach into the clouds and call to the gods. There is a glimmer between the trees, a vast frozen lake perhaps, but when Clarke tries to peer more closely it disappears from view, and she is left wondering whether it existed at all. In the fading light the snow shines and glimmers, like diamonds, a pure, uninterrupted sheet. She almost feels as if she could jump from their outpost and land safely in the thick snowfall below.

There is something darker about the sight, however, a strange feeling that settles in her stomach and leaves her feeling as though she has missed something. The forests are dark and thick, so unlike the woodland glens of home that it is almost as if they were bird and beast. Memories come, unbidden, of the stories told around the fireside, of ice spiders and giants, white walkers and wildlings who would skin a man alive. The trees rustle, as if hearing her thoughts, and she takes a faltering step back.

“Clarke,” Lexa’s hand reaches out for her, concerned, and she pulls her gaze away from the view to find the woman before her. The sight of her is so utterly relieving, an anchor to the realm of the living and real, that Clarke reaches out to take her hand, squeezing it hard. It is warm and alive beneath hers and she steps in closer, shivering a little. “Are you well?” Lexa presses.

“Yes, yes I’m fine.” Her eyes flicker back to the view, and here, close to Lexa’s warm, solid form, it looks less frightening. “I just… it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“There is something awe inspiring about it, I think.” Lexa muses, “It makes you feel so very small.”

“Yes, yes exactly,” Clarke breathes out, relieved to have her feelings voiced so clearly and reasonably, and her relief pulls her words from her. “I’ve never felt… powerless like this before.”

“It is strange,” Lexa looks down at her, and snowflakes cling to her dark hair like diamonds, her eyes shining in the setting sun. “Are you glad you saw it?”

“Yes,” She murmurs, her heart suddenly tight, “Yes, so glad. You’re right, the snow can be beautiful.”

---

#clexa #clexa gotau #clarke griffin #commander lexa #game of thrones

92 notes · View notes

ariphyll · 5 years

Text

and your eyes, they hide a thousand words

– Chapter 5: Hit Your Mark — Prev. Chapter (in the reblogs cause Tumblr is broken)

Ao3. Ver. in the reblogs

Xander/Takumi - Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 3275

Summary: The stars glinted in the night sky, but the torches provided enough light for the training grounds to be usable.

A/N: What, an update only a week later instead of months? I don't know what the fuck is happening either.

Takumi managed to find his way to the training grounds by nighttime. Laslow had ceased his lessons, there were no nobles to harp at him - he didn’t even have any real paperwork or notes of his own to pour over. He had some free time and by the gods, he was going to take it.

Thwick!

After all, nothing relieved stress better than a few bullseyes.

Takumi huffed as he squinted at the target a few yards away. At least, it would be if he could actually land a true mark.

Takumi shifted the practice bow in his hands. He should’ve brought the Fujin Yumi down with him instead of trying to work with the Nohrian style bows. He had gotten pretty good at them during the war but after so much time he was a little out of practice. At this rate his stress relief was turning on him.

A familiar itch grew in his hands as he stared down the target. Really, there was no point in obsessing over perfection anymore. The war was finished, and his siblings were far, far away. No one was even in the training area. No one could see the slightly imperfect marks he had left on the target. No one but him. It didn’t matter - but his hands itched.

It had to matter.

It was getting late but Takumi still notched another arrow and pulled the bowstring back. There were only a few evening stars out; he could stay a while longer. All he needed was one bullseye. One and then he would put the bow back and head up to his room. Just enough to quiet the itch in his hands.

He fired.

The arrow embedded itself into the wood of the target, but not dead center.

The itch grew stronger, and so he notched another arrow.

Takumi had been so busy with moving and adapting to Castle Krakenburg, he knew he would be sore if he kept this pace up. He should take a break, he knew this but- just one bullseye. He would land it on this one, and if he didn’t, well, he would try again. 'Cause the next time, for sure, he would hit the mark.

Takumi didn’t enjoy obsessing. He didn’t enjoy the restlessness in his body over a score less than a hundred, but every piece of him demanded it. So aware of the issue yet so incapable of stopping it. He pulled back the arrow, narrowing his eyes at the target. Perhaps aim a little higher...

“Practicing your archery this evening?”

Takumi let out a small noise as his focus snapped, so intent on the target he didn’t hear anyone approaching. His fingers fumbled in their grip and the arrow flew a foot or two before skidding across the ground. He turned and paused as he saw Xander standing there.

An uncomfortable feeling pressed against the back of his throat but Takumi gave him a polite nod. “Good evening.” A beat passed between them. “Do you… need me for something?”

“Oh-” Xander shook his head. “No, do not worry. I was actually here to do some training myself.”

“Found yourself some free time as well then?” Takumi asked.

“I… guess, in a way. Even among all my other duties I need to find time to stay in top form. Peace or not, Nohr needs a strong king in all aspects.”

Takumi turned in favor of picking up the fallen arrow. The tip was bent just the slightest bit. How annoying.

“Well, I didn’t mean to intervene. I was just about to leave anyway,” Takumi lied.

Xander turned to peer down at the target. The more errant misses stood out like sirens in Takumi’s mind. “Your aim is still as solid as ever, I see.”

Takumi huffed despite himself. “Hardly.” The penance for him slacking was clear as day.

“Is that so?” Xander paused. Takumi glanced in his direction but couldn’t read his face. “Well, thankfully we are in a time of peace. You have plenty of time to reach your old standards.”

Takumi bit the inside of his cheek. Exactly how long had Xander been standing there before he spoke up anyway? “Well, whatever, I’m done now. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh- I don’t mean to kick you out,” Xander said. “Actually, would you… Ah, would you like to train with me, Prince Takumi?”

“Hm?” Takumi raised an eyebrow at him. “You want to practice together?”

“I don’t see why not - unless you truly were eager to leave."

The itch in his hands still stayed. "I could stay a bit longer."

"Then it's settled. Although...” Xander shot the bow in his hands a small frown. “I’m not as well-versed in the bow as you are.”

Takumi had to bite back a laugh at that. “Don’t worry about it. I could take you on in some swordplay.”

Immediately Takumi regretted those words. Sword practice with the only man who could match his brother at full strength? What a great idea. Some humiliation could only make the night better, right?

“Really? Then I’d be more than happy to do a few sparring matches,” Xander said. It was officially dark enough that the torches were providing more light than the sky, leaving the training grounds covered in long shadows.

Well, at least it wasn’t his brother Takumi was actually sparring with. Xander may be strong and his husband-to-be, but no defeat by him would be that bitter. Takumi took in a deep breath. It would be a terrible one, surely, but it wasn’t his brother. This could be salvaged.

Sometimes he would criticize Leo for not being honest with his family. The critique always felt hollow coming from him.

“Prince Takumi?” Takumi jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Are you still coming with?”

Takumi glanced up at Xander, his face slightly creased with worry. “Oh- yeah, yeah. I just got… distracted. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. If you’re not feeling well you do not have to stay.”

Takumi shook his head. “No, I’m good. Come on, I need to put this bow back.”

They walked in silence towards the small armory, equipped only with practice weapons and a few dull blades. Takumi placed his bow back in it’s spot, leaving his half empty quiver nearby. His spent arrows would probably have to be fixed anyway before being used again.

“You have quite a bit of experience with the sword as well, don’t you Prince Takumi?” Xander asked, testing a broadsword in his hand.

Takumi shrugged. “I have enough. Enough that I could use one on the battlefield if needed.”

“You would spar with your retainer quite often back during the war,” Xander said.

“Well, yeah.” Takumi felt a smile tug at his lips at the memories. “Someone has to best him now and then so he doesn’t get comfortable.”

Takumi thought he saw a hint of a warm smile on Xander’s face as well. “I understand very well working with unruly retainers.”

Thinking of Laslow’s flirtatious behavior and Peri’s… existence, Takumi could see how Xander had him beat in this particular category. For once, he was glad to not be at the top. He enjoyed Hinata and Oboro’s constant antics but he wasn’t sure if he could handle them getting any weirder.

Then again, there was that time Hinata talked about going on a date with some ‘ghost chick’...

Takumi picked up one of the practice shortswords, frowning at the weight. If he was rusty on Nohrian bows he couldn’t imagine when he had last used a Nohrian blade. He adjusted his grip as he tried to adjust to the balance. He didn’t understand why Nohr insisted on making all their weapons so heavy .

“Are you ready?” Xander asked, turning towards him.

At least it was too late in the day for anyone else to come to the training grounds. “Sure, let’s go.”

Takumi took a deep breath as they reconvened outside, adjusting his weight onto the balls of his feet as he prepared himself. The heavy handle of the blade felt unnatural but not impossible to work with. He brushed his thumb over the scratched hilt as he looked up at Xander.

“Ready?” He asked.

Xander nodded and only a beat passed before he struck first.

If there was one thing Takumi could always rely on, it was his speed. Being short and smaller than a lot of other people was annoying at best most days - but for combat? Takumi took a step back, brandishing his sword in front of his chest as he edged to the side. Speed was what samurai were trained for, and his size only helped that aspect.

Xander, on the other hand, held more power in his swings. Takumi dodged a few more attacks before forcing himself to dip in close. One strike would feel like multiple if he let himself be hit in the wrong area. Takumi moved to thrust his sword toward his stomach but Xander deflected the hit with one of his own. Too slow.

Xander took a step back but Takumi could read a small fraction of mirth on his face. “Are you forgetting you’re in Nohr, Prince Takumi?”

Takumi gritted his teeth. He was well aware of where he currently was. It wasn’t his fault that Nohrian weaponry differed in all the wrong areas. The katana was made to slice through with ease, while Nohrian blades demanded more force to accomplish anything. Speed versus power - except all these weapons sucked at speed in his hands. He looked down towards Xander’s legs. If he wasn’t fast enough for his chest…

Takumi rushed forward, feinting a strike to the left. Xander moved with ease out of the way before aiming to retaliate himself, and Takumi leaned down into the opening. Adjusting momentum was a bit more difficult like this but he managed to graze against the side of Xander’s calf before he twisted out of range. Contact - but still not good enough.

“Anything else you’d like to say?” Takumi snarked, adjusting back onto the balls of his feet.

Xander shook his head but if anything he still looked like he was enjoying himself. “No. Your balance however-” He darted forward, faster than Takumi was expecting, and even as he held his sword to his chest to protect him Xander still struck him back with ease. “-is going to be an issue.”

Takumi stumbled as he tried to regain his footing, huffing a bit. It wasn’t like he was wrong - that didn’t mean Takumi had to give in so easily.

An actual laugh came from Xander. Takumi glanced up in surprise at the sound but before he could speak Xander continued. “Keep your feet flat. Holding your weight more center will help when you swing.”

“I know how to use a sword,” Takumi mumbled. It was true he had used a shortsword so little he could count the times on one hand, but being reprimanded was making him feel almost like a child again. He could and would work this out on his own.

“In Hoshido, yes. To be quite honest, I have a feeling I would fare far worse if a proper katana was in your hand,” Xander said. “Your brother was difficult to spar with, and you hold many of the same skills. Bow or sword I would be in for a tough match.”

Takumi bit his cheek. At this point he was sure to gnaw a wound on top of the countless others he made before. “I don’t want your pitiful praise.”

Xander shot him a surprised look. “There is no pity, simply facts. Another being how, despite all your skill, this is not Hoshido and you wield a shortsword in your hand instead.” He brushed a few wayward curls from his face. “You are, however, free to see how long your old techniques will survive here.”

Takumi scrunched his face up at that. Was Xander actually taunting him? Resolution grew in his mind as he squared himself up. He may not be the best swordsman, but he could prove he wasn’t some apprentice in need of teaching.

“Lift up your sword and we’ll see how long they last,” Takumi said, no genuine malice in his tone but still filled with hard determination.

Xander’s eyes stayed trained and focused on him. “I look forward to seeing it.”

Takumi waited for Xander to make the first strike. He liked to keep himself guarded and closed - hard for any loose jabs or strikes to sneak in. This was the king of Nohr that Takumi was handling after all. Still, the taller they are the harder they fall, right?

Takumi stepped back with each slash Xander sent his way. He kept his footsteps light and breezy, never lingering too long in one spot. Back and forth he let Xander try to hit him while Takumi only threw out a few feints here and there. No, he would have to wait. If there was anything he gained from archery and hunting, it was patience.

Still, fatigue wasn’t something that would come easily to Xander, and Takumi knew he would be a fool to wait on that. No, he would have to strike before then. What he was waiting for was balance.

Xander made sure to keep himself square footed in all his motions, strong and powerful but firm in his stance. Takumi knew he wouldn’t have the brute strength to best him, but he wouldn’t need that if momentum worked with him. Xander struck left and Takumi dodged right, before bouncing forward before Xander could straighten himself.

Katanas were agile blades, made for sharp and quick movements and razor thin slices. You didn’t need so much weight that you couldn't turn on a dime if needed like Nohrian blades. No, with Nohrian weapons you needed to commit, and have your shield at the ready for any other danger.

Xander had no such shield. Takumi slammed into the side of him, shoving Xander through his motions as Takumi raised his sword to land a blow against him. Let him topple and claim a disarmament. However, despite all of Takumi’s agility, he was still thrown off by Xander’s own quick reflexes. A hand grabbed his sword arm before it could strike and Xander pulled Takumi to the ground with him, letting them both slam onto the hard dirt.

Takumi let out a stuttered cough as he rolled away from him onto his back. He could hear Xander give out a very quick groan as he caught his own breath. Okay, so, maybe his plan didn’t go perfectly. This was still an improvement.

“I must admit,” Xander said. “I’m a bit surprised at the weight you carry.”

Takumi sat up at that, closing his eyes as he let the vertigo pass. Hitting the ground still sucked, success or not. “And what does that mean?”

Xander shook his head. “I mean no offense. Simply your small stature left me… underestimating I suppose. A mistake on my own part.” Takumi could see a small smile out of the corner of his eye and Xander pushed himself up. “I’ll have to avoid making that mistake in the future.”

Takumi focused on that smile for a moment before turning his head away. “Whatever. It was half luck anyway. I’d have to try a lot harder to topple you point blank.”

“I don’t think there’s many who can do that to begin with,” Xander said, moving to his feet. He turned and lent a hand down for Takumi to take. “I wouldn’t sell your own actions so short though. You are quick with a blade, even one you aren’t used to - it’s a wonder why you don’t use one more often.”

Takumi was positive he would have to break his painful habit before his developed anymore callouses in his mouth. In the back of his mind he heard his mother chiding him when he was young, dabbing at the blood on his lips.

He brushed the offered hand away but after a moment a short smile came to his own face. “I’m at my best with a bow in my hand for a reason. It is- nice though to work with a sword from time to time.”

Which was the case. When it came to training with Hinata, Takumi had no qualms about sparring with him. He did enjoy swordplay but… Bitter emotions formed in the back of his mind. There was no point in him brandishing one. No matter the reassurances and rationale he said to himself, there was always no point.

Besides, in the end, Takumi wasn’t sure if he could truly part with the Fujin Yumi. Even when riddled with anxiety and doubt he never felt more assured when summoning that bowstring. His mother trained him as a marksman and he was going to keep it that way.

Takumi pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his clothes. He fiddled with the edge of his shirt sleeve. “Hm, I hope none of these threads tore. Oboro will be furious…”

Xander peered at him. “I think they look fine, if a bit dirty.”

“Yeah, I can see that part.” Takumi gave Xander a quick once-over. He was a little pleased to see his clothes seemed a bit more dusted than his own. “They’ll live, I suppose.”

Xander nodded. “Indeed. This was- pleasant, Prince Takumi.”

Takumi couldn’t lie and say he thought any different. Jabs and minor taunts aside, sparring with someone else felt good. The itch in his hands had long since passed.

Besides… Takumi stole a glance towards Xander. It was also nice to see a bit more under the constant guard Xander held. The air between them felt almost… companionable like this.

Hesitance lingered in the back of his mind but Takumi gave a firm nod. “Yeah. Perhaps we’ll have to do a round two sometime.”

“I would enjoy that,” Xander said. “Truly... I’ve always found that sparring speaks better than actual words. Although perhaps that is just the case for me.”

“It certainly says something,” Takumi mumbled, stretching and sighing as his muscles tensed and relaxed.

He had heard similar things from Hinata and Oboro before. How sparring spoke in a way you couldn’t get across otherwise. If he was being honest, Takumi didn’t get it. He attributed it to his more solo preference of weapon but he didn’t see this hidden communication.

It made him wonder what Xander heard from him when Takumi swung his sword.

“Well, I think we should head back,” Xander said. “It is starting to get quite late.”

Takumi looked up at the full night sky, stars glittering up above. “Hm, I guess you’re right…”

“Besides, I doubt you’ll want to sleep in tomorrow,” Xander said.

“Hm?” Takumi asked, looking at him. “Do I have something planned tomorrow?” More wedding prep popped into his mind and he could feel exhaustion already hitting him.

Xander gave him a blank look before something akin to realization flashed over his face. “Oh- my apologies. I might have confused a few things.” Xander gave him a brief wave before turning and leaving to put his sword away, but Takumi swore he caught a glimpse of a smile. “Sleep well, Prince Takumi.”

“Hey-!” Takumi called after him but Xander had already disappeared inside. What exactly was he trying to hide from him?

Takumi huffed but pushed it aside for the moment. He had a feeling he would be useless to try and get it out of Xander now. Shaking his head, Takumi followed after him in silence. He was starting to get a bit tired.

A/N: I did minimal research on sword fighting and sword types and we will not discuss this issue any further I already regret it. If it made coherent sense than that's good enough for me.

Check reblogs for twitter link

#xankumi #markumi #takumi (fire emblem)#xander (fire emblem)#fire emblem fates #fic #mmmmm getting shit done finally

12 notes · View notes

natwolf · 3 years

Text

But the lawyer says he didn't set out to write a defense of the Warren Commission.

But the lawyer says he didn't set out to write a defense of the Warren Commission. Gen. When she lowered it again, her eyes were wet with tears. “A pretty one this time, I think. “… Daario is vain and rash, but he is dear to Her Grace. C. 24), nike jean jacketthe Devil's Chase 6.66

oakley m frame ice iridium

mile race (Oct. Gonzalez; four of his grandchildren, Cindy L. We consider the voluntary enslaving of one part of the human race by zapatillas de tacos futbolanother as a gross violation of the most precious and sacred rights of human nature: as utterly inconsistent with the law of God, which requires us to love our neighbor as ourselves; and as totally irreconcilable with the spirit and principles of the gospel of Christ, which enjoin that “all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.” Slavery creates a paradox in the moral system—it exhibits rational, accountable, and immortal beings in such circumstances as scarcely to leave them the power of moral action. Leave it up to Max Allegri, however, to give the Colombian an outlet to shine.. I cannot seem to hold a wife for very long, Tyrion reflected. Yep, this is the play by play of Manchester City v Manchester United just typing the team names is getting me giddy like a kid on Christmas morning! Has a Premier League match

scaun rulant inchiriere

ever been this built up before? Probably, but if so I can't remember it! The game doesn't get underway for a little while yet but I'll be bringing you plenty of pre match build polo raflorene up, statistics to get you thinking and nike air max 102 essential white of course the team news.. So just how much truck you need will depend on your uses. "It is not an issue here at Kaneohe Bay. Carbon taxes are quite possibly the most recessive tax ever concocted. Meanwhile, a few entrepreneurial companies have emerged with technological cures for feedback deprivation. But that’s no matter. I want you to deliver a message to the Tattered Prince. The Eagles lost in a close game to Taconic last year, highlighting the quality of the team, but their top playmaker Hunter Leveille is disco duro externo pita gone. duci alkalmi ruha How many cellars are there? she wondered. If air dried into the hair, they're great for frizz reduction and help to hold in natural waves." When choosing a formula, do pay attention to hair texture. All of us age it has been proven. En route he encounters a colourful cast of characters. Her platinum debut single, "Why Ya Wanna," soared to No. 11, and features eight historic homes decorated for the holidays, along with stops at churches, museums and other historic locations. It happens when we say it because we mean it and not because it's an auto response. This modified lock and key model, known as the induced fit theory, also explains why some substrates, known as inhibitors, fit in the enzyme site but don't create a chemical reaction.. Long before the Stonewall pendientes bulgari precio riots and the first Gay Pride marches in the late 1960s, there was a prominent LGBT (lesbian, gay, transgender and bisexual) presence here. The mob seemed to be equal parts men and women. As Jonos cursed, the woman slipped off the bed to snatch up her scattered clothing, her fingers fluttering nervously between her breasts and cleft as she bent and turned and reached. The Dutch dialects, however, are in a continuum with the various regions inside Germany; these are called "West Germanic". Most Fashion Week regulars wouldn't be caught dead without a pair of statement heels.It's all a little intimidating for the uninitiated, who may find themselves panicking the first time they sit in the front row of a runway show. You really need to tow/haul/carry massive loads to use all of the capability of the 3500.. Both men lost their swords as they rolled on the hard ground. Hate and hunger coiled in his belly, and he gave a low growl, calling to his one-eyed brother, to his small sly sister. Lord Wyman nodded. The emergence of new technologies must be accompanied by a continuous development. "It was more of a discussion of him trying to explain. Is a hard worker, committed to always doing his best for himself and others. If only Tamalpais High School had offered Home Ec, just think how much better our lives would be! Dumb Tamalpais High School.. A schizophrenic mother fighting to regain custody of her child. Symond the spymaster, always clinking coins. They deserve better, Ser Barristan decided. "Why did you leave early?" the detective asks. The women showed the pictures to their friends on Facebook and to fellow members of Northgate City Church in Kelso, and help began pouring in.. The spearpoint grazed the cheek of the lion’s head he wore. Merely in the abstract, it may well be asked which power of the master accords with right. 15, 1835, fifty thousand dollars to any person who would deliver into their hands Arthur Tappan, of New York. This feature is not available in every country, though.. In the letters of St. Ring didn know the Cochran personally, but says since taking on the task of helping with the Estate Sale she been piecing together the couple life. “My lord. "BUT" businesses shouldn't be forced to hire Qays if none work for them just to do business with the city of Nashville. You need to think about why you feel that you deserve to be in a relationship with a man who is not affectionate or generous. When they arrived, officers found Hulsey locked in a bedroom, police said. That was all; at least, scarcely any one mentioned it bikes btt usadas the next morning. Powders to turn fire green or blue or silver, powders to make a flame roar and hiss and leap up higher than a man is tall, powders to make smoke. The three triarchs are chosen from amongst those noble families who can prove unbroken descent from old Valyria, to serve until the first day of the new year. Geden, Mr. Joshua Safer, who works with gender patients at Boston Medical Center.. “That’s what he must have thought,” I said in conclusion, “and that’s why he didn’t finish his letter, and perhaps it would only lead to fresh mortification which would be felt even more keenly than the first, and might, who knows, put off the reconciliation indefinitely . I preferred the condition of the meanest reptile to my own. Blair are engaged in this good work (of enlightening the negroes) systematically and constantly in Mississippi.” The former clergyman is characterized as an “aged and indefatigable father.” “His success in enlightening the negroes has been very great. We quickly dozed back off to sleep.. Its walls and floor and ceiling were made of wooden planks notched cunningly together and decorated with all the creatures of the sea. “The Yunkai’i would have it so. "Do a full body skin check once a month in a well lit room," advises Joshua Zeichner, MD, director of cosmetic and clinical research at Mount Sinai Medical Center in New York City. "The liberal Democratic machine here in Austin is deep and corrupt," says Curtis, who complains that former Councilmember Nofziger isn't getting his just desserts after nine years as a reliable environmental vote.

0 notes

ganymedesclock · 6 years

Note

I think a while ago you talked about how Pidge would be a Beast Tamer in a fantasy setting and Keith seems to often get compared to a knight in the show (shield&sword for bayard, assigned the knight pieces in the comic, etc) and we all know Allura's a (fairy) princess. So, based on the common troupes/character traits with certain fantasy roles, what do you think Shiro, Lance, Hunk and Coran would be?

Honestly I’d argue that Keith’s not really what I’d put as a knight in a pure high fantasy setting, so, I’m just going to go with a lot of my sensibilities/rough abilities that I sorted them into in Hallowed AU:

Pidge: Rogue (Beast master)

Not much to say here. Pidge offsets her own relative lack of staying power, reach, etc. with stealth, maneuverability, and tricky properties. It’s very popular to make her a wizard, but I’ve always thought it’d be interesting, rather than giving Pidge a massive font of magical power, for her to have a few very limited little magics, things she hasn’t had enough time to study or the materials to perfect since she’s on the road and on a mission, but a lot of experimentation and little flash grenades and glamours and sharp daggers. And probably poisons, too, considering her canon affinity for plant life coupled with, in this continuity, a fondness for cute little guys that just might be a little bitey if you aren’t her friend.

But of course, her bag of tricks is limited by necessity- she herself is small, slight, and not really kitted out for direct engagements. In this sense, the kind of creatures she’s liable to befriend fit nicely- she usually goes for the small ones, with the exception of Green- and even she’s small, nimble, and stealthy compared to her brethren. Just imagine Pidge fitting her faithful companion and steed with a set of saddlebags to carry all kinds of equipment and reagents without fear of them falling out if they run into trouble suddenly and need to launch evasive maneuvers.

Keith: Spellsword (Dark sorcerer)

What’s the point of having a long lost bloodline if it doesn’t give you spooky magic, right? Also, in a high fantasy setting, Keith is just set out to be a wizard. Boy’s a glass cannon, through and through.

My personal favorite spin on this is the idea of Keith’s capabilities being overwhelmingly self-taught, framing him as both kind of a prodigy, and in an awkward position since his particular brand of magic is really not socially acceptable or in fact, usually practiced by good people. Which, again, as a self-taught vagrant in the middle of nowhere puts him in just a bit of a pickle to explain himself to well-meaning local law enforcement.

No, if anybody’s a knight in here, it’s....

Shiro: Paladin (Mounted warrior)

Give him a hand-and-a-half sword, a shield with a royal crest, and some spiffy armor and just watch this guy sit straighter and carry himself as befitting a Defender Of The Realm, Ally of Justice, basically a faux-medieval superhero. While I like to reimagine the Lions in a fantasy setting as steeds, I can imagine Shiro and Black having a unique bond where they’re the most likely to actively wield proper cavalry tactics and fight more together than apart. Not that the others don’t fight together, but Shiro having like... actual training and an education in battlefield tactics and why you don’t leap over your allies’ shield wall when your enemies all have spears and you don’t wear armor, Keith.

The thing about knights is more than just Some Guy With A Sword, there’s a pretty big deal in most high fantasy about honor. “Chivalry” literally comes from the same root as cavalry, and while all of the team arguably fights for a higher, more noble cause, Shiro’s the kind of guy who I can see pursuing a career that lets him really dedicate his life to that higher cause, because frankly, whether or not he had a liege to serve and a sword in his hand, he’d be making a stand against injustice anyway. That’s just the kind of guy he is, and when we have an obvious liege that would look favorably on that sort of thing, it’s pretty clear what the result is.

Lance: Bard (Longbow fighter)

Not only is Lance a quintessential support class- he very naturally and easily falls back to let other people shine and picks off enemies with rather fearsome precision from a cozy distance- he’s someone who loves people, and, frankly, has a rather effective way with them. No, he’s not the casanova he sort of pretends he is, but he’s an actor, a charmer, a showman, and specific to Hallowed AU, he might just have a pinch of supernatural assistance in that regard.

My first reflex as weapon of choice would be a crossbow, since it has a lovely silhouette very similar to canon Lance’s rifle, but the longbow spoke to me, because the thing about Lance, is he’s very not a prodigy. This is a major point of contrast between him and Keith- and yet on several occasions in canon, we’re shown that people who are hard to impress (Commander Iverson, and the Red Lion) find Lance worthy of standing where Keith, the actual prodigy, once stood. This tells us that Lance is a hard worker.

The longbow is a very difficult weapon- they say to train a longbowman, you start with his grandfather. That saying, for me, makes me want to put one in Lance’s hands in a fantasy setting for what it implies- about him, about his family. That he started young, that he likely hails from a family of, perhaps even generations of, archers. And of course he’s not going to say that, acknowledge training until his fingers bleed, or anything like that- he’ll goof off and show off- but there’s a certain obvious respect just him having that weapon and using it effectively and when he notches an arrow, draws that fairly heavy bow back, and fires with deadly accuracy.

Hunk: Fighter (Alchemist)

Hunk seems commonly sorted as a cleric and while I can appreciate that, I think personally Hunk doesn’t have the kind of patience to pursue a skill set where he can’t barge up to the thing chewing on his friends, who he is trying to keep healthy, thank you very much, and crack ‘em solidly in the teeth. He certainly has the muscle of a frontline fighter, and I can see Hunk wielding a simple, but sturdy crooked staff.

The real danger comes in the fact that while Pidge has a foot in the magical and the alchemical, higher education likely pointing to a more aristocratic background- I can see Hunk being someone of humble roots who, out of a combination of necessity and curiosity, learned how to fix, stitch, patch, scratch, and brew, just about everything.

Hunk who smugly goes “Yeah, well, I’m no wizard, but if all you need to knock a wall down,” lights the fuse on a homemade tied-off little packet and lobs it to a satisfyingly sized explosion, or who heard you were picking a fight and brewed up a batch of greek fire for the occasion. He’d probably leave the poisons to Pidge, though- someone who takes as much pride in the culinary arts as he does isn’t going to sully his cooking with anything if he can help it.

Allura: Mage Knight (multiple weapons)

Allura’s handiness with the bladed whip makes a lot of sense as athletic royalty who has the time and leisure to acquire unusual weapons and train with them heavily, though supplementing her more eclectic decision with something as ubiquitous and versatile as a pikestaff means that even caught unarmed, she only needs to lay hands on the nearest broom, or whatever other straight, sturdy piece of wood is around to be seized.

Her being a sacred princess possessing a grand holy power able to work miracles with the right setup frankly needs absolutely no modification for a high fantasy setting except more practice and proficiency in it given it’s more common and ubiquitous in this sort of world. As a personal addition for fun in this setting, the mice are full-tilt shapeshifters able to reconfigure themselves into different forms for Allura’s needs- able to be anything from horses to handmaidens to small but aggressive dragons.

Coran: Spymaster (swordsman)

I sort of like the idea of largely nonmagical Coran, following in the wake of magic using Alfor and Allura, and yet in a context where Allura would be surrounded by a proper royal court and a lot more attendants and advisers, I’d make changes to make sure Coran properly stands out himself- because really, he’s the royal family’s steadfast blade in the dark. If there is anything they need, he’s the kind of person they can trust absolutely.

And absolutely nobody is going to suspect the older, foppish nobleman loudly recounting the time he got peas stuck up his nose to a vaguely disquieted audience is an obstacle to an assassination plot until he very politely rests a blade against their jugular and informs them that they’re going to have a friendly little talk, over there, in the room full of surly guards, about trying to drop unapproved things in the princess’s drink.

Because frankly having quick reflexes, a keen eye, and a couple of shortswords hidden up your sleeves is a very fast route to being plenty dangerous.

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Shiro #Keith #Pidge #Lance #Hunk #Allura #Coran #Hallowed AU #readmore #fullmetaldude1

129 notes · View notes

junker-town · 4 years

Text

The 10 least consequential athletes of the decade

Some rules before we begin:

This list is arranged in no particular order, because my definition of “inconsequential” is somewhat arbitrary and varies from case to case. It might mean that the athlete’s career was a meaningless blip on the radar, or brilliantly brief and terrible, or impressively invisible. If you take issue with anything you read here, I pledge to rewrite it to your satisfaction and mail you $100.

This list is nearly entirely made up of athletes competing at the top echelon of their sport, as fun as it would be to mock four-year-old T-ball first basemen who stood directly on top of the base, wore their glove on the wrong hand and cried.

This list is entirely made up of men. Women’s sports made enormous strides in the 2010s, and even those who played, say, two career minutes of WNBA basketball still contributed to something meaningful. None of the guys below were doing anything important.

If you’re one of the guys on this list, and you read this, please take some satisfaction in the knowledge that in 2012, I had to seek medical attention after injuring my knee playing Wiffle ball.

Chris Pettit

Pinch runner, Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, 2011

In this decade, Chris Pettit came tantalizingly close to playing the least amount of baseball a Major League Baseball player can possibly play.

Pettit appeared in exactly one 2010s game. On April 8, 2011, the Angels trailed the Blue Jays by a run with two out in the bottom of the ninth. After slow-footed catcher Hank Conger singled, Pettit, who had shown impressive speed in the minors, was sent in as his pinch runner. Up next was 24-year-old Peter Bourjos, by no means a power hitter. In this situation, Pettis likely took a fairly conservative lead off first.

Bourjos struck out on four pitches. Pettis walked off the field and was never seen in the major leagues again.

Baseball’s classic cup-of-coffee story is that of Moonlight Graham, the rookie who famously trotted out to right field, never saw anything hit his way, and ended his career without ever getting to bat or field a baseball. In his farewell game, Pettit did even less: he walked fewer steps to take his position, he was only out there for a minute or so, and he never once wore a glove or held a bat.

Hypothetically, we can imagine an appearance less meaningful than this one, but only barely. Changing Bourjos’ result to a line-out on the first pitch is no good, because if that happens, our man Pettit becomes a baserunner with a ball in play, if only for a second or two. His heart rate probably spikes. Can’t have that. No, this needs to be a strikeout. The only tragedy, then, is that Bourjos struck out on four pitches and not three.

If we want to get greedy, we can imagine the Angels as the visiting team. Playing at home, their dugout was on the left side of the field, meaning Pettit had to jog all the way across the diamond to take his place at first. As the visitor, first base would have been just a few steps away from the bench.

Pettit stood there for a minute with bare and empty hands. That was his Major League Baseball decade. It might very well be the most meaningless decade a major league baseball player has ever experienced.

Darius Johnson-Odom

Shooting guard, Los Angeles Lakers and Philadelphia 76ers, 2012-2014

In contrast to Darius Johnson-Odom’s storied career at Marquette and his years in China and Italy, his NBA life lasted 21 minutes. They were a very, very busy 21 minutes. His 11 shot attempts came from everywhere on the floor — a layup, a scattering of mid-range shots, and a couple of heaves from at least 26 feet out. All 11 of them missed. He was once sent to the stripe for a pair of free-throw attempts, and he missed both of those as well.

Across NBA history, 14 players have attempted at least three field goals and ended their career with zero points. Johnson-Odom left them all in the dust.

He did everything else, from rebounding to stealing to assisting to fouling. He was all over the floor. In the end, his career usage rate stood at 28.4 percent, higher than that of Patrick Ewing, Blake Griffin, and Damian Lillard.

This is perhaps the greatest testament to the inconsequential nature of Johnson-Odom’s career: even if we decided to rewrite the record books and rule that every one of his 11 shots went in, it would not change the result of a single game. He never even attempted a shot that mattered.

His full name, Darius Earvin Johnson-Odom, sneaks in the names of two fellow Lakers with considerably more notable careers. The two names appear to have canceled one another out entirely, a phenomenon we also see in a man named ...

JamesOn Curry

Point guard, Los Angeles Clippers, 2010

In the 2010s, the NBA revolved around LeBron James and Stephen Curry. The two megastars spent four consecutive Finals smashing their teams against one another. Before the opening tip of every season, at least one of them was correctly presumed destined for the Finals as though they were sitting presidents running for a second term.

“James on Curry” sounds like the god of the NBA guarding the other god of the NBA. “JamesOn Curry” is the name of a guy whose entire career can fit in a GIF. Welcome to the start of JamesOn Curry’s NBA career.

Welcome to the end of JamesOn Curry’s NBA career. It lasted 3.9 seconds, making it the shortest in the history of the league.

Curry had been through it all just to get here, and now lives a life as a youth basketball instructor that makes him happier than he guesses an NBA career would have. We’re free to laugh at these 3.9 seconds all we want. God knows I am. Curry has better things to do. Besides, as he pointed out, he probably got paid more per second than anyone else in NBA history.

Glenn Winston

Running back, Cleveland Browns, 2014-2015

After assaulting a hockey player while in college, spending six months in jail, and going undrafted, Glenn Winston had found his way into the NFL. A running back by trade, he appeared mostly as a special-teamer for the Browns before finally receiving his first career carry on Dec. 13, 2015.

Some GIFs make a sound. This one says, “bloop!”

The 49ers’ Ian Williams doesn’t just strip the ball, he punches it out like a golfer trying to negotiate a sand trap. It shot eight yards downfield. Fumbling away one’s first career carry is bad enough, but this ensured an extra indignity. Because the ball wasn’t recovered until it was eight yards downfield, this play went in the books as a negative-eight-yard run, a result that usually implies a ball carrier unwilling to cut his losses or a catastrophic jet sweep. Winston didn’t even get the satisfaction of trying something crazy. He bet $10 and lost $100.

Winston never carried the ball again, cementing his career line: one carry, negative-8 yards, one fumble. Among pure running backs, it is the lowest career yardage total in the 100-year history of the NFL.

Also among pure running backs, Winston is one of just four players to fumble away their only career rushing attempt. Another of those four, incredibly, was Winston’s teammate. Fullback Malcolm Johnson had been placed on injured reserve a few days prior, and would go on to drop his only carry the following season.

This was a meaningless late-season game featuring two teams that finished last in their respective divisions.

It was reported Winston suffered a concussion on this play.

Baxter Price

Guard, Mississippi State, 2010-2013

The fans in Starkville wanted so, so badly for Baxter Price to take a shot. He would not.

“I think it goes without saying, when I get out there on the court, I’m not there to score.”

In basketball, the box score practically begs a player to somehow register, to prove you did indeed exist at some point and weren’t a mere bookkeeping error. Some can’t or won’t. “Club Trillion,” popularized by Ohio State’s Mark Titus, is a fraternity of players who have finished a game with 1 in the minutes column and 0 in every other, forming a box score that reads 1000000000000, or one trillion. Many can claim membership in this club, but Baxter Price is an especially valued shopper. In the 2010s, he finished with:

17 one-trillion games,

four two-trillion games (in other words, two minutes played and no other stats),

a three-trillion game,

a five-trillion game,

a six-trillion game, and

an eight-trillion game.

That eight-trillion game fell on Feb. 13, 2013, during a 78-36 clobbering at the hands of Missouri. Price, a walk-on on his home court with a cult following, had every reason to attempt a shot; the Bulldogs were down 34-10 at halftime and none of his teammates could hit a bucket to save their lives. If a guy named Craig Sword is permitted to go 0-for-8, surely Price is allowed that indulgence. Instead, he spent eight garbage minutes — 480 seconds — on the floor without notching a shot attempt, assist, rebound, steal, block, foul, or turnover. Did he at least touch the ball at some point? Probably, but we have no evidence of it.

Price did score one bucket in 2009, but in this decade, he was almost entirely invisible. He spent 118 minutes on the floor and totaled 30 basketball things (six shot attempts, six rebounds, two assists, one block, nine turnovers, six fouls, and zero points).

That’s one basketball act every four minutes or so. It’s the faint signal of a distant star we will never visit. Price played basketball billions of years ago and billions of light-years away, but we are nearly certain that at one point, he was there.

Joel Rechlicz

Right winger, New York Islanders and Washington Capitals, 2010-2012

Thank heavens for arbitrary cutoff dates. Take stock of Joel Rechlicz’s career as a whole, and you find an enforcer who played a scattering of games. But if we focus specifically on his 2010s, we find something really special.

It was his job to start fights, and he did it with flair. His first fight, in April 2010, resembles a video game with poor collision detection.

Rechlicz earned five minutes in the penalty box for this one; later that night, he would receive another 15 minutes for a much more boring fight against Eric Godard.

It would be nearly two years until Rechlicz appeared in another NHL game. In 2012, he was quiet during a couple of brief appearances for the Capitals on Jan. 31 and Feb. 1. On Feb. 13, he hit the ice for 90 seconds, drew a 10-minute misconduct penalty, and left the NHL for good.

In the 2010s, he totaled 30 minutes in the penalty box and just nine and a half minutes on the ice playing actual hockey. That is absolutely as bizarre as it sounds.

This decade, NHL players spent a combined 12 years and change on the ice playing regular-season hockey, and they spent a combined 151 days in the penalty box, yielding a ratio of 3.2 percent. Behold the penalty minutes ratio of Rechlicz:

This man spent the vast majority of his 2010s NHL career sitting in a little room by himself. They shouldn’t have bothered to issue him a hockey stick. He was not a hockey player. He was a brave wanderer. He did not play the sport he played, and I celebrate him for that.

Joseph Sandoval

Bantamweight fighter, UFC, 2011-2012

Sandoval went 6-2 as a fighter, with both losses handed to him in the Ultimate Fighting Championship. Forty-five seconds into his UFC career, Joseph Sandoval got kicked in his penis and balls. It was an accidental low blow from Walel Watson, and things like this just happen from time to time, but the broadcast heaped on an extra indignity. You might wonder why in the world this is captured in slow motion:

Well, during the stoppage, they pulled up a slo-mo replay just so announcers Joe Rogan and Mike Goldberg could laugh at him.

ROGAN: A replay, because America loves these. There you go, folks.

GOLDBERG: [laughing] We show it ‘cause we can.

ROGAN. Yes. Sit at home on your couch and be happy that’s not you.

GOLDBERG: [laughing]

Seconds later, Sandoval took a dozen hammers to the face and was knocked out just over a minute into the fight. He returned to the octagon in 2012 for a prelim bout against Nick Denis, who threw some devastating elbows at his head and knocked him out in just 22 seconds. That was it for his UFC career.

Typically, entry-level UFC prelim fighters get $10,000 to show up and fight and an additional $10,000 if they win, which is an absurdly low level of compensation. Accounting for the gym fees, training, licensing, nutrition, and everything else a fighter like Sandoval has to pony up for, he quite possibly actually lost money on this venture, essentially paying for the privilege of taking a thrashing in the octagon, getting kicked in the wiener, and being made fun of by the Fear Factor man.

Mike Trout

Outfielder, Los Angeles Angels, 2011-2019

Don’t get mad at me. This is exactly what he wants.

I recently set up a poll of my Twitter followers to ask them whether they know who Mike Trout is. These people, of course, are far more likely to be sports fans than the average person. Even then, of the approximately 7,000 responses, a full third — 33.8 percent — responded that they’re either only vaguely aware of him, or they have no idea of who he is.

The same people who are unfamiliar with Trout are certainly also unfamiliar with Wins Above Replacement, or WAR. This baseball metric is an effort to estimate how many more wins a team won with a given player than they would have with a replacement-level player in his place. Remember that this is a counting statistic, like home runs or RBI:

Trout is only 28 years old. Even if he retired today, his WAR of 72.5 would eclipse 68 percent of all players in the Hall of Fame. Earlier this year he surpassed Derek Jeter, who played until age 40. If his next season is anything like his last eight seasons, he’ll sail past Frank Thomas, Reggie Jackson, Joe DiMaggio, and Pete Rose before his 30th birthday. The season after that, he’s very likely to pass Nolan Ryan, Ken Griffey, Jr., and Chipper Jones.

Forecasting WAR is a pretty stupid game to play, so let’s at least stay conservative. If Trout immediately regresses to playing 5.0 WAR seasons, rather than his usual 9.0, and retires 10 years from now, he’ll move just barely above Lou Gehrig. Babe Ruth is probably the only guy out of reach. Apart from him, there’s no telling where he’ll end up, but we’re headed for a future in which Mike Trout is considered one of the very greatest baseball players who ever lived.

He is not as well-known as Tim Tebow, who hit .163 in triple-A last season, has never appeared in the major leagues, and is probably the most well-known active baseball player in America.

This is a triumph for Trout, who is getting exactly what he wants. MLB commissioner Rob Manfred recently took the unusual step of criticizing Trout for not putting in the effort to market himself, but Trout responded with one of my favorite character traits: genial, kind, and yet absolutely, immovably stubborn. All good, man! Cool! I like to play baseball and spend time with my family. Good luck with your business ventures.

He’s accomplished the impossible. He’s the greatest player of his generation, he’s played in Los Angeles for nearly a decade, and he’s less famous than every member of the Kars 4 Kids band.

Trout’s career is also a case study in how little individual greatness can matter in baseball. In terms of ability, he stands above his peers like Lamar Jackson and LeBron James do. Jackson has transformed his team into the best in the NFL. The NBA orbits around James. Nine years into the Trout era, the Angels have never won a playoff game, and have finished with a losing record in each of the last four seasons.

Many great athletes have been thought of as godlike, but being great is only half the idea. To be a god, you must also be invisible.

Maurice Simpkins

Special teams, Green Bay Packers, 2010

Maurice Simpkins was a computer programmer who made some extra cash playing linebacker for the Green Bay Blizzard, an Indoor Football League team. A block up the street, the Packers were plagued by injuries. Desperate to shore up their special teams unit, they signed Simpkins. “He was added to camp as just a body, basically,” explained Joe Buck, just after Simpkins registered one of the unlikeliest kick returns ever.

It’s unclear exactly how many plays Simpkins was on the field for. He was certainly never meant to touch the ball. Near halftime on Oct. 10, 2010, Washington kicker Graham Gano squared up and kicked the ball right at A.J. Hawk’s helmet.

Whether he did so intentionally, I can’t say, but it’s what allowed Simpkins to go into the books as a kick returner.

He did the smart thing, which was to fall on the ball and lie there until tagged. Simpkins never touched the ball again. He now runs a tech consulting firm, and I hope to God that when those 2010 Packers went on to win the Super Bowl, they gave him a ring.

Rico Richardson

Wide receiver, Tennessee Titans, 2014-2015

In football, a “target” refers to an instance of a player being thrown the ball, whether or not he catches it. It’s been tracked as an NFL statistic since 1992. In the decades since, only 11 players have ever received five or more targets without ever actually catching the ball once in their entire career.

For most of these men, this wasn’t such a big deal. Micah Ross, Isaiah Burse, Mitchell Galloway, and Terrence Warren were listed as receivers, but really spent most of their time as kick and/or punt returners. Dominique Davis, Kion Wilson, Khreem Smith, Jeff Smith and Tim Johnson played other positions entirely, and were largely targeted in gimmick plays. The only true receivers ever to suffer this fate are the Patriots’ Anthony Ladd, who played briefly in 1998, and the hero of our story, Rico Richardson.

Richardson was a former high school track and field champion who ran an impressive 4.38 40-yard dash at an NFL Combine. After going undrafted in 2013, he became a practice-squad regular who bounced from team to team. In 2014, he landed on the Titans’ roster, and on Nov. 1, 2015, he was thrown his first-ever NFL football.

Fourth-and-4. The Titans are down by two scores with just under five minutes left in the game. Their quarterback, Zach Mettenberger, puts it on the money, but when the Texans’ Johnathan Joseph swoops in to knock it out of the way, there isn’t much Richardson can do about it.

Minutes later, with the game all but conceded, Mettenberger leads Richardson straight into double-coverage. He has zero chance of hauling this in, and is clobbered.

Two weeks later, the Titans are once again wrapping up a loss in the final minutes, this time with Marcus Mariota behind center. Wideout Justin Hunter is injured, pressing Richardson into action. Mariota tries to find him deep, but sails an uncatchable ball way over his head.

It’s now Nov. 19. Titans at Jaguars. It’s the last NFL game Richardson will ever play. Near halftime, Mariota drops back into his own end zone on third-and-14. Richardson has shaken his man and set the table for a wide-open first down.

Mariota puts it even further over his head, and the Titans punt.

We’re late in the fourth quarter now. The Titans trail by six. With 1:10 remaining, Mariota is forced to scramble out of the pocket. Since Richardson is within 20 miles of the throw, he goes in the books as the targeted receiver, but he can do nothing but watch as a nameless staffer catches the ball several steps out of bounds.

Five seconds remaining, Titans still down by six. Richardson is about to get an opportunity no one like him ever, ever gets. Titans head coach Mike Mularkey calls a play that specifically calls for the ball to be thrown to the wideout on the right side.

That’s Richardson.

A timeout is called before the play, giving Mularkey every opportunity to switch him out for any one of his other receivers. He doesn’t! On the play that will decide the game, Mularkey is sticking with a guy who has never caught an NFL pass.

Richardson’s odds aren’t great. The Jaguars have pulled seven guys all the way back, essentially making this a short Hail Mary. What’s important is that he has a chance. There would be no better way to establish his place on an NFL roster than to haul in the game-winning touchdown.

This time figures to be different. Every other ball he’s ever been thrown has been impossible to catch, whether out of bounds, 1- feet over his head, or directly into double-coverage. We can say this much about the Hail Mary: it’s almost certainly going to be inbounds, with a high, slow arc that will give Richardson enough time to make a play on it. No matter what happens, no matter how much traffic there is in the end zone, he will finally have a chance. That is all we, his biggest fans, are asking for. A chance.

Mariota takes the snap. Richardson races upfield, hits the goal line, breaks left, and turns to see that the Jaguars’ four-man rush has somehow eaten the Titans’ line alive. Mariota is looking, looking, looking, and chased down from behind.

He didn’t even make a throw.

At the end, the coaches’ camera catches Richardson in the corner. He’s standing bolt upright, arms at his sides and feet right next to each other like a toy soldier, watching his career arrive at its end.

The Jaguars, a bad team that will finish 5-11, have beaten the Titans, another bad team that will finish 3-13, in a game immediately forgotten.

0 notes

shannaraisles · 7 years

Text

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 46 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: Language! Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

Never A Moment

She had to tell Cullen.

What a fun conversation that would be. How do you tell a devout workaholic with past trauma issues operating under too much stress and an honorable streak a mile wide that you're carrying his illegitimate love child? How the hell is he going to react? She couldn't even process how she was feeling. Panic was reasonably high on the list, closely followed by shock and abject terror. This couldn't be happening. Whose bright idea was it to make her give birth in a place where epidurals and proper surgery didn't exist?

"Evy," she called to her friend, ducking out of the tent once she'd tidied away the evidence. "I need to talk to the commander about something. Are you all right to hold the fort here for a little while?"

Evy looked up from her work, a faint flicker of concern crossing her face as she took a good look at Rory. "Of course," she answered easily enough. "The nurses have everything under control - I just have to show the new healer around. Are you all right?"

Right, so I look as pale as I feel. Great. "I'm fine," Rory promised her with a weak smile. "Just a little tired, but what else is new?"

The younger woman didn't look convinced, but she knew when not to push. "Take your time," she told her friend. "It's just recovery care right now, anyway."

"Hopefully I won't be too long," Rory assured her, though she had no way of knowing that.

It wasn't as though she could knock, walk in, drop the news, and immediately skip out. If she was lucky, his response wouldn't be audible all over Skyhold or hazardous to his continued health, but whether luck was with her or not, this wasn't a quick conversation in the making. Should she even take this to him now? He was swamped with work; this was just another headache to drop on him, and it wasn't even a headache he had any power to influence. It was a fact. And while there was a way to make it go away ... Rory didn't want to do that. She couldn't imagine Cullen pushing for her to do it, either. So that was that. She was a mum, for better or for worse. Holy crap, I am so screwed. A world of what ifs were open ahead of her, too many to make coherent sense. The panic was simmering - it, at least, was going to be with her in some capacity for the next, oh ... twenty years or so.

The nearest gatehouse tower was still closed off while workers toiled to make it safe. She could have passed under the stone arch and used the steps up to the battlement there - it was the fastest route to Cullen's office. Her feet, however, took her up the stone steps to the upper courtyard. It seemed as though her panic was enough to make her delay this inevitable conversation, even if it was only for a few more minutes. Her mind was racing. Now she thought about it, how could she have missed the symptoms? She was more tired than usual; her toilet breaks more regular; her sense of smell more acute; she did ache in some very specific places. She hadn't had any morning sickness, but then, some women didn't, did they?

So how long do I have, she wondered, lost in thought as she climbed the steps to the main hall. The only mistake had been that night, and that was ... Rory frowned, counting the weeks in her head. Seven or eight, so two months ago, give or take. Seven months to learn as much about midwifery and babies as she could. That really wasn't long enough.

"Looking very serious, Cupcake," a familiar voice drawled nearby.

She blinked, finding herself by the hearth in the hall, with Varric eyeing her from his table. "Hmm?"

"Serious," the dwarf repeated, laying down his quill. "You, looking very. Problems?"

"When aren't there problems?" she asked evasively, chuckling a little in spite of her turmoil. "No, I'm just thinking. Sometimes it hurts."

"Last thing we need is you and Curly with headaches," Varric commented mildly. "Just him is bad enough."

Great, he's having another bad day without telling me. She sighed wearily. "How bad?"

"He's just cranky," her dwarven friend assured her. "Pretty sure a visit from his girl would clear that right up."

"I'm not making any promises," she answered, feeling her anxiety ratchet up a notch. If he's already cranky, this isn't going to go well. Yay. "What are you working on?"

"Huh? Oh, this?" A very nearly evil smile crossed Varric's face. "His illustrious Inquisitorialness wants the next chapter of Swords and Shields for Cassandra."

Rory's eyes narrowed warningly at the mischief in his face. "Varric ... don't you dare muck up their relationship just to get a petty jab in at Cassandra."

"Would I do that?" he asked innocently.

"Yes. Yes, you would."

He chuckled, conceding the point. "Well, I'm not," he promised faithfully. "If only because I think you and Ruffles would hold me down and stab me with my own quill if I did."

She snorted with laughter. "You could be right."

Josephine had worked out that Kaaras liked Cassandra when he'd asked her to explain his book of Antivan poetry to him. The ambassador was a staunch defender of the drive to give the Seeker and the Inquisitor alone time in the hope that one of them would crack and just admit to being in love. She'd even expressed a certain frustration that they didn't even argue properly, unlike Cullen and ...

Rory's smile abruptly faded as she remembered why she was here in the first place.

"All right, Cupcake, what's hurting?" Varric asked, his face creased in a worried frown. "I've never seen you lose a smile that fast before."

Rory sighed, shaking her head. "It's nothing you can fix, Varric," she told him reluctantly. Wish you could. "I'll deal with it."

He eyed her for a moment with vague suspicion, but managed to suppress his natural desire to help with whatever it was. "Here if you need a splendid chest to lean on."

She smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

"Heads up, though," he added, jerking his chin toward the other end of the hall. "Ruffles incoming."

"What?"

Rory glanced over her shoulder, surprised to find Josephine bearing down on her like a woman on a mission. It was unusual to find the Antivan woman out of her office before dinner, but apparently some things required her to seek people out personally.

"Mistress Allen, I am glad to find you here," the ambassador said with a purposeful brightness to her tone that instantly made Rory suspicious. "Madame De Fer's seamstress has arrived. She would like to see both yourself and Lady Trevelyan this afternoon, to begin designing your gowns."

The healer just about managed to bite down on her groan. This was all she needed right now - dress plotting for Halamshiral. "I'll tell Evy," she promised politely. "I think her wedding gown is a little higher on the list of priorities."

"We have only two months to help you prepare for the Imperial Court," Josephine reminded her. "Though several people need that preparation as well. You will not be alone in your lessons."

"I can't promise to always have time for those lessons, Josephine," Rory countered, but the Antivan lady was already ahead of her.

"We will, of course, work around your duties," she insisted with easy aplomb. "You will need to be aware of courtly etiquette and dance, that is all."

Oh, is that all? Lovely. Knowing she couldn't get out of this, Rory decided to give in gracefully. "All right. Just let me know when."

"I will keep you informed," Josephine agreed. "but you must see the seamstress today."

"I will," Rory promised her. "I have things to do first, but I will." Things like give the commander a heart attack and then cry for a solid hour. Shouldn't interfere too much, should it?

She turned to open the door into the rotunda, unsurprised to hear Josephine focus her attention to Varric as she slipped into what was now Solas' work space. Empty, of course, with the elven apostate in the Emerald Graves with Kaaras, but still very much his space. From high above, she heard the croak and flap of the ravens in the rookery and, a little closer, another familiar voice calling down to her.

"If it isn't my favorite unicorn!"

Biting back a frustrated reply, she turned, tilting her head back to find Dorian leaning over the railing above her. "Unicorn?" she repeated incredulously. "Seriously?"

He laughed at her expression. "Perhaps not," the mage conceded with an ostentatious shrug. "Come up, I have something for you."

Can't this wait? But despite her faint annoyance, she wouldn't say no to Dorian. With a rueful smile, she altered her course, turning to take the steps up to the library. It's only a few minutes, she reasoned with herself. You've got about a month to break the news before it becomes blatantly obvious; a few minutes isn't going to make any difference.

Dorian was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. "You're looking done in again," he said, by way of hello. "Tell me, do you ever sleep a full night?"

"Occasionally," Rory heard herself say, a split second before her brain reminded her just who she was talking to.

"How marvelous," the altus teased brightly. "Who would have thought the commander had it in him?"

This time, the answer was out before she could stop it. "I think you'll find it's more often in me." There was a beat as she caught up with herself. "I did not just say that."

"Yes, darling, you did." Dorian laughed, pleased with her snarky reply. "I'm delighted for you."

Mortified and blushing, Rory rubbed her forehead. Why pick today, of all days, to revert to the blurting nug-woman with no boundaries? You've been doing so well! "You said you had something for me?" she asked in a desperate attempt to take control of the conversation.

"It isn't as exciting as what Cullen gives you," the mage warned, chuckling at her slightly outraged squeak of embarrassment. "You are utterly adorable when you're embarrassed, you know. But, as I promised, I have put together a small medical library for you."

Instantly, her embarrassment was gone. "Really?" she asked, curiosity mingling with excitement as she followed him to his little corner of the library, where he indicated a small stack of books on the table. "Thank you! I didn't think you were serious when you suggested it."

"My dear girl, when I say I will do a thing, it gets done," Dorian informed her comfortably. "You were in something of a lather about the gaps in your knowledge."

Rory tilted her head to read the spines. The Leech Book of Vald, Genitivi's Compendium of Thedosian Medicine, Plinth's Anatomical Studies, De Materia Medica, Historia Naturali ... She paused as she found a title that had nothing to do with medicine at all, clearing her throat to get his attention as she extracted Swords and Shields, Vol. III, from the pile. Dorian didn't even blink.

"It's your turn to read the dreadful thing," he pointed out, "though where you find the time to read, I have no idea."

Laughing, Rory put the book down. She actually rather enjoyed Swords and Shields - it was terrible, but entertainingly so. "I don't suppose there's anything on midwifery in this pile, is there?"

"Sadly, no," the mage told her. "Why? Is our blushing bride expecting, too?"

"No," she answered, her smile just a little wan. If only. "But I know virtually nothing about it, and now we're settled again, it's a certainty that someone's going to ... slip."

She wasn't sure she liked the way he was looking at her, but thankfully, he didn't say anything aloud. "I will keep my eyes open for you," he promised instead. "Should I have these delivered to the tower? I saw the workers manhandling a bed in there earlier, so I assume you are moving out of your charming tent at last."

"That would be lovely." She reached up to hug him gratefully, waiting until he responded before pulling back. One of these days, he was going to react instantly to her hugs, but she was patient enough to work on it slowly. "Thank you, Dorian."

"It's my pleasure to be lovely," he answered, the fingertips of his right hand brushing over the smooth curve of her flat stomach, one brow raised curiously. There could be no doubt what he was asking, though she was deeply grateful for his discretion.

She felt the determinedly calm facade she was holding in place crack just a little. "Keep it to yourself?" she whispered, the panic shining through briefly.

Dorian's mustache twitched as he smiled far more gently than she had expected. "Until he tells me, of course," he agreed without a moment's hesitation. And Cullen would tell him, she realized. The two men's friendship had blossomed far quicker than she had expected. "That does rather require you telling him."

"I'm working on it," she promised softly. "I was on my way to try, actually."

"Good." Dorian patted her hand gently. "Don't let me detain you."

Encouraged by his calm confidence, Rory headed back down the stairs, crossing the rotunda to the external door with his eyes on her back all the way. She had a feeling that deviating from her course would result in her being frog-marched directly to Cullen and possibly locked in with him until she 'fessed up. Dorian Pavus might only ever openly admit to having one friend, but he was compulsively protective of all the friends he made. Making her tell the truth through sheer bloody-mindedness was not beyond him. And, besides, he was right. Cullen needed to know. He deserved to know first.

It was breezier up here than it had been in the courtyards. Tucking her arms inside her cloak, she headed across the stone bridge, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine at the icy gusts that rushed her, albeit gently. Pausing at the door, she knocked, wincing at the sharp, "Come!" that answered her. Sounds like he's in a wonderful mood. She pushed open the door, peering inside warily.

Cullen was standing behind his large desk, leaning on the surface as he scowled down at the papers that covered it. The two other doors to the tower stood open, allowing that healthy breeze to rush through, ruffling his weighted paperwork as it did. He looked tired and angry, and that vein in his temple was throbbing again. The elfroot potion she always made sure he had plenty of was sitting on the desk by his hand. Headache or no headache, here goes nothing.

"Are you busy?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

He raised his eyes from the desk, and his scowl melted away at the sight of her, replaced with a weary smile that made her heart ache pleasantly. "I can always make time for you," he assured her quietly.

"But not to take the potion that will deal with that headache," she pointed out. Despite the anxious knot in her stomach, her smile was fond as she moved toward him, stepping over fallen debris to do so.

"I was just about to," he told her, the guilty cast to his expression telling her the bottle had been sitting there for a good hour or more. Under her knowing gaze, he unstopped the potion and took a healthy gulp, grimacing at the taste.

"Have you taken a break at all today?" she asked then, again knowing he hadn't before he admitted to it.

"There's so much to do," he tried to say, but Rory was just as stubborn as he was. It was part of the reason he'd noticed her in the first place.

"And nothing is going to fall apart if you take ten minutes to walk the battlements with me," she informed him, her expression daring her lover to argue. "Please?"

Cullen's brows drew together in concern at the unexpected plea. "Are you all right?" he asked her, straightening to come out from behind the desk.

Just that tender concern was enough to destabilize her composure, but she managed to keep it together. "I'm worried about you," she told him. It wasn't a lie; it just wasn't the truth, either. "Ten minutes, that's all I'm asking."

He held her gaze for a long moment, clearly trying to decide if he should be worried. "Ten minutes," he agreed finally, laying a hand at the small of her back to escort her out into the sunshine.

They walked in silence along the crenelated battlements, passing the guard patrolling this section before coming to a halt to look out over the snowy vista side by side. Cullen's fingers brushed hers, a single point of contact that meant the world to her as she struggled to find the words for what she needed to say. I'm pregnant was too blunt, too unexpected. Marry me, I'm up the duff likely wouldn't go down too well. Remember that time against the tree lacked the gentle tone she thought he needed. What about ...

She squeaked as his arm wrapped about her waist, drawing her close into his side. "You're fidgeting," he murmured against her temple. "Why so nervous?"

A low sigh escaped her lips. "Because there's something I need to tell you," she confessed, tilting her head to look up at him. "And you might not be happy about it."

"I already know you're going to the Winter Palace," he told her in a disapproving tone. "Which you somehow failed to tell me yourself."

Red heat spilled guiltily across her cheeks. Is that better, or worse, she wondered. "No, it's not that."

The wrap of his arm squeezed supportively about her back. "What is it, then?"

"I, um ..."

But Fate has a funny sense of humor. Sometimes it enjoys throwing obstacles in your path. In this case, as Rory braced herself to share her news ... it threw a goat at the outer wall directly below them. She distinctly heard the bleat, and the splat, leaning forward to look down at the man who had thrown it as Cullen exclaimed in affronted surprise.

"What in the name of -" He drew back from her, already shouting to his men. "Detain that man!"

As the soldiers scrambled to catch the Avvar hooting in satisfaction on the mountainside below, he began to follow, only to turn back to her with an apologetic look in his eyes. She sighed, shaking her head with a helpless laugh.

"It'll keep," she promised, waving him away. He needed his duty to come first, at least until he could make the decision about his priorities. "Go."

With a last concerned look, Cullen moved away, quickly out of sight. Rory turned back to the view, leaning against the gray stone to watch as the Inquisition apprehended Movran the Under with no small difficulty. Typical, she thought resignedly. Goatus interruptus.

#set in darkness #multi-chapter fic #mgit #modern girl in thedas #cullen rutherford/original female character #cullen rutherford/rory allen #rory allen #evy trevelyan #varric tethras #josephine montilyet #dorian pavus #cullen rutherford #unplanned pregnancy #confessions #skyhold #interruptions #movran the under #goaticide

5 notes · View notes

ivemetyouathousandways · 5 years

Text

Missed occasion

Friday - 7:20 AM

The living room was in the same duality as the kitchen; wide immense windows letting daylight flood in, biblical epic style, not the latest style furniture, but not antique either, modern electronics, but not overbearing and insulting to the established mood of a middle aged man who had a respectful taste for the past. I naturally established my quarters between the couch and the coffee table, feeling comfortable and needing the intimacy of the grounding carpeted floor. Gently laying my deck on said coffee table, taking a small moment to greet and establishing a contact with them, which in odd days - especially in the presence of strangers, made me feel a notch weird. I normally identified as Heathen, Atheist, Cheerful Nihilist, and I wondered how, if at all, any of it made sense. I believed in the quantum magic of the cards and they had proven be to indisputably right in multiple occasions, yet, I would betray their sacred mystique and my need for some higher up un-scientific beliefs to be accounted for in the camp of the rational, logical, fact based side of existence.

Sven came in just about when I was done with my small greeting ritual and I blushed at the thought of a classic trope of life where he'd been just standing in the entrance of the living room, the wooden tray holding the teapot and cups in hands, bemused and charmed by the quirkiness of this strange tourist sitting on his floor, eyes closed, a hand on a deck of cards, in a somewhat light elusive meditation. I enclosed behind a an accomplice smile a burst of silliness, thinking how I should pitch in something about crystals, incense and good vibrations. He didn't seem to notice, or, perhaps he was that polite, understanding sort of a man who didn't judge on such trivialities, choosing to simply carry on, putting the tray on the table and pouring tea in our two cups. What I did not expect of him was the sitting spot which he chose right next to me, to my left, an arm stretched out behind my back, a hand by my hip.

“You always carry your cards with you?"

"Not when I go out grocery shopping."

He chuckled and put a coaster and cup in front of me.

"I was hoping to get you to talk about your travels.”

“Shuffle.” I bossed him, gently pushing the deck to him. “You need peace.” He took the deck and I almost instantly regretted the absence of his arm behind my back. “You shuffle and I will talk.”

“It won’t disrupt the cards?” He asked, starting the motion.

“I did a reading yesterday during a football match.” I smiled back.

For a moment I got lost in the motion of his hands gently and expertly shuffling the deck, the soothing pianist fingers’ hypnotic dance. And somehow, I opened up, as if I was talking to myself, a silently voiced conversation with that other self living somewhere in a corner of my mind. The insane first year, the draining, emotional, intellectual, physical. The almost unconscious booking, going through the motions of finding a good priced, well located guest house, plane ticket, not being excited about the prospect of the escape. Going through the motions at the airport like a zombie. And then, the almost holy sense of relief that is being in the undefined space and time that is the time and space that is beautifully specific to an aircraft crossing time zones. I could have rambled about that for an eternity and a half but Sven had gently put the deck in front of me.

I placed the first three cards face up and took a sip of my tea. The Devil, the Eight of Swords and the Ten of Swords.

“You are trapping yourself in a vicious cycle of illusory torment ... it’s just thoughts, it’s just in your head, but it feels so real and you feel like there is no escape.”

I flipped the next three cards: the Three of Pentacles, the Ten of Wands and the Seven of Wands.

“It started off as a a bright new hope, working together, maybe starting off a new branch of your craftsmanship that could have financially benefited the both of you but then it became your sole burden and you used that pretext to shield yourself and it became your shield and defense against the world.”

He flipped the next three cards; Six of Swords, Wheel of Fortune and Temperance.

“It’s time to move on, to leave pain behind, or at least the bulk of it, the unhealthy chains that keep you in that dark place where your mind is at. It will take time and a balanced alchemy but the cycle is about to break and something new may be starting in your life.”

Out of curiosity, I flipped three more cards : The Fool, The Chariot and the Four of Wands.

“Yes, you are ready to move forward, you have that inner strength in you and it will pay handsomely. You will be happy - take a leap of faith, and happiness will shine down upon you.”

He flipped the Two of Cups, the Lovers and the World and I almost choked on my tea.

“Like I had mentioned; good things are coming your way; happiness, wholesomeness and a potential romance.”

He took a mouthful of his own tea and moved an inch closer. Two scenarios played out in my head like two movies playing simultaneously and my heart started racing. The little imaginary demon sitting on my left shoulder loudly slurped from an equally imaginary bowl of ramen noodle soup and I could just about imagine his sly smug look. Fuck off, mate! It’s not happening!

But it was happening. And I wasn’t ready. And there was no convenient chime of his doorbell, or a heart-attack inducing weird phone ring. There was just him and me and this moment.

And I wanted but I wasn’t sure.

I could feel his soft warm breath, the snug silence wrapped around us. I could just turn my head a little and lean over about an inch or even less... I could ... but I didn’t.

Silence lingered a little, just enough to morph into something else, to coat the itch with a soft thin layer of helping ointment.

“Where else have you traveled?” He asked, still close, but no matter the warmth and care in his voice, I could feel, or maybe my imagination exaggerated a subtle hurt.

“South Korea.” I took a long sip of my tea.

“Elaborate?”

“To get my idol’s name tattooed for his twenty fifth birthday without actually telling or showing him.”

“Interesting birthday present for someone you admire.”

“I didn’t want to freak him out.” I grimaced. And it was true. “Though, some years down the lane of time, he was made aware and was shown the tattoo.”

I caressed the cards on the table. I was missing his face, his voice, his ... was he ever actually happy when he had been jovial and smiling or was he the best unaccredited actor Korea had known?

“I should be going.” I whispered, finishing my tea, not really wanting to go, but not wanting to put myself in a situation where I would hurt him again. “But I insist on owing you a coffee and pastry some day! And you cannot refuse.”

0 notes

fearofaherobrine · 7 years

Text

Roleplay Server Log #241

"Call From Jeb, The Overworld Queen, The Red Kitten”

[Doc] Decides to walk Markus out.

[Notch] is looking very glum, and starts suddenly at a rather insistent buzzing from him inventory. He pulls out his phone and scowls at it.

[Doc] What is it?

[Notch] Fucking Jeb... -he answers the phone with faux sweetness- yes?

[Jeb] I saw some rather unusual activities earlier and I have information....

[Notch] Spit it out.

[Jeb] Replace my computer?

[Notch] Groans, I can't come out there and hold your damn hand, fuck it, I'll wire you money and you can buy whatever. Hold on- he's pulls the phone away from his ear to bring up an app and transfer a sizable amount to his former colleague- there! Now you better have something good for me!

[Jeb] There's a NOTCH out there performing some rather high level deletions for an AI and we saw it kill a brine with impunity, but since the numbers shuffle we weren't sure which one it was. Either way, it's dangerous, and you might be able to do something with its number.

[Notch] Low and angry- I would have just given it to you...

[Jeb] Well I'm not you. Do you want it or not?

[Notch] Grinds his teeth- I paid for it, give it to me. - he pulls out a book and quill and scribbled down the code before hanging up on Jeb a bit more forcefully then needed- dammit sometimes I miss analog phones. It was way more satisfying to slam one down then just hit a button.

[Doc] Looks at the notation-So, what is this?

[Notch] It's a tracking number. The AIs have them so they can be monitored and identified more easily. Herobrines have signature codes as well, but they're always shifting and changing because of their inherent glitchy nature. It's not normal for a NOTCH to be able to lock on a brine and delete them so easily. It's like trying to pick a lock while the different components rearrange themselves. Cps NOTCH is just as formidable and dangerous as he is.

[Doc] Wait a minute... Is a NOTCHAI's number anything like a player name? A system registry marker that lets you in or keeps you out of other servers?

[Notch] Yeah... The system sees them as the same...

[Doc] mental wheels spinning furiously - so technically.... Give me that number!

[Notch] Fumbles the book a little passing it- what are you going to do?

[Doc] Grins- I'm going to blacklist his code so he's permabanned from this server.

[Notch] That's so... I'm sorta pissed I didn't think of it myself.

[Doc] it might make Lie feel more secure at least.

[Lie] Once everyone has gone and Hera has set up a pen for Maggie she lays on her bed, curled around CP's spawn egg. Hera is passed out on the other side of the bed asleep, but still there for her friend. Lie however just can't find sleep so she is quick to hear someone approaching on the bridge. She sits up as the door opens and Endrea sticks her head in- Endrea, do you need anything?

[Endrea] Shakes her head as she completely steps in and shuts the door behind her- There are some things we need to discuss

[Lie] - What is it?

[Endrea] - The mobs on your husbands server, they are scared. They know what happened to him and they need to be reassured that they are safe, and that their Master isn't truly gone

[Lie] - Endrea I don't have a clue as to how to do any of that, hell I've only just gotten portals done!

[Endrea] - I know, which is why I suggested to Winston that perhaps he do the speaking or guide you through it while you appear formidable, it's what the mobs are used to

[Lie] - Just how am I meant to look formidable to them, they're used to CP's strength, a strength I just don't think I have right now

[Endrea] - Wear his armor

[Lie] - Excuse me?

[Endrea] - His obsidian armor, you know armors automatically adjust to whoever is wearing them

[Lie] - I don't know... It was built specifically for him...

[Endrea] - Yes, but he'd most likely willingly use it to protect you, which is precisely what it will be doing. Winston is willing to help you with it once you get over to the other seed. When you're ready that is

[Lie] - I'll... I'll think about it... But what will I do with his egg while I'm doing that? I don't want to leave it exposed

[Endrea] I can be curled around you and keep it hidden in my paws for you if you desire

[Lie] - I suppose that would work...

[Endrea] - Shall I let Winston know to start gathering the mobs and the generals?

[Lie] Sighs- Yes, go ahead

[Endrea] Hesitates- You do realize they will be looking towards you for a plan as well? They will have questions for you as you are their leader

[Lie] - I know... I'll think of something. Thank you for being here Endrea

[Endrea] - Always Mistress- The dragon then turns and leaves Lie in the quiet of her room once more

[Herabrine] Opens one eye- So I guess we're going out for a bit?

[Lie] Jumps a little- YOU WERE LISTENING!?

[Herabrine] shrugs - I'm a brine. We're naturally nosy.

[Lie] Groans- Yeah... We're going out...- She holds CP's egg a bit tighter

[Herabrine] Do we know where his armor is? I hope he didn't have it on him.

[Lie] - Should be back where ever he got it from. I'm sure Winston knows

[Herabrine] Streches- I'm ready when you are queenie.

[Lie] - Please don't call me that

[Herabrine] Just smirks- Call Winston.

[Lie] Sighs and stands up- I'm sure Endrea's already talking with him, come on

[Herabrine] Follows- Do you know what you're going to say?

[Lie] - Not a clue

[Endrea] Is in the workroom speaking with Winston through one of his portals-

[Winston] Notices Lie- Ah, Mistress, there you are

[Lie] - Hello Winston

[Herabrine] Hey Winston, do you know where Cp keeps his fancy armor?

[Winston] - Yes, in his bedroom, just a shame the weapons which go with it are broken...

[Herabrine] Broken and gone? Or just almost broken?

[Winston] - Just broken, in our server broken tools do not despawn

[Herabrine] Round em up. We can likely get them fixed by the same Testificate that repaired his armor. But not today.

[Winston] - Duly noted, now please come Mistress, the summons has already been sent and I suspect it won't take long for them to gather

[Lie] - Alright- She steps through the portal into the higher resolution

[Herabrine] Follows her in and sways for a moment. - Gods that makes me feel like I'm gonna yack-

[Lie] - Sorry Hera

[Winston] Leads them into CP's room and presses the hidden button to open the wall and reveal the armor. He takes it off it's stand and offers it to Lie-

[Lie] Takes it and looks it over, before placing CP's egg on his bed and donning the armor. The armor shifts to fit her feminine form yet still holds it's sharpness and appearance of strength-

[Herabrine] Whistles in appreciation. - You look fierce! Let me have the broken stuff Winston. I'll hang on to it until we can get it fixed.

[Winston] Looks at Lie for confirmation and his Mistress gives it. He goes over and fiddles with something before what is essentially a drawer pops out to reveal three obsidian tools. A sword, broken into many pieces, a pick which is cracked and has a few pieces separated from it, and an axe which is mostly just cracked because it was used the least-

[Herabrine] What, no hoe? I bet it's hidden someplace else cause it was never used.

[Winston] Gathers the tools and hands them over to Hera- That would be correct, the Master has never had any use for it

[Herabrine] Hmph. I wonder if he can hear us? He's probably just be mad because I'm in his room.

[Winston] - Yes, even I am technically not allowed in here, the Mistress is probably the only one actually allowed...

[Lie] Picks up CP's egg-

[Herabrine] well come on then, let's get this over with.

[Winston] - Do you have something to say to them? Or would you prefer I speak for you Mistress?

[Lie] - Please Winston, it would be much appreciated

[Winston] - I understand, please follow me

[Lie] Nods and follows Winston out of the room and towards the area which her coronation had been held. Hera and Endea are following behind them and Endrea shifts to her dragon form once in the hallway. Lie is uneasy being here without her mate but she can't think about it long as the doors before them swing open. The generals are where they had stood before, but much more solemn this time around. There is a vastly smaller amount of mobs where there had been a multitude before. All of them are silent and looking up at their Master's mate expectantly. Winston steps forwards to address them-

[Winston] - Fellow mobs! I speak for our Mistress today when I tell you that everybeing here has been affected by the loss of our Master. However our Mistress will do what she can to help protect us as her mate has done for a very long time. For the time being please, keep yourselves hidden away, there's no need to expose yourselves if there are no players! And I am pleased to assure you that the Master is not gone and he will return! Please, bare your safety in mind and for the sake of our Mistress do not try anything rash!

-There's a murmur from the crowd below and Lie's hands tighten a little around CP's egg as she watches them carefully. She hopes she doesn't screw her husbands entire server over by saying or doing the wrong thing. She's a bit surprised when Endrea nudges her a little-

[Endrea] - You should speak to them Mistress, calm them...

[Lie] - What should I say?

[Endrea] - What ever your heart feels is right

[Lie] Swallows nervously before stepping forwards, Winston steps back politely to give her some space. She looks at the crowd gathered before her- I am not going to claim that I know what I'm doing. Some of you may remember that I did lead a group of humans, but I have never had to lead this many before. If I stumble and make mistakes then please forgive me, for I am doing the best I can. I am not my mate, I do not have the war experience which he does, but I will fight for you if you stand by me. Each one of you is important to my mate thus you are important to me

-The crowd speaks amongst themselves, as if agreeing to Lie's terms and soon a cheer sets up which gives Lie a bit of relief. Winston touches her arm and urges her back before giving a closing speech to the mobs and leading Lie away-

[Lie] Feels light headed from the stress of speaking to all the mobs and allows Winston to guide her to the conference room where he seats her in CP's usual spot as the other generals file into their spots. Winston grab a chair for Hera and places it next to Lie-

[Herabrine] Well that went decently well...

[Herabrine] Are you okay Lie?

[Lie] - Yeah, just, really not used to this...

[Herabrine] I think the best person to be in charge is someone who doesn't want to be. People who want power are more likely to be corrupted by it. Pretend the mobs are kids you're babysitting

[Lie] Please don't stick that image in my head

-The generals are silent for a few moments before Magnolia speaks-

[Magnolia] - So what happens now? What are we going to do?

[Lie] - In all honesty I'm not sure, but what I said is true. I will do my best to protect you, but I require your help as well. I don't have any idea as to what to do with this large of a group, which is why I'm depending on all of you

[Blake] - And why should we follow you? Why shouldn't one of us take charge?

[Endrea] Snorts- You're an idiot Blake. All the lesser mobs know that the bright eyes control all, they will not listen to the leader of another group of mobs unless their general is close with that general. And even then there is no guarantee

[Grayson] - She's so pathetic and puny though, probably can't even fight- The large pigman stands, grinning darkly before lunging at Lie to attack her

[Winston] Both he and Endrea leap up to Lie's defense, but there was no need as sharp black vines whip up, grabbing Grayson and slamming him back into a wall, holding him there and digging deep throns into him-

[Endrea] - Mistress...

[Lie] - I don't wish to fight Grayson, especially at this time when we are facing such a large threat

[Samuel] - I agree with the Mistress, we need to focus and figure what to do about NOTCH

[Lie] - Have there been any more sightings of him since CP was removed?

[Eliza] - No my lady, but one of my children was there when your mate was killed, would you like to speak with them?

[Lie] - Yes please, the more we know about what happened, the better

[Eliza] Nods- I have them waiting in the hall, should I call them now?

[Lie] - Go ahead

[Eliza] Lets out a series of clicks and a small cave spider comes in, it's obviously nervous as it trembles a little- M... Mistress

[Lie] - It's alright, you're not in trouble. I just wish to know what happened

[Cave Spider] Trembles a bit before finding it's voice- I.. I was hiding in some grass when I saw the Master come into the area, the NOTCH was stalking him and it was obvious that the Master was distracted since he was not noticed right away. When the... WHen the Master did finally notice him he immediately challenged him... NOTCH... NOTCH had a sword... and the Master called both his weapons but put his sword away so all he had was his pick... They fought, NOTCH barely scratched Master with the sword but it killed the Master. HIs body fell apart, unraveling at it's code...

[Lie] Looks about ready to cry again as she hears this and her breathing has picked up- Thank you for the information, it is useful... You may go

[Cave Spider] The small arachnid bows and leaves the room which falls into a hushed silence-

[Lie] Quietly- It wasn't quick...... Only the breaking of our connection was...

[Herabrine] her expression is dark- he'll pay dearly for that. I doubt he realizes what a large beehive he's kicked.

[Lie] Under the table reaches for Hera's hand for comfort-

[Blake] - So obviously the NOTCH has developed something new to combat us with... And we now know it's a sword, but what exactly did he do to the sword and how do we defend against it?

[Lie] - I don't know... I may know some others which may have an idea, but other than that...

[Blake] - Well you're of great help

[Herabrine] Takes her hand and whispers- remember, he's not gone

[Lie] - I am trying Blake, which seems to be more than you're doing. At least I'm attempting to find answers rather than just asking questions

[Herabrine] I'm sure we'll be on better footing once we have more information...

[Lie] - But how do we get it without confronting him and putting more lives in danger?

[Herabrine] Simple, we ask Cp. we just have to be patient

[Zacharia] - Many would be willing to sacrifice themselves to help you find out more

[Lie] - Absolutely not! I will not have you sacrificing yourselves for something so senseless!

[Herabrine] it's better if you hide. Let the bastard think he's won for a bit.

[Lie] - He was aiming at all of you not that long ago in case you've forgotten

[Blake] - Heh, only the weak overworld generals

[Samuel] - What did you say ember boy?

[Blake] - You heard me

[Winston] - Enough! Now is not the time for infighting!

[Herabrine] don't forget that the one who punished Giselle is more then willing to repeat those actions....

[Blake] - I saw his terror here, he doesn't like the Nether

[Lie] - That doesn't mean he's not capable of setting his fear aside Blake

[Herabrine] Doesn't mean I can't take your ass to him either. Now shut your trap.

[Blake] Huffs but does remain silent-

[Zacharia] - With your permission Mistress I believe we'll get nowhere else today until more information comes to light. May we leave?

[Lie] - Yes, but if any of you learn anything else please tell Winston immediately. He will be able to pass it along to me

[Herabrine] Sounds good to me.

-The generals all give Lie some sort of salute before almost all of them leave except Winston, Endrea, and Magnolia-

[Magnolia] - Mistress, which of my mobs would you prefer I be with? The magma cubes? Or the slimes?

[Lie] - Which do you think would need the greater protection?

[Magnolia] - Pobably the magma cubes...

[Winston] - Are you sure? The NOTCH has never entered the Nether before...

[Magnolia] - All the more reason too if he believes the Master is dead

[Herabrine] is waiting patiently but obviously ready to go

[Lie] - Winston, can you open the way back for us?

[Winston] - Yes Mistress- He gives a slight bow and opens a way

[Endrea] - I will stay here briefly to make sure the End is secure, but I will join you shortly

[Herabrine] I take it Gk has the kids?

[Endrea] - No, they are sleeping and Ashe should be able to take care of them for a short while

[Herabrine] And you should probably call Doc and let them know the little bit of info the spider gave you.

[Lie] - Absolutely, let's just hope they're awake...

[Herabrine] is already calling out in the chat as she goes through- I gotta feed Maggie, I won't be long.

[Lie] Follows, completely forgetting that she's wearing CP's armor- Alright, we should probably let TLOT know too...

[Doc] Pounds up outside carrying TLOT and Steve- Brine delivery service!

[TLOT] That looks really good on you Lie!

[Lie] - What? Oh... I forgot I was even wearing this

[Lie] - We have a bit more information on what happened to CP

[Doc] I have news too! But you go first.

[Lie] - There was one witness to what happened, a cave spider. They confirmed that CP was attacked with a sword... But it wasn't a quick death. They stated they could see him coming undone pixel by pixel.... And that his code was coming undone...

[Doc] That monster... I'll figure out what he did and how to counter it too. Mark my words! But I'll need to examine Cp for traces once he's restored.

[TLOT] Looks stricken, remembering bad things and clings to Steve a bit.

[Lie] - What news do you have?

[Doc] We had to bribe him, but Jeb gave us something super useful. You know how the peaceful NITCHAIs told us they had a way of distinguishing each other? It's a number. And Jeb gave us the one for Cps NOTCH.

[Lie] - Really? What can we do with it?

[TLOT] Apparently deleting the mobs drew some attention to him...

[Doc] Well the number functions like a key in the same way a player name allows you in or out of a server...

[Steve] We got to use the ban- hammer!

[Doc] Cps NOTCH is permanently banned from this server.

[Lie] Looks down at the egg in her hands- That's good... I get the feeling that the deletion of a brine drew a fair amount of attention too...

[Doc] I don't know about that Lie... I get the feeling it's not as rare as we'd like. But deleting the mobs is weird. Plus it's the kind of thing that affects the players experiences. So I can see how that would draw more attention.

[Doc] Leans close to Lie to get a better look at the egg- any wiggles yet? It shouldn't be long to hatch.

[Lie] - Hoestly I was so focused on not screwing up in front of CP's generals that I wouldn't know...

[Doc] Scoots closer - May I? Just hold him up a bit.

[Lie] Holds the egg up a bit higher for Doc-

[Doc] Puts hir head to the side to listen - I hear a little movement.

[TLOT] Hops down and then helps Steve as well. He passes a hand over the shell- It's kind of like... someone rolling around in their sleep-

[Lie] - I'm not sure how CP manages to deal with his generals so often, Grayson tried to attack me, Blake insulted me... It was nerve wracking

[Doc] Easy, he just beats them up.

[TLOT] Blake is an asshole.

[Lie] Pulls the egg back closer to herself- I'm glad Endrea suggested I wear CP's armor

[Doc] It was a good suggestion. On several levels.

[Lie] - I should probably take it off though, Winston had to help me out a bit since there's more than usual with this armor

[Steve] Do you need an extra pair of hands?

[Doc] Just unequipt it Lie.

[Lie] - Hm? Oh, right... Unequipting...- A bit embarrassed at forgetting that she does remove the armor that way

[Doc] There you go. Take a load off, you're safe now.

[Herabrine] Sees them talking and sneaks out the side of the house and flies off towards the village.

[Lie] Cradles the egg- You know, now that I have those gauntlets off, it almost feels like it's gently vibrating...

[Doc] I wouldn't be suprised. He might be aware that you have him close.

[Lie] Smiles a little- So long as he comes back quickly

[Doc] Grins- trust me.

[TLOT] Smiles faintly and directs his soft words at the egg. - Hey Cp. I'm gonna go sit on your couch since you're not out here to tell me not to.

-The egg vibrates a bit harder-

[Lie] - Easy now...

[Doc] Come on Cp. We're all waiting on you. You can do it!

[Lie] - Do you think maybe it needs to be used like a spawn egg?

[Doc] Maybe? But be super gentle. Just in case. Click it easy. Don't throw it like a chicken egg.

[Lie] Gently clicks the egg and is surprised when it pops open and a tiny ball of red fur rolls out with a teeny mew-

[TLOT] Holy crap...

[Steve] KITTEN!

[Doc] Well that kinda makes sense actually...

[CP] Looks around and blinks before letting out a little yowl-

[Lie] - I... I don't get it... Why is he so tiny?

[Doc] He lost all his mass. He's having to rebuild himself from scratch the way I did in the beginning. And since he's spent time as a cat, it's a small actionable shape his body already knows how to pilot.

[CP] Tries standing up and wobbles some-

[Lie] - So I guess I have another small animal running around

[Doc] Just for a while. He needs to heal. I'm betting his skin is empty right now. He proabably has just enough cubes to make that shape.

[Lie] - You said I could feed him once he got a mouth, should I go get something for him?

[Doc] Absolutely.

[Steve] I have some chicken! - pulls out the roast bird and puts it in front of the kitten -

[Lie] Hurries inside to get some more meat-

[CP] Immediately makes his way over to the chicken and starts eating-

[Lie] Comes back out with a steak and a pork chop-

[Doc] Hey TLOT.... you should give her one of the meat cubes... She's gonna find out about it sooner or later anyway.

[TLOT] Thanks for outing me!

[Doc] You know I'm right!

[TLOT] Huffs and puts down a rather weird cube, it's marbled like an entire block of raw bacon.

[Lie] - What is that?

[TLOT] Very quiet- Mammoth...

[Lie] - You... Killed one of the mammoths?

[TLOT] Colors - It's for the raptors! I promised them new meat for diplomatic reasons. I only needed to kill one to make duplicates of the item drop!

[Lie] Groans and then looks at CP. The tiny kitten has devoured about a quarter of the chicken now-

[Doc] Poor thing. His body needs to be normal, or at least bigger. His metabolisim must be going crazy. He needs fuel for his fire so badly.

[Lie] - Guess I'll be doing a lot of breeding... He's usually the one that kills them for me though...

[Doc] If you run out of food just come visit me. I always have lots.

[TLOT] Do you have trouble killing them Lie? You could always ask Herabrine to suffocate them, that would be fairly quick.

[Lie] - It's the noises they make that I don't like

[Notch] Wanders outside - what's going on out here? I keep hearing muching noises. - stops- Is that...a block of MEAT?!

[Doc] Yep.

[Lie] - Look at what's behind the chicken

[Notch] Walks over and looks down- Aww it's a kitten! A hungry kitten... Wait... Is that CP?!

[Doc] For the moment, yes.

[Lie] - Yeah

[Notch] W-why?

[Doc] He's recovering. Don't get your cubes in a bunch-

[Notch] Kneels down. - Cp.... My poor son... Fuck... Does Stevie know about this?

[Lie] - Noooo

[Doc] Is already typing- and get over here please. This is important.

[CP] Accidentally chomps a bone and gives it a little hiss-

[Lie] - We may have to debone things for him... That chicken Hera brought over earlier would be good

[TLOT] At least the meat block doesn't have bones. It's kinda compressed...

[Doc] Yeah, nudge him over to it. It's nice and bloody and fatty. Should appeal to him.

[Notch] Looks slightly ill

[Lie] Gently scoops CP up who reaches out with his paws to keep a hold of the chicken as she moves him over to the meat block-

[Stevie] Comes jogging up- Hey, what's going on?

[Doc] Cp confronted his NOTCH...

[Stevie] Stiffens- Again? Who... Who came out on top this time?

[Doc] The NOTCH... Cp was... deleted. Fortunately Lie had a single pixel and he's regenerating from it.

[Stevie] - Deleted? But he's never been able to completely do that before...

[Doc] We know. It's a terrifying prospect. I think if he hadn't let me give him my recursive code he would have been lost to us entirely.

[Stevie] - So where is he?

[CP] Has started on the meat cube-

[Doc] Points at the kitten- That's him.

[CP] Chews on a fatty part-

[Stevie] - That's my brother? He's so... He's so tiny...

[Doc] Well we only had one pixel. He was resting in a spawn egg for almost a day.

[Lie] - And now he's probably gonna try to eat everything...

[TLOT] You can't blame him. He needs food to rebuild.

[Doc] At least he has food.... I had to make do with whatever raw materials I could pilfer. I consumed a lot of random things.

[Stevie] - So what's going to happen with him?

[Doc] He'll eat. And then when he's got enough raw materials he'll pop like a mob animal into a larger shape. Probably an adult cat, and then, I don't know. But we'll get him back.

[Notch] Gives the kitten a gentle pat-

[Lie] - Somebody had better be taking pictures of him this small...

[Doc] I'm on it- Starts taking screenshots from different angles-

[Steve] So just be nice to him Stevie. He's had a really shitty couple of days.

[CP] Tears off a bit too big of a piece for him to eat-

[Notch] Pulls on the piece so he can rip a bit off- Easy now! Don't choke!

[CP] Tugs on it while Notch is tugging on it with a little growl-

[Notch] Can't help but smile- Get it!

[CP] Uses tiny claws to bat at the meat-

[Doc] Dawwwwwwwwww

[Steve] He's being so cute. Dammit!

[Stevie] - So where did that meat come from?

[TLOT] I killed a mammoth....

[Stevie] - One of those big things in the savannah? Whoa

[CP] Finally tears off a smaller piece from the one Notch is holding-

[TLOT] I needed the meat... I'm not gonna do it again. There are only a few of them anyway.

[Steve] It dropped a ton of brown woolly cubes too.

[Lie] - I bet

[Doc] Returns hir attention to Cp. - I wonder what's going on in his head?

[TLOT] Hunger mostly.

[Lie] - I think I'm going to go make him a bit of a nest on the bed-

[Doc] Stevie? When was the last time you talked to that NOTCH?

[Notch] Go ahead Lie, I'l keep an eye on him-

[Stevie] - Um... Not long before TLOT brought me and the other humans over here...

[Lie] Heads inside to start making a nest-

[Doc] Good, lets keep it that way. Same with Alexis. As far as I'm concerned, this one's a monster on the same level as TLOT's was. Apparently he was amusing himself deleting Cp's mobs as well.

[Stevie] - He's never bothered with brother's mobs before...

[CP] Kicks at the meat block sending a couple tiny chunks off-

[Doc] Exactly. I think it may have been a calculated move to either hurt him or draw him out of hiding, or both.

[Stevie] - Fa... I mean, that NOTCH has never been that aggressive before, at least not to my knowledge...

[Doc] Shrugs - I don't know what his problem is. I don't want to know. I just wish he'd fuck off somewhere and not come back.

[Steve] And take Dn with him.

[Doc] Wilts a bit. Xe only managed to avoid him by phasing through the stone under the castle and meeting TLOT and Steve at the spawn-

[Stevie] - Maybe... Maybe he wouldn't attack me. If you guys help me get back over there, maybe looking a bit beat up to be a bit more convincing, I could maybe get more information for you guys

[Doc] But we can't go with you. You'd be risking everything. If he kills you you'll respawn, but if he deletes you, that's it... game over... Stevie...

[TLOT] Cp would never forgive any of us if something happened to you. I know you might not believe me, but he would be devestated.

[Notch] Stevie... Please...

[Stevie] - Well what are our other options?

[Doc] A very through scan of Cp once he's restored. Plus he should be able to tell me exactly what happened. He's a hacker and he does know what certain things feel like.

[Lie] Comes out of the house- Hey, did you guys see Hera at all? She said she was gonna feed Maggie, but she's not inside...

[Herabrine] Is coming back down the road with a very smug expression - I bring presents!

[Doc] Why does that worry me?

[Lie] - What are you talking about?

[Herabrine] At TLOT- Sorry to give your Testificates busy work, but Tungsten is the best at what he does.

[Herabrine] Holds up the obsidian sword and the matching axe- All fixed!

[Lie] - And CP's going to be mad...

[Doc] Those are really pretty.

[TLOT] Mad but secretely grateful, I'm sure.

[Steve] Those are really neat tools!

[Lie] - They were made to go with the armor... Where's the pick?

[Stevie] - I think I remember those... From a really long time ago... Actually I think I remember brother letting me use the axe in a fight...

[Herabrine] Not done yet. He tackled the sword first because it was the most broken. And then the axe because it was still in pretty good shape. But then he started getting a bit burnt, and Drillby insisted he take a break so he wouldn't mess anything up trying to hurry.

[Lie] - I see. If you wanna put the tools in the trunk in the bedroom, that would be appreciated

[Stevie] - Father, how's Flux?

[Notch] Has a farway look for a moment - Sensual, lovely, tender, kind... what were we talking about again?

[Herabrine] I'm on it.

[Stevie] - Ummmm...

[TLOT] Wry grin- Someone has been doing some very intimate server coding.

[Stevie] Turns bright red- Nope! No! Do not need to hear about that!

[CP] Little yawn having devoured about half of the meat block-

[Notch] Blushes as well - Just be happy for me, okay?

[Doc] Awww... tiny yawn.

[Stevie] - Yeah, absolutely! Just no details!

[CP] Sleepily starts on the block again-

[Lie] - I think CP's gonna be conked out here soon enough

[Doc] That's okay. He needs rest too. Just keep him close by.

[Lie] - Oh he won't be leaving my sight

[Notch] Sees Cp stop eating and scoops him up into his arms, not minding the bit of blood that gets on his shirt. - My poor son...

[Doc] Uses hir tail fluff to scoot Stevie close to Notch-

[Stevie] Looks at his brother as he starts curling up- Is he even aware right now?

[Doc] We don't know.

[TLOT] I know it's him, his energy is unmistakable. But he's not all there mentally. Like someone who's delirious from fever, operating on base instincts.

[CP] Curls up tiny with one last little yawn, his eyes drooping close-

[Notch] Holds him close and gives him a little kiss on the head- Sleep well, and come back to us soon.

[TLOT] Brushes Stevie's mind gently to see if his feelings are anything like Cp's were when Stevie was temporarily a child again.

[Stevie] Is a tad bit concerned, he's never seen his brother like this before and to have heard that his former father had deleted him scared him-

[Steve] Moves over to them and takes Stevie's hand, gently laying it against the kitten's soft fur. - If you ever wanted to tell him something without him inturrupting you or storming off, now is a good time.

[Stevie] - I... I think the only thing is why...

[Notch] Gives him a curious look, almost a bit sad. - Go on.

[Stevie] - Why it ever had to end up like this... With the way the two of us are...

[Notch] You mean, you two fighting?

[Doc] Because someone got between you, and pushed you apart.

[Stevie] - Just everything

[TLOT] As long as both of you are alive, it's never too late to make amends.

[Stevie] - Yeah yeah, I know... But he never stops doing shit

[Doc] He's a difficult person. That's just the long and short if it.

[TLOT] He has issues, but don't we all?

[CP] Little tiny soft snores-

[Lie] Giggles a little- He normally doesn't snore

[Notch] He's got a full belly, that's probably not normal either. If there's food he tends to give most of it to you Lie. I'm not sure why he has such an issue with eating around other people.

[Lie] I'm not sure he usually needs to eat much. I know his normal state is a mix of creative and survival

[TLOT] But eating is one of life's little joys. I feel like sometimes he's just reluctant to have fun, like the universe is gonna shit on him if he shows a moment of weakness.

[Lie] - He's getting better though

[Stevie] Glances around them- I'm glad your place is so lit up Lie, otherwise we wouldn't be able to be standing out here

[Doc] It's not just that Stevie, really look around-

-Silver is sitting on their skeletal horse near the south gate of the village and Tang is also nearby. Bow at the ready. There are a few creepers, but they're moving in a small patrol along the wall -

[Doc] Our friends are watching over us too.

[Stevie] - I don't usually see that, I'm usually inside

[Doc] It's okay. They're just keeping an eye out. You're surrounded by friends, you just have to reach out a little bit.

[CP] Kinda rolls onto his back in his sleep-

[Notch] Can't resist petting his teeny belly with one finger-

[CP] Curls around the finger-

[Notch] Gooey smile- He's so soft....

[Stevie] His hand slides up towards his brother's ears-

[Notch] Give him a little pet, I don't think he'll mind. It's likely the first time you've laid a hand on him since you were a kid.

[Stevie] - Yeah...- Little ear rub

6 notes · View notes

oh-my-otome · 7 years

Text

Yandere! Saito x MC: Captive

@kseifert please forgive me, but @rizosrojizos‘ idea of yandere Saito was TOO GOOD!

It happened so quickly that no one had time to catch the seto ware cup as it fell from her hand, its contents spilling across the table, leaking sake onto the floor.

Okita had managed to fling himself half across the table to catch the bottle of sake before it rolled off of the edge, while Yamazaki instinctively grasped the nearby napkins to sop up the spill.

The waitress from Shiki had slumped suddenly toward the ground, mid-pour, but not before Kondo broke her fall. Over by her side, Kyo sat frozen, eyes rounded in horror as he looked on.

It was supposed to be a celebratory dinner for Hijikata’s troops, and while she seemed a little harried, she insisted that she was fine catering such a large event on her own.

Saito could tell, however, that she was pushing herself.

Ever since the moment that she had mysteriously appeared in this time, he had always been watching her, secreting glances and peeks, any little thing to get just one glimpse more. He even strayed on his patrols, just to pass by Shiki, claiming that he was just being thorough.

What no one knew, was that he wouldn’t only walk by the front-- he would also go around to the back, where the kitchen was.

On quiet feet, he’d slink along the wall and over to the window. Through his efforts, he was almost always rewarded with a view of her back as she bent over the sink to wash the vegetables or worked at the prep table.

There were a few times where the back door of the restaurant would swing open with a bang, and she would shuffle out, carrying garbage bags in her hand.

Those became moments that Saito lived for, an added bonus. The thrum of adrenaline from watching her, unnoticed, mixed so exquisitely with the possibility that she might catch him. Might confront him.

He had no idea how she would react, or what she might say, and even that uncertainty held some attraction for him.

But even though he watched her daily, and even though he had known that she’d been sick for some days now, he wasn’t prepared to see her faint the way she had.

And although he felt a surge of pride that her precious Kyo would surely slip a few notches for having been too stunned to help her, Saito knew that he wouldn’t rise to a higher place in her eyes either, as he, himself, was too shocked to move a muscle-- and he was seated the furthest from where she had been standing, besides.

Kondo, who had been shouting frantically that it was definitely a fever, had drawn her body up, hooking the backsides of her knees over one thickly muscled arm and cradling her head against his shoulder with his other hand.

The motion pitched her face almost flush against Kondo’s neck, her lips barely grazing the skin there. Saito knew, somewhere within him, that it wasn’t intentional, but at the same time, he could feel his jaw clench, his mouth working into a hard line of indignation.

Vaguely aware that Kyo was in the process of rising to his feet, Saito almost knocked him down, as he found himself inexplicably on the other side of the room. The last thought he remembered processing was that he wouldn’t forgive any man who touched her.

Finding that he had automatically extended his arms toward Kondo, Saito worked to keep the irritation out of his voice as it rose like bile, “I’ll take her back to Shiki, Captain.”

Kondo, genial as always, took a half step back, a broad and easy smile spreading across his face, smooth like silk.

“I’m telling you it’s just a fever. I can carry her back, five minutes tops. I’ll send for the doctor and everyth--”

“Captain,” Saito interrupted, and then stopped immediately, noting the unintentionally hard edge he put on the word.

He could feel a pair of eyes boring a hole in the back of his head, and Saito knew that if he turned around, he’d find Shinomiya looking particularly feral.

With a deep breath, Saito reset, speaking more calmly than he felt, “Captain,” he started, “please.”

He hadn’t meant the “please” at all, but he said it anyway, aware that the grit of annoyance was back in his tone, knowing full well that he should be more careful, but failing to care.

Saito stepped closer, hands outstretched, and Kondo was preparing to acquiesce, holding out the woman’s body, when there was a scoffing sound in the background-- a click of the tongue.

Kyo appeared at Saito’s side, shouldering him out of the way, with an accusatory glare.

Saito ignored him as he passed the woman from Kondo’s hands to his own and, shifting her slightly in his arms, he turned to stare down his nose at Kyo, his head tilted back slightly for effect.

“Are you sure you have time for such errands? It’s almost time for your patrol. Or do they let just anyone be a captain nowadays.”

Somewhere behind him, he heard Yamazaki gasp, and Okita let out an expletive under his breath.

It wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t true. There was more than an hour left before Kyo went on patrol, and although Saito realized that he would still have to work with him in his capacity as a captain, he just couldn’t allow another minute to pass with her in someone else’s arms.

As he began backing out of the room, she wriggled in his arms, mumbling incoherently, her breath ghosting across his neck.

‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘just like that.’

She reached up to weakly hold onto his collar, her feet dangling uselessly as he left the large hall. She had kept her eyes closed, but the few times she did manage to open them, they were glassy and unfocused. Her breathing was not quite erratic, but he knew he would have to hurry.

Saito stopped abruptly at the sound of Kyo shouting after him, his head jutting out from the room.

“I’ll send for a doctor, so make sure you take her back to Shiki immediately!”

“Yes,” Saito drawled, “Do send for a doctor.” He could feel the corner of his mouth hitching higher the further he walked from the dining hall.

‘Send whoever you like.’

He had no intention of going to Shiki and, after he had walked a little way on the road in front of headquarters, he quickly doubled around to the side entrance and headed straight for his room.

Having laid her on his futon, Saito busied himself with sneaking through the corridors, congratulating himself on his ability to mimic some of the little nuances that he’d picked up from watching Yamazaki.

Having stealthily secured some strips of cloth, and some water from the well, he quietly slipped back into his room, shutting the door behind him with the tiniest whisper of sound.

His heart ached sweetly at the sight of her twisting fitfully on top of his covers-- due to sickness, surely, but perhaps next time it would be for another reason.

As far as he was concerned, if he could just impress her with his bedside manner, she would surely begin to fall for him. To see him as something more than another forgettable face in a sea of samurai.

When she had first laid eyes on him, he was keenly aware of the pity in her eyes as they traveled over every thread comprising the bandage wrapped around his head.

He had been wearing it for so long that, until that day, he hadn’t really thought much about it. As soon as he realized that she might be reviled at what she could only imagine was hidden underneath it, it too much for him.

He had considered revealing his secret, that his other eye was perfectly fine, but he didn’t want to shock her. Not when she wasn’t even in his grasp to begin with. He couldn’t risk it.

With Kyo shadowing her every movement, calling out “Senpai! Senpai!” with that simpering voice of his, Saito had very few chances to talk to her even with other people around. If he could just get past the barrier of “casual acquaintance.”

Deciding to seize the opportunity to finally have her alone, he held her head up, pressing a cup of cool water to her lips with gentle care, watching intently as she sipped.

Setting the cup down, he began mixing some powders together and, after filling the cup again, added the mixture to the water.

“This will get your fever down,” he crooned, helping her to drink again, “you just rest here.”

Having applied a wet cloth to her forehead, he propped her head up on his lap and stroked her hair away from her face.

‘You’ll see,’ he thought, gliding his hand over her hair as he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest.

He turned his ear toward the door and listened for any noise in the hallway. He wouldn’t put it past Yamazaki to have suspected something, and although he didn’t reach for his sword, he thought about it. Every so often, Saito’s eyes would flick over to the door, double-checking that it was locked.

‘I’ll make you see.’

She shifted fitfully, trying to find a comfortable position, mumbling deliriously as she went, her eyes closed all the while.

At the touch of Saito’s knuckles stroking her cheek, she stilled, settling into a sleep that anyone else would call restless, her brows knit with exhaustion.

In Saito’s eyes, however, her face could only be described as dreamlike in its beauty-- the knowledge that his touch calmed her seeping through him like water in a sponge.

‘That’s right’ he smoothed his knuckles down the side of her face once more, from her cheekbone to her chin, sweeping the pad of his thumb over the supple swell of her bottom lip.

‘You’re mine.’

#destined to love #short story #saito hajime #kondo isami #shinomiya kyo #okita soji #yamazaki susumu #hijikata toshizo

28 notes · View notes