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jlalafics · 3 years

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"Almost Paradise"-a birthday story for mrspeetamellark!

Happy birthday @mrspeetamellark! This is one day late but I hope you enjoy this continuation of your lifeguard!Peeta story!

You can find the first part here.

Also, mind the smut at the end.

______

“How do I look?” Katniss stepped into the living room where Annie and Finnick sat on the couch. “Do I look too much like a girl who’s seen nothing but forests and whose pastime is archery?”

She did a little twirl in her sleeveless green jersey dress and cropped jean jacket for the couple.

“You look cute!” Annie stood up, rounding her. “But take the jacket off.”

“And undo the braid,” Finnick added.

Katniss shrugged the jacket off, handing it to Annie before unraveling her braid.

“Why?”

“If you’re cold, he can’t give you his jacket or put an arm around you if you’re wearing one, can he?” Annie pointed out.

“And nothing is sexier than a hair flip and an over-the-shoulder smile,” Finnick told her.

Katniss snorted. “What do you mean?”

The man bent his head, throwing it back before looking over his shoulder to smile at Annie and Katniss.

“See?” Finnick smirked. “Irresistible.”

“Is that how Annie got you?” Katniss asked.

“No, it’s how he got me,” her cousin replied. “His hair was at his shoulders at the time.”

There was a knock on the door.

“He’s here!” Finnick screamed out excitedly.

Katniss laughed, going to the door. “I thought I was going out with Peeta.”

“I’m just really happy for you,” Finnick replied.

“He’s hoping that you’ll stay the night with Peeta so we can shag like rabbits,” Annie said as Katniss opened the door.

“I should at least take you to dinner before you stay over.”

Peeta stepped into the house, his eyes meeting Katniss’. He kissed her cheek.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Katniss looked over Peeta in his brown leather jacket, fitted white tee, and jeans. “You look great.”

“Yes, very dreamy,” Annie agreed.

Finnick fluttered his lashes. “I’d do you.”

“On that note, we should go,” Katniss told him. “Bye, guys.”

Annie gave her a hug. “Have a shit ton of fun.”

Taking Peeta’s hand, Katniss led him out the door.

“Use protection!” Finnick called out, just as the door closed behind them.

++++++

“My Mom is the local medicine woman while my sister assists her,” Katniss said as they strolled. “I’ve never been very good at all the medicinal stuff which is surprising since I usually go hunting with my Dad or Gale…well, maybe just my Dad now.” She turned to the man, smiling at her in amusement. “I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?”

“No, I like it,” Peeta said as he gazed at her. “You have a lot to say and I want to hear it all.”

“Maybe it’s because I kind of disappear into the background a lot of the time,” she told him. “Being a hunter and all. I mean, everyone who lives in my neighborhood looks the same. Dark hair, olive skin…Mom and Prim are the exception. Both blonde and blue-eyed.”

“Why is that?”

“My Mom grew up in the higher-class part of District 12,” she explained. “And she ran off with my Dad.”

“So, they were Star-Crossed Lovers,” Peeta replied.

“Yup, minus the gang fights and death.” Katniss looked around the line of shops along the wooden-slatted walkway. “Where are we?”

“This is District 4’s commercial area,” he explained. “This is where visitors like yourself might come to eat at a restaurant or buy some local goods. The folks from the Capitol come here during the summer and double our revenue for the year.”

“We don’t have anything like that in 12,” Katniss replied. “Unless you’d be interested in goat’s milk or cheese made by Prim’s goat.” Peeta raised a brow and she chuckled. “Yes, my sister has a goat.”

He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Would buying goat’s milk score me brownie points with you?”

Katniss closed in the space between their joined hands. “Maybe.”

Peeta stopped, reaching to lift her chin. “Maybe?”

“Probably,” she relented, her chin wobbling in nervousness.

The way Peeta gazed at her was exhilarating and unnerving, all at once. It was as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. If she was being entirely honest, most of her thoughts regarding this strong-jaw, golden-haired man were not entirely clean.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Katniss swallowed harshly. “Starving.”

Peeta stepped towards her, his hands going to her shoulders—to turn her around.

In front of her was a storefront displaying an array of pastries and cakes, but it wasn’t the food that made her jaw drop slightly.

It was the sign.

“Mellark Bakery?” Katniss turned to him, a smile playing on her lips. “You have a bakery.”

“My family has one,” he told her simply. “I thought that we might explore some career options for you.”

Katniss was confused. “What?”

“You said that you didn’t have your dream job.” Peeta pulled her towards the entrance. “I thought maybe we could see if you cut it in the culinary world.”

“Or I could possibly burn the place down,” she retorted.

“Come on. If anything, it will be something worth remembering,” he told her.

“I can’t believe that you remembered the ramblings of a deranged woman who swam right into an undertow.”

“Kind of hard to forget when you were screaming in my ear.” Peeta put an arm around her, his mouth brushing against her lobe. Her legs almost caved at the motion. “I think it will be fun. Doing something together in the back of the bakery.”

“Fine.” Katniss let out a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

He kissed the top of her head affectionately.

“I’m lucky because you said yes.”

++++++

After stepping into the bakery, Katniss was introduced to Peeta’s parents, Charlie and Roberta.

“How did you get Peeta’s name?” she asked immediately. “Your names are surprisingly normal.”

The elder Mellarks immediately took to her with easy chuckles.

“I was under some heavy-duty pain relief after he came out,” Roberta answered. “And Charlie here was running on no sleep at that point. One of us must have sputtered out, Peeta.”

“They just wanted to be different,” Peeta told her, arm still slung around her shoulders affectionately. “But they kept in order.”

She turned to him curiously. “Meaning?”

“Nop,” Charlie replied, a grin that Peeta obviously inherited, on his mouth.

“You Mellarks are confusing,” Katniss said with a shake of her head.

“Not Nop, but N-O-P.” Peeta looked to his parents in affectionate exasperation. “As in Noli, Oren, and Peeta. So, as you can see, I got the best name of the bunch.”

“I guess I must be pretty boring with my plant name,” she replied. “At least, Prim got a sweet one, and it fits her perfectly.”

The bell at the top of the front door interrupted their conversation and Peeta quickly led her to the back of the bakery, where she was greeted by stainless steel counters and industrial ovens. There, Peeta told her that they would be making sticky buns for them to eat. He pulled his family’s recipe book from the back office and showed her the recipe.

“You’re the first non-Mellark to see this book in years,” he told her.

“Don’t worry.” Katniss smiled at the man beside her. “I won’t steal your precious recipes.”

They both got to work making the dough and Peeta showed her how to add the ingredients into one of the electric mixers. After, standing behind her, he instructed her on kneading the dough to the right consistency—smooth and just a little sticky.

“There you go,” he said lowly, his warm breath against the nape of her neck. Katniss’ breath quickened at the feeling of him pressed to her back. “Just put a little more pressure into the dough.” He moved her hair to one side, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You’re actually pretty good at this.”

Katniss made another fold, pressing into the dough.

“It’s actually relaxing,” she admitted.

Peeta took a bowl, placing the dough in it so it could rise.

While they waited, Katniss told him more about District 12, about the main street where there was very little commercial area. How her father recently retired from the mines and how one of her friends was the mayor’s daughter.

“You’d like Madge,” she said. “She’s very sweet, all blonde hair and blue eyes.” Katniss peered at him. “Maybe I won’t. I tend to become invisible when Madge is around—”

“I happen to have an affinity for brunettes with smoky eyes,” Peeta told her. “You’re not invisible, Katniss.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest as he kissed her temple. “I see you.”

“Thank you for telling me that.” Katniss turned to look at him. “I see you, too.”

Peeta’s hands reached to cradle her cheeks and her breath hitched in anticipation. He leaned and Katniss didn’t pull away when he brushed his lips to hers. It was the gentlest of touches, but it spread through her like wildfire.

“More,” she breathed against their kiss.

Peeta shifted, and their lips once more. Her bottom lip was pillowed between his own and he sucked at her tender flesh, drawing a moan out of her chest. Her hands reached, carding through his hair to grip and anchor her as Katniss felt that she might collapse in pleasure at any moment.

“You are fucking delicious,” he whispered along her tongue. “I want to taste every part of you—”

“Well, don’t do it here!” They pulled apart to see Charlie at the doorway leading to the front. “I don’t want to tell my grandkid that he or she was conceived on the counter where their Dad was.”

“Moment’s over.” Peeta helped her off the counter—how did she even get up there? He gave her an apologetic smile. “For what it’s worth, that was one hell of a first kiss.”

She had to agree.

Katniss had wanted a kiss where she saw stars behind her eyes—and she did.

However, it didn’t compare to what she felt as their lips met.

Fire.

++++++

After being discovered by Charlie—or Dad, as he insisted Katniss to call her—the man had sent them away with a basket of bread and pastries, along with some cheese, meat, and wine. They had found a nearby parklet decorated with flowers and made sandwiches.

They sipped on their wine while Peeta told her more about the Mellark Family. Their bakery had been a staple in District 4 since Peeta’s great-grandfather had built it from the ground up. Roberta was a Capitol transfer that had come when she was in her teens in search of adventure. What she had found was love, Charlie sweeping her off her feet and putting a ring on it as soon as he could.

“I think Noli might’ve been the reason for the rush,” Peeta told her with a smirk. “Don’t let them know that I know.”

Peeta’s two older brothers were working in different Districts, Noli in District 2 and Oren in District 7, but visited often.

“Oren’s girlfriend is actually from District 7 and they’re visiting in the next few days. You should meet Johanna. I think you’ll like her.”

When they were finished with their food, they returned the basket to his parents and Peeta came back with keys to a Land Rover that had seen better days. The blue paint was rusting and when Peeta turned on the engine, she could feel the hard rumble directly under her.

They had set off on a tour of District 4 and Peeta had pointed out the Hall of Justice in their town square and the mayor’s home, a block away from it. He showed her where he and his brothers went to school. After graduation, Peeta had been the one who decided to stay in District 4 and would eventually take over Mellark Bakery.

He had a love for baking, finding peace in just creating.

Katniss admired that he had found his place in the world.

“Tell me about this guy you’re supposed to marry.”

She met his eyes as he stoked the bonfire in front of them.

They had settled on the beach after their tour, the tide low enough so they could settle close to the water.

“Gale is…complicated and simple all at the same time.” Her fingers dragged along the cool sand. The moon rose over the water, highlighting the curiosity on Peeta’s handsome, sculpted face as he waited for her to continue. “It would be simple to marry him and start a family. That been the plan—to him at least.”

“And why is he complicated?”

“Because I want more,” Katniss replied. “I’m not ready to settle. Not in District 12 and not with him.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want lukewarm love…a lukewarm life. My family is great, but they know me enough to see that I’m floundering in 12. It was why Prim urged me to just leave after Gale got down on one knee.”

“She’s one smart sixteen-year-old,” Peeta remarked.

Katniss nodded in agreement. “Definitely an old soul.” She stood up, holding out her hand to him. Peeta took it and rose from his seat. “You ever want more?”

“Not until recently,” he told her, his blue eyes darkened in the moonlight.

The heat between them was inescapable. However, neither made a move to part.

Instead, their bodies only pressed closer until Katniss could feel the prickle of her hardening nipples against Peeta’s broad chest.

Her eyes went to his. “What do you want?”

“I thought that much was clear,” he told her roughly.

Their mouths met in a crushing kiss. Her hands grasped at his biceps as he encircled her waist, pressing his pelvis to hers and she pressed up, feeling the cloth of his jeans against her clit.

Peeta growled, his lips moving off to taste and suckle her skin. Katniss purred as he reached the juncture of her neck and bit lightly. She watched as he kissed along the neckline of her dress, his hands grazing the sides of her breasts teasingly before he sunk to his knees.

Panic gripped her and grabbed his wrists. “What are you doing?”

Peeta grinned. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I’ll never come that way,” she told him simply. “And this has been better than anything I ever felt. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Give me a chance,” he replied, his hands on her hips to keep her from joining him on the sand. “If you don’t like it, then we’ll stop.”

Slowly, Katniss acquiesced.

Peeta lifted her skirt, carefully tucking it up into the elastic waistline. He stared at her bare skin for a moment and she consciously rested a hand to her stomach.

Thank God, she wore her cute underwear.

“Lovely,” he breathed out.

Peeta kissed along her thighs, letting her get comfortable enough to widen the opening between them. His mouth pressed to the insides and she knew that he could taste her arousal, his tongue swiping quickly along the line of her panties.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he said hoarsely.

His mouth went to her clit, sucking through the lace, and she keened at the sudden twist in her belly.

Her hands moved to her panties and he helped her, guiding them off her before they found their place in his back pocket.

Peeta’s mouth was immediately on her cunt, roughly kissing along her sodden labia and her hands dug into his hair, holding him in place. This was something that she had never felt before, waves of desire pulsing through her core and she tried to catch that feeling with each swipe of his tongue.

“Ride my face,” he commanded, hitching her thigh over his shoulder. “I want to taste all of you.”

Katniss let out a breath at the desperate tone in his words. She pressed her pelvis closer to him, experimentally moving back and forth along his tongue as his hands cupped her bottom.

When her clit hit his nose, she let out a hiss. “Fuck!”

He chuckled against her cunt, before pressing his tongue flat against the nerve before thrusting two fingers inside her.

The euphoria took over and Katniss moved a hand to her chest, pinching a nipple and feeling the sparks of pleasure course to her core. Her other hand remained firm on Peeta’s head as he sucked and fucked her with his tongue and fingers.

Katniss felt herself there at the edge, surprised at how quickly Peeta had gotten her there—but she let herself fall into it.

Like that afternoon, she headed right into a riptide, knowing Peeta would be her rescuer.

“Oh…fuck…” Her hips canted on her own as she crested, pushing her cunt onto his face. “…I’m coming—” Peeta’s fingers quickened as he lapped at her peak. “…yes…Peeta!”

Her body snapped and Katniss arched, crying out into the dark sky as her orgasm crashed over her body and she felt the warm release seep out her conto Peeta’s waiting mouth. He was gentle, lightly tasting her as she came down from her high.

Carefully, they fell back onto the sand, breathing harshly, as they looked up the starry heaven above them.

Katniss reached for Peeta’s hand and he entwined their fingers, squeezing her hand tenderly.

Peeta tugged until she rested her head against his chest, and she sighed contently at the feeling of solidity that being with him brought her.

“I think I found what I was looking for,” she said quietly.

His hand settled in her hair. “And what is that?”

Katniss turned; her chin pressed to his chest so she could meet his azure eyes.

“You.”

Peeta smiled, the warmth of it spreading through her body and causing a flutter in her stomach.

She didn’t know if this was love, but she was willing to stay until she knew what it was.

“Do you want to go…” Peeta’s gaze was careful, his hand moving along her hair as to not break the spell between them. “…to my place?”

Finnick would be getting his wish.

Katniss nodded, a smile playing on her lips.

“Let’s go.”

*I’d like to do another part at some point…

#lifeguard!Peeta #birthday present #everlark fanfiction #everlark #rated m

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revoevokukil · 3 years

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What does Elder Blood allow to do? (Immortality bound in Narrative)

‘My story actually has no beginning. I’m not even sure whether it has actually ended. There was an elf who told me that it is like a snake that bites its own tail. In any moment of time is hidden the past, present and future. In any moment of time lies eternity. Do you understand?’

- Ciri to Galahad

‘Va'esse deireádh aep eigean, va'esse eigh faidh'ar. Something ends, something begins.’

What is this “ability” that the Elder Blood has, and how does Sapkowski frame it by the end of the saga?

At first glance, the answer appears simple: it allows the wielder to move through time and space. Not only everywhere, but also at any time – past, present, or future. Any time anywhere, in fact, if we allow for the notion of a multiverse. However, by the end of the saga, Sapkowski does not really emphasise the physics so much as he emphasises the metafictionality of his story; we don’t need to know so much about, say, time dilation as we need to know about the similarities of elements between, for example, the Arthuriana and the Witcher saga.

The author’s work draws heavily upon fantasy literature, myths, and history, making the Witcher saga an amalgamation of various time periods & fictional “spheres” inside which the author dissects topics of interest to him. There’s nothing odd about that, but textually, there exists an odd self-awareness in the Witcher regarding the nature of its own “realness” – the text is self-aware that it is a text, a work of fiction. Furthermore, it extrapolates that notion to encompass the nature of the Witcher universe via Ciri’s wielding of Elder Blood, via her ability to travel to other realities which can also be naught but fictional as long as we are still reading.

Therefore, I have a small theory about how Sapkowski creates commentary about fiction itself through Ciri’s wielding of Elder Blood, and what that says about the nature of the power in question as well as about the Witcher universe at large.

First of all, the story-like nature of the Witcher universe is emphasised repeatedly, right from the short-stories onward; and I believe this is to be expected when much of “knowledge” in this world is passed on word-to-mouth. Oral traditions in Europe persisted among the masses hundreds of years well after the invention of Gutenberg’s printing press. Not to say that the question of the historical veracity of truth is one of the big themes of most of the Witcher series – everyone knows some version of the story (e.g. Falka, Ithlinne’s Prophecy, humans’ or the Elder Races’ claim over the Continent), only a few know the real truth, and absolutely everyone is bound to twist the truth according to their own biases and interests.

‘I like elven legends, they are so captivating. What a pity humans don’t have any legends like that. But what would human legends deal with? Even things which begin beautifully lead swiftly to boredom and dreariness, to that human ritual, that wearisome rhythm called life.’

- Yennefer of Vengeberg

Yennefer here is talking about the legend of the Winter Queen (i.e. Hans Christian Andersen’s Snow Queen), who, as it turns out according to Geralt, is only a pretty fairy tale about a phenomenon called The Wild Hunt; who, as it turns out, are actually the Aen Elle elves from another world (or reality). The portrayed thing is one thing is another thing at another time perceived from a particular angle by a particular person – or, if we want to be especially pretentious about this, ‘I think it was Derrida who said there is no such thing as actual “empirical truth”.’ (& that was actually a line from the Thick of It; which, in fairness, is the point)

Yennefer and Geralt (& Ciri) receive their opportunity at becoming part of such fairy tales by the end of the saga, when they pass into legend and myth.

‘The horses bore them like the wind. Like a magical gale. Alarmed by the three riders flashing by, a traveller on the road raised his head. A merchant on a cart with his wares, a villain fleeing from the law, and a wandering settler driven by politicians from the land he had settled, having believed other politicians, all raised their heads. A vagabond, a deserter and a pilgrim with a staff raised their heads. They raised their heads, amazed, alarmed. Uncertain of what they had seen.

Tales began to circulate around Ebbing and Geso. About the Wild Hunt. About the Three Spectral Riders. Stories were made up and spun in the evenings in rooms smelling of melting lard and fried onions, village halls, smoky taverns, roadhouses, crofts, tar kilns, forest homesteads and border watchtowers. Tales were spun and told. About war. About heroism and chivalry. About friendship and hatred. About wickedness and betrayal. About faithful and genuine love, about the love that always triumphs. About the crimes and punishments that always befall criminals. About justice that is always just.

About truth, which always rises to the surface like oil.

Tales were told; people rejoiced in them. Enjoyed the fairy-tale fictions. Because, indeed, all around, in real life, things happened entirely back to front.

The legend grew. The listeners–in a veritable trance–drank in the carefully measured words of the storyteller telling of the Witcher and the sorceress. Of the Tower of the Swallow. Of Ciri, the witcher girl with the scar on her face. Of Kelpie, the enchanted black mare.

Of the Lady of the Lake.

That came later, years later. Many, many years later.

But right now, like a seed swollen after warm rain, the legend was sprouting and growing inside people.’

- A. Sapkowski Lady of the Lake

It goes without saying that Nimue sections in Lady of the Lake only further stress the metafictionality of fictional truth, really ironing in the point. Readers tend to dismiss it as confusing for coming out of the blue, but the groundwork for this line of thought is actually there right from the very start of the saga by way of how Sapkowski treats the laws of his universe and its internal coherency: loosely, playfully, and with tongue in cheek. The narrative may seem like it’s a dark medieval fantasy, but then it’s also Renaissance, but then it’s also on the verge of Industrial Revolution, but then it’s also almost sci-fi, where elves “came in their White Ships” – khm, SpaceX spaceships, khm – through doors – khm, wormholes, khm – in the fabric of space-time – khm, narrative, khm.

(And about elves: they are so alien to humans, yet easily able to inter-breed with them. In another story universe, they might well be evolved humans, no?)

Onward. Into the overarching narrative because of which, ultimately, everything in the Witcher world happens with, to, and around one Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon.

Elder Blood, Aen Hen Ichaer, is the creation of the Alder Elves, Aen Elle. Relatives to the Aen Seidhe, the Aen Elle were once something akin to space-time traversing nomads.

‘We, the Aen Elle, were little concerned what foolishness your ancestor got up to. We, unlike our cousins, the Aen Seidhe, left that world long ago. We chose another, more interesting universe. For at that time–you’ll be astonished by what I say–one could move quite freely between the worlds. With a little talent and skill, naturally. Beyond all doubt you understand what I have in mind.

‘A bubble beside a bubble, and another beside another,’ he crooned. ‘Oh, that’s how it was, that’s how it was … We used to say to ourselves, what’s the difference, we’ll spend some time here, some time there, so what if the Dh’oine insist on destroying their world along with themselves? We’ll go somewhere else … To another bubble …’

- Auberon Muircetach

The elves also follow prophecies in a religious fashion. Ithlinne’s prophecy, which foretells the Witcher world’s end through extensive glaciation, also promises its rebirth for the elves who follow the Swallow – the saviour – the child of prophecy. And so, the plan is, by the long of short of it, to leave the dying world and, perhaps, someday return. And so, Auberon further reveals to us why the time-space manipulating power of Aen Hen Ichaer is absolutely imperative to the Alder Elves – the people of Ciri’s ancestor and Auberon’s daughter, Lara Dorren.

'Then came the Conjunction. The number of worlds increased. But the door was closed. It was closed to all but a handful of elected people. And the clock was ticking. We needed to open the door. Urgently. It was imperative.’

- Auberon Muircetach

It is only when the Alder Elves lose their ability to traverse time-space at will (through the Great Gate, Ard Gaeth) that Ithlinne’s prophecy gains true weight, since the loss renders both the Aen Elle and the Aen Seidhe at the mercy of one particular fate. There is no escape, there are no second chances, and it is impossible to avoid conflicts by leaving doomed scenarios behind in favour of new, more benevolent ones. The elves in Sapkowski’s work become trapped inside one particular narrative (one fictional sphere, or realm) – which in the case of the Witcher world entails the shedding of the blood of elves and their gradual extermination at the hands of the humans, who outbreed them and, consequently, overpower them.

By losing control of the Elder Blood, therefore, elves lose their power to shape their own narrative on the largest scale possible.

This is an interesting point, if we consider that the archetype of elves in fiction heavily permeates most European mythologies (in some of which they disappear by diluting their blood by mixingwith humans, giving humanity its heroes, but fading into background themselves). In other words, elves were part of most cultural narratives fantasy as a fictional genre emerged from. Keep that in mind for later.

Ciri wants to get back to and save Yennefer and Geralt, the elves want to save their own distant relatives and themselves, Emhyr wants to “save the world” and his political power, the Lodge wants to “save the world” from the ignorance of the non-magical plebeians and kings, Vilgefortz wants to... never mind. Overall though, they all want to emerge from the clutches of the narrative of Sapkowski’s story in a way that satisfies them.

But the laws of the fictional universe laid down by the author set constraints upon his characters and the plot.

For instance, time moves differently in the Witcher world and in the world of the Aen Elle. It’s slower at Tir na Lia and faster in the Witcher world (not to mention what happens in-between). This is probably so with many other spheres in the universe as well. We know that unicorns are able to ignore these laws and constraints of Sapkowki’s universe, and so were the Aen Elle once upon a time (some still are, like Avallac’h and Eredin in limited capacity). So are the sufficiently powerful descendants of Elder Blood – for instance, Ciri.

If time moves differently in different worlds, much of what exists in one world can be lost forever, unless you can ignore the time cost of travelling between worlds (narrative realities) altogether – something Avallac’h tells Ciri they can do for her when/if they deliver her back to her world (possibly implying what could be if they had full possession of the Gene again), but also something that Eredin scares Ciri with, by implying how everyone she knows will be dead by the time she gets back (possibly speaking of what is currently the case). In other words, unless you can ignore the laws of the fictional universe laid down by the author upon your narrative, you are screwed. In other words, are you a MacGuffin with infinite plot armour, or not?

Auberon’s insistence on the urgency of opening Ard Gaeth is thus furthermore noteworthy because this is the only occasion on which the Aen Elle come to fundamentally share the same sense of urgency that Ciri experiences throughout her stay at Tir na Lia. ‘You cannot mindlessly waste time! You’ll miss the right moment... There is often only one, unrepeatable. Time cannot go backwards.’ So Ciri thinks, but Auberon then gives her the monologue – infinity, eternity, everything is simultaneously beginning and end – about Time as Ouroboros:

'Here you see the Ouroboros,' said the elf. 'It is the symbol of infinity, eternal departure and eternal returns. It has neither beginnings nor ends. Time is like Ouroboros. Time is the passing moments, like grains of sand in an hourglass. We try to measure acts and events, but Ouroboros reminds us that every moment, in every deed and every event lurks in the past, present and the future - in short, eternity. Every departure is also returning, every welcome is also a goodbye. Everything is simultaneously the beginning and the end.'

Auberon, it seems to me, is pontificating about the theory of the cyclicality of the material universe, as well as the cyclicality and repeatability of all narratives and stories (everything has already happened in some form in another, and will happen again; life into death into life).

Is it therefore not reasonable to assume that the kind of control over travelling through space-time that the elves expect to have from Ciri’s child is the kind that can ignore the time cost of space-travelling altogether? And that by “space-time” we, in fact, mean “the narrative laws” of the universe.

Let’s return to the story-like nature of the Witcher universe & Yennefer’s craving for legends like the elves have. And let me throw in a conjunction: what is Avalon, or the isle of Apple Trees?

In Welsh mythos, it is the afterlife – a place outside of time. It is so in the Witcher, as well. How do you reach such a place? The island stands outside of narrative and is not subject to its laws. When Geralt and Yennefer die, Sapkowski gives his heroes a tribute of a send-off with the help of Ciri and a unicorn – both of whom defy the constraints of space and time, both of whom are able to defy the very same narrative laws Sapkowski has set down in his story.

Within these narrative laws, things have to make sense – who, when, how, what, etc. When did the elves leave the Continent? Did the humans or elves incite violence first? How do unicorns work? What happens to Yennefer and Geralt after they are taken to the Isle of Apple Trees? All of these questions make sense within the so-far established narrative of the story. But beyond these questions sits the author, making it up, controlling the narrative and the Fate, the Destiny, of characters. If he makes something clear, then it is so (until he changes his mind). If the leaves something vague, then it is that way instead. When Geralt and Yennefer die, determining what becomes of them physically (within the boundaries of the narrative of the Witcher story) loses its meaning over centuries – because the tale of Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri becomes a legend. And in legend and myth, the boundaries of verifiable Truth blur.

All can be. And as long as all can be, one’s freedom is absolute.

What does Elder Blood allow to do then?

Why, it provides the kind of absolute freedom every author of their own story desires. Because what if Auberon is indeed speaking about “narrative” in fiction: comparing control over Time as an in-universe law to control over the functionally straight-edged narrative laws of any fictional story? Ciri travels to fictional places and historical times outside of her own fictional Witcher timeline. She visits Earth, she visits Arthuriana, she visits her own universe’s timeline at a different point. The bearer of Aen Hen Ichaer hops between different microcosms (worlds, times, myths, realities). She moves around narratives, around the many possible worlds, as if time and space were not an obstacle.

Ciri is only one individual. However, the Alder Elves want their power back – the power to control their own narrative, the power to just leave a tale that no longer suits them for a more interesting one. To be the author, rather than the character. To exist eternally through Time.

Elder Blood, I argue, allows to have control over space-time within the Witcher’s universe in much the same way as it is to have control over Narrative itself (the absolute number of possibilities you have). Imagine, how the elves would do it if they opened the Great Gate again. Sapkowski’s Continent is but one possible bubble among countless other fantasy bubbles from which Sapkowski himself draws inspiration from. What about Arthuriana? What about the Unseelie and Seelie Court in Scottish legends? Elves, the wielders of Elder Blood, could as easily move into that reality and become that myth that we have of the Unseelies and Seelies. In fact, since elves already exist in these myths, have they perhaps already done so at some other point in time in the cyclical universe that eats its own tail like an Ouroboros?

Infinity, eternal departures, eternal returns. In any moment of Time lies eternity.

Ciri knows or is realising this, perhaps. She is not confined to one tale, one Destiny. The ashen-haired carrier of Elder Blood is the beginning and end unto itself inside the head of the author – the holy grail of writing, if you will.

Since the fabric of all stories is inherently inter-textual, this sort of metafictional attention to the make-up of an imagined fantasy reality is, in my opinion, rather clever.

---

If you like my writing, consider buying me a coffee. Thanks! ❤️

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lizzy-frizzle · 4 years

Text

Haha, jk....unless?

Taken

“Listen, what will it take to convince you I’m worthy to take you out on a date?”

A small au ra raen looks sternly up at the xaela.

The xaela responds, “You are not of the dotharl tribe, you can never be worthy.”

Lizzy, frustrated and not to let fate stop her, takes a moment, and looks around the area.

“Ok, what if I help your tribe?” she spots numerous people immediately with pained expressions, surely they need some help, “After all, you lost some people after the naadam. If the imperials were to come back and attack your tribe, you’d be wiped out.”

Sadu takes a moment and considers her words, “You would help a tribe you don’t belong to?”

“Of course, I helped the mol, I did some light chores for the oronir and buduga. I’ll gladly help the dotharl!” Lizzy finished her sentences and beams at Sadu.

Sadu thinks about this, she can’t exactly turn down help, but at the same time she doesn’t want to offer what Lizzy wants.

“Let’s see how serious you are then.” she scowls, but Lizzy doesn’t let that deter her.

Lizzy spots a dotharli warrior she helped before, “Mauci! Hey, you wanted a teacher right? Let’s go learn to fight!”

The warrior looks startled, and stammers out, “O-oh, Y-yea! OK! Sure, can you kill some beasts for me to watch your technique?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Lizzy, daggers already out, starts marching away from the khaa.

~Out in the steppe~

“Alright, you’re watching?”

Mauci shouts from a safe distance, “Yea! Go for it!”

Lizzy approaches several beasts, daggers drawn and ready to attack, the monsters take note of Lizzy’s presence and one dashes out. Lizzy jumps up, and thrusts a dagger down through the monsters skull, [Nice and easy, now the other one.] The other one attacks in response, lashing out with a claw. Lizzy ducks under it, and slashes one of it’s legs with her left dagger. [The least you could do is give me a challenge though.] Then in the same motion jumps up again and uses the right dagger to create a handle on the creatures back. It flails it’s arms in an attempt to shake her off. [Oh, I can show off here, hold on.] Lizzy leaps off, and in the air, she uses a series of hand motions, [Raiton time!~] Suddenly a bolt of lightning strikes the creature, killing it instantly.

Lizzy lands with a flourish, dusting herself off, now slightly covered in blood.

“How was that?”

Mauci scratches his head, “Ah, your motions are certainly unfamiliar. Not to say they aren’t natural. I think I see the style though. Let’s return to the khaa, there’s a practice session later today. I’d like to test myself against the others.”

Lizzy looks over and sees smoke coming from the peaceful spring, “Is that accompanied with a bonfire?”

Mauci turns, and looks worried for a moment, “No, no it’s not.”

~Back at the Dotharl Khaa~

When Lizzy and Mauci return, the winds have picked up into a gale.

There’s numerous imperial soldiers fighting with various dotharli warriors. Lizzy wastes no time throwing daggers at the nearest imperial soldiers, dispatching them immediately. With speed Mauci can hardly believe, Lizzy seemingly teleports within range of 3 other soldiers and just as fast the group is engulfed in a fireball, he feels the intense heat from at least 20 yalms away. When the smoke clears, Lizzy is holding an imperial soldier by the collar. The scowl that reads on her is unmistakable through the crimson dripping down her face.

“Where is she.”

The soldier’s eyes are closed, the body is limp.

[Ugh, perhaps that was too much.]

Lizzy scans the area a bit, anything, a sign, a hope. Anything.

[She should be here, she wouldn’t have run away from the fighting. But where.]

A couple more troops fighting with dotharl are nearby, Lizzy runs over and takes them out, still looking for Sadu.

[Even if she was killed, I’d be able to see her.]

Panic starts to pool inside of Lizzy. Then, she spots them. The imperials with a group of hostages, Sadu one of them.

“No..” Lizzy wants to run after them, but there’s too many innocent tribe people in danger right now.

[I can always ask Thancred for help tracking the hostages, I have to save the people in immediate danger now.]

~Later that night~

“Thancred?”

“Yes? What, pray tell, would the warrior of light want with me at this hour?”

“They took Sadu and some other Dotharli people.”

“Work then. Who took them?”

“Garleans.”

“Ah, serious work then. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Please hurry.” Lizzy couldn’t hide the slight worry in her voice.

“Oh? Is that the Fearsome Warrior of Light AND Darkness with some fear in her voice?”

“Shut it. I still haven’t kneecapped you for making fun of Heliox.”

“Very well, I’ll be off.”

With that Thancred disappears into the night. Lizzy waits with baited breath.

~The Next Day~

Lizzy’s linkshell wakes her up

“Yo, what’s-” Lizzy yawns, “-up?”

“It’s like noon, why are you asleep?”

Lizzy shoots up in bed, “Thancred, where are they?”

“Oh I have your attention now?”

“Thancred.”

“Ok, ok, don’t tear my head off. They’re just being held in a nearby imperial prison, not a huge deal. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re worrying about them, it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone important there.”

“I’m going to go rescue them.”

“OH WAIT YOU-”

Lizzy hangs up on him. Lizzy gets out of the tent, and looks at the Khaa. The smouldering remains where the fires burned made her remember the battlefield at Ghimlyt Dark. The smell of imperial gunpowder, and the view of bloodsoaked sand.

[It’s ok. You can save her, and there weren’t any casualties on the dotharli end.]

Lizzy sighed, and shook her head free of the memories. She whistles for a yol and without a word she’s off.

Lizzy was never one for a plan when her emotions played a large factor. Luckily, being the warrior of light means not many can actually cause enough trouble to halt her.

That being said. Not every prison can just be brute force’d into letting her have her way.

[Ok, maybe this should be a more stealth based mission]

Lizzy peers out across the layers of soldiers.

[Lasagna Soldiers]

Lizzy let out a small chuckle at her thought.

[So, get in, free Sadu and any other dotharl’s, get out, without being seen. Easy. Just like Oboro always tries to convince me. Stay hidden.]

Lizzy begins infiltration. Staying hidden while possible. Ducks down a hallway, dodges a patrol group.

[All in all, this is going better than most cases.]

Just then, she turned a corner, and two roaming soldiers nearly collided into her. She jumps out of reflex and somehow managed to avoid both of them.

Lizzy lets out an audible sigh.

“What? Hard day?” one says.

[Oops.]

The other responds, “Hm? No? Why’d you ask?”

The first guard turns around, and starts looking as if he could see Lizzy.

“I thought I heard a sigh. It wasn’t you?”

They draw their weapons.

[This isn’t great.]

Lizzy unsheathes her daggers.

[I tried, oboro, please don’t be mad.]

She breaks hidden, and lunges towards both guards.

[If I can just kill them both before they say anything, maybe it’ll be fine]

A flurry of daggers, and two thuds from the bodies hitting the floor.

[Nice, ok, back to]

An alarm starts blaring.

[Oh. Ok, well, running time now.]

Turns a corner, another one, a third corner.

[HOW MANY CORNERS ARE IN THIS PLACE.]

She turns another corner and slams into a door, knocking it open and nearly off its hinges. Lizzy spots the dark blue skin and black scales.

[Dotharli people?]

Lizzy bolts to the cell.

“Hey, is this everyone?” she asks.

Scanning quickly, her heart drops. Sadu isn’t here.

She spits at the guard inches from her face.

He wipes the spit off his mask, and repeats the question.

“So, are there any secrets in the Steppe? Why was the Warrior of Light there?”

No response.

“Very well, we can continue doing this until your spirit gives up.”

The guard takes an imperial device, and touches it against her skin, sending electricity through her body, and burns across the skin where the metal touched.

“If you think I’m afraid to die, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

The guard takes the device off her.

“Clearly.”

He wipes it clean and puts it back on the trolley.

“Well, perhaps you care more about your fellow savages.”

Suddenly an alarm starts blaring.

“An intruder?”

Sadu’s heart races slightly.

[Could it be? Did that foolish woman follow us?]

The guard speaks into his radio, “Who’s the intruder?”

The other side isn’t heard, but Sadu could feel it. No one else could have found them.

“I see, well, stop her immediately.”

[Her, so it is her.]

“I don’t care if she’s the Warrior of Light, she bleeds like anyone else!” the guard turns his focus back to Sadu, “Well, I must have someone mighty important to merit a rescue from the dreaded Warrior of Light herself.”

Sadu remains quiet.

“You are proving to be very difficult. I don’t tolerate difficult people. If you are worth something I can still utilize you.” he pulled his gunsword out and aimed it right at Sadu, “But maybe you aren’t worth the trouble.”

An explosion shakes the facility. The guard looks towards the door, even through the mask Sadu can tell he’s worried.

Another explosion, this one on the opposite side.

“Is it more than just one intruder?” the guard says into his radio.

Sadu is unsure if he gets a response or not, but the guard points the gunsword at her again.

“Ok, I don’t have time for you anymore, pray to whatever god you believe in and be prepared to meet them.”

The door slams open, and is shortly followed by a lightning bolt aimed directly at the guard.

A shot rings out.

“Ok, listen, I’m going to create a diversion, a big one. Can you take these bombs and plant them near the exit? Just throw em anywhere, hit the button, and run. You’ll have a minute or two to get away.”

Lizzy hands a pouch of bombs to one of the xaela she recognized from the Naadam, and gives the group directions out of the base.

“Trust me, they’ll be more focused on me, I promise.”

Lizzy bolts off down the corridor, leaving the handful of xaela to escape.

[Ok, time to find the most explosive room in the building. They keep bombs around here somewhere, right?]

Running as fast as her legs will carry her, she covers numerous hallways in a handful of moments. Hoping to catch some indication of something to make a big boom.

More hallways.

[I’m wasting time, surely there must be something I can use.]

Then she found it.

[Well, it’s not bombs…]

She walks into a room storing multiple energy tanks.

[I was never one for subtlety to be honest.]

Lizzy prepares her shadeshift.

An explosion goes off across the prison.

[That sounds like where I told the Dotharli people to go. Alright then.]

Lizzy takes a deep breath, and braces herself for impact.

[Chi. Ten.]

An explosion across the room erupts, engulfing the entire room in flames, followed by several consecutive explosions, and launching Lizzy backwards down the hall.

“Is it more than one intruder?” a muffled voice behind the door next to Lizzy rings out.

[Well, let’s see.]

Lizzy charges at the door with her shoulder.

[Ten-Chi.]

As the door opens, she spots an imperial soldier with their gun aimed at Sadu.

[Fuck no.]

The Raiton sails through the air, hitting the soldier square in the chest.

A shot rings out.

The lighting spun the guard, the gun was aimed at Lizzy.

She begins to feel a stabbing pain in her side.

[This is fine.]

Lizzy moves over to Sadu, “Good evening princess, care to be rescued?”

The blood starts to leak out of Lizzy, the red staining the otherwise blue outfit.

“I’m not a princess.” Sadu says, noticing the red, “You’re hit.”

Lizzy let’s out a fake chuckle, “Listen, even you have to admit that was a pretty good entrance.”

Sadu, growing irritated, “Untie me so we can get out of here, and get you some help.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, loss of blood. Hard to focus.”

Lizzy uses her daggers to effortlessly cut through the binds.

Sadu grabs Lizzy, and begins to half-carry her.

“How do we get out? Sadu asks.

“Ah, I didn’t think that far ahead to be honest. Should just go down a couple dozen halls, right?”

Sadu groans.

[Of course she didn’t think of a way out. How did this woman beat us at the Naadam.]

~~Dotharl Khaa~~

“So, Lizzy is going to be ok, right?” Sadu asks, impatiently.

Thancred looks at Lizzy laying in a cot in one of the xaela huts, “Yea, I’m sure she will, it’ll take more than a single garlean bullet to take her out.”

Sadu sighs with relief.

Catching herself, “It’d be a shame to lose such a fierce warrior so soon. After all.”

Thancred looks at her, trying to measure her feelings.

He opens his mouth, but decides to shut it, and walks away.

As he leaves, Sadu goes inside, and sits next to Lizzy’s cot.

After all, she shouldn’t be alone right now. That’s all.

“Oh, hi Sadu.”

She jumps, “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I am,” Lizzy says defensively.

“What, no sarcastic remark?”

Lizzy waits a beat, “No, not this time.” she pauses. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

#my writing #Sadu x WoL #be gentle I'm fragile and don't take criticism well #ffxiv

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forlornmelody · 4 years

Text

Trust Exercise

Rating: E (Smut with some plot, for flavor.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn

Linkage: Ao3

Summary: Harley wants to try something new, but Ivy isn't sure her girlfriend is ready to see that part of her.

Note: Commission for @rookie009. Dude, thank you so much for commissioning me again. And insisting I write my faves. <3

->->->

Ivy’s in the lab when Harley finds her, nose-deep in an experiment she’s been running all day. “Oh, hey, babe. Did you get my text?”

“Mmhm.” Harley’s hands grasp her shoulders, her fingers meandering past the collar of her lab coat.

“So, you know that I can’t do date night tonight.” Harley’s lips find her cheek, then her ear, and the tissue culture Ivy’s been working on for the past hour slips from her fingers.

“Sure you can.” Her lips meander down her neck, as Ivy stares at the ruined culture with both horror and... arousal. Something hot roils in her belly, and Ivy stifles it as she turns around.

“Harley. How many times do I have to tell you--”

“Mm. You’re even more pretty when you’re angry.” Harley grabs Ivy by the lapel of her lab coat, pulling her in for a kiss. The jungle surrounding the lab roils as if shaken in a gale force wind.

Ivy breathes her in, and pushes her back, holding her girlfriend at arm’s length. “Harl, if you want me to tie you up, you only need to ask.”

Harley flushes, biting her lip as she glances away. Ivy draws her attention back with a finger under her chin. “Do you want me to tie you up?”

“Ives…”

“Harleen Francis Quinzel, I promise you I won’t ask again.”

“Yes!” Harley says quickly.

“Yes, what?”

“Tie me up.” Harleen swallows, her tongue darting out to wet her lip.

“And?”

Her skin blushes pink as one of her pigtails, and Ivy almost doesn’t hear her.

“What?”

“I said use your vines.”

“You sure?” The words fall out of Ivy’s mouth before she realizes what she’s asking. Sure, she’s usually the dominant one in bed--Ivy knows what she likes and how to ask for it. But this...Damnit, Pamela. What if this is too much? What if being tied up and used reminds her too much of…. Ivy doesn’t even think his name. She just conjures up an image in her head and sets it on fire.

“Ives?” Harley says, her eyes widening and her mouth shrinking into a small oh.

“Sorry?”

“You okay, Pam-a-lamb?” Harley brushes her thumb across Ivy’s cheek, pushing a wisp of hair out of the way. God, she must look like a mess right now.

“Of course!” she lies, and a nearby fittonia albivenis wilts in protest. Charlie, as she liked to call him, always is a dramatic asshole. “Go on.”

“You sure? Cause George doesn’t look so good.”

“Charlie.” Ivy sighs, rubbing her forehead. “His name is Charlie.” She nods over at the opposite corner, where a helianthus annuus, commonly known as a sunflower, is giving her a judgmental stare. “That’s George.”

“Daisy Girl...if the plants are upset, you must be upset.” Harley Quinn leans closer, so Ivy has to meet her eyes. “You can’t lie to a therapist, remember?”

“I can try,” Ivy mutters.

“I know you too well, Pam-jam. Now tell me what’s eatin’ ya.”

Now, Doctor Pamela Isley could uncover her sordid history with her parents, charm school, the nice conservative respectable university her parents sent her off to--the one she dropped out of and ran away from, the respectable open minded one she graduated from, the mentor who ruined her and created her, and the day they met in Arkham, but Harley already knows she doesn’t dump her past out of the trash can for everyone to see, especially when there’s a bed in sight, metaphorically speaking. God, what a buzzkill that would be. “I want to believe you, Harls. When you say you want this.” Ivy presses her thumb into Harley’s bottom lip. “But how do I know you’re not just saying this to make me happy?” Like she always would with...well.

“Easy. You trust me.”

Does she?

The powder-mix lemonade crashes against the opposite wall, barely missing her therapist’s head. “Stop fucking analyzing me. I’m not your rat.”

Dr. Quinzel doesn’t defend herself or argue against the insult. “You’ve good aim.” She does, however, flinch. Something twists in Ivy’s gut. At first, she thinks the Morton’s cafeteria slop has turned sour yet again, but Ivy notices the feeling runs deeper this time, and it spreads like frost throughout her middle, all the way to her lungs. “Softball?”

Fucking hell. She’s feeling remorse. “Gymnastics.” The answer spills out of Ivy’s mouth before she can stop it.

And then Dr. Quinzel’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Me too! Did you compete? Which team?”

Ivy spills some more, and they swap memories, apparently having crossed paths without remembering the other at one point or another. Not that Dr. Quinzel would have ever recognized Dr. Pamela Isley when she was a tween with braces and an awkward smile. Or Dr. Isley would have remembered Dr. Quinzel was a spirited overachiever with a chip on her shoulder. Actually, Pamela takes that back. She can see some of it now. She also notices Dr. Quinzel’s hands intertwined with her own. And the warmth between them.

“Please, call me Harleen.” Harleen smiles shyly, biting her lip.

Ivy gulps. “Do all your patients get to call you that?”

And just like that the moment’s gone. But Ivy’s hands feel warm long after Dr. Isley has left the room.

->->->

Ivy should have known this was a set up. The security guard missing from his post. The alarms turned off. The dark room where the lights should have had motion sensors and generator backup. She should have turned back the moment she noticed, but she couldn’t leave this warehouse like this. Not with one of two middlemist camellias sitting inside, ripped from its soil in New Zealand and brought to Gotham for a filthy auction.

The moment Ivy touches the leaves the door slams shut behind her, and she notices the sealant sprayed on all the windows. Oh no. A hose hisses on the floor, and Ivy slowly feels the air being sucked from the room. No. No. No. Not like this.

There’s no chair, no bat, nothing to break the windows with. Just Dr. Pamela Isley and the lonely Middlemist’s Red that will die with her. Pam closes her eyes, and tries not to hyperventilate, counting her breaths just like Harley taught her—

“NOT TODAY ASSHATS.” Glass shards rain on the floor, and an alluminum bat clangs against the concrete floor. “Pambsel?” Soft fingers touch her shoulder. “Ivy? Come on, Ivy. Stay with me.”

“Ivy?” Harley’s staring at her in their bedroom, her eyebrows lifted in concern.

“I trust you more than anyone else.”

Harley brushes her lips against hers. “And I trust you more than a stripper trusts her heels.”

“God.” Ivy chortles despite herself. “That’s terrible, Harley. Maybe I should keep you from talking.” Those words sound so...different once they’re out of her mouth. Like cinnamon candy burning on her lips.

For once, Harleen Francis Quinnzel has nothing to say. Her mouth hangs slightly open, to the point that Ivy wants to trace it with her fingertip, maybe slip her finger past those lips to see Harley suck on— “Would you?” Harley whispers, blushing as pink as one of her pigtails.

“I’d love to.” It’s a little unnerving how easily this comes to her. “But there’s only one thing.”

“What’s that?” Harley leans closer, her hands grasping at Ivy’s clothes, pleading without pleading.

“What’s our safe-word?”

“Puddin’?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Batman?”

“Nope.”

“Come on, Pretty Girl. You’re killin’ me here.”

“It has to be a word we both agree to, Harley. Rules are rules.”

“Says who?” Harley leans in close, her hands on her hips.

Ivy smirks at her, whispering in her ear. “Says the woman who is about to give you a night you won’t forget.”

At this point, Ivy half expects Harley to say Arkham, but she doesn’t. “Robinson Park.”

It’s Ivy’s turn to lose her words. Of course, Harley would name her old hideout. Well. Not just any old hideout. The place where they first kissed. “That’s--that’s two words.”

Harley grins proudly, pressing a soft kiss against her cheek. “Does that break the rules, Rosey Cheeks?”

Ivy allows it. She also allows herself to check with Harley several times as she persuades a nearby pharnera vahili to stretch towards them. The plant balks initially at the thought of making its flower buds large enough to penetrate, but Ivy mutters a quiet “Coward” and the plant swells to prove her wrong. Perhaps Peter would be a fitting name for this one? Brushing the buds, she strengthens him, hardens them, really, and shoos any creatures or enzymes that would bring harm to her favorite person in the whole world.

“Ready, Harley?”

Harley nods, biting a grin.

Ivy steps towards her, pinching her chin between her finger and thumb. “If this is going to work, I’m going to need you to use your words, Harleen.”

“Yes.” Harley gulps a breath of air, and she closes her eyes as if she’s about to kiss her.

Pulling out of her reach, Ivy returns to Peter, stroking a few tendrils, feigning more interest in them than her lover. “Then remove your shorts. I’d hate to ruin them.”

“These always were your favorite, weren’t they, Red?”

Indeed, they are. “Perhaps.” Ivy can’t help but watch them slip down Harley’s cream-colored thighs. She itches to get between them but that will have to wait. “Now lay down.”

“But--”

“It’ll be easier to secure you from the bed, trust me.”

“Always.”

Again, that itch. That burning unyielding need to touch every inch of Harley’s skin, exposed or not. This is just as much an exercise in patience for her as it is for Harley. Ivy whisks her fingers, curling the vines around Harley’s wrists and ankles. “Is that comfortable?”

Harley nods quickly, only to see Ivy quirk her eyebrow impatiently. “Yes, Ives,” she says, her breath ragged.

“How about now?” The vines lengthen and grow, suspending Harley’s prone body in the air. Ivy wishes she could draw how beautiful Harley looks like this, her mouth parted and arched back, her legs already flushes with need.

“Amazing.” Harley closes her eyes. “I feel like I’m floating.”

“And what is our safe word, again?”

Harley starts to say it, only for Ivy to brush between her calves with a tendril.

“That tickles!”

“Don’t squirm.” Ivy smirks despite herself, stroking the inside of Harley’s legs, from the bottoms of her calves to the narrowest point between her thighs, edging around her center but never quite touching it.

Twisting in her restraints, Harley groans. “Don’t tease me, Pam-Pam.”

“I believe you asked me to tease you. Isn’t that the point?” The tendril snakes past her middle, scratching under her chin. “To make you beg for it?”

“Please.” The vine edges back down, circling her warmth, now moist with the juices dripping down her legs.

“Please what?”

“Touch me.” She pleads, seeing Ivy’s lips pressed in a thin line. “Touch my clit.”

“That’s my girl.” Ivy resists the urge to mirror the motion of her plant. Her own thighs twitch with want. Her vine grazes Harley’s lower lips, feather light in their touch, and Ivy aches at the whimper slipping from Harley’s mouth. She keeps circling with smaller and smaller circles until Harley shakes and keens. And that’s when she drags the vine against where Harley wants her most.

“Oh fuck. Fuckity-fuck fuck.” Harley strains against her bonds, her hips writhing against the vine.

Ivy licks her lips. “Would you like this vine inside you?”

“Mmhm...y-yeah.” Harley’s voice breaks on the edge of her first orgasm.

Then Ivy pulls away.

“No, Ives, please. Please touch me. I’m--I’m so close.”

“I know, Harl.” Ives steps around the now massive bulk Peter has grown into, caressing Harley’s own cheek with the back of her own hand. God, she wants to tear off all their clothes right now and just have her way, but she can’t. Not yet. “I’m going to give you something special.” One nail presses into Harley’s cheek, enough to indent, but enough to break the skin. “Would you like to know what it is?”

Sweat glistens around Harley’s hairline as she looks back at Ivy helplessly. “Yeah.” She manages.

Shit. She must be thirsty. “Hold on.” She snatches a water bottle, holding it to Harley’s lips. “Drink some water.” Ivy doesn’t pull the bottle away until Harley’s finished it. She downs her tea. Then she rubs her fingers together, until oily spots form on her fingertips. “This oil will heighten your sensations. Do you want it?”

Harley can’t even form words at first, but she manages. “Please, Pammin-Jammin. I need you.”

Ivy also licks her lips, her entire mouth tasting like vegetable oil, but stronger. And the oil packs some heat. Not enough to burn, but enough that she’ll need to wash her mouth out later if she’s going to focus on anything. “I need you too, Harley.” She brushes her lips against Harley’s and want hits her like a gale-force wind. With the way Harley moans into her mouth--she feels that way too. Patience. Even the quickest-growing plants need time to breathe.

Before Harley can deepen the kiss, Ivy trails her lips down her chin, her neck, and her collar bone. She massages her shoulders, her arms, then up her sides and back down again. Ivy kisses down to her chest, avoiding Harley’s already too sensitive tits and just focusing on the valley between them, pausing a moment to listen to her quickening heartbeat. Harley squirms, and Ivy holds her steady, paying careful attention to the planes of her abdomen. Her hands move around Harley’s hips, pinching either side of her ass, covering her thighs and in between. “Oh, Ivy.”

When Ivy finishes caressing Harley’s feet, she stands up to see Harley’s face caught like a saint in a Raphaelite painting. She guides her own hands around one of the tendrils, slowly, gently penetrating her as if she were using a dildo. And when the tendril is as far in as it’ll go, Ivy grins against her ear. “Ready?”

“Mmhm,” Harley whimpers.

Ivy snaps her fingers, and the tendril takes on life of its own, pumping in and out of her lover without any guidance from her.

“Fuck!” Harley gasps, her wrists twisting in her bonds as she seeks purchase to rock back against the vine. “Oh, fuck that’s good.”

Ivy finds her hands drifting down towards her legs. She clenches them behind her back to hold them still. Not yet. Focus on Harley. But focusing on her and how fucked she is seems to be part of Ivy’s problem. Licking her lips, she asks, “How do you feel about anal?”

“Mm?” Harley probably means to ask, but her mm sounds more like a moan than anything else.

Making a point of rolling her eyes, Ivy snaps her fingers a second time, and the vine pulls out of her.

“No no no. Please. I was almost…”

“I asked you a question, Harl.” Ivy growls, more from arousal than annoyance, but Harley’s eyes widen.

“What was the question?”

“Do you.” Ivy grips Harley’s chin. “Like. Anal sex?”

Harley’s eyes brighten and her frown morphs into an ecstatic smile. “Double penetration?” She bites her lip. “Would you?”

“I’d love to. But first.” Ivy pulls out a familiar bottle--her own recipe. She squirts a generous amount on her fingers, and ringing a circle around Harley’s butt hole, and then little by little, probing inside with her finger. “Good girl,” she whispers in Harley’s ear. Her lover starts to tense up, and Ivy holds her hip firmly with her other hand. “Relax. You are the most amazing person I’ve ever known, and you have done the impossible time and time again.”

“You...you really think t-that?”

“I know that, Harley.” Her finger gets pulled deeper inside, and Ivy works her open gently, as Harley’s eyes glaze over and her mouth drops open. “And tonight, I’m going to make you feel how amazing you are. Do you trust me?”

“Mm. Y-yeah.”

“Then you’re gonna take more for me.” Ivy whispers, taking Harley’s lobe between her teeth. Harley shudders and nods, and Ivy, slowly, gently, and with more oil, adds a second finger.

“Nn--Ivy, Oh god. Please. I--I need.”

“Need what?”

“More.”

“More what?”

Harley moans--whimpers in reply, “I---make me come,” she begs, sprawled in mid-air, and Ivy raises her free hand to pull the prepared vines. “Pam-Pam, please.” She croaks. “Please, Pamela.”

The vine droops just inches from Harley’s hips.

“Pamela Isley!” Mrs. Saint-Claire always pops the p in Pamela’s name, and spittle flies out of her mouth. How many times do I have to tell you!” Those skeletal hands jerk her shoulders back. “Back straight! Like a puppet on a string!” Pam’s so tired. She just wants to go home. Well, maybe not home. “And smile for once! It won’t kill you.” Mrs. Saint-Claire yanks her wild curls into a peppy poiny tail. “How are you going to win a man like this?”

“Pam-pam?” Harley’s looking back at her, her eyes still dark with want and pleasure, but her eyebrows are lifted in concern.

Maybe Ivy should hold back, more. What if she goes too far? But Harley would tell her. She’d say the word. She doesn’t pretend, not in bed, not unless that’s...well. Maybe it would be nice to pretend. A different time, perhaps.

“I’m still here,” Pamela says more to herself than Harley, and she refreshes that vine until it’s erect and moving again. “Are you?” She coats the vine slick with oil, and she slips her fingers out completely.

“Yes, yes, please.”

“Then take it.” The vine enters her slowly, filling her already stretched hole, pumping in tandem with the other in her cunt. And fuck it, Ivy reaches down and touches her own center, hissing at how sensitive she is already.

“Yes, yes, yes!!” Harley’s always been loud in bed, but she’s never screamed like this. Ivy smirks, directing a third vine to mimic the motions on Harley’s clit that Ivy’s already doing to her own. And oh, Harley shakes, rattles, so full and so hung she can’t move, only ride the wave as the vines move in and out and around her. “Fuck yes.”

“Are you close, Harley?”

“Y-yeah….” And then her eyes shut, and her mouth forms a silent oh, and her body jerks, clenching around the vines.

“That’s my girl.” And Ivy brings her down slowly until Harley relaxes, and she pulls the vines away, untying her wrists and ankles and holding her close. “How’re you feeling, Harls?”

Her lover doesn’t answer at first, nestled against Ivy’s breast, her eyes distant and warm. “Thank you.” Harley nestles into her breast, breathing her in. “I feel amazing, as promised.” She giggles, and Ivy’s so busy laughing with her to notice the hand creeping towards her now naked legs. “Oooooo. What’s this?”

Ivy gasps, unable to help her moan at Harley’s touch. “Harley, you don’t have to--”

“Jesus fuck, you’re wet. Why didn’ you say somethin’?” Harley toys with her, circling her engorged clit and playing with her labia.

Ivy can’t bring herself to her own defense, too focused on how nice Harley’s fingers feel. She squirms, gripping Harley’s shoulders. “Harley--”

“Shh. C’mere. Lemme return the favor.” And then Harley lays back on a newly formed flower bed. With strength Ivy didn’t think she’d have at this point; Harley pulls Ivy’s thighs towards her face.

“You sure?”

“Isely you’ve gotta stop asking me that.” She tilts her head up, kissing the inside of Ivy’s thigh. “I love you. Of course, I’m sure.” Her lips drift toward Ivy’s center, half-cleaning up the mess they’ve made, half-making it worse.

Biting her lip, Ivy swallows her gasps, trying to hold on. “Harl, I--” Oh. It’s like she’s never felt another’s mouth on her, though clearly Harley (among others) have been down more than she can count.

“Shh,” Harley manages to say between long licks. She edges the tip of her tongue around her clit, drinking her in without drying her up. Fuck, she still has pleasure oil on her tongue. Not as strong as at first, but Ivy doesn’t need that strength.

Maybe that’s what love is. Trust that the other person won’t let you fall when you step too far off the ledge. Someone to hold your hand when you do fall, so you can fall down together. Someone to pick you back up. “Harley, I need--oh.” Ivy groans.

“‘S okay, Ives. Ride me.”

Ivy doesn’t need to be told twice. She grinds down, not so hard as to smother Harley, but enough to feel her mouth that much more. Oh god, fuck, she’s sucking her clit and--

When Ivy comes to, she’s lying on her side, with Harley playing the big spoon. “Holy shit, Harley,” she says, her mouth dry as cotton.

“Your turn,” Harley shoves the water bottle in her face, and Ivy drinks it dry. “Not bad, eh?”

“Not bad at all.”

#lemon #dc comics #poison ivy #harley quinn #harlivy #poisonquinn #melody writes #gosh writing these two was intimidating #I want to do them justice y'know?

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browneyeddevil · 3 years

Text

Underground

I can’t believe he’s actually gone. Because no matter how hard I try to wrap my head around it - sitting here, staring at the blank grey walls of the compartment I share with my sister and mother, the actual acceptance of the fact that he’s dead is avoiding me. Slowly, I manage to sit up, and the whole world looks disjointed and wrong. How can there ever be a world in which I exist, and he doesn’t? Where I crave his arms of sanctuary, but he’s not here to provide it anymore.

When I look around I can almost bring myself to believe that it is better this way, he would have hated it here, the blank, uninspiring, and sterile walls the only thing to draw or paint. But then again they wouldn’t have allowed him to paint, just like Haymitch isn’t allowed to drink, and I’m not allowed to hunt, they would have had him training and doing propos. Just like the rest of us, being paraded around again. Little puppets, attached by unbreakable strings.

I miss the outside world, but I’m not allowed to go up there anymore. Not after I tried to run, whilst on an authorised hunting trip with Gale. The little weasel stopped me, he used to talk about running all the time, I guess priorities change. I know mine have, and I see now that his have to. Our hunting trips were never authorised or monitored or tracked. They are now, and I know for a fact that the old Gale would have seethed at the fact, he just plays along now. He once implied that I was the Capitol’s lap dog, and by extension President Snow’s. Now he’s practically sucking the dicks of every official here, he tells me it’s because he wants to keep our families safe. I don’t believe him. The irony is not completely lost on me.

I shake my head then, and a slow sad smile graces my face. Who am I kidding? Not me, not anybody here in this wretched place. I want him here, I want him, more than I want to breathe. I guess he is here, lying cold, stiff, and unmoving on a sterile stainless steel table, naked. I saw him myself, they had to drag me out of there because I refused to leave. They told me I was in shock, Johanna told them that it was because I’d never seen him naked before, Haymitch laughed bitterly and I told them both to shut the fuck up, before bursting in tears.

Guess all that time I spent pushing him away was a waste of time. Nothing could have prepared me for the pain I feel right now. It might even be worse than the sorrow I felt when my father was blown to bits in the mines. A sense of loss; for something I never really had, never fully got the chance to grasp onto. It hurts differently. When I miss my father, I can think back on simpler times, to comfort me and help me get through it. Now, when I’m missing him, it cuts deep like a knife, because I have to wonder to myself if any of it was even real. And I know that I did that, I filled us both with so much doubt of each other, and maybe a little resentment.

I resent him a little, for leaving me here. Trying so hard to survive the shit show we created. Lucky him, he gets to be lowered into the ground, whilst I’m left here. Crying about something I never really had in the first place, something I never will have. Part of me wants to curse him, for letting me push him away, and then pushing me away himself. But I guess that’s a me problem.

When Prim started to brush my hair, I lashed out. I wasn’t my mother, not yet anyway. Then I cried, and started to panic because it felt like the world was crashing down on me. Almost as if some of the realisation hit, that he was gone now, forever. That it was my fault. Fear, that it was always going to feel like this, like the world was drab, grey, and pointless without him. Dread, that I might actually turn into some sort of version of my mother, or worse, Haymitch.

Haymitch cornered me today, said we needed to talk. He took me up, above ground. We spent the first ten minutes walking in silence, I don’t know whether he was trying to come up with something to say to me, or if he was just letting me take it all in. The twittering birds, bounding rabbits, scampering squirrels, and the tall pine trees. After so long underground, it’s a relief to inhale air that hasn’t been processed again and again and again. To see colours, even the grey ones that indicate a harsh winter to come. It occurs to me that he will forever stay underground, buried under six feet of earth.

“It gets easier, you know,” Haymitch tells me, his face looks pained. Paired with his sallow looking complexion, it’s not a great look. I’m reminded of the youthful Haymitch I saw on a screen, fighting for his life in an arena with double the contestants. It feels like a lifetime ago, when I sat curled up in Peeta’s arms, hurtling to our deaths a second time. Is it normal to feel so old? I have to remind myself I’m seventeen. That’s right. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I’m seventeen years old. I’m the Mockingjay. Peeta is dead. It’s better this way.

“I know,” I tell him. Everyones telling me so; that it gets easier to live with the pain, the loss. My mother told me so on the first evening of knowing, I just ignored her. The image of his pale, bruised skin, and ashen matted curls, branded into my mind.

I look at Haymitch, who’s busy patting himself down for his now non-existent hip flask. I have to wonder who he lost. I guess I’ll never know, to be honest I’m not really sure I want to. I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to care. Instead I take another look at our surroundings, we’re moving further and further into the woods. Haymitch has a surprisingly agile and quiet step. The little forest critters barely register us here, they aren’t animals that are used to being hunted. So trusting of us, unbothered by our disruption, that I’m sure even Peeta could have walked through here without scaring the whole animal kingdom away.

Watching these animals attend to their business, preparing for winter, I’m reminded that life goes on. Will go on. With or without him. The whole world will one day forget he ever existed, maybe I will too. Forget the small details about him that send a crippling pain into me whenever I think about it. Maybe that’s why it gets easier, we forget, and the pain becomes more manageable because there isn’t as much to miss.

“Did drinking make it easier for you?” I ask.

“No,” He replies, “It just numbs it, the pain. You know you should be feeling something, anything, but you don’t. By the time you figure out what’s making you feel so empty though, it’s too late to stop.”

“Oh,” Is all I can think of to say.

Haymitch sighs sadly, scrubs his hands over his face, before grumbling something about heading back. I nod dejectedly, and follow him as we head down the stone steps, further and further, until it feels like the whole world is towering above me. Crushing me. And I want to scream that it’s not fair, that it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, that I can’t go on. But I have a duty to these people now, a duty to finish what I started. So I continue to put one foot in front of the other, continue to gulp down the processed stale air. And make Peeta one last promise that he won’t ever hear.

I will make sure that the feeling of pain and terror is the last thing President Snow ever feels.

#the hunger games #district13 #peeta is dead #sorry about that #angst #haymitch and katniss go for a walk #they also do a bit of talking #katniss is katniss #which basically means she focuses on her anger #because she wants revenge #she's also tired of being sad #mockingjay divergent #at least prim is alive

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halloweenonthemoon · 3 years

Text

Joey Meeting Cas’s Parents.

Time is a thought pattern and measurement made up by the human mind. Sometimes we use it to keep track of important days and events in our lives. Sometimes it seems to take forever, and other days it seems to pass like one is going through a time machine. Just one hour, just 60 minutes, 60 seconds within each one of those individual minutes, is all I have to convince them. These were the thoughts that ran across Cas’s mind as he finished tying his dark ocean blue tie. The blue popped and drew one’s eye away from the rest of the swan white suit. “My Sunday best” Cas signed softly in a mocking tone before nervously picking at the loose ends in the fabric. His bright seafoam eyes darted to the grandfather clock standing in the hallway.

The clock was a gift from this great grandmother on his mother’s side. It stood at a height of 7 feet and was the tallest being in the house. It was made of dark oak wood that could be found in any fairy tale forest. The clock has a man-made touch that ruined its magic. The golden hands shined like the sun on a pleasant summer day and it had a little ticking sound that sounded like a robin’s morning cry to the world. This was what Cas’s parent’s found perfect for their home and their traditions.

If there is one thing to be known about Cas Rare’s family is that traditions are everything to them and they have kept some very old ones alive. There are always the weird ones, like knocking three things before entering the office and the kitchen, and then of course some more serious ones. For example, poor Cas knew this one too well, everyone in his family had married their high school sweetheart without fail. Some are still together though that’s not the case for most of the family. That doesn’t matter to the Rares though, as long as the action happens then to them the tradition is still kept.

Then a loud ringing broke the silence that swallowed the emotionally empty home whole. Cas jumped back towards his old light brown bed with the many shades of green plants surrounding it. “That’s just the doorbell, take a breath you’re okie. Gods, you’re such a nervous wreck don’t let them see into your eyes. Act normal.” His inner voice yelled at him hoping he would understand the importance of this. Cas shook his head to clear any emotion from his face. Even though he’s the master at faking a poker face, the one thing that usually gives him away is his eyes. There’s a saying that the eyes are the window to the soul and with Cas, that statement is most definitely true. He started his journey down the seemingly endless hallway heading to what he considered a death wish though others would just call it a set of stairs.

The old woodland stairs creaked as he made his way down, carefully counting out how many seconds it took him to get to the bottom. “Your girlfriend is late,” a cold and disapproving voice called out from the kitchen. Girlfriend, what an odd word thought Cas. This wasn’t the first time he heard that word in the romantic sense and probably wouldn’t be the last. His parents, teachers, teammates, and even some of the town folks ask him how a young man like him is still single. He’s the captain of the football team, on the student console, and the vice president. He’s a straight-A student and even helps with the school’s volunteering program. They say he’s the faithful son and a model student. They claim Cas is fulfilling the American dream.

Little do they realize that Cas has been hiding a huge secret. A secret he learned to keep from a young age and what happens when you don’t. The sad part is the town may have the occasional jerk but that’s not why Cas guards this secret with his life. How does one explain to the people who claim to love you unconditionally that you’re the thing they hate the most? That no matter what you do you can’t change it. How does one explain to a person with a strong homophobic belief that you’re part of the community?

“I’m sorry sir; she lives across town and most likely lost track of time” Cas called back to his father while straightening his back. “Hmm, that's the disappointing son. A young girl should know to respect others' time.” Mr. Rare called back, his voice holding the same emotion and tone as his words. Cas signed to himself before jogging over to the tall doorway that seems to tower over anyone with an avenger human height. He knew parents hate surprises and they're about to get a big one. Good thing they don’t have any heart issues, he joked softly in his mind.

When he opened the door, he could not believe his eyes. There stood his boyfriend in a black suit with the coat opened to show off a salmon pink shirt. His usual long, wavy light and a slight orangish-brown hair braided showing off his side cut. Of course, he was wearing his tall black boots under his suit and was holding a gift of pretty greens and sunset pink roses. “Wow, those roses do draw your eyes out dear,” Cas smiled at his boyfriend while feeling both jumpy and at peace.“Sorry for being late love!” The short man explained quickly, “I told Jackie I wanted to pick up some flowers for you, and I lost track of time.” Jackie was an older brother figure to Joey Light and had taken him in when he was twelve-thirteen years old. Now being 16 Joey had a sense of getting used to his new life and this town...for the most part at least. Sometimes he forgets about how the locals are stuck in their old ways and the dangers that hold.

“You’re ten mintu-” “Ooo, is she here now?” Mrs. Rare cut off Mr. Rare running from the kitchen to greet who she thought was going to be her future daughter-in-law.

Mrs.Rare is the president of the books for kids program, and many in the town love her for her general kindness to others. If someone needs a helping hand, usually, Mrs.Rare is there. If it wasn't for her the town’s new and improved library wouldn’t exist. Though Mrs.Rare has a darker side to her that not many had seen. She has this undercurrent of believing she was above you and a slight god complex.

“Oh,” She stated gently while her honey-dyed hair swayed from side to side. “Hello, May I ask your name child?” Mrs. Rare hummed, placing her hands on her waist, as a small power move. Joey smiled trying to come off confident stating “Hello Mrs.Rare, my name is Joey” mentally cursing himself for not sounding more “proper” before widening his smile. Joey can feel Mrs.Rare’s eyes judging him while trying to give off the “I’m like second mother” vibes.

“I’m sorry hon, but I’m afraid that Cas is busy tonight. His girlfriend is coming over to finally meet the family!” she says quickly before placing her hand onto Cas’s arm with a small pulling motion. Joey was about to speak up, but Cas conquered him. “Actually mother, Joey is supposed to be over here. I want to explain it to you and father during dinner” his right hand was grabbing his left wrist and rubbing it in circles. Mrs. Rare’s eyes were processing but stopped and went dilated for a minute. They darted from Cas to Joey a few times before saying “Please come in” while rushing to the dining room.

The air in the room seemed to disappear at that moment and Cas felt like he was in outer space. All the noises of the world were muted for the purest minute, and objects were floating. Cas nearly felt like a sleepwalker as Joey seized hold of his hand. He was the sunshine in this world and was a burning candle in this gloomy house. Smiling at his boyfriend, the two of them made their way to the dining room, mentally preparing for whatever battle faced them.

The room was massive with a huge chandelier of shades of white and baby blue hanging down from the ceiling shining all over. There was an extensive dark oak table that usually is only used for meetings and fancy gales. Tonight the table will be a battleground between two opposing sides. Joey recalled how in this situation he felt like a tiny mouse trying to hide from the humans who had enough misfortune to discover him in their kitchen. He tried not to reveal his fear though and puffed out his chest standing next to Cas.

“You’re 11 minutes late, Miss” Mr.Rare called out, entering the dining room with his wife behind him carrying drinks for the small group. Mr. Rare was a tall man with the air of being a naturally born leader. He had these honey brown eyes that always seemed to be looking down at you and a mouth that seems to be just a thin stick. The people voted him for mayor because he reminded them of an old wartime warrior. Tough and gets what needs to be completed. He was surprisingly good with people and especially those of the older generation.

Joey quickly took a step forward trying to seem confident and not like he was wanting to walk straight back out the door. Fear is something he would never let win, and he wasn’t going to start today. He raised his hand and looked Mr. Rare in the eyes. Joey may be short and a tiny guy but he has a lot of guts and attitude to make up for it. “Hello, Mr.Rare. My name is Joey Light, and I deeply apologize for being late. I thought it would be the gentleman thing to get your son some flowers.”

Cas loved and hated when Joey did this. He tried to hide the forming smile on his face while trying not to be petrified that Joey had said that while looking his father dead in the eyes. “Excuse me Father; Joey is my guest tonight, I should have told you early.” Cas quickly explained stepping slightly in between Joey and his father. His father raised one eye to the two men and nodded gently before saying “I see...why don’t we sit down and have some lovely food that your mother made for us?

Mrs. Rare quickly set down the glasses on the table and explained that she’ll be right back with some silverware. Mr. Rare took a seat at the usual spot-the head of the table while Cas took out a chair for Joey. The sitting arrangement planned out the week before was Mr.Rare at the head of the table, Mrs.Rare on the right side of him, Cas’s “girlfriend” on the left side of Mr.Rare, and Cas next to his “girlfriend.” Cas knew his father would be annoyed about him changing it up last minute, but he also wanted to keep Joey safe. Even as Mr.Rare was glaring at his son as he sat on the left side of him.

After 5 minutes Mr.Rare appeared with a huge smile on her face that was the opposite of her eyes. “Here’s the silverware” She hummed before taking a seat at her throne and poured some water into everyone’s glass. She looked like a lioness with her curly frame and long face. There was a silence that felt like forever to Cas and he knew his parents wanted an explanation. This was a power game, and he was smart enough to give in first. He made the mental note that he had 39 minutes left to convince his parents not to kick him out of the family.

Clearing his voice, Cas said “Father, Mother, I know you're expecting my girlfriend to come tonight for dinner but-” “Ah yes, I was wondering when she would be here.” his father chimed in looking at him with a confused look. Cas felt like a deer in headlights and felt his heart skip a beat. Joey quickly grabbed Cas’s hand under the table and gave it a comforting squeeze. Cas looked up to a soft smile that he knew was a rare sight.

He took a breath and continued making sure he was strong with his tone “I’m afraid she can’t come tonight because she doesn’t exist.” Cas let his eyes travel to his mother’s face which was the perfect look of surprise and to his father’s- the eyebrow raised again but there’s a fire in his eyes now. No one said anything as there was this moment of silence before Mrs.Rare looked over to Mr.Rare.

“What do you mean she doesn’t exist?” She singed gently while straightening her back. She had that same fire that Cas’s father has, though hers represent more expression. Cas jerked his head and spoke louder hoping it would aid him to sound more sure, “I mean she doesn't exist. Mother, Father, I’m a part of the lgbtq+ community- technically Bi. I would like to introduce you to my boyfriend Joey Light.” Joey smiled at his boyfriend. It was the first time he heard his boyfriend stand up for himself and he was proud. Though he retained enough knowledge to prepare for the fight that was about to go down.

Mr. Rare spat out the water he was drinking before loudly saying “You’re what?!”If it wasn’t for the situation the look on his face would have been comical. His eyes darted between the two boys processing what he just heard. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile before he started laughing. The laugh was hollow and seemed more than just fake. It scared everyone at the table a little bit.

Mrs. Rare had a better reaction by just sitting there staring down at her food with a slight smirk on her face. Cas didn’t know which reaction was the worst. He knew this was very out of character for his parents.

“Hahaha, you tell the best jokes son” Mr.Rare laughed out before wiping away some of the tears from his eyes “You genuinely had me fooled for a minute.” Cas felt his cheeks turn a rosily pink shade before speaking up again, “I’m not joking Father…”. Now it was his mother that spoke up with that smile; looked smug before explaining to a child why they can’t have a cookie before dinner “Honey you can’t be bi, it’s just so unnatural and a choice. Besides, why would you date a man if you like women?”

“Excuse me?” Joey, who’s been quiet the whole dinner, finally spoke up with his usual amount of sass. “This is why you’re uncomfortable whenever your folks get brought up in the conversion darling?” Joey said promptly, altering his voice into a honey-like texture while turning to face Cas. Cas could merely bob his head and tried to think of a way to quickly diffuse the situation at hand.

Mr. Rare stood up and pointed a finger at Joey getting more and more angry stating “Young man, who do you think you're talking to? She has a very reasonable statement. Thank God he is only Bi, there’s still hope then.” Now he is getting up and walking behind Mrs.Rare’s chair placing his hands on her shoulders.

The room was divided down the middle between the parents and the young boys. One side was the older generation with their traditions and the newer generation with a wave of change. The two were different colors: blue and red, dark and light, the sun and moon...etc.

“Still hope? Sir with all due expectations that is a horrible thing to say. So what if Cas likes girls and guys, he’s still a great person and an amazing friend. ”Joey knew he was taking charge where he shouldn’t, but he didn’t care. The only care on his mind right now was protecting Cas.

“Great Person?” Mrs. Ruth questioned raising her drinking glass to make a toast. Humming, she stared at the young men sitting in front of her deciding her words carefully. “I know what you’re kind does. They think they’re so special and for what? You had a choice to make, and you chose to go against society. Everything could be normal if your generation just followed the guidelines in place!”

Cas looked down at the table with a look of pure rage while his hands were shaking. Emotions that he had been burying were traveling to the surface and threatening to spill over. His voice was barely above a whisper when he made his statement “Choice? Do you think we get a choice? Do you think I would choose to be afraid of telling people who I’m dating? You think it’s a choice to have to hide a part of my identity, so I don’t get jumped? You think I would choose to spend every day being judged by people like you!” His voice was growing in volume and emotions during the whole speech. In the end, Cas felt his cheeks burn from embarrassment and tears stung his eyes.

There was an air of quiet where one can feel the energy in the room through the walls. Both boys were standing by now, Cas trying not to break down and Joey comforting him while shooting dirty looks at Cas’s parents. Mr.Rare was watching with a hateful look at the young boys' interaction, and Mrs.Rare was nearly shaking her head at this display.“You’re being just like your sister. You know why we disowned her.” Mr.Rare coldly stated and started to look at this watch as bored with everything going on.

“Older sister?” Joey questioned and was caught off guard by this statement. He never realized or thought to ask if Cas even had any siblings. He solely thought he was an only child and that’s why Cas’s folks were exceedingly hard on him. Cas shook his head before adding a sign. “At least use his pronouns, he uses him/him” Cas continued looking tired, probably because he had this conservation a million times before about his brother. “What, did you kick his brother out for coming out of the closet?” Joey joked while a smirk on his face until the realization struck him.

“You disowned him? Wow, you’re undoubtedly an unpleasant person. I mean, I encountered some pathetic people but you guys take the cake.” Joey’s voice was harsh like an icy storm while he was leading closer to the parents.“I know you don’t like it, but things are changing. You can’t stop change. You either could change with it or get left in the past.”

Mr. Rare was going to reply when the grandfather could be heard clicking and ticking. He frowned and looked down at his wife who merely smiled back. “Cas we will continue this conversion later, your mother and I have a town meeting.” Mr. Rare called softly before both of the parents walked out of the room. The boys know that this is the first of many fights to come but they're not going to give up. They got each other, and they know they’ll make it just fine. Cas may have not been able to convince his parents in an hour, but it’s a step.

*this copied kinda of weird from my Google Doc, though please enjoy! Feel free to ask questions.*

#joey light #oc appreciation #cas rare #writing #old writing edited #I meant to post this sooner but school got in the way #though I’m really glad to finish #Mrs. Rare #Mr.Rare #I kinda of imagine Mrs. Rare as a mother got gel type #while Mr.Rare is more like the “strong and traditional man #pretty boy #bisexaul #short starter

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whispersafterdusk · 4 years

Text

Lost in Time - ch 3

That night he'd left Sam and Remington to guard the sinkhole and had helped Xu get Dawa and the unconscious woman back to the clinic. Dawa was cleaned up, shown how to wrap his badly sprained ankle, given some painkillers, and was released; the woman was still unconscious when Arlo stopped by the following morning -- Xu assured him that the woman seemed healthy enough but that he'd have to monitor her closely since there was no telling how she'd been kept alive for so long inside that tube or what that preservation might have done to her.

Arlo had a nagging curiosity about the woman - and who wouldn't? The realization had hit him as he was dressing that morning that they'd just pulled a woman out of an Old World facility, who might actually BE from the Old World herself. That was huge. It wasn't even something he'd have believed if he hadn't personally witnessed it himself. Who she was, what year she'd come from, how she'd ended up down there...all of those were questions he knew he needed answers for but first he'd have to wait for her to wake up and recover and then hope it wouldn't be too overwhelming for her to find herself in a completely different time period. ((Continued below cut))

It was just one more thing on his mind as he walked out to the sinkhole with Selene and Higgins both in tow; he'd had to firmly put his foot down once already and none-too-politely tell Higgins he wasn't allowed down into the facility without a Civil Corps escort unless he wanted to be locked up until his shop fell off the leader boards entirely. Higgins had a tendency to "be the best" at the expense of everything and everyone else, and Arlo could absolutely see the man attempting to sneak down into the ruins to claim all the "best" stuff for himself and selfishly hoard things out of the reach of the Research Center and the other builders in Portia. He'd not mentioned the woman to Higgins yet but it had occurred to him, on the walk out there, that their mystery woman might actually have personal property down in that facility, and that if anyone had a claim to anything out of there it'd be her.

The minor hitch with that thought was since Arlo hadn't mentioned the woman yet and probably shouldn't mention her until Gale made an announcement...until Arlo could definitively say "this absolutely does not belong to you" he knew Higgins would probably think it'd be worth it to try and risk sneaking in.

With that in mind his misgivings about bringing Higgins along doubled but...unfortunately Selene couldn't handle a job of this magnitude on her own in a quick enough manner for Gale's liking, and while Arlo even had doubts that Higgins would wait long enough for them to get the skeletons out before he tried taking anything the more pressing matter was making sure that sinkhole didn't get any bigger or further damage the facility and risk something leaking out into their water supply (again). To do that quickly they'd need the man's help...there just wasn't any way around it.

Up ahead the bright red tent Remington had set up stood out against the snow and served as a beacon for them between the trees. They all carried rope and tools, and Selene had measuring equipment and an old metal detector she'd cobbled together with the Research Center's help; once they'd taken some measurements and more closely examined the shaft they'd have Dana give her recommendations on how best to reinforce everything (on the basis that the elevator shaft wasn't too different from a mining shaft and if anyone would know how to shore up crumbling dirt walls walls it'd be her).

In front of the tent was a sizeable bonfire burning away, and as they approached Remington came out of the tent.

"How was your night?"

"Not too bad, actually. Set that little alarm clock to go off every couple of hours and Sam and I swapped off to keep the fire going," Remington grinned. "Planted the tent off to the side and all the heat came right in while the smoke blew by."

Arlo nodded; he'd felt bad that they'd had to stay out in the elements all night but then again, thinking back to his doubts about Higgins... "Good to know. I'll be taking tonight's post. Did you see anyone?"

"Not a soul."

"Good." He turned to Selene and Higgins then. "Selene's already been down there, and I've already briefed you on what to expect," he said, directing that to Higgins. "We're not constructing anything today - all Gale wants us to focus on today is assessing and then taking those assessments to Dana to create a plan. Any questions?"

Both builders shook their heads, and Arlo led them over to the tied off rope that was now connected to a motorized winch and pulley system staked in the ground with big iron rail spikes; Remington must have been busy overnight as there were now four sets of makeshift rope harnesses hanging from the lowest branches of the tree the rope system was connected to.

"The motor can handle two at a time," Selene said as she inspected one of the harnesses. "-you know, if you don't mind being face to face, back to back, or face to whatever with someone in close quarters."

"One at a time sounds fine," came Sam's voice from behind them, her tone as dry as the desert; she headed over to slip on a harness as the others chuckled and readied themselves to head down.

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He needed to make a quick trip back into town before camping out for the night and on his way in Arlo stopped at the clinic again.

"How is she?"

Xu looked up from a pile of papers on his desk. "Well, the vitals I'm getting are getting stronger. She's surprisingly not too dehydrated and while there's some signs of muscle atrophy it's not debilitatingly so. There's some skin break down and irritation where all those wires and things were glued on, and..." he paused, tapping the end of his pen on the table. "Well. I shouldn't speculate. She does have some very strange scarring patterns but I'll wait until she wakes to discuss their origin with her."

Arlo glanced over to the bed in the corner that held the woman; her hair was dry and someone had loosely pulled it into a ponytail just over her left shoulder - Phyllis was there silently taking the woman's pulse and recording it on a clipboard in hand.

The woman looked as pale as the white hospital gown she now wore and could have easily been mistaken for a wax statue if he didn't already know she was a living, breathing person. "Keep us posted, and keep this quiet as well - and that's by Gale's orders."

"Oh I know, he's already been by. In fact, he told me to bar entry to anyone that wasn't you and the Corps, Phyllis, or himself -- with an exception for those sick and injured, of course, but then I think the screen is enough to keep her from view." Xu chuckled and swept up the papers, beginning to tap them on the table to even them out into a neat stack - Arlo noticed the topmost page had two cartoonish outline drawings of a female body, front and back, and Xu had made markings across the halves. "Even if he hadn't I don't think I'd be telling anyone anyway. They'd probably think I'd lost my mind."

Arlo nodded. "If I hadn't been there myself I wouldn't believe it either." With that he left the clinic and headed further into town; once he had stocked up on food, bought another long-sleeved undershirt, new liners for his boots, and had stopped by his room to grab a whetstone he trekked back out for his turn at keeping watch over the sinkhole.

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With such an unusual situation and a patient that was both a delicate case and also not an alarming concern Xu had brought over pillows and blankets from his home and packed a dinner and breakfast for himself. The floor of his clinic wasn't all that comfortable but at the very least if all he did was lightly doze then he'd hear every little noise in the room and could respond immediately if the woman took a sudden turn for the worse.

Or, as it happened, if she happened to wake up.

The change in her breathing pattern was very slight - barely more than a pause and a quiet gasp - but in the silent room it stood out to his practiced ears, and in an instant he was flinging blankets aside to get on his feet and over to her bed.

Her eyes were open but unfocused and she didn't seem to notice him appearing beside her even when he flipped on the lamp at the head of her bed; when he waved a hand within her line of sight she flinched and sank further into her pillows.

"Hello there - can you hear me? My name is Dr. Xu."

Her eyelids fluttered -- he knew then that this sudden bout of consciousness wasn't going to last long. Carefully he reached out to take her pulse, and her head on the pillow slowly turned in his direction.

"Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?"

A few garbled noises came out of her then right as she slipped back into unconsciousness Xu swore he heard at least one word that sounded like 'Elizabeth.'

He remained standing there for some time, taking her pulse at regular intervals and monitoring as it returned to normal levels. When she was back to her baseline vital readings he turned the lamp off and headed back to his desk, taking up his pen and writing Elizabeth across the top of the woman's file.

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The temperature was slowly warming as the days passed -- it was still definitely cold (it WAS winter after all) but the frigid front that had brought that monster storm with it had long since moved on and Portia was gradually returning to a more normal winter temperature range.

This was, of course, a double edged sword, especially out near the sinkhole; the mud was only getting deeper the more everything thawed out and it was starting to make it a bit dangerous to get anywhere near the lip of the hole. Selene was already drawing up plans to build an anchored platform around the sinkhole, leaving Higgins the bulk of the work when it came to making the support beams and cross braces for the shaft. The two of them (after Arlo had 'gently' persuaded Higgins to act like a team member) had managed to outsource some of the minor parts to the smaller shops in town and yet even with five builder's shops working together it was still going to be a week or two before the shaft was shored up and the platform built.

Arlo felt thankful (and a bit guilty that he felt thankful) that tonight wasn't his turn to take the overnight watch as he waded back into town, coated in mud to his knees and wanting little more than a meal and a bath but, as he did each time he came back in after a watch, he went to the clinic first.

Phyllis greeted him as he came through the door, then somewhat awkwardly asked him to wipe his feet -- not that that would do much but it did get the point across that it would be appreciated if he wouldn't track mud in beyond the door. From the doorway he couldn't see the bed behind the screen but he could see the back half of Dr. Xu, and could hear a quiet conversation going on back there in the corner.

'Does that mean she's awake?'

Phyllis walked over to Xu and placed a hand on his shoulder; Xu leaned his head back enough to peer around the edge of the screen to look over at Arlo at the door. After a moment (it seemed like he'd shuffled something from hand to hand) Xu flashed Arlo a confirming gesture -- everything was all right.

He also assumed that meant that yes, the woman was awake. That also probably meant that now wasn't the time to intrude.

Arlo gave Xu a quick nod in return and left the clinic, plodding from its doorway over to the Corps building. Sam was inside "sparring" with the training dummy and stopped when he entered, looking him up and down.

"Wow."

"Yeah. The mud is getting worse. Selene's going to put a platform up for us to work off of before we all sink up to our eyelids in it."

He'd been hoping the Corps building would be empty (he wanted to strip his boots and pants off right there, but wouldn't do that in front of Sam) so he settled for kicking off his boots and very carefully tiptoeing across the room to his bedroom, doing his best not to shed too much mud as he went. Once inside his quarters he stood on an old throw rug and stripped down, leaving the muddy clothing in a heap on the rug. His legs were cold, clammy, and red.

"-Sam, could you get me a bucket of water?"

He heard a muffled acknowledgement; while he waited he rubbed a towel up and down his legs, working warmth and feeling back into them. Soon there was a single knock at his door and when he cracked it open there was the requested bucket of water and he could just see Sam's back disappearing out the front door - Remington was out there now for the rest of the afternoon and soon Sam would be relieving him for the overnight post.

He brought the bucket inside and sat it next to the table he used as a desk; after retrieving the old bristled brush he kept in his wardrobe he began to attack his boots and get the worst of the mud off his pants. The water was looking pretty grim by the time he was done and finally Arlo tossed the soaked pants over the banister of the stairs at his door and left the boots tucked under the stairs before moving to get dressed in clean clothes. His stomach was making it very clear it was time for a meal and after hours of being out in the cold he was thinking a plate of spaghetti drenched in hot sauce was in order.

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She'd asked him to call her Eli and Dr. Xu was happy to oblige - honestly he was just happy she'd awakened and actually stayed awake for more than a few passing moments while seeming alert and roughly aware of where she was.

Talking was difficult for her so he was careful to phrase everything in 'yes' or 'no' questions so she could nod or shake her head and despite the initial awkwardness of her struggle to form words and his struggle to boil his thought processes down into only two variables they were able to get a few tidbits of information across.

He'd learned she was Elizabeth Summers, and preferred to go by Eli. She wasn't in any pain. She hadn't been aware of the scarring across her body until Xu had brought it to her attention.

Perhaps more importantly she'd communicated she was a Dubei native...if he'd had any doubts about what time period she'd come from that certainly settled them.

Being as she couldn't quite carry on a conversation Xu decided against trying to broach the subject of where and when she was now; after his quick questioning session she'd drifted back to sleep and he went back to his desk to record all the details he'd gotten while Phyllis hovered at his elbow.

To be honest Xu had had doubts she would know anything about her scarring; in a way it was probably for the best as what it LOOKED like pointed to a rather horrific origin.

Namely, it looked like parts of her had been sewn back together.

Both arms had long lines of scars, of various lengths, up and down from shoulder to wrist, with circular scars at the shoulder and across every finger joint -- they were reddish pink lines with tiny dots beside them reminiscent of suture marks. These same sorts of scars were also along her chin and jawline on the right side, her lower ribcage area, and down her left leg. It brought to mind something like a ragdoll's stitching, though more precise and tidy than one would find on a children's toy.

Considering her origin and what he was seeing on her body he had a theory that she'd suffered some sort of terrible trauma and that facility she'd been found in had been some sort of medical center, and it amazed him to think that the Old World had had such technology that they could seemingly stitch a person back together and have that person survive the ordeal (much less survive for 300 years afterward!)

He would need to have a talk with the Research Center, the Civil Corps, and the builders of Portia - if that truly was a medical center down there then the place shouldn't be torn apart willy nilly. Maybe with this woman's help they could identify medical equipment that they could still use or replicate...just the thought of being able to reclaim even a fraction of the medical knowledge and tools of the Old World had Xu nearly vibrating in excitement.

One day at a time, however. The first step would be getting Elizabeth healthy again, without causing her undue suffering when it came time to gently break it to her that she was 300 years outside of her time period and there was no returning to the world she'd once known.

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Together the five builders that called Portia home managed to get all the bits and pieces crafted and in place for the sinkhole.

They'd gotten the platform up around the perimeter of the sinkhole first and had created a dual-motor system that raised and lowered an improvised elevator car that was open on two sides (so they could access the doors on either side of the shaft without adding too many moving parts for the power stones to handle) and had rubber wheels mounted on the two walls to keep it steady inside the shaft since it was a slimmer car compared to the original one they'd found (and dismantled) at the bottom. Cutting all those vines free had taken an entire day on its own but it had been worth it now that they could move up and down the shaft as needed via a system of levers at the top, bottom, and also one within the elevator car itself.

The walls were now secured with heavy wooden and steel beams and metal plating that would hopefully keep the dirt walls of the upper half from crumbling further; once that had been completed they'd moved on to attempting to rewire doors to allow access into the upper levels of the facility to check for more remains -- the second thing on Gale's list had been getting an approximate "head count" for how many graves they would need to dig. Arlo had a sinking feeling they'd need a lot more space than Gale was expecting - probably more than they had room for in Portia's graveyard - and he suspected that they may have to dig a mass grave when it came down to it. Petra and Merlin were eager to examine and study the facility and had expressed hope that the computers were intact enough to maybe pull a staffing roster but even if they could how would they match names to skeletons? A mass grave with a tombstone bearing whatever names they could find would probably be the best they could manage.

Tonight had been his night to keep watch; he was debating whether to build the fire back up or leave it for the others to decide as the sun was beginning to peek over the hills when he spied Remington heading out toward him -- seems the time to switch out was just about here, and if Remington was already on his way then Selene and the others wouldn't be too far behind.

He grabbed a light breakfast at Django's and headed back up the hill intending to go to his room and catch a couple hours of sleep but found himself pausing to look to the clinic -- Xu had mentioned the woman had awakened a few times but each time Arlo had checked in she was asleep still. Should he check in again? It was more for his own curiosity than anything else as he had no ties to her (though, he didn't need to be her friend to worry about her health he supposed) but maybe there was a point where his constant checking would be intrusive...

Arlo's train of thought was interrupted as the clinic doors slid open and Xu walked out; the doctor saw him standing there halfway between the clinic and the Corps building and offered him a quick wave.

"Good morning, Arlo."

"Morning. How's your patient?"

"Doing well. Getting stronger, staying awake for longer periods. I'm actually off to Carol's to see about clothing for her since I'll need to have her up and walking soon to start building those muscles up. -- oh, and have you seen Selene leave yet? I may need crutches or a cane to assist Elizabeth in the short term as she gets her legs back under her."

Elizabeth? That must be the woman's name. "I haven't, but if you hurry you might catch her before she gets too far out. If you don't manage to catch her let me know and I'll tell her when I go back out to the sinkhole later today."

"I will, thanks. Have a good morning."

"You too."

As Xu's steps turned toward the ramp that led down to the plaza Arlo finally headed in to the Corps building; it was quiet and he was yawning his head off as he plodded down the stairs into his room. One of those tin alarm clocks that seemingly everyone in Portia had was sitting on table near his bed and he set an alarm for two hours from now -- he knew if he wasn't careful with how long he slept now he wouldn't sleep properly tonight.

As he kicked off his boots he wondered what this Elizabeth was like - hopefully language and dialects hadn't changed too much in 300 years, and he did sincerely hope it hadn't been too soul wrenching to wake to a completely different world. The more he tried to think about how that might feel the less he could picture it, and rather than get himself worked up over it he fell into bed and tried to empty his mind -- he could theorize and think all he wanted when he was actually rested enough TO think.

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It was nearly a month after finding Elizabeth before Arlo actually got to speak to her.

Work in the ruins was still ongoing -- each time they opened a new door or found a new floor they found more remains; they were up to 96 skeletons so far and assumed they were only going to find more the further in they went. Gale had marked out an area along the city wall across from Sophia's farm as the place for the mass grave they'd need, and was merely waiting to hear how many bodies were going into it before he commissioned the gravestone.

The facility was one giant maze and Higgins and Selene were both working overtime to keep churning out electrical systems to handle things short-term while they continued to search for where the power source in the lower level had been; Selene was convinced that if they could find where it was, even if it was depleted, they could use that as a main focal point to work from instead of having dozens of smaller power devices scattered everywhere.

As usual on the mornings after finishing the overnight watch Arlo came in to town for breakfast at Django's and then was returning to his room to sleep when he found Dr. Xu, Phyllis, and Elizabeth outside the clinic; the woman had a cane in hand - it was made of metal tubing with a rubber-padded handle, and was painted a pastel orange color, and was flanked by Xu and Phyllis as she took a few hesitant steps beyond the door. She was in a heavy coat that hung open and Arlo could see a soft yellow sweater and a colorful shawl beneath it and had on a pair of cargo pants and a pair of work boots with thick soles with her hair brushed back from her face and gathered at her neck with a wide black barette.

The woman's bright blue eyes were sizing him up as he came into view, and when Xu noticed him he waved him over. "Arlo, would you care to meet to Eli?"

"You're Arlo?" Elizabeth asked as he came over. "I'm told you're the one who hauled me out of the ruins. I owe you one."

"Not at all - protecting Portia and her residents is my job, no one owes me for anything," he said, coming to a stop a few feet away.

She moved the cane to her left hand and offered her now-free right hand. "Elizabeth Summers. Call me Eli."

He shook the offered hand. "Pleased to meet you, finally. It's good to see you're on your feet."

"Technically, yes," she said, smiling faintly. "It's going to be awhile before I'm back to normal. I haven't been this thin since I was in high school."

He wasn't entirely sure what a high school was beyond some sort of educational institute but nodded all the same. "Take it one day at a time. There's no sense in rushing a recovery."

"No sense and no means to." She shifted the cane back to her right hand. "I know the first thing I need to do though is get a full accounting of what happened: how you found me, how you got me out, and what that facility looks like and where it is. I also need to get in there ASAP."

"I can provide all that, no problem." Arlo looked to Xu as he spoke and the doctor was silently shaking his head at him. "-I think it may be awhile before we can take you in, though."

"I don't care if you have to strap me to your back and carry me in, I NEED to get in there. The little bit the good doctor here told me has me concerned about the facility's power source -- if it's thermal we should be fine, but if it's nuclear I absolutely need to get in there and check on it."

"...nuclear?" Arlo repeated, brows furrowing. "What's that?"

"Nothing good, if it's damaged."

"What happens if it's...nuclear?" Phyllis broke in. She said 'nuclear' slowly, like she was testing out how the word sounded on her tongue.

Eli paused, biting her lower lip again. "...right, so I want to preface this with the fact that I'm not meaning to cause a panic, but nuclear is...uh... I don't even know how to explain it clearly since it seems like so much technology has been lost - I don't think you'll have even the basic terminology knowledge needed to grasp it. So, basically - nuclear is a power source that, if stable, lasts for hundreds of years. The reactor - the central source of the nuclear power - can meltdown and explode to varying degrees of severity if its been damaged and the explosion can poison the land and any person the debris - called 'fallout' - comes in contact with. Even a small explosion could render this entire region unlivable for generations."

Arlo's eyes widened at that - like they needed something ELSE to worry about. "It's that dangerous?"

"Technically, yes. Depends on IF the reactor was damaged and HOW it was damaged - we built these things to last but knew it wasn't impossible for them to suffer some sort of damage or failure. They all have hundreds of layers of safety measures in place to help prevent a meltdown but Dr. Xu mentioned the warning you got about auxiliary power which means the main reactor isn't powering what's left in that place -- if we're lucky it'll just be the condu- the uh, the wires, I mean - have lost connection somewhere and the reactor is fine. That's best case scenario. The worst case is the reactor was damaged, the aux power being out means the safety measures won't be active, and we might have a volatile situation on hand." After that Eli huffed out a heavy sigh. "I'm praying that Fate says it's just the wiring or that the place is deep enough it won't matter either way but I won't know until I get in there."

Arlo looked wordlessly to Xu and Phyllis; Phyllis looked sick to her stomach and Xu seemed deep in thought. He looked back to Eli. "-how strong do you feel right now?"

"Tired, a little noodly in the knees, but considering the circumstances it could be worse. This is something that can't wait."

Arlo nodded, and turned his attention to Xu again. "I don't think we have a choice, Dr. Xu. We can ride her out there on horseback then I can carry her down again, or Remington or Sam could. Is Eli cleared to leave the clinic yet?"

"Truthfully I don't want her out of my care just yet. But if things could get that dire then you're right that we have no choice." Xu rubbed his chin. "Let's see how you manage walking today - how long your legs can hold you. We'll use that as a baseline and keep a close eye on you tomorrow to make sure you don't push yourself beyond your limits."

Eli gave Xu a small smile. "I know where my limits used to be and where they are now, doctor. And those lines change when lives are on the line."

Xu nodded, seemingly satisfied or at least not against the sentiment. "All right then. Tomorrow morning we'll make the trek regardless, I guess." His gaze moved over to the small stables that was attached to the side of the Corps building. "Am I correct to assume that the Civil Corps will provide the horse?"

"She can ride either Spacer or Arrow. Teddy doesn't really tolerate anyone but Sam on his back."

"Seems we have a plan then." Xu turned slightly and placed a gentle hand on Phyllis's and Eli's shoulders. "Phyllis, go ahead with the planned exercises for today. I need to check in with the mayor and update him on Eli's progress, and I'll also let him know about our little...um. Problem."

"Of course, Dr. Xu," Phyllis said with a nod. She stepped around him and gestured for Eli to follow her, and as the two slowly made their way toward the plaza Arlo heard a quiet "let me know if you need to stop" from her before they were both too far away to overhear.

Xu watched them a moment then scratched at his head. "She's handling this far better than I was expecting. It actually has me MORE worried than I was before."

"Howso?"

The doctor watched the two women for a few moments before responding. "She's shown remarkable resilience in accepting that she's 300 years in the future as well as--" he stopped abruptly, then continued on. "It hardly seemed to faze her, in fact. I don't like that one bit...I feel as though she's suppressing her reaction, maybe supplanting it with her concern over the facility and reactor. I'd much rather see some sort of remorse, or fear, or...or, really, any reaction other than calm acceptance." After a pause he looked to Arlo. "It sounds silly to want to see proof of some sort of emotional pain - no one should want to see someone else suffering - but in this case I worry about the underlying effect on her mental health if she really is refusing to consider or accept how she may actually be feeling about all this."

Arlo mulled that over for a moment; it was never a good thing to bottle things up for too long - such thoughts eventually ate away at you until you exploded like a shaken drink. "I understand, I think. And maybe she's just not ready to really let it sink in. The reactor could just be a convenient thing to think about instead."

Xu sighed, nodding, then shook himself and fixed Arlo with a firm look. "I trust I don't need to impress upon you the importance of not sharing this with anyone?"

"Of course not. I've not said a word to anyone, nor will I."

"Good. I realize I really shouldn't be sharing her details with anyone, as they are quite personal, but being as you directly brought her into my care I feel your perspective may help my own. Especially since you personally saw where she was, what she came out of, and what it's like down in that facility. Your recounting of all of that has given me some insight on how to handle her trauma when it comes to the surface, and I do appreciate it."

Arlo nodded. "It's not a problem at all, and I'll admit hearing how she's doing means I worry less. I can't imagine what it might've been like down in that tube...it'd be awful if she was aware the entire time she was down there."

"True...but then again, maybe that's why she isn't traumatized now. She'd have had 300 years to consider her situation and come to terms with it."

"Maybe, but could you imagine the boredom once she had?"

With a quiet chuckle Xu took a few steps away. "I should get going. Tomorrow morning will come a lot sooner than it seems."

Arlo gave him a little wave as Xu turned to follow after Phyllis and Eli.

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 3 #Arlo #Sam #Remington #Dr. Xu #Higgins #Builder #Eli #Phyllis #My Time at Portia

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littlemisssquiggles · 4 years

Note

YOU KNOW MY LAST POST ABOUT OSCAR'S SEMBLANCE? My mind blanked on my idea and I ended up writing about two other semblances related to his allusion to Tip/Ozma. My original idea was for him to have something akin to drawing something to life, based on how the Little Prince drew his sheep with a muzzle+ a box with holes so it could breath. Which was prompted by the Pilot who used to draw but gave it up... before being encouraged to draw once more by the Little Prince. (Pilot being Oz here.)

Hi Miki-chan. Whelp, I didn’t know whether or not you still wanted me toanswer your last question still so I’m going to include a little response to ithere too, if you don’t mind.

“...You mentioned the idea of Oscar having a semblance like the Golden Cap and it gave me a few ideas for Oscar's semblance, but based on the Powder of Life and the Magic Belt. Like, bringing inanimate things to life or transforming of different things? I just got finished reading Marvelous Wizard of Oz and Ozma of Oz and wanted to throw my two cents in...”

To be honest, when I originally sharedmy ‘Oscar the Golden Cap’ RWBY Musing back in…what during, Pre-V6, I believe, my intention wasn’t forthat to be Oscar’s semblance per say but more anability he gains after unlocking his magical powers.

Let’s not forgot that Oscar is supposed to also have access to themagic that Ozma passed down to all of his descendants.

While I understand that Ozpin once commentedthat his power was dwindling back in V5, that still didn’t stop him from being strong enough togo toe to toe against Cinder Fall inV3.

As I once worked out, during his lifeas Isaac the Hermit, Ozma possibly sacrificed 90% of his initial magical strength duringthe creation of the first Four Maidens. That 90% magical strength was thendivided evenly between the four maidens with each girl gaining at least 22.5% inmagical powers. This is because my theory is that eachMaiden are around the same level in terms of magical prowess but what makes the difference is their experience and mastery ofsaid power.

It is for this reason why this squiggle meister still believes that Oz only lost to Cinder Fall because he wasn’tstrong enough magically to withstand her. I’d like to think that that battlewould’ve had a much different outcome if Oz was around the same level magicallyas Cinder was. Cinder may have power but what she greatly lacks, by myobservation, is the tact to properly utilize such a great power wisely; especially in combat.

Hence how she was able to be defeatedby Raven in the end. Raven beat Cinder not just in a battle of strength butalso wits since the Branwen woman was able to outsmart her with Vernal’s help.As a matter of fact, Raven’s final statement to Cinder before she finally tookher down helps validate my point.

“…Had enough yet?”

“Shut up!”“If you were stronger or more clever,then maybe you’d remember to watch your back!”

If there was a rematch between Cinderand Oscar (which I’m seriously banking on as part of the V7 finale) then one ofthe ways I’m expecting for Oscar to defeat her this time (and avenge Oz) is by outsmarting her. Not to mention that I’d also expect this to be one of theperfect times for the show to sort of have Oz return. Not to fight for Oscarbut to fight with Oscar---with the two souls agreeing for the first time ever to work asone through lending each other their strength as opposed to fighting among oneanother for control. I would really love to see this done for the V7 finalebut, who knows?

Going back to the Cap idea, like Isaid, I saw it as an idea to be an extension of Oscar’s magic. Not hissemblance.

For this squigglemeister, I’m still banking on my headcanon for Oscar’s semblance to be Nullification. Ruby did allude to the notion of Oscar possessing a semblancethat would be the envy of his peers. What’s more powerful than possessing a semblancethat literally cancels out the use or effects of another’s semblances;rendering that person completely useless against you? I still prefer this conceptas my number one pick to be Oscar’s semblance especially since it gives a littlenod back to Princess Ozma.

If I had to pick a second choice forOscar’s true power, I figured it would have something to do with an abilitythat I noticed has been shared by two former Wizards of Light. For the sake ofthis headcanon, I’m going to dub this new semblance concept as Bestow---theability for Oscar to channel his magic in other elements ranging from but notlimited to living beings to non-living things to accomplish amazing feats ofwonder beyond one’s wildest imagination. I know this sounds like a lame powerfor him to have but hear me out on this one. I think this idea works since itfits with everything we’ve learned thus far about the Wizards in general.

I always liked the idea of the Wizards beinglike the Schnees--- with all of them sharing an ability that’s been passed downto them through the cycle. Apart from magic, I also noticed a second skill that’sbeen passed down to the Wizards. Gifting magic to other beings.

We saw this done twice already before. Isaac the Hermit was able to bestow magic on the four sisters who became the FirstMaidens. Just as how Oz was able to bestow the Branwen Twins withshape-shifting abilities. So with this mind, perhaps this could work as asemblance for Oscar since it ties in with his magic. Oscar is inspired by two greatand powerful magicians---the Wizard of Oz and Princess Ozma. It is for thisreason why I started to lean more towards the idea of Oscar not having asemblance at all and just let magic behis unique power. Not only is it tied to his lineage asthe Tenth Wizard of Light in Ozma’s cycle but it also pays homage to Oscar’s fairy-taleinfluences. Not to mention that magic still works as a “unique power” for Oscarto have since he’ll be the only person among the hero team who can actually usemagic. And similar to a semblance which has the likelihood of other huntsmen sharinga similar type; Oscar is the one person who can actually go toe to toe againstany Maiden and Salem.

So this could work. The only downsideto this headcanon is that I can also see picture it being another extension ofOscar’s magical powers. After all, a question I must raise now is whether ornot bestowing magic onto another person is something that all magical beingscould do or was it just a power only Oz possessed?

I doubt it since I remember Salemcrafting a Grimm that was able to drain magic from a Maiden into someone elseback in V3. So I’m going to assume that the skill to bestow and relinquishmagic from others is an extension of magic itself. Thus Oscar doesn’t need asemblance to bless others with magic or even take magic back, it can do it voluntarilyof his own free will since he’s literally got magic inside of him. So in theevent of a scenario in which Cinder tries to kill him or pilfer the rest of hismagic, I can easily see Oscar giving the proverbial middle finger to Cinder bytaking the Fall Maiden’s power---here go Ozma’s magic---back from her.

And since Maidens can have a semblanceand use magic (like Cinder Fall), I guess Oscar can too. So I guess I’m back toNullification being my idea for the little barn prince’s semblance. Every otheridea, including your ideas inspired by the Powder of Life and the Magic Belt,can be rolled into feats Oscar canperform with magic.

Now that I think about it, what’s eventhe point with the series even granting Oscar his own semblance anyways? Noneof the other Wizards seemed to have one, by my knowledge. Not to mention that Oscar would probablyachieve a lot more with magic in his hands?

As alluded by the show, the skill touse magic was a gift bestowed to the First Man by the Brother Gods during earlyRemnant. In my opinion, magic isthe closest thing to the power of a God in the RWBY-verse hence how Ozma and Salem were able to use theirs to rule over thePeople of New Remnant as demigods for a while. It was the God of Darkness’ power that created theGrimm and it is that same power that Salem uses in correlation with the leftover Grimm Pools of Darkness to forge her own monstrous Grimm creatures. Likethe Winged Beringels, for example. All of that was done with magic.

This was why I pegged Oscar becoming RWBY’s equivalent of the GoldenCap to be another extension of his magic. As I said, if Salem could use her magic to create her own Grimmthen what’s stopping Oscar from relinquishing control of those very same Grimmfrom Salem using his own magic?

Or better yet, what’s stopping Oscarfrom using his magic to forge his own creations? Y’know transform the Grimminto his own creatures---reprogramming their original nature thus changing these former creatures ofdarkness and destruction into creatures of light and preservation. Here go, my Oscar’s Creatures of Luxx Pinehead Headcanon.

I love the idea of Oscar being able tocreate his own magical creations. I like it because I figured it’d be prettycool if Oscar were to turn Salem’s whole army of Winged Beringel against her;paying homage to the Golden Cap from the Wizard of Oz. As you probably alreadyknow since you read the books, the Golden Cap was what the Wicked Witch of theWest used to control the flying monkeys who were cursed to obey anyone who usedthe Cap. But in RWBY, since Salem used her magic to construct the WingedBeringels, I am allfor Oscar growing strong enough as a wizard to use his own magic to takecontrol of Salem’s army or transform Salem’s former army into his own creations.

If I recalled correctly, in the Wizardof Oz story, the flying monkeys were ultimately set free by the end of storythanks to Dorothy Gale giving the Cap to Glynda the Good Witch who then gavethe Cap to the Leader of the Flying Monkeys, thus setting them all free.

I really dig the idea of Oscar ultimately freeing the Winged Beringels from Salem’s control. But rather than having the Beringels be his pawns, I liked thethought of Oscar earning the Beringels’ “trust”; as odd as that may sound, through his compassionate andunderstanding nature. The idea I had was that while trapped in the Dark Domainwith Ruby, Oscar makes an unlikely ally out of an estranged Winged Beringel---theformer Alpha of the pack who Salem made an exemplar for punishment out of andpractically left for dead when it failed to capture Ruby and Oscar who hadescaped Salem’s Tower and were attempting to find their way out of the DarkDomain.

Up until this point in the series, theGrimm have been treated as nothing but fodder for our heroes to slay over andover again each season. Before Salem was revealed as the Grimm’s leader, therewas bit more nuance to these creatures. I still recall the World of Remnant episodeon the Grimm that eluded them to be more thanjust monsters.

I even remember the moment during V2between Ruby and Dr. Oobleck that showed a different perspective on the Grimm inthe sense that some of them---the more ancient ones---are able to adapt and survive longer than their youngerones. The fact that Grimm are able to acclimatise themselves to theirsurroundings and thus evolve provides them with a characteristic that makesthem fascinatingly closer to humans despite them allegedly being soullesscreatures of destruction.

I really liked the idea of Oscar befriending a Grimm because I saw it as an intriguing way for the audience, and thusour heroes, to learn more about the Grimm; perhaps even changing our earlyimpressions of these beasts. For a creature that lacks no soul, what drives aGrimm beyond a hunger for destruction and negative emotions? If it lacks a soulthen how does it adapt? How does it learn? How is it that these monsters of darkness are able to tell thedifference between prey and a sovereign since Salem is a human that the Grimm now serve as their leader?

Why do the Grimm serve Salem? Is itbecause they see her as their own kin because she baptised herself in the samedark essence that they birth from? Or is it because the Grimm see her in thesame light as the very God that created them? Do the Grimm serve Salem because herpower resembles that of their creator? Do the Grimm fear her power? Do theGrimm feel fear? Can the Grimm feel?

I know these might all seem like sillyrhetorical questions that don’t really need answering by the series. However Ijust think it would’ve been interesting to learn more to the Grimm than what we’vealready gathered about them within the past few seasons.

I guess, bottom-line, the point I’mtrying to make here is that everything seems to be pointing back to Magic being Oscar’s true power. I can honestly fit nearly every concept I’ve heard for Oscar’ssemblance under an extensionof his supposed magical powers.

- Bestowing magic to non-magical folk.

- Reliniquish magic from other magicalfolk.

- Bringing inanimate objects to life withmagic.

- Using earth as his element of choicewith magic.

- Relinquish control of the Grimm fromSalem and/or turning them into Creatures of Luxx with magic.

I wouldn’t blame the CRWBY Writers ifmagic ended up being Oscar’s power. Not only does it fit with his character butit still ties back into Ruby’s comment about Oscareventually possessing a power worth envying.

Magic still falls into that caterogy.Just look at Cinder Fall. According to Raven in V5, she literally turnedherself into a monster in pursuit of such a power---hence why I think she’ll bethe Mombi to Oscar’s Tippetarius/Princess Ozma.

Magic is the equivalent of unlimited power of a God in RWBY and it’s a power for Oscar to potentially command at hisvery finger tips as Ozma’s current successor. I’m not saying this as my biased Pineheaded way of implying that the show should make Oscar over- powered, I’mjust saying that magic is a power that suits Oscar given his fairy tale counterparts.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say itagain, it’s Oscar’s destiny to be a Great andPowerful Wizard or Magi. So I’m waiting for the show to let him be that at some point. Atthe end of the day, I think it’s safe to say that I don’t really care whatOscar’s semblance is so long as it’s connected to the magic he’s supposed toinherit.

I’ll even take him awakening hismagical powers when he relinquishes Cinder of her Fall Maiden powers. Justimagine Cinder having Oscar pinned, threatening to have Neo kill Ruby beforehis very eyes only for Oscar to suddenly grab Cinder’s human hand and his eyesglow gold as thorns snake their way up Cinder’s arm. In a similar manner to howCinder once drained poor Amber of her power, I’m imagining karma coming rightback to bite her in the ass with Oscar taking some of the Fall Maiden magicfrom Cinder (and then using it masterfully to defeat her through Ozpin’s cooperation).

And as Cinder recoils screeching infury, she looks up in time to see Oscar glare back at her with one hazel eye, burninggold.

What do you think of that?

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #cinder fall #professor ozpin #rwby theories #rwby volume 7 theories #miki-13 #squiggles answers

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jlalafics · 4 years

Text

Preview of “Part of Me”-Chapter Seven

Just a little pillow talk...

______

“Peeta, stop watching me sleep.”

Katniss cracked open an eye and Peeta couldn’t help the smile from rising on his lips. The woman turned from him, drawing the blankets over her shoulders, humming as she tried to get comfortable once more.

His eyes went to the raven waves running down Katniss’ back and against his will, his treacherous hand reached to run down those rivulets.

For years, he watched those waves as she walked away from him, desiring nothing but being able to feel them between his fingers. Every heated argument, every hurled insult, Peeta felt revulsion at his past self—always ended with Katniss turning away from him, in anger but mostly in tears.

He could never go back to that time, but he could try to be better for her. She deserved more than him and Peeta held his breath every morning in fear that she would realize that she couldn’t get over their past.

“Hmm…” Katniss hummed at his caress. “That’s nice.”

Peeta scooted closer to her, pressing himself against her back, twirling her locks. “Headache?”

“No, just a lot on my mind,” she told him, her eyes still closed as he peeked over her shoulder. “Work…little girl in my stomach…Thanksgiving…”

“Ah yes,” Peeta replied. “I’m actually heading back today after I drop you off at work.”

Katniss opened her eyes, turning to look at him. “You are?”

“I’m going to talk to Rye and Cashmere,” he told her. Katniss sat up abruptly, surprise in her grey eyes. “I want to tell them about you…about us…before telling my parents. They will be allies in all of this.”

Katniss crossed her arms, a frown marring her pretty features.

“I bet your parents were really hoping for a pretty blonde like Glimmer or even my sister. Not this frizzy, dark-haired business.”

“What they hoped for is not my concern. My concern is our family. I’m not going to hide either of you,” Peeta said. “I took my parents’ words to heart as a teenager. They fluffed me up; made me think that whatever they put in front of me was all I needed.”

“Poor little rich boy,” she said softly, but there was no malice in her tone.

“You changed that.” Katniss looked to him. “You challenged me, intrigued me, infuriated me—and I was a goner.”

“So, you cultivated all that longing into stereotypical schoolyard bullying?” she responded.

Ouch.

It hurt, but it was the truth. He, Peeta Mellark, was a bully.

That shameful thought was just one on the list of their relationship issues.

How would they tell their child of their tumultuous beginning? If their daughter had Katniss’ eyes, it would tear him apart to see the sadness and disappointment in them.

“Yes, if we’re being truthful.” He bowed his head. “Why haven’t you kicked me out yet?”

Katniss sighed magnanimously. “Because I have a great propensity for forgiveness.” She reached for him and he fell easily into her embrace. “And, I believe in second chances…and moving forward…and us. We are not fucking perfect and we don’t have to be.” Her fingers weaved into his hair and that familiar longing shot up his body. “But, like I said during the infamous Peeta Mellark freakout, you try every day to be better.”

“I love you.” Peeta couldn’t say it enough. “I don’t deserve you—not even a little.”

“That’s for me to decide, thank you very much.” Katniss smiled with that sweet endearing little upturn that made him breathless. “And, I’ve decided to keep you around.”

“Because you love me?”

Katniss leaned forward, her mouth almost brushing his. “Because I like my men docile and obedient.”

Peeta couldn’t help but smirk.

“Oh yeah?” She nodded, grey eyes smoldering. “Well, I’m at your beck and call…Mistress.”

Grinning, Katniss pressed her mouth to the tip of his chin.

“I like the sound of that.” She worked her way up his jawline and Peeta closed his eyes, willing himself to not explode all over himself. That would definitely end this delicious little game that his girlfriend was playing. “First, I’ve decided that I’m taking the day off to go with you. It wouldn’t be right for me to not be there—”

She arched an eyebrow at him.

“Unless you don’t want me to be there.”

“NO!” Peeta shook his head. “I just wanted to prepare them so we could make that first meeting as comfortable as possible.”

“Peeta, I’m 20 weeks pregnant with your daughter and you’re just telling your family about me,” Katniss stated. “No matter what, it’s going to be uncomfortable.”

“True,” he agreed and then smiled at her. “Let’s make a day of it.”

“Second—” In one move, Katniss had him on his back as she swung her leg over to straddle him, her knees cradling his hips. “—you’re going to be completely silent and let me do whatever I want to you for the next twenty minutes—no questions asked.”

He raised his hand. “Just one question—why twenty minutes?”

“Because in twenty minutes, Gale’s loud-ass alarm will go off.”

Her palms pressed into the mattress on each side of his head and if he lifted his head, just a bit, Peeta would have a perfect view down her sleep shirt.

Katniss rarely wore underwear to bed—too much hassle, according to the mother of his child.

“Are we good?”

Peeta nodded obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…” His hand found its way between her thighs as he met her hungry eyes boldly. “Mistress.”

“Good boy.”

Katniss leaned down, silencing him for the most toe-curling twenty minutes of his life.

God, he loved her.

#Part of Me #Chapter Seven #Preview

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ashandasindatails · 5 years

Text

Taffy’s Priestess

1700 words-ish Girl meets the dragon deity who she worships above the rest, the beginning of her long career of serving as her high priestess.

Short little story about a friend’s universe featuring me as a not dragon! This is the only story so far with that, haha. Basically just an Asinda AU.

Unfortunately italics did not copy over and I’m too lazy to go find every single instance of them, so sorry about that. On shorter posts I’ll remedy that; on longer ones I likely won’t be writing in tumblr so I’ll probably have a Docs link too.

Rest of the story under the cut!

Asinda was tired of walking.

She couldn’t stop, of course, but that was little consolation. What did make her keep trudging on was the thought of what she might find.

It had been three days now of walking through the forest. It wasn’t the biggest forest ever, but one dryad can only go so far in a day, even if they don’t have the brush to contend with like everyone else. So, it had been almost half a week of walking, foraging, and constant vigilance. She had Worrywort to keep her eyes open, but she was starting to feel the strain.

She ignored the strain. Asinda would walk for weeks to find what she was looking for, if she had to.

She ducked under a branch, letting the top of her head brush against it. The moisture from last night’s rain slipped off onto her head, peppering it in droplets. The small red and white flowers on her head began to soak it up. They were shaped like miniature dragon wings, hence the name Sprouting Flight. They were a rare breed, and probably what had started her fascination with dragons. Her mother claimed that meant that she was destined for something rare.

That ‘something rare’ had already passed.

In her youth, Asinda had been attacked by an illness that kept her bedridden for weeks. She had finally managed to pull out of it, after much praying and much medicine. She had mostly recovered, but the high fever had made its mark on her mind. She tended to talk a little bit slower, now, and she had a hard time staying on her feet. The forest helped with that; the soft touch of a vine or a nudge from a branch had protected her from many a fall. She didn’t see the effects, much, though people still commented on how she had changed.

Asinda didn’t care to notice.

Her jaunt through the woods was almost coming to a close for the day. The darkening sky meant that it would soon be too late to continue walking. Although this forest was kind, Asinda didn’t think the trees would appreciate her bouncing off of them in the dark, tumbling around in the bracken. So, she searched her surroundings in the twilight woods, finding a little clearing against a cliff face to spend the night. There looked to be a pair of caves carved into it, but Asinda preferred sleeping under the stars than in total darkness, dim as the light shining through the canopy was.

She set up for the night, letting her pack slide to the ground, digging around inside it. She didn’t need to make a fire - the summer night air kept her warm, and she didn’t need light for anything important. Plus, the forest didn’t like it.

Asinda changed into a set of sleeping clothes, made from a softer, lighter fabric. She made up a bed from the leaf litter on the ground, easing herself down into its soft fragrance.

Even when the moon was at its peak, she still wasn’t asleep.

Asinda sighed, shifting her position slightly. She was worried this would happen. On sleepless nights like this, she usually had Lyel, her tiny handmade dragon, to help soothe her to sleep. For some reason, she was the only one who could do it with any consistency. Even my sleep is dominated by scales, Asinda thought wryly.

There was one other thing she could do, but Asinda loathed the thought. When her flowers had just begun to grow, her mother had written a song, as she loved to do. It was about a young maiden searching for dragons. Even then, they had been a defining aspect of her person. Asinda’s mother often described her love for the divine beings as a glow, shining out from her heart and bathing everything around her in a bright light. Asinda had always giggled at the description. She couldn’t see how it shone outside of her, but she hadn’t questioned her mother on it.

She began to hum. The tune of the song was simple, but it had little complexities that made it unique. Asinda had never heard it played with an instrument, though she longed to. Working up the courage, she began to softly sing the words, letting her voice float through the trees. It warbled and wavered, not quite the right pitch, but always clear. She hadn’t ever sung it before, not even to an audience of flora such as she had. The life around her relaxed as it listened to her sing.

And Asinda drifted into sleep.

She was woken by a voice. It whispered softly, threading through her mind, pleasing and soft. It felt big - much bigger than any voice she had felt before. It knocked her out of her slumber, and Asinda opened her eyes to meet the green filtering down through the canopy. She couldn’t see where the voice had come from. Must have been a dream...

She stretched, sitting up. It was about an hour past dawn, judging by the angle of the light. She had slept late. I’ll have to pick up the pace today. She was heading towards the center of the forest, where she was more likely to run into the Drake of the Forest: Taphruss. Asinda had heard a rumor that the Drake was headed towards the Heart, and had set off in an instant, the temptation of being able to meet a dragon too much for her to resist.

After a morning call to the forest, Asinda had a small breakfast of fruit before packing up. She climbed to her feet, ready to continue her solemn march.

“Where are you off to, little one?”

Asinda froze in her tracks. That was… that was the voice from her dream. She glanced around herself frantically, trying to see who had spoken.

She was met with the cliff she had slept beside shifting and looking at her with sharp, piercing, beautiful eyes.

Taphruss.

Asinda’s mind jerked to a stop like a horseback rider hit by a pike. She couldn’t process what was in front of her. The only thing her head could come up with was DRAGON. It circled around, swimming through her empty consciousness. Nothing else could connect, not a single emotion or thought. Not even the dragon’s speech broke the spell.

“Little one? Are you well?” The enormous dragoness tilted her head to the side, inspecting. Asinda. “Has something gone wrong?”

And suddenly she could speak.

“OHMYGOSHIT’SYOUISLEPTNEXTTOYOURFACEI’MSORRYIDIDN’TREALIZEYOUWERETHEREANDIT’SACTUALLYTAFFYI’MSOSORRYDOINEEDTOBOWORSOMETHING?”

Taphruss blinked, surprised at the outpouring of words. “Calm, little one. What was that you called me?”

“T… T-Taffy.” Asinda blushed bright red, a stark contrast to the dark greens and browns of the dragon’s scales. “That… that’s what I used t-to, um, to call you when… when I was younger.” She omitted the part about playing make-believe with her imaginary versions of the Drakes. That detail was probably unnecessary.

The ground rumbled. It took Asinda a second to realize that it was Taphruss laughing. “Taffy,” she repeated, tasting the word, drawing it out. “I… well, I believe I like it, although that might be morning drowsiness. It fits your voice.”

Asinda had no response.

The dragon began to move, the trees seeming to slip around her, barely even rustling as her scales flowed between them. A large tail came forward, directly towards Asinda. Before she could move, it stopped right in front of her feet. The end was covered in a huge tuft of fur that was the color of bright summer moss.

“Come, little one. I’d like to hear more from you.” Taphruss sat still. Did she… did she want her to climb on her tail? The Drake of the Forest, inviting her - a crippled dryad - to ride on her back? These beings were literal gods. What… what was going on?

“I… I would… l-love… yes!” In her haste to board the Drake’s tail, Asinda forgot to be careful. Her feet tangled with each other, sending her face-first into the dirt.

Her world crashed down with her. Was she really about to do this? Would it be disrespectful? What if Taphruss actually didn’t like her? What if she couldn’t keep up with her expectations? She began to tremble, all of her thoughts mixing in a whirlwind, scattered like leaves before a gale.

She picked herself up slowly, staring at the ground, now shaking like an aspen. She bowed low before Taphruss, Drake of the Forest, and now witness to her clumsiness. She desperately clawed her lessons in court speech from the depths of her memory back to the surface. “I’m sorry, my, my Lady… I’ve been left with a poor sense of balance since youth.” She gulped, choosing her next words carefully. “Are… well, are you sure I’m worthy to… to be in your presence?”

Taphruss just laughed. “Of course, little one. If you weren’t, I would not have allowed you to stay near me all night. As it is, your song of dragons enchanted me. I would hear more, if you are willing.”

“I… my mother. She taught me the song.” Asinda cringed at her response.

“I would meet her, then. Come, guide me to her. I promise, little one, you are more than welcome on my back.” The dragon smiled. It was radiant, full of an intense love. And it was focused entirely on her.

That was all the convincing she needed.

“O-okay!” Asinda said, scrambling up onto the tail, walking along it carefully, all the way up it’s length until she reached Taffy’s back. It took several minutes, due to the sheer size of the dragoness and her careful, shaky movements, but the goddess stayed still and waited patiently for Asinda to make it all the way. At one point, she reminded her to take care, raising a blush on Asinda’s cheeks.

Asinda could feel the glow inside her heating up. She was atop a dragon. It was incredible. Taffy looked back to make sure she was settled, and Asinda was met with a striking profile of her face, all elegant curves and fine edges. She knew, from that moment, that she wouldn’t leave Taffy’s side unless she was forced. The thought of not being here, able to run her hands along the giant, green scales, filled her with dread. She loved every part of this being. She had walked for days just to catch a glimpse of a dragon; it was hard to believe that she had met one the one she longed to see.

The crown of Sprouting Flight on her head swayed as Taffy ruffled her wings.

The Drake and her new priestess slipped through the sunlight towards home.

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cryoculus · 5 years

Text

Heaven in Hiding

Pairing: Tendou Satori/Reader Setting: Sixteenth-century Japan Word Count: 3,725 Cross-posted from AO3

A strong wind howled in your ears as the tempest foreseen by the village oracle ripped through the valley. Eyes squinted, you gazed up at the starless sky. The moon gods dared not show themselves tonight, it seemed.

The protective seals hung from the torii of the shrine chimed with the charms that tied them down. Some of the wooden floorboards creaked from the intensity of the gales. The embers that licked at the torches mounted on the pillars flickered at the threat of extinguishment. So far, this was the worst one yet. Goosebumps crept up your skin, the chill easily seeping through the thick layers of your yukata. Each blow could almost cut through the skin of your cheeks. Your fingers tightened around the bronze scepter passed down into your family for generations. The metal was cold, and the ravenous breeze did not permit you to have any semblance of warmth. You’ve had your fair share of unforgiving winter nights, but this was...different.

You remembered, as clear as day, all the indications of his coming. Your grandmother had made sure to drill you into committing every detail to memory, since you had to inherit the responsibility of guarding the Fujiwara Shrine earlier than anticipated. The first sign of his return would be the untamed wind thats would definitely catch even the eyes of the gods. This time, he sure was attempting to draw all the attention to himself.

With your other hand, you constricted your grip around the necklace that has kept the demon at bay for centuries. It was much larger than the regular charm or pendant that women would wear for the trend. It was as big as your palm. After all, it held what the demon wanted most.

His heart.

The glass that encased the demon’s heart pulsed faintly, as if it were still attached to his body. And that would be the second sign.

Fujiwara shrinekeepers were bounded by obligation to never let the heart out of their sight, and should be worn by the Head Guardian at all times, even it posed a threat to their lives.

The third sign?

“They’ve given me quite a pretty one this time around, eh?”

There was no third sign. You forced yourself not to flinch at his sudden manifestation behind you. Though he loved brewing the wildest of storms before his arrival, Satori did like to get things over with as quickly as possible. Slowly, you turned around to face him.

He was donned with the most ethereal haori you’ve ever laid your eyes on. It was as white as the purest snow, with violet accents lining the hems. You wished to assume that the red splotches on the textile were merely designs of whoever tailored the clothes of demons who were banished on a hundred-year basis. But you knew far too well that bloodstains were forever on demons.

Although, his attire was not the most compelling to look at.

Of course, your grandmother had painted you a vague image of Satori the Tengu as she recounted grandfather’s tale. He was not like the regular yokai who terrorized humans for the fun of it. He did not even look the part. No, it was long believed that Satori might have been the offspring of Benzaiten, herself, if the goddess somehow let herself be besmirched by the filthy hands of a tengu. His hair came in long tufts of the most vibrant crimson, with piercing eyes to match. And though the common tengu had long, ugly noses, that certainly was not evident on Satori’s face. However, even if he was beautiful, there were reasons why your ancestors felt the need to suppress him for centuries at a time.

You’ve heard about what his appearance would be dozens upon dozens of instances, as your grandmother prepared you for your impending duty. But one thing she couldn’t accurately describe in detail was what his wings looked like.

A contempt smile rested on his lips, as you marveled at his unfolded wings. Each feather seemed like it had been dipped in the ichor of an angel—ivory with a golden shimmer that shone even in the dead of night. Your lips parted with a gasp, one hand reaching out for a touch, a caress, a grasp—anything! But just as your fingers were about to make contact with his wings, the chain of the necklace containing his heart sizzled on your skin. The glass was pulsing even stronger this time, threatening to break its prison.

You hissed, but endured the pain, nonetheless. Snapping out of your sudden trance, you steeled yourself.

“In the name of the seven heavenly gods,” you chanted an unfamiliar language, pointing the tip of the scepter in his face, “I banish your existence from this material plane, Satori the Tengu!”

He only looked at you.

“Say, have your elders gotten lax with passing down the incantations to their young-ins?” Satori chuckled. “If you wish to seal me for the next hundred years, you need a stronger spell, girl.”

Your body froze up at his nonchalance. How was he unaffected? You’ve read the Shinto scrolls through and through, and that’s the only thing mentioned about the sealing spell. Grandmother told you as much, too. So why...?

Upon seeing your dismantled confidence, he hollered once more. “Ah, you didn’t hear about my last banishment from the person who performed it firsthand, didn’t you?”

Your eyes fell to the floor.

He placed a taloned hand on your shoulder, and his touch seemed to freeze the part he came in contact with. But unlike the breeze, his touch was perpetually freezing. Humans often do that as a gesture of comfort, but you had no idea what to make of it if a yokai did it to you.

“I commend your efforts, girl,” he praised. “But I am not quite interested in being banished again. I have been going to and from the Netherrealm for, what, millennia already." He exhaled a dramatic sigh. "Surely, I deserve some rest from this nonsense?"

Your brows furrowed in suspicion. "By rest, you mean a chance to destroy the valley once again?"

Satori's lips spread into a crazed grin. "Oh? Is that what the elders taught you? That the white demon that they have been banishing over and over and over again was that much of a brute?" His blood red eyes glowed with such intensity, that you had to instinctively back away, but with each step you took away from him, he only returned with a step closer to you. This continued until he managed to force your back against one of the pillars in the shrine. His face was a hair's breadth from yours, and you can feel his ice-cold breath against your skin. He was much, much taller than you were. Your feet were rooted to the spot, dread replacing the bravery you had put on earlier. You desperately wanted to scream for help, but it's been conveyed to you that the banishment is something that the Head Guardian should be able to execute alone. No one else was vacating the shrine.

You were at the mercy of the demon in front of you.

"If I explained myself, would things change, perhaps?" Poison dripped from his words. "Of course they wouldn't. Humans only listen to what favors them, even if there are infinite possibilities presented, after all."

You racked your brain with any tales from the Shinto scrolls regarding Satori losing composure. He was always depicted as an indifferent being, who often had no qualms with being sent back to the Netherrealm every time he manifested in this world. What had changed?

His sharp, taloned hands reached for your face, and you're almost certain that he would rip your skin to shreds right there. You closed your eyes, anticipating the end of your days, until you felt the caress of a calloused, yet freezing hand instead.

When you blinked, the fury in his eyes was but a memory, and has been overcome by something akin to pity, but not quite.

"You know, even if my physical body is not within the bounds of your realm, I can still peer into what is going on," he murmured against your ear. His large hand enclosed the hand you used to hold on to the necklace, which you didn't realize you were clutching tightly against your chest. "You're a good child, the first human I knew my heart would be secure with."

You were stunned at his sudden change of temperance. Were demons as precarious as they said? Satori continued to surprise you when he pulled away, folding his great wings back in place. Red eyes gazed upward into the dark sky, and for some reason, the clouds overhead parted with just one glance from Satori. The moon spilled her light onto the shrine, illuminating even the darkest corners. Your mouth hung in disbelief. Is this...really what a demon was supposed to be capable of?

He retracted his gaze back to you. "I can hear the footsteps of the other shrinekeepers being carried by my wind. You best complete the sealing ritual before they arrive, or you may as well decapitate yourself, before they do."

You winced at the reminder. There have been times when the Head Guardian failed to banish Satori, and that failure has caused them their heads. You didn't know what to do! You've uttered the only spell you know, the only spell that has been imparted to you ever since you learned how to speak. How were you to know that they were the wrong incantations if you had only one chance to find out for yourself?

Noticing your distress, Satori unfurled one of his wings to edge you near to him. You gasped at the feel of the soft feathers on your back. He kept prodding you closer until you were flush against his broad chest. He smelled of rosemaries, and you could only fathom how the demon who's spent a hundred years in the Netherrealm could have such an aroma.

"I propose two solutions to your dilemma," he informed calmly. "One is that I teach you a temporary sealing spell that will send me back to wherever you wish to send me. I cannot impart to you the actual spell that your ancestors have abused me with, since it's spoken in the tongue of the angels. But the spell I know of will only last for about five years. However, that's more than enough time for you to search for the original angelic spell."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was he seriously suggesting that he assist you in his own banishment, when he spoke so ill about it only a few moments ago? That hardly made any sense to you. It was also as if he was implying that accepting each banishment was his choice, and not something he had to resist. Your face contorted with doubt. For all you know, he could be leading you into a trap... Maybe instead of a so-called temporary sealing spell, he's going to make you utter the incantation that will make the binds of his heart weaken enough for him to steal it back.

"W-What is the second?" your voice cracked with sheer nervousness.

He flashes a toothy grin. "You come with me to the Netherrealm, where no one can harm you, of course."

"I refuse!" Your reply came instantaneously with an adamant glint in your eyes. He must have been losing his mind, right? How could he just impose that upon you so casually? Your life has always been here on Earth, with your family and friends! He couldn't just rip you out of the picture as he pleased.

From the distance, you could hear the large iron gates at the bottom of the shrine creak in their hinges. They're here.

"Hmm, both choices will save you, girl. But you could always just die at the hands of the people you've considered family; the same people who caused you to underperform tonight, in the first place, because of their flawed education." Satori smirked. "But you don't want that, do you?"

You were trembling in his grasp, so badly that you dropped the holy scepter that was supposed to spite Satori should the tip be pointed in his direction. That definitely wasn't the case. What were you supposed to do at this point? Satori's words rang true. You didn't want to choose between two risky choices, but if you walked away from the out he was offering, you'd have to face the age-long wrath of your family. You had to choose the choice that demanded the least possible collateral.

"I say, you'd have five more minutes left to make a choice, girl," he murmured softly, his hands caressing your hair almost endearingly. Your heart clenches at the action. What was it that you were feeling? Was he manipulating your feelings to his favor? You don't know, you don't know, you don't—

"I've watched you through the glass ever since it was given to you, do you know that?" Satori interrupted your downward spiral into madness, taking the necklace that held his heart from your unguarded hands. "You might be asking yourself, why doesn't he just kill me and take his heart back?" His rendition of a feminine voice was terrible, but you're too terrified of your fate to speak.

When you continued to keep your silence, he sighed. "You see, girl, I am no ordinary yokai, you've realized that, at least, have you?"

You nodded. He did have a point. Satori was referred to as a tengu, but the only indication of that were his glorious wings. Every other attribute about him seemed to speak of something godly. You've never heard of a yokai who could manipulate the natural elements other than Satori. For the longest time, you've had the mind to question the elders about it, but they would only dismiss your curiosities as blasphemy of the doctrines.

"That in itself is enough reason for me not to kill you and, 'destroy the valley', as you have said," he grinned.

"I-I don't understand."

"You don't have to."

You could hear the voices of your fellow shrinekeepers getting closer by the second. Satori took note of this as well, clicking his tongue. Suddenly, he placed the necklace, now pulsing with life, around your neck. It radiated the kind of warmth you always longed to receive from your family. Your fingers clutched it tightly, as you gazed into his entrancing eyes.

"Make your choice now," he pleaded, while holding out his hand for you. Why did he want to save you that badly?

A million thoughts race across your mind in a millisecond. You weighed each decision available, and you almost broke down with indecisiveness right there. But at the last second, you placed your hands, and your whole trust, in his, and you seemingly melted into the wind just before the shrinekeepers arrived at the last step of the stone stairway.

"Where is she?" Your cousin, Kento voiced out in concern.

Your grandmother's face turned grim, as she inspected the area. The shrine looked as pristine as they have left it in your hands before night fell, but the bronze scepter lay forgotten on the wooden floor. You were nowhere to be seen.

Kento hissed. "It was him! He took her, didn't he? I told you she was not strong enough to banish him, oba-san! It did not work!"

"Silence, Kento," demanded the older woman, as she felt the previously low temperature rise again. As she gazed up at the now clear sky, something caught her attention. A lone, ivory feather that glinted in the moonlight wafted in the air, and down to her feet. Despite her age, she managed to crouch down to study it between her fingers.

"It has been done..."

Not more than five hundred years into the future, a peculiar duo hailing from the nearby Karasuno High School managed to get themselves stuck on a tour around the various historical spots in Miyagi.

"Hinata, you dumbass! That wasn't the line for the train to Tokyo! It was a line for a tour!" Kageyama scolded his companion.

"Uwah! I thought they were going to to Tokyo because of their clothes. They looked like tourists to me, Kageyama!"

"They are tourists, just not in Tokyo!"

"If you're so pissed off about it, then why did we come up all the way in Fujiwara Shrine if you knew that in the first place?"

"S-Shut up! I was interested in the town lore!"

"Sir," the woman overseeing the tour interrupted their banter. "The lecture about a brief history of the shrine is about to start. It would be best if you kept your discussions at a minimum."

Kageyama promptly apologized, as Hinata jeered at him for getting scolded.

Up ahead, there was an easel with a canvas concealed with a white sheet. An elderly woman wearing a traditional yukata began speaking in English, since some of the tourists were foreigners. Kageyama understood her greeting perfectly, but was annoyed when Hinata kept asking him for translations every second. He told his teammate off, saying he'll tell him the gist of it when the woman was done talking.

"The Fujiwara Shrine was founded around the eleventh century, at the generosity of its founder, Fujiwara Daisuke. But shortly after its construction, it caught the attention of the wind god, Satori. He was outraged at the completion of the shrine, since the Fujiwaras supposedly built it on top of his sacred ground. However, Daisuke did not acknowledge him as a god, which caused the deity to become angered at his heresy."

Kageyama became immensely interested in the details that the woman was imparting. He's no history junkie, but hearing about tales of gods and the like always seemed to fascinate him.

The woman continued. "The disagreement eventually worsened, and Satori, blinded by his rage, wiped out the village below. But before he could do the same to this very shrine, Daisuke managed to cut out the god's heart while his guard was down. He encased the god's heart in the most unbreakable glass and hung it around his neck as a necklace. This phenomenon caused Satori to fall into the deepest pits of insanity. The loss of his heart eventually turned him into a yokai. Severely weakened, Satori was cast into the Netherrealm, a void said to house the most menacing of demons. Daisuke specifically enchanted him with the language of angels, something Satori could no longer speak because of the loss of his heart, so he could not unbind the seal on his will."

"However, no seal is completely formidable. Every one hundred years, the seal originally set up by Daisuke will weaken enough for Satori to slip back into the Earthly plane to steal his heart back. He knew this, and that's why he arranged for his grandson, Kisuke to learn the language of the angels right before he died. The tradition has been passed down to the Fujiwaras through the Shinto scrolls ever since. Until in the sixteenth century, Fujiwara (Name) was to take up the responsibility of sealing Satori back as the Head Guardian."

"Kageyamaaaa, I don't understand a word she's saying," Hinata whined.

Kageyama put a finger to his lips with a scary expression on his face, effectively silencing the shrimp.

"Like the responsibility of keeping him at bay for as long as possible, the necklace that contained Satori's heart was also passed down to each Head Guardian. However, the tradition upheld for almost half a millennium was broken by (Name). Accounts of this event were rather flimsy, since the Shinto scrolls at the time, were burned by an unknown individual. However, it was known that, at this period, it was forgotten than Satori was originally a god. He was regarded as a tengu, a type of bird-like yokai because of his wings. The reason why the tradition ended after (Name) is because, legend has it, Satori took an interest in her, for seeing through the fact that he isn't just a demon. Some said that he never came back to the Earthly plane because he had his heart back. Others whisper about the Fujiwaras secretly killing (Name) for her incompetence, and fabricated the story to cover up for the heinous crime."

Some of the tourists mumble in fascination.

"Now, Fujiwara Shrine would now wish to behold an illustration of the god-turned-yokai, Satori, through the skill of the late Fujiwara Kento."

After that, the woman unveiled the sheet on the whatever was standing on the easel, and the sight made Kageyama's eyes widen.

The parchment was fading into a dull brown, but the colors of the painting still seemed to be fresh. The detail put into each feather that made up his wings was breathtaking. But the face of the supposed Satori almost gave Kageyama a heart attack.

"T-That's...That's—" Hinata, though he probably didn't understand the woman's words, was as equally surprised as he is.

"Tendou-san," Kageyama finished for him.

The sound of his phone ringing in his pocket snapped the two of them out of their surprise.

"H-Hello?" Kageyama greeted shakily.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" Sawamura's infuriated voice resounded in the area, causing the other tourists to stare at them bizarrely.

"Daichi-san, we're sorry," apologized Kageyama, while he grabbed Hinata's arm. The other boy protested at his sudden rush, but Kageyama just told him to shut up. "Hinata accidentally lined us up with the tourists exploring Miyagi. We're on the way to the station as we speak."

"You better be here in half an hour or it's two extra hours of drills for the both of you!" With the final word, their captain hung up.

Kageyama sighed, as he and Hinata went down the stone stairway that led to the shrine. The afternoon sun was glaring at them and there wasn't a single whistle of wind. The information he just took in swirled in his mind, unable to wrap his head around the fact that Satori the god looked exactly like Tendou from Shiratorizawa. When they descended to the bottom, Kageyama casted one last glance at the shrine up in the hill. For once, he's grateful that he and Hinata got lost.

#haikyuu!!#satori tendou #tendou satori #tendou satori x reader #haikyuu x reader #tendou #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #shiratorizawa #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #hqscenario

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kuno-chan · 5 years

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Love Amongst the Dragons: Gales of Yesterday - Ch. 3, The Tempest

Summary: In a sentence, Prince Callum doesn't care for dragons. He has his reasons for not being a fan, but the Dragon Ban has expired and now his life is full of them as the Dragon Keep has finished and everyone around him is preoccupied in making sure everything is ready for the Xadians arriving so the dragon rider's training program may succeed. Now, Callum is up to his neck in everything that has to do with dragons as he does his best to satiate some dangerous curiosities, wrestle sorrowful memories and support his stepfather, King Harrow, in this time of redemption.

Rating: G

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The human kingdoms were a strange place. There was very little magic. In fact, there was basically no magic anywhere.

Rayla found it rather bizarre,honestly. She said as much to Runaan.

“Humans were not born with magic,” he told her, concealing a knife in his boot. He instructed her to do the same. This entire diplomatic mission was supposed to be peaceful, but it wasn’t as if the humans were completely trustworthy. Runaan’s chief fear was what might happen if things went wrong; if they suddenly found themselves surrounded by human guards with no way out. They had their dragons, but now, so did the humans. “We can’t expect their lands to have any, either. Otherwise, they would have figured out a way to harness it.”

“They have dark magic,” Rayla said.

“What they call magic. Dark magic is not true magic.”

Rayla nodded. She agreed wholeheartedly.

“Are Luna and Athena secure?” he asked.

“In the stables. They’re resting, I’m sure. It was a pretty long trip for them. Luna was getting a bit cranky after a few days.”

Runaan raised his brows at her in question. “Is Luna secure?”

“... she was when I left her,” Rayla said, grinning nervously. “I swear.”

“And we must keep it that way. Dragons are new for most of these humans and Luna will spook them if she simply shows up.”

“She’ll probably just steal their kitchen utensils.”

“And I imagine they value their kitchen utensils.”

Rayla shrugged, though she shared a knowing smile. “Oh, I suppose. I’ll make sure she knows she can’t play with the whisks around here.”

“Good. Now, come.” Runaan beckoned. “I want you to be there when I speak with the King. You should know how to navigate these situations. Diplomacy is a skill you might learn.”

Rayla followed Runaan to a more private room than she was expecting. It was small, not even half the size of the throne room, more intimately decorated with paintings and items that she assumed the king held dear. A drawing of him and the boy she saw upon arriving at the castle hung on the wall.

“Please, both of you,” King Harrow gestured. “Sit. I appreciate you being available despite how tired you must be.”

Runaan nodded. “It’s what we came to do. We ought to start with a conversation.”

Rayla sat quietly, as ordered, but also impressed. Humans were not Runaan’s favorite people in the entire world. So, when he showed no qualms about leading the diplomatic party into the human kingdoms, Rayla was surprised... and not. On one hand, Runaan didn’t care for humans for a variety of reasons. On the other hand, he would perform his duty without complaint. Without fail.

So, Rayla did as expected, she sat quietly and observed the situation. She even debated sitting or standing in the corner. But she took a seat and Runaan gave her no indication that he disapproved.

“I agree. So, first, let me open with a question: What are your main concerns? I want to address those before we move on to other things. I realize the need for transparency if there is to be any trust between Xadia and Katolis.”

Runaan nodded. “The treaty has expired, but Xadia is concerned about the humans using the dragons solely as war machines. Yes, in battle they are invaluable, but to raise and use dragons with that purpose and that purpose alone is to foster a culture where they are nothing more than tools. And, that, is a dangerous sentiment to breed. Especially considering the use of… other magics among humans.”

“I absolutely agree,” King Harrow said. “And you have my word that I am doing everything in my power to make sure those in charge of the dragons’ training understand this. These are creatures who deserve respect if we are to gain their allegiance, should we even call it that. There must be respect and trust between dragon and rider.”

Rayla almost raised her brows. She hadn’t expected that answer.

“Then, we are in agreement,” Runaan said. “As long as that ideal shines through there shouldn’t be a problem. As for the Dragon Keep, who oversees it?”

“I’ve put Lord Viren in charge of the Dragon Keep. He is my closest advisor and I would trust him with my life.” The king stood said.

“The high mage.”

A pause. The king nodded.

Runaan said nothing.

The king broke the long silence that followed. “Lord Viren is my responsibility and I will see to it that nothing, and I mean nothing, atrocious happens to those dragons. Contrary to what you may believe, I do not always agree with him and his… methods.”

“I will hold you accountable then.”

King Harrow sat back but said nothing. He only nodded.

Rayla sat in silence the entire time as the king and Runaan discussed the conditions of which Xadia would allow the humans use of their dragons for military power without risk of transgression.

All the while, Rayla examined the king. This was the man who drove their kingdoms to war. The man who had a part, however big or small, in killing Thunder. They never even recovered his egg. Some part of her wanted to hate him. Wanted to blame him for the situations that plagued her life. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to hate him for all the sincerity in his eyes. Runaan could see the conflict written on her face once they finished an hour later.

“You’re troubled,” he said.

“He’s… not what I expected.”

“I imagine he’s not. What do you make of him?” he asked.

“... He regrets.”

“As he should. Many people died in his war. Human or not, those decisions weigh on him.”

“What do you think of him?”

“I can respect a man who realizes his mistakes, but it doesn’t make the mistakes go away. The people who died won’t come back. Regardless if he knows what he did was wrong, those who laid down their lives or suffered in the shadow of his decisions gain no reprieve.”

“Sorry isn’t enough.” It was more of a statement than a clarification.

“I will hold judgement. Your judgement is your own. I expect you on your best behavior, regardless.”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. You don’t have to keep telling me, you know.”

Runaan only made a noise that told her more than enough about his expectations.

-:-:-:-

In the morning Callum saw his brother for all of ten minutes before Ezran found somewhere else to be. He was starting to wonder if he upset his little brother somehow, but that usually wasn’t the case when Ezran left to go exploring. Callum wondered, but he supposed it was something else.

Either way, it left him somewhat alone for the day. Claudia and Soren both had other obligations and different things to do under the orders of their father. Soren and Varius were busy with the new dragon riders and Claudia was doing research for her father on some aspect of dragon behavior.

Even his stepfather was entertaining and making sure the Xadians were comfortable. They were planning to visit the Dragon Keep soon.

Every day was about dragons, really. Every day Callum woke up, the dragons were a part of their lives in some capacity. He hadn’t expected it. Not like this.

He still tensed up when he woke in the morning. It took him ten minutes or so just to get himself prepared for the day, even if nothing was inherently wrong. His stepfather always told him he didn’t have to be involved and, initially, Callum had completely prepared himself to do just that. No dragons, no way.

Then, the Dragon Keep went up. Then, dragons started being brought in. Soren got Varius. Claudia began looking more into it. His stepfather talked about it more. They assigned Lord Viren to the project.

Suddenly, everywhere he turned… dragons, dragons, dragons.

It used to be thirty minutes in the morning. Thirty minutes before he could get up and face his new reality.

It made him sick, having to look at it all.

All of it just reminded him of his mother.

Her breath rattled in her chest.

It stopped.

Callum’s chest tightened. The thoughts threatened to overwhelm him when he thought about it too much. When he thought about it all, sometimes.

With Ezran busy for the day, apparently off on his own shenanigans, Callum took his sketchbook and, against his better judgement, found his way to the Dragon Keep.

At first, that was how it started and why he ended up going there at all. As long as he stayed on the wall and far from the actual creatures, he could sketch them to his heart’s content. He would sketch one dragon, then go home. It gradually became two or more. Now, he didn’t really have a limit. Just whenever he felt finished for the day.

He still stayed high on the wall though. He never ventured close to them. Not once. Not on his life.

When he got to the keep, however, Soren and his dragon riding recruits were using the wall he normally occupied. Whatever they were doing, he didn’t want to disturb them. Step-prince or not, occasionally, it distracted people that he was a prince and was the adopted son of the king. Those who weren’t around him as often sometimes felt like they had to pay him mind. It made Callum uncomfortable.

So, he looked around.

Sketching would have to wait, he supposed.

It probably wasn’t the wisest of ideas, but he started poking around. Frankly, he felt like Ezran, just wanting to know what was around the corners, going to places he most likely wasn’t supposed to.

He walked near Lord Viren’s office at the keep, past it and down the hall he’d never bothered going down. The halls were simple but decorated, red rugs, tapestries and weapons hung in traditional Katolis fashion. The hall widened and simplified at the very end. To the right, Callum knew was the arena. To the left, a darker tunnel, but otherwise open. Airy. Breezy, even? Drafty, perhaps was the right word.

Callum knew better, but he took the left anyway. He wanted to know where the breeze came from. Was it another way out? An escape route should this place go up in flames?

What he found was a simple room. The breeze came from the open windows, letting in light and the smell of fresh air; it gave the room a less scary quality than Callum expected. It would have been a perfect place to spend a private moment, were it not for the cage in the center of the room.

And the dragon in the cage.

Blue slitted eyes trained on him. Callum froze.

The Tempest looked at him, eyes focused on his every move. Callum didn’t budge. He and the Tempest stared each other down. Rather, the Tempest stared him down.

Callum just stared.

He stared and prayed.

Could it shoot fire at him from this distance?

Did it shoot fire?

Was it poisonous?

He recalled Soren’s words about Chaos class dragons and realized he’d already made a mistake by praying and not running first. It was too late now though. He was as good as dragon lunch if he moved even one muscle and --

The Tempest’s eyes flickered. It looked him over, then snorted. It went back to laying down.

Callum was almost disappointed. Relieved, but almost disappointed. He wasn’t even worth a dragon’s time.

“Thanks, I guess,” Callum said. “Didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just be--”

There was a muffled string of familiar voices coming from down the hall. The trainers.

And Lord Viren.

Callum closed the door to the room and ducked away from the entrance. If Lord Viren found him down here, he’d be furious and that was not something he wanted to face so close to his office. It was just… an unsettling office. Especially if Lord Viren thought he might have stolen something. No, thank you.

The Tempest went back to staring at him.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave in a minute, okay? I just need to wait until he’s gone,” Callum hissed.

What was he doing? Why was he apologizing to the dragon? The Tempest probably didn’t care one way or another what Callum did so long as he didn’t come and bother him. He didn’t have to worry about that. Callum couldn’t have been tighter against the wall if he tried.

He wasn’t sure which one was worse: Lord Viren or the dragons.

Apparently, Callum had decided Lord Viren right at this moment.

The Tempest groaned and turned over. Fair enough. It didn’t seem to care what Callum did. It had its own problems.

This is what he got for being nosy, he supposed. He’d kept coming to the keep just to draw the dragons for the sake of art and curiosity, knowing what it would make him feel. He went to sleep at night, nowadays, feeling a little more anxious knowing that tomorrow he’d go back. But it was a point of pride for him. This was going to be his life, right? Surrounded by dragons. He ought to face his fears and deal with it.

At least, that’s what he told himself when his heart was beating in his chest so hard it hurt.

He wasn’t good at anything that didn’t have to do with lines on paper.

At the very least, he could face this… issue haunting him.

Every time he saw a dragon, he saw his mother’s dying face.

Callum looked back at the Tempest. A groan escaped the dragon’s mouth and his belly rose and fell. He frowned at the dragon’s breathing. The Tempest seemed… exhausted?

Lord Viren was just outside the door. Callum could hear him, probably making his way to his office.

“... no food, no water. Understood? Make an example out of them if need be. These beasts need to know who’s in charge around here. If they go out of control, we may all end up burned alive.”

The trainer shuddered, then agreed to obey.

In the cell, the Tempest rolled over just barely, lethargic and breathing somewhat labored. Restless, even. He opened and closed his mouth, his tongue lolling out slightly. He wasn’t hurt -- not that Callum would see any bruises with a hide as thick as a dragons, but…

“You’re starving,” Callum said softly.

The Tempest trained a blue eye on him. There was some animosity that kept Callum from getting any closer to him. Humans were not his favorite people in the world. And he had a feeling an elf would not be in his good graces either.

Outside, the door to Lord Viren’s office slammed shut.

Callum didn’t leave right away, but the Tempest looked away from him, curling into a ball as if to protect himself from anymore visitors.

It took a moment for Callum to leave, observing the Tempest before his hands and feet finally found the door, then a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

-:-:-:-

“Prince Callum.”

Callum froze, tensing from Lord Viren’s stern and not so pleased tone of voice. He turned on his heel.

“Lord Viren, I was just, uh, exploring.”

“Were you now?” Lord Viren closed the door to his office. “Exploring the very cell down the hall from my office? How coincidental.”

“Yep, it is pretty strange how we met down here, but I really should be going now--”

“Do you take me for a fool?”

His tone cut like ice.

Callum tried to act like nothing was wrong. “No, sir, I--”

“Then, why don’t you and I remain honest with each other, hm? I know you were down here spying on whatever you think I have hidden away, but I assure you there’s nothing. So, I suggest you run along and not do it again.”

Callum frowned. “If there’s nothing down here then why do you have a dragon in the cell you know I was just in?”

“That dragon is in confinement for poor behavior. There is nothing down there. Nothing that concerns you, at least.”

“You’re starving him.”

“I’m teaching him to listen to his masters. He will be fed and kept alive, but at my discretion.” Viren tapped his staff on the ground. “These are wild beasts, boy. Not humans. And you’re a fool if you truly believe that we shouldn’t protect ourselves from their wrath. If the dragon doesn’t make it that is its own fault for not cooperating.”

“Right now, the king’s wrath is the only one you should worry about.” Callum turned to leave. “When he finds out about this, he’s going to be furious.”

Lord Viren said nothing.

Nothing dismayed him more than the king’s disapproval.

But in a chilling tone Lord Viren said, “He will be… worried.” Callum stopped. “Yes, very worried. This Xadian diplomacy mission is very important to him. Why, if he thought it might fail on account of me, I’m not sure he would even sleep at night. But, I suppose you’re right. The stress of his anger is something I fear. For all our sakes.”

Callum turned to glare at Viren, but the man was already walking away, his cane tapping the ground the only sound between them.

-:-:-:-

No, Lord Viren was…

He was right.

Yes, he was right.

But so was his decision.

Callum couldn’t just let that Tempest starve to death. No, that was wrong in every way and he couldn’t just let it happen.

On the other hand, Lord Viren wasn’t entirely wrong either. His least favorite person right now, but not entirely wrong. Callum thought about it all the way back to the castle and it wasn’t until he ran into Ezran once he got back to their joined rooms.

“Where have you been?” Callum raised a brow at Ezran.

Ezran looked up from where he was playing with Bait. “Callum! Oh, uh… nowhere?”

Callum frowned. “Were you sneaking into the baker’s again?”

Ezran grinned. “Oh, uh, yeah! You caught me.”

Callum snorted and shook his head. “Well, you’ll never guess what happened to me today.”

Callum told him all of it. About the Tempest he found, wanting to tell the king and his conversation with Lord Viren.

“So, are you going to tell dad?”

“Well, yeah. It’s the right thing to do…” Callum said. “... right?”

Ezran smiled a little. “Of course. We should go tell him right now.”

The king sat in his room, the desk piled high with papers that probably had to do with the arrival of the Xadian diplomats. After all, their safety fell on his shoulders. A heavy responsibility considering everything.

“I’m sorry, boys. I know I was pretty busy all day.”

Callum shook his head. “No, it’s okay. We know you’re busy.”

“Yeah,” Ezran said. “Dad, you don’t have to apologize.”

Harrow sighed and stood from his chair. He paced the room with his hands behind his back. “This diplomatic mission with the Xadians and the Dragon Keep… it all needs to go well. “

“Your Majesty,” Callum started. Harrow looked back at him with a sad smile. Callum cleared his throat. “You know… everybody can see you trying to make up for everything.”

Harrow chuckled a little, a crestfallen tone somewhere in it. “It is very hard to make up for a war you helped start. Believe me, Callum. As it is, I don’t care about my reputation. No. After the things I saw and realizing my part in those horrors? This is my duty. For the sake of peace between our two kingdoms, it is my duty to ensure that this goes well. That Xadia and Katolis -- all the human kingdoms -- can have a chance at real peace and cooperation between all our peoples. Do you boys understand?”

Callum and Ezran looked at each other, then nodded at their father.

“We understand,” Callum said.

Harrow approached them and got down on one knee, coming to eye level with Ezran specifically. “Ezran, one day you will also need to make decisions like this. As king, there will be… a heavy burden on your shoulders. One that I will always be sorry fell on your shoulders. But it’s important that you take this duty seriously. People will look to you for guidance. But to learn how to lead you must learn how to follow and learning to follow means listening. And, right now, as a prince, this is the best time to do just that. I was young when I became king. And perhaps I didn’t listen as a prince as well as I should have. Do you understand why I’m telling you all this?”

Ezran nodded. He even smiled and put Bait down for just a moment. “If I can be half as good a king as you are, then I’ll do great, Dad.”

Ezran hugged him and, a moment later, Callum joined. He felt King Harrow put his arms around them. “Thank you, boys.” When they pulled back, he put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Now, it’s getting late. You boys should go and rest. Tomorrow I’m sure will be another long day.”

“Actually, Dad, we--”

“Really should be getting that sleep,” Callum said quickly. He grinned and nodded. “Yup. It’s time to sleep. Just like you said.”

Harrow laughed a little as he rose to his feet. “Very well. You two run along, then. There are other ways for you to get some sleep than to help me with my paperwork.”

They left the king to his dreaded paperwork and Ezran frowned at Callum. “Why didn’t you tell him about the dragon, Callum?”

Bait croaked. Callum sighed. “You saw him, Ez. He’s got enough to deal with right now with the Xadians here. I’ll just have to figure something out on my own.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

Callum shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out. No matter what happens, I’ll make sure that dragon has a fighting chance.”

#the dragon prince #tdp #rayllum #rayla #callum

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notsoangstymiracublog · 5 years

Text

All thanks to Lila Rossi

(Thank you for you guys who got tagged to check out this sorry excuse of a fic- well i wanna see your reaction so I'm sorry if you're busy and i am bothering you. also please prepare some bleach cuz this may be the worst fic ever in history of tumblr)

Tags cuz i swore to do this

[ @frostymoon11 @a-marlene-s @apex-primus @bugaboosandbees @captainrose35 @miracul0us-multishipper @miraculouscontent @miraculous-of-salt @lenoreofraven @gale-of-the-nomads @galahadwilder @nobodyfamousposts @symwinter @skaylanphear @imthepunchlord @autumnlover13moni8 @nerdasaurus1200 @gryffindorcls]

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

Friday morning, best day ever and Lila felt excited that day, like nothing was going wrong in life, her perfect life. But the feeling turned into anger and disgust when Lila saw her enemy. Talking! With! Her! ADRIEN!

'this can't be happening, that naive girl had to stop going near my adrien! Something needed to be done'

Thats when an idea struck her, a plan to make every girl out there stood away from her adrien! No one but her can have him, Adrien will only be hers and they will be together forever. Gabriel better thank her after this cause this plan was the best plan she ever had

The brunette left from the school ground immediately, giving away fake smiles to those who saw her. She walked towards the Agreste Mansion instead of going to school, her mother will be very dissapointed but the old woman won't know anyway

A few days ago, Lila had seal a deal with Gabriel. She will 'protect' Adrien but in return, he must help her whenever she was in need for help. Now that won't be so hard to do, as long Marinette gave up on the boy, then Lila will be able to 'protect' him from the Bluenette. And about her lies, it's been 2 months and her lies were still not exposed, not that it's a bad thing

'So you think you can stop me, Marinette? No one, i repeat, no one can stop me' Lila thought as the gate opened for her

She entered the Agreste Mansion with ease knowing she was already given permission to enter whenever she wanted to. She gave the assistant a fake smile and gracefully walked towards the younger Agreste's room. The girl had been into his room a few times for 'tutor' but the smell of cheese just gets worse and worse. A bad habit she'll had to fix after he decided to date her

The brunette searched through his trash can, ignoring tons of crumpled papers with poems and drawings of Ladybug. After what felt like a hour or so, she finally found what she need. Tried to hold all the excitement as she placed it inside her handbag, nothing will be able to stop her from being with her Adrien

Lila cleared the evidence of her doing and brush off the dust off her clothes as she stood up. She went out of his room and left the mansion after saying goodbye to Nathalie

[the next Monday]

When Lila entered the classroom a lot of confidence and smirk on her face, Marinette suddenly knew that the liar did something but she won't be able to confront her inside the class. Not when the liar was surrounded by Marinette's friends, with the exception of Chloé who decided going to the spa was the 'best idea' at the time.

"Everyone, I have an announcement to make...." Lila said as she tried to not explode in happiness then and there

The other students chatter in wonder and confusion, buzzing with excitement for the announcement because Lila always did an amazing deed no matter where she went. Questions about 'what the announcement was about' were asked by everyone.

"Well..." the brunette started, "I am pregnant...." she acted scared and sad which somehow works as usual. (Bet you didn't expect that)

Anger filled the room, with a pinch of confusion

"Wha- when- Lila, who is the father?" Alya asked the girl, oh boy does she want to beat out of the boy?

Yes, she does

The brunette didn't answer which everyone thought she was forced not to tell who the father was, but then she opened her mouth, "Adrien's the father..."

"WHA- COUGH nInO hElP!" The boy in question choked on his water, his face screaming 'IM GONNA DIE' as Neene- i mean Nino tried to help his friend

When the words came out of her mouth, slowly one by one everyone went silent. Their expressions turned into anger and disgust. Lila thought it was towards Adrien but when the yelling started, she knew something went wrong in her plan. They were supposed to yell at him! Not her! (S u f f e r)

"Marinette, i want to apologize but someone needed to get their present first"

Alya walked closer towards the said 'pregnant' girl, "congrats Lila, here is a present from me!"

A loud slap echoed the classroom as everyone gasp in shock, Lila felt pain on her right cheek. Thats when she realized Alya slapped her, hard (and she can hear Alix and Kim in the background screaming 'ohhs')

'how dare she!? Who does she think she is!?'

"Uhm excuse me!?", oh god here comes daddy's girl "why would someone who is cute and smart like Adrikins! would want to be with a filthy liar like you!" Another loud slap echoed the classroom (y e s)

"WHY YOU!' Lila exclaimed in anger (makes her looks like a witch)

Soon, everyone started shouting and the teachers had to come in to hold back some of the students so they won't hurt the brunette. The principal heard about Lila's claim from Alya and decided to contact Lila's mom and Gabriel, they need to figure out what exactly was going on (first time taking action? I thought they'll just expell mote students- )

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

Class was dismissed that day so the teachers were able to talk with the parents about what happened earlier, Adrien was told to stay at school by his father considering Gabriel's social issues with the others, he needed his son (pfft- says the guy who can't even eat dinner with his son)

Principal Damocles explained everything to both of the parents, including Adrien, Gabriel threatened to make a restraining order against Lila because the she's using the Agreste's reputation and name for her own need. Lila's mom on the other hand, was trying her best not to scream then and there

Benigna Rossi thought she raised Lila into a good kid, her daughter was always kind, forgiving and honest. If you told Benigna that her daughter was manipulative, evil and a liar, well she won't ever believe you

But just imagine this! You just finished your work and was ready for some good nap HOWEVER your phone rang and the principal was there to tell you 'go to school now, i don't care if you're busy'. Then after you arrived, Gabriel freaking Agreste was ready to make a restraining order against your child, how terrific!

And oh it's not just that, you also received the news that the child you raised for years was lying to you and everyone the whole time. Wasn't it amazing? Yep it was. Then to receive another news that your daughter was pregnant and the father of the baby was innocent and didn't even knew stuff about the bird and the bees

F L I P P I N A M A Z I N G

Well her day was awesome, just earlier in the morning she said 'this is a beautiful day! Nothing can go wrong' well she jinx herself. Mentally smacking herself for letting this happen and also not raising her daughter better. But the woman knew better, she knew it's not her fault, she knew what to do, but will she be brave enough to do it?

And not even a month later, everyone in Paris discovered the pregnancy of Lila Rossi. Celebrities were interviewed and most of the topic was about Lila Rossi, about her lies and how some of might had an affect on their carreer. Most of them claim to not know her, but other celebrities who was familiar with Marinette exposed the liar, LIVE ON TV IN FRONT OF HUNDREDS AND HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE

Yeah her reputation was gone, poof away into the wind in less than a month. All thanks to Lila Rossi herself for putting herself into this mess and didn't even think about other possibilities that could happen

Should i mention about the Ladyblog and how Alya managed to improve her blog? Yeah i probably should. Anyway, the ladyblogger herself took down every interview she had done with Lila. She also uploaded a video to explain why she took it down and to apologize for not fact-checking

From there, her blog had other contents other than a video of an akuma fight scene, Alya also uploaded a bunch of meditating techniques that will help anyone calm down. Not only that, she searched more about the miraculouses, her sources were from Ladybug herself so she didn't have to worry. More and more citizens knew how to stay calm and what to do when they got caught in an akuma attack (instead of recording everything when a freaking giant akuma was next to you)

All thanks to Lila Rossi, the Ladyblog had improve a lot. And the ladyblogger herself was invited to almost every news station, because she had proven herself to be a trusted reporter

And Marinette? She was happy, back to her usual cheerful self. Her teachers and friends apologized to her, she forgive them and yeah everything was back to the days where Lila wasn't in Dupont. Well, theres some good changes too, they now respect her feelings and was more understanding

All thanks to Lila Rossi, Marinette can now express her emotions and people around her didn't pressure her into doing stuff she didn't like

Well, you might be wondering, what happened to Lila Rossi herself? Principal Damocles expelled her from Dupont after hearing the claims from Marinette that Lila had threatened her twice. Both Lila and her mother flew back to Italy, Benigna Rossi decided to let Lila live with her strict grandparents

It was also discovered who the father of the baby was, turns out it was actually the Agreste's baby. Just not the younger one, the older one, Gabriel himself checked the cameras around the mansion and yep it was true! Lila was pregnant with Gabriel's kid

Her reputation was ruined as it was her who did it on purpose. The information was published by Alya, permission granted by Gabriel of course. The news were shared around the world, every news station was talking about Lila Rossi as the girl herself was suffering from being humiliated

What about the baby? Hmm who knows what will happen to it, at least we knew that Lila was not allowed to abort it because she cause the pregnancy to happen, and because she was a minor (i ain't letting the baby suffer- )

And there you have it people! Everyone had their happy ending, Lila Rossi? Not so much! But at least she wasn't in jail because working with a villain was a serious crime! Trust me, jail food ain't good (also no i haven't been to jail.....yet)

Hold up! Was that.....laughter? In the distance? Oh well why not show you guys who was behind all of this. Turns out, Tikki, Plagg and the other kwamis had planned this. Yeah thats right they were behind all of this! (P l o t t w i s t)

.....what? You think the tiny god of creation won't be upset if her chosen was being treated horribly? Well you're wrong terribly sweetheart. The kwami had planned this the whole time, after all she's the goddess of creation and literally anything that was created came from her. For example, the big bang! But we're not gonna talk about that-

Oh, so Adrien had accidentally left Plagg in his room the same day Lila barged into his room, what a coincidence! The tiny black cat of course had to tell his other half about Lila's plan, and so from there the Ladybug kwami gave tons of her luck to Marinette

Lila's plan might succeed if Adrien was a pervert or a player, it's a good thing he was a good sunshine kid! Who might lost his innocence after Lila's claim of being pregnant with his kid. Poor boy had been dying to know 'where babies came from' but lets not jump to another topic!

And thats all peeps! Everyone had their happy ending except for Lila Rossi. But she deserved it and every pinch of salt the kwamis threw at her (any Lila Rossi fan out there i am soo sorry)

All thanks to Lila Rossi! and the kwamis of course

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ F i n ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Welp i don't know if this is a crack fic or if this fic even makes sense but i write whatever pops in my head, and don't mind me writing stuff about my own story lmao,oh and look at the time! It's hidey time- ]

[Also terribly sorry if i wasted your time hehe..]

#ml fic #miraculous fic #miraculousficfail #miraculous ladybug #ml lila #marinette dupain cheng #cursed au #ish #i don't know what to say #uhh bye

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zrbillings · 5 years

Text

Pokemon Sword & Shield - Review

So it’s been a long time since I’ve reviewed anything (years in fact) and since video reviews take such an exorbitant amount of time and COPPA has made Youtube this very scary place right now; I figured why not do what I know and write a review.

So with that out of the way, let's talk about Pokemon Sword & Shield. These games appear to be super devicieve you’re either in #gamefreaklied #bringbackthenationaldex camp or you’re a ‘defender’. I find that I have a bit of a unique perspective on the game so I wanted to share my thoughts. I’ve just completed Pokemon Sword, and just so you out there in internet land know my qualifications because to Pokemon fans that seems they only real way to justify having a different opinion.

I was born in ‘91

Pokemon Blue was my literal first GB game.

If point 2 wasn’t enough I collected everything Pokemon and grew up watching the show, often playing the games while I did.

I’ve completed the National Dex

I’ve completed the Kanto Dex like 3x over.

And I’ve played various other spin-off games i.e. Colosseum, Stadium, Gale of Darkness, Trozie? Trozae?

And if you couldn’t put it together I’ve played through nearly every mainline game the only exceptions being. Alpha Sapphire, Diamond, Fire Red, Let’s Go Pikachu, Sun, Ultra Moon. Basically at some point if I owned one version that’s all I needed.

Okay! So with all that out of the way, let’s talk about these games. Plain and simple if you just want to know if it is actually bad, no it’s not, it’s good, one could argue great, I wouldn’t, but you could. If you like Pokemon, get over the National Dex and “It ShOuLD LoOk BEtTeR” and play it, it’s fun it’s Pokemon with some new gimmicks. 3 out of 5 I guess if you want to be critical. Okay so for the rest of you, the ones who are more critical and want to know what SUCKS, and what ROCKS. Keep in mind going forward I’m not addressing the whole stupid delemma of cut Pokemon or graphics, at least not in depth, you want to talk that crap just @ me I’ve got the time. So graphically it is undoubtedly the best looking in the series you literally cannot argue that, should it look better? Well, I don’t know, I think to expect it to makes you look stupid no matter what reasoning you want to bring to the table. Pokemon has literally NEVER shown interest in pushing graphics, they’ve almost never made massive leaps forward, the amount of times they have can be counted on one had, so to have expected more that’s on you, not them. I find them to be gorgeous, yeah there’s things here and there that could be better, but if you go looking for a problem in anything you’ll find it, you could find ugly stuff in Skyrim too, or even Final Fantasy 15. Characters are definitely more expressive than they’ve ever been, the towns are stunning and I feel unlike some of the more recent games definitely come off as more memorable even if you can’t name them, you can instantly picture them. Animations, while I totally agree should be better, shouldn’t have been expected to be more than they are, again this is Gamefreak they literally improve at a snail’s pace justified or not. That being said, while Pokemon aren’t particularly animated in battle, the game overall is the most animated in the series, and here’s why. Again characters are far more expressive, and are constantly moving even in battles when a Pokemon attacks the trainer makes an action, you have overworld Pokemon, you have each and every Pokemon able to do a handful of different animations in Pokemon Camp. You have the world itself that is filled with movement i.e. NPCs, scenery here and there, a good example being the town Ballonlea the Fairy-Type gym location in case the name doesn’t sound familiar. So yes while the animations aren’t particularly impressive, I would say they’re still the best in the series AS A WHOLE (can’t believe I need to specify that). The big draw of this game is the open are called The Wild, this is sort of what people who hate these games wanted an entire game to be like, but better. And I think while they could be bigger, they feel the right size in correlation to the size of the rest of the map, there’s plenty to explore and it is genuinely fun to roam around in especially online. That being said, the game definitely (at least for me) chugs a bit while online, but I wouldn’t say it ruined the experience at all for me. It was so cool to see other players setting up camps and running around, I will say however that while these things are cool, they could have been developed further. You can’t interact with these players if you engage with one they just give you a stock response and then hand you some sort of cooking item, which okay getting cooking items this way fantastic! But why not let trainers customize their greetings? A little especially while in camps? There’s just more they could have done here, I can understand not wanting to create a system where interacting with someone dead stops them in place in order to trade or whatever, that could get really annoying. But I find, there’s not enough here that really push this feeling of a shared space, like why not have brought back Secret Bases again? And had your friend’s bases show up that way if you did want to hang out and chat (through the terrible Nintendo App, or whatever superior option) you could! Like can you imagine? Instead of just having to camp outside and hang out with friends having like your own space to hang out, battle, trade. You could have made this space like an area where if you interact with a trainer a menu for those sort of things could be triggered. The Wilds overall are fun and they’re cool to explore for new Pokemon, I just feel they could have been experimented a little more with. I won’t prattle on any further, but just saying I’d love to see Gamefreak take this and push it harder next game. As an ending note I do fine the placement of The Wilds fine, at first it looks odd, but once you start playing given it’s function it makes sense, I think if the whole game were The Wilds like some people desperately want, you’d run into a lot more problems, with things like trainer placement, and how to limit progression, not saying it can’t be done, just that we’re a ways off from anything like that happening yet. I will say this though (sorry last thing I swear) I DO NOT like how the progression system of The Wilds works, the moment you enter it you can explore 90% of it, which fine, EXCEPT! The problem becomes that while you can explore nearly every nook and cranny of it you can only catch Pokemon in designated areas because if a Pokemon is over a certain level and you don’t have enough badges you just straight up can’t catch it. Which okay I can understand, but then I SHOULDN’T EVEN BE ALLOWED THERE! For example (and why I’m bringing this up) there is an area where you must cross a bridge to get into the next section of the lands, cool I think this is great it visually queues us, “hey this is a different section so logically the Pokemon will be stronger here.” The problem! Is while we in theory can piece this together literally nothing stops us from crossing, the reason this bothers me is because on the literal otherside of the bridge is I SHIT YOU NOT a MF Snorlax! Just chillin, doesn’t wander just stands there, while okay this is a great reference to other games. WHY WOULD YOU NOT! Just put him sleeping on the bridge like in every other game in this scenario, it bars the pass and players don’t waste their time exploring an area before they can get the most out of it. Plus! This game rewards you special Acorn Balls at each Gym, if you don’t know what these are they were in Gold and Silver they’re special Pokeballs that in this game are one of a kind that have awesome effects, the one I want to reference specifically here is the Heavy Ball which works better the heavier a Pokemon is i.e. “this ball was invented for catching Snorlax.” So it baffles me how Gamefreak didn’t do something like the last Gym before you’re able to wake up Snorlax and pass the bridge allows you to get a Heavy Ball thusly not only letting you finally progress into this new area, but also gives you an item as a sort of reward. Wow, sorry moving on. I find where this game really misses the mark is the story and the characters, outside Hop (who is insufferable early on) are really bland and sort of lackluster. I feel like this is a bigger thing to be upset about than animations and Pokemon count. Hop is one of the only rivals to truly go through a character arch which is amazing! He goes from this arrogant, insufferable, condescending, ass, to someone who just wants to be the best, but doesn’t act like he already is, he knows where he’s at and strives to be more. This huge development really, really shows how poor the rest of the cast is, the professor this time is boring, not even a professor really at least not like were used to. The champion is fine, but lacks any real charisma like the game wants you to believe he has. The other rival Bede is...under utilized? Like he comes around and it’s like, “finally! Gary Oak 2.0!” and he just sort of disappears about half way through the game and then pops up at the end. I’m not going to go through the whole cast, but everyone is more or less this same sort of doesn’t bring much to the table. As dumb as Team Yell are I actually like that they’re not the evil baddies of the game, they’re not even Team Skull level, they’re just kind of a bit of inconsiderate fanboys, they work well as a level progression block? System? Their use for impeding your progress until you’ve done the right thing works well is what I’m saying. The big thing with this game is it really lacks an evil team, it’s like The Aether Foundation all over again, except infinitely worse, while The Aether Foundation sort of slowly unravels at some point, the ‘evil team’ or in this case just two baddies, kind of feels like it comes completely out of left field and only happens because Gamefreak wanted a cool way to introduce the legendaries. It just felt super random and unsatisfying and that the motivations really didn’t make sense and happens right in the middle of the Pokemon League so it kills all momentum, and any tension the league did have. Which is another thing the league is shit, it’s bad, the idea is really good, it’s inspired by the show it feels like a proper tournament, but since you can heal and swap out Pokemon between each match there is 0 tension, and since the story just decides to interrupt it, it just doesn’t feel satisfying. Beating the champion doesn’t feel like an accomplishment because you’ve already beaten the big baddie just before him, and all the other trainers before him in two different sessions, it doesn’t feel like you went through this gauntlet of really tough trainers to reach him and prove yourself, it feels like no matter what you were always going to beat him, the game did literally everything it could to make sure you beat him! I felt fucking bad beating him, because it was so easy, I literally gave him a handicap, I used 0 healing items and beat him with two Pokemon to spare and that was also because I gave him another handicap where I didn’t switch out once I threw out a Pokemon! Gyms are back, but they kind of feel like they belong in Sun and Moon because you have to do ‘missions’ before each one before you face the leader which is fine, but I personally could have done without them, for the most part they're just glorified obstacle courses. I guess they feel like the same old stuff, but I think it’s the nature in which they’re handled that actually bother me and less of having to do them myself. I think in a way given how this Pokemon League is set up it would have made more sense to just completely do away with them, maybe put something else there in its place. The gym leaders are all really colorful and actually really well designed, they all have their own very defined personalities which is cool, It would have been cool to have actually seen more of them somehow. The last thing I’ll talk about as this review is already overly long is Dynamaxing. It’s fine, I will say that if it were up to me I would have changed how it’s handled, I think the raid battles are great, they’re really fun they make grinding for levels a fucking joke and I love it, it helps you find really cool Pokemon and strong Pokemon for your team it makes Online feel like there are actually other trainers out there in the world taking on this gym challenge besides just you, it’s cool, but I feel outside of the raids there really pointless. Each Gym Leader uses it always with their last Pokemon, and it never feels like it matters so long as you Dynamax yours at the same time and have type advantage it’ll feel like KO-ing any other old Pokemon except it’s big af.If it were me I would have changed it to Mega Evolutions, because they actually feel like they matter and then they could have introduced new megas and I’ll do you one even better! What about when after you beat the Gym leader they gave you the same kind of mega stone that they used! Maybe in place of TMs, or in conjunction with them rather than them giving you Gym uniforms you’re never going to wear. That’s more short and sweet two cents on the Dynamax system, it’s great for raids pointless for everything else. Kind of like the clothing in this game, and that’s all I’ll say about the clothing that and I think the uniform thing was dumb and should have only been used for the Pokemon League rather than every single Gym battle. And that’s it! That’s my very thorough review of Pokemon Sword & Shield. Like I said at the beginning, these games are fun no doubt, but they definitely aren’t even in the top 5. I think there’s a lot of wasted potential or cooler directions they could have taken these. There are definitely cool things like the different gyms for the two versions, The Wilds are fun to hang out in and run around, the new Pokemon are actually really cool, I love that they added more regional variants and not just for Kanto Pokemon, the towns are very visually memorable. But outside that, I’m kind of hard-pressed to think of much else, I can’t speak on the post-game either, but it doesn’t seem like there’s any if at all. This game simultaneously feels like the largest Pokemon game to date as well as one of the smallest.

#pokemon #bring back the national dex #gamefreaklied #pokemon sword and shield #review

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