#I've never met a pirate and have not done much research | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 8 months

Note

can you make a nikolai lantsov x reader?? i've been thinking about one where reader was one of sturmhond's crew as a tidemaker and they were together for a long time, but when nikolai became king, the two separated because royalty had done too much harm to r family and she didn't want to become one of them (besides her being Grisha). maybe after RoW they finally talk and get back together??

yesss pirate!reader x nikolai my beloved

masterlist

If Nikolai Lantsov were to regret anything in his life, anything at all, it would be how he handled her. It’s not that he regrets her, he wants to make that clear. He couldn’t if he tried, and Nikolai has tried many times to get over her, to find some flaw out of an improbability of perfection so he might not feel as achingly heartbroken as he always does.

But when Nikolai lies awake at night, unable to sleep despite a gilded bedroom and dozens of lush pillows and luxurious blankets, the worries troubling his mind are not of a country to run, nor the endless cycles of politics constantly reinventing new problems to crush his world beneath his boot. No, he thinks of one woman. He thinks of you.

Before Nikolai was the latest Lantsov king, before he was a homeward bound prince, he was a boy, and a boy who wanted to run. A much younger Nikolai in body and spirit had signed onto a pirate ship the second his guards turned their backs. It was a terrible decision for a golden prince to make, but the best choice for the bastard who never wanted to see another silver spoon again unless he was stealing it.

When Nikolai was a young man, he determined that he would be the captain of a ship, and a captain always needs a crew he can depend on to carry him through thick and thin. Nikolai sailed to countless foreign shores, finding friends and enemies in oceans sapphire and stormy, cerulean and calm. He wore dashing waistcoats and ruined them with the blood of slashed throats. He blockaded and benefitted small towns with equal joy.

And, most importantly of all, Nikolai found his first mate. It is a difficult thing, of course, choosing someone who could be your successor. If he picked someone a little too captivating, he ran the risk that they could depose him in a mutiny. If he gave that spot to someone the crew hated, though, his leadership would be undermined all the same.

He was just starting to think it would be impossible to find the right sort of figure, and then this young woman he’d never met before had simply walked up and asked for it. Technically, it wasn’t such an easy meeting as that. She had actually stolen one of the rowboats off of his ship while it was tied to their ship in the harbor with her abilities as a Tidemaker, then used the water to ferry her over to him.

From anyone else, Sturmhond would consider that a punishable offense. However, the privateer in him was also a politician, and one used to fronts and facades at that. Nikolai looked at the woman in front of him and realized that she wasn’t looking to use him as an avenue for a coup to captainship. She’d done her research and figured out that he was the best captain to serve under, and was simply ensuring that she made a good impression.

There is nothing Nikolai can appreciate like a fine display of showmanship, so he’d accepted her acceptance of his non-offer and told her to move her belongings into the first mate’s cabin that night. The crew woke up to a new member, and they took to her as readily as Nikolai himself.

After that, it was easy. Nikolai skimmed over frothy waves and he had someone by his side, a proper companion. He has liked his crew heartily all this time, but Y/N– he likes Y/N even more. Saints, he loves her. It takes him a while to realize that, but he does. Once that knowledge is common to him, the fact that he could have felt anything else is nothing short of absurd.

He’d given her his name a long time ago. Part of it, at least. They’d been on night guard together one shadowy twilight and she’d begged him for some sort of name she could use. Sturmhond, although great for inspiring fear and leadership as he saw fit, wasn’t personal enough for a friend, and Captain was too formal. Nikolai had witnessed many years of his father forcing everyone to refer to him as the king and nothing more. Never will he force a title on anyone.

So he’d said Nik, she could call him Nik, and that was more than good enough. It feels like cheating, a little, to have her bypass his real name and go straight to the familiar nickname. If anyone could do it, though, it would be her. Captains aren’t supposed to have favorites among their crew, but this is Y/N, and he loves her, so she calls him Nik, and he– he lets it happen.

All this truth, this love, and he never told her who he was. Not by choice. How could he? Y/N hated the monarchy, and so did he. The elder Lantsovs did not treat Grisha kindly, only tolerating them in the confines of the Little Palace. There was nothing Nikolai could do to protect them, to protect her, half as well in Os Alta as he could as Sturmhond, so he kept it a secret.

You could call that selfishness. You would be correct in doing so. Nikolai did not tell Y/N he was a prince because he was terrified of how she would push him away. In the end, there was nothing he could do to avoid that. The Darkling called on his help in capturing Alina Starkov, and Nikolai revealed that last ace in his sleeve the night before he was to dock in Ravka and personally escort the Sun Saint and her friends back to Os Alta.

He will never forget how Y/N had looked at him when she finally learned what he was, not as long as he shall live. He had asked her to come to his office, to lock the door so no one could hear. Y/N has been host to a great many of his secrets, good and bad and terrible, so she thought she could handle just one more.

She was wrong. Nikolai stood before her, and said, “I am the son of the king.”

She’d laughed, actually, but that had dried up when she realized he wasn’t joking. “No. You can’t be serious. All this time we’ve been out here, and you haven’t told me? You would have told me.”

Her eyes were desperate, pleading. Y/N L/N is one of the finest pirates Nikolai ever had the pleasure of meeting. He’s seen her go into no-luck gunfights with a grin on her face, and now she looks like all of her luck has finally run out. How awful, that he would be the one to finally crush her spirit underfoot.

“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” he tries to explain.

Y/N shakes her head. “No. I don’t like it when Tolya borrows my knives to slice fruit. I don’t like it when we stay in small towns too long. Nik, it’s not that I don’t like it that you’re a royal. It’s that you’ve betrayed me. You know how the Lantsov kings have treated Grisha, how they’ve treated anyone who isn’t an elite.”

It occurs to Nikolai that this might be how he loses her, in truth. “Y/N, please. We can change everything. Why do you think I came out here in the first place? I want to help Ravka. I want to help my people. Just come with me. We can do it together.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “No. I don’t want to be one of them.”

Not like he is, at least. Nikolai is endlessly, ineffably them, but she doesn’t have to be. She’s safe from them. From him. “Y/N. I love you, and I want you with me. Please, come to Os Alta with me.”

She turns to him abruptly, eyes violent. “No. That’s final, Nik.”

Ah. So it ends. And so Nikolai had gone to bed alone, heart a bitter mess of hurt, and he had disembarked from his ship with Alina and Mal and the rest. He had taken them to Os Alta, he had reclaimed his position on the throne, and all the while, he knew that he would never want anything in the world half as strongly as he just wanted her.

It’s funny, isn’t it? Nikolai is a king now, and despite all his reach and power, the one thing he desires most will never be in his grasp again. She will always be the sea’s, and, as of late, that means she will never be Nikolai’s. Nikolai is chained to the crown; he will never leave it, he can never leave it. Y/N will be out there on the storm-tossed waves forever, as wild as the night he met her, and that will cause him grief until the day that he dies.

Nikolai grows up and it gets no better. He watches friends lose themselves to war and misery. He wears the crown upon his head, and then, surrounded by the clamoring voices of those who wanted him gone, he relinquishes it. Nikolai had tried to do his best while he was in office, but, walking back from the meeting with a strangely light feeling upon his head and shoulders where a great burden no longer rests, he wonders if it had ever been enough.

No one can ever be enough for Ravka. This he has known since he was a child. He had tried, though. The trying should at least get him somewhere. Nikolai passes blind laps around the Great Palace, attempting to remember every garden and room before he leaves it. He’ll have to pack his bags at some point, move out and find somewhere else to call a home after so many years in this one place.

Zoya has already offered for him to stay here, albeit in a different room. He’s a valuable advisor thanks to all his years on the throne, and he’s still as good a diplomat as ever. Nikolai will probably take her up on it; he wants to help Ravka, and this seems like the best way to do it.

About a week later, Zoya knocks on the door of his new rooms before letting herself inside when he invites her in. She’s taking to her new royal title very well, even if this seems to include her stealing his tea far more times than is strictly proper.

This time, though, she isn’t here to stop and talk. Instead, Zoya hovers hesitantly at his door, and says, “There’s someone here to see you.”

Nikolai arches a brow. “I didn’t realize relinquishing my crown meant I got to have the Dragon Queen herself here to announce my visitors. Will you do this every time?”

Zoya laughs sarcastically, but her voice is still stilted when she adds on, “Just this time. She says she knows you. She was on your crew. First mate.”

Nikolai swears his heart stops in his chest. This is– no, it couldn’t be. He told Zoya about Y/N a long time ago. She’d asked why he hadn’t been more invested in finding a suitor and he’d admitted that he was pushing it off for as long as possible, knowing he couldn’t love unless it was her.

He nods a little frantically. “Alright. Where is she?”

“Here,” says a voice behind Zoya, and then the queen of Ravka is disappearing back down the hall and Nikolai is alone in a room with someone else and– and it’s Y/N, Y/N after so long, and he doesn’t really know how to think straight, let alone say anything at all.

She pauses over the threshold before finally going inside and shutting the door behind you. “I suppose I should be glad you’re speechless. Shows you still care, at least.”

“Of course I do,” Nikolai chokes out. “But– you do too? You’re here.”

She inclines her head, taking a seat on the chair opposite him. “I came as soon as I heard that you would no longer be king. I thought it would be hard. To lose this one last thing from your family.”

Nikolai frowns. “You hate my family.”

“I don’t hate you,” she says simply, “and even if they treated you harshly, they were still your blood. That means more than any of us want to admit, I think.”

Nikolai sighs. “You’ve always been the wise one, Y/N.”

She smiles at that. “Isn’t that why you hired me, Nik?”

The nickname again. His heart contracts painfully in his chest. “I should have told you,” he blurts out. “I should have told you everything.”

“I knew a lot,” she replies, “Enough to love you. I’m glad for every moment. There would have been fewer if you had told me sooner.”

Nikolai grimaces at the truth in that. “So you’re alright with me being a Lantsov now?”

She furrows her brow. “I heard some whispers that you aren’t entirely a Lantsov at all.”

He can’t really argue with that. “Who am I, then?”

“You’re Nik,” she tells him, “My Nik. My captain. And yes, my king, even if you’ve given over the throne. I always kept track of what you were doing during your reign. I was always proud of you.”

A bright burst of pride flares in his chest. “What do you advise I do now, if my reign is over?”

She stands, extends a hand to him. “We could always go back to a good time. The sea only gets bigger.”

Nikolai looks up at her, and he thinks– this is what he’s missed. Nikolai makes a fine king, but he has always missed adventure. He’ll have that now. And, when they both get old and tired, they can come back here, and continue making policies now that they’ve lived the lives of both the rich and the outlaw. It sounds wonderful to Nikolai.

He takes her hand. “Shall we go, then?”

She smiles. Radiant. He loves her just as much as he did at the start. “I think we shall.”

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @budugu, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov oneshot #grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagines #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone oneshot #grishaverse nikolai #grishaverse nikolai imagines #grishaverse nikolai oneshot

267 notes · View notes

teenandbeyond · 2 years

Note

Hello! Sorry to bother but I saw you were taking requests and was wondering if this one was okay, if not I totally understand! .^◡^.)

It's based off your prompt list: "Get lost.", with Kid from One Piece

So the reader(f.) has befriended Kid and some members of his crew though after a while (the ones that aren't to fond of her) start putting ideas into their captain that she has been distracting him to much and they've been wasting time on her rather than searching for the One Piece. With his temper Kid gets upset that they're telling him how to use his time, but some part of him agrees and is afraid that those small feelings for her are blooming into something more. Something unknown.

So before it ruins him, he breaks off their friendship.

I've never asked for a request so I apologize if I forgot to mention anything, thank you peach! ♡

- ₍ᐢ•ﻌ•ᐢ₎

Eustass Kid x Fem. Reader

Sorry in advance, I'm not far enough in One Piece to have seen his character before, but I did some research on him, so hopefully, I do his character okay! It's been a while since I've done a One Piece request...wow.

Want more from me? Bam! -> Masterlist

Part 2: Here

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

🧲Distraction🧲(One Piece)

Warning(s): Angst, fluff

When you stay around a little longer than some of the crew would like, they start putting ideas into Kid's head, but maybe they're right, maybe you are a distraction that he doesn't need around...

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

If someone were to ask Kid what drew him to you...

He wouldn't have an answer.

He doesn't know if it was your features or your fierceness.

He remembers the day he met you well, the crew needed to make a stop on an island, but not too long after Kid was provoked and it didn't go well for the villagers.

A quick stop turned into a raid, the crew taking what they wanted.

This is how he came across you, wounded deeply--not from his crew, only he'd reached this far into the village yet.

But despite this, you managed to defeat a man who'd been chasing you, the expression on your face was so fierce, despite you seeming so small to him.

There was silence after the man fell before you turned to Kid just for your lids to flutter and your body collapses.

Maybe it was both...

When your eyelids relented from their heavy state, they opened, immediately meeting amber-colored eyes.

You startled from the distance or lack, thereof--Kid just seemed amused by how you looked ready to pounce and fight him despite the obvious vast difference in strength.

Fiery little thing aren't ya'?

"Where am I?"

"You're on my ship."

You glanced around the room you were in, sighing in defeat to find it bare of anything to use for defense.

You traded the wall for his eyes again, "You a captain?"

Kid observed you for a moment, with his Observation Haki he could feel you had great power (you'd also been healing much more quickly than a normal human), yet you hadn't used it, why?

"Yeah. Of the Kid Pirates."

Your brows furrowed, "Kid Pirates...are you famous or something?"

He belly laughed for a moment but feeling your genuine confusion also made him confused.

"You don't know who the Kid Pirates are?"

You snorted, sparing him a grin, "I don't even know who I am. So I don't think I'd remember any pirate crew."

Well, this was an interesting development, shame he's gonna drop you off at the next island they get to.

He didn't.

He quickly found you interesting, your fiery personality, your relaxed yet exuberant nature.

You honestly got along with his crew a lot quicker than you got along with him, he seemed kind of mean.

Then you took notice of how much his crew respected him, how much care there was for everyone.

You approached him yourself and apologized for your assumptions, wanting to get a better understanding of the man who gave you something that was stable about your life.

It took a little time, neither of you was the most open of people.

One night you couldn't sleep and heard music, which you followed to the red-haired Captain leaning on the railing of the deck.

You silently sat down beside his legs, back against the railing, and closed as the music carried through your ears.

You faintly hummed to the song until you dozed off--confused to wake up in your bed the next day.

He soon found his thoughts switching to you, then his eyes would trail over to you next.

He'd notice you bring more excitement to the crew, you'd make a crowd occasionally if a memory sparked and you'd tell them of your life, everyone became quite protective of you.

But you also had depth, when a crew member had troubles you'd always be there to listen, you'd give advice if needed, distract them from their minds with a friendly little spar.

And some parts of you only Kid had seen, when you cry about not knowing who you are, or knowing much about yourself other than the few brief memories that had surfaced.

When you feel lost and vulnerable; hide it all with a grin.

You'd gained a friendship, talking at late nights about anything and everything, starting small and eventually getting vulnerable.

When he made you burst out laughing for the first time, you looked so full of joy, that moment he felt his stomach flutter.

Since you'd been around long enough he decided to get you an outfit that suited someone on his boat.

You pulling off leather took his breath away, you looked perfect.

He started to want to spend more time with you, inviting you to his room to converse sometime.

One time you came a little earlier and came face to face with a bare chest fresh from a shower it seemed.

Kid's ego was totally boosted for some strange reason when he felt you get flustered.

"I-I can come back..."

"You're already here, that'd be a waste of energy," he opened the door a little more, leaving you to come in as he moved to finish getting dressed.

You'd never paid attention to all the scars he'd possessed, only a few, how he earned his scars was one thing you hadn't gotten around to talking about, you didn't want to seem so invasive to a stranger.

Before you could stop yourself a curious hand reached out, splaying across his stomach.

Naturally, he stiffened at the contact.

"How'd you get so many of these anyway?"

All he could focus on was the warmth of your smaller hand.

Why were you making him feel so strange? Why was his heart beating faster? Why was his throat drying up?

He nervously looked off to the side, "I--Ahem...It's a long story."

"I've heard plenty of your long stories, I think I've mastered listening to them now."

"Can you get your hand off me first?"

You took a second to process his words before jumping away with a yelp. You rambled an apology, not noticing your hand hadn't moved that whole time.

What in the world were you doing to him, you broke down that strong will he had.

His mind trailed from that memory and back to the conversation in front of him.

"Captain...I don't know how to say this..."

"Then don't say it."

The female crew member next to the other, finished, "That girl has been distracting you."

He scowled, "Excuse me?"

She crossed her arms, "We all see it. You spend almost all your time with her, we're not going to get any closer to the One Piece at this pace."

"You're telling me how I should use my time?"

He leaned forward, towering over them.

A squeak, from the male crew member, "I'm sorry, I just thought I'd point it out!"

The female crew member glared at you from a distance before looking back at the Captain, "I respect you, Captain, but she's only going to get in the way of your dream. She's not special enough for that, don't you think? We're following you because we admire you and your dream, not her."

"Look, you idiot, I'm the Captain. Thanks for the concern, but I can handle things just fine on my own."

But as he sharply turned away, walking off with a snap of his fur coat...

Some part of him agreed you're distracting him...this feeling inside of him...it's surpassing a crush...and he doesn't want to know what it could possibly be.

You've actually managed to make him feel afraid-- weak, and he can't be either of those things.

And this fear of the unknown causes him to say things he didn't mean.

He strode by you, not sparing a glance, "Pack up, you're getting dropped off at the next island tomorrow."

"What?"

He stopped, looking over his shoulder at you, "You're a nuisance, holding all of us back."

Your eyes narrow, "So what? I'm not good enough, all of a sudden?"

"You've never been good enough, just something to entertain the crew."

You crossed your arms, "So that's all I am to you, Kid? Entertainment? This doesn't make any sense, you were fine just this morning. I think I would've known if I was only here to be entertaining. Aren't we friends?"

"You don't even know your own name! How would you know anything?--Friends? What a laugh, how stupid are you? Guess you wouldn't know that either considering what you do know about yourself is limited!"

And when your angry eyes began to water, your lips trembling, shakily trying to hold the tears like they weighed a ton...

He had to clench his jaw to stop himself from apologizing. What he was doing was for the betterment of the crew and his goal...

...The goal you supported from day one and didn't laugh at.

Your chest jumped and the tears came cascading down, "You won't have to worry about dropping me off tomorrow. I'll leave tonight."

"Good, hurry up and get out of my sight."

Seriously, please do. He doesn't want to see you cry knowing he's the cause.

You take a small boat, tossing inside the small bag of the few things you owned.

You glare at him, angrily taking off the leather jacket he gave you which you wrapped around the rest of your pirate outfit, and shove it into his stomach. Plopping onto the boat pulling out your dagger to cut the rope keeping the thing from the water down below.

"So what? They're not good enough for you now?" He raises a brow.

"Eustass Kid of the Kid Pirates, I hate you!" you screamed to the top of your lungs.

You tossed the dagger onto the deck right as you dropped to the water, leaving him to feel like the dagger went into his chest.

Despite the heavy feeling, his body feeling hot with hurt, he grits his teeth and forces himself to walk away...

...It was for the betterment of the crew...

...Right?

#kid one piece #one piece #one piece x you #kid x reader #anime #angst #fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece kid x reader

151 notes · View notes

avatarvyakara · 2 years

Text

Strands of Webbing

A Spiderverse Fanfic

Prompts 157-168

“Traversing the Web”

First | Previous | Next

157. Genealogy

"Richard and Mary Parker," says Peter B, writing the names at the top of a piece of paper next to his own.

Noir nods. "Same here. Never met them, though."

"Curtis Parker and Hida Haraka," says Peni.

"I think my mother's name was Susan? She left us a note next to the egg sac."

"Ranjit and Mina Prabhakar," says Pavitr.

"…Peter Parker and Marie-Jane Watson," says Mayday, pointedly.

"Reinhold and Miriam Pauker," says the Cob.

"Albert and Claire Reilly," says Mabel.

"…how did this start?" Miguel asks Miles, from the other side of the room.

The other Spider-Man shrugs. "They started talking about blood types in case anyone needs some for transfusions, and it turned into making a family tree."

Miguel blinks. "But…they're from different universes, so the blood would glitch out of existence inside their bodies anyway—"

"They'll figure it out," Gwen reassures him. "Eventually."

"Why's Pavitr there?"

"Apparently he's got some English blood on his mom's side and they think he might be related."

"And El Porquito?"

"He just turned up. He does that."

"And we wouldn't want it any other way," says Miguel fondly.

158. Tribute

Peni doesn't accept payment for her work. So whenever someone needs something, or has been given something, they leave her snacks and treats instead. Gray has a bit of a minor advantage here—the textures of smells and tastes work on overdrive in his world to counteract the sparsity of colour—and candy buttons from his universe are the most stolen item in her workshop. But she's also developed a taste for peda, which has started a minor black market trade from Pavitr and Roshni's worlds.

Miguel would happily accept payment for his work if literally any of the Spiders around here had any money.

("Put your wallet away, Porquito.")

159. Quarantine

"Dude, if your world's really shutting down because of a global plague…" Gwen begins.

Peter sighs. "Nah, it's fine, guys, it's fine. Spider-Man's still out at work, I can still write science articles, MJ's been editing papers, the villains have actually been lying low for the most part…the only thing that's a bit frustrating is that May gets cranky if she can't go out. Buuuut I think I've found a way around that."

"…Peter."

"What?"

"What?" says Miles, before the answer dawns on him. "Oh. Peter, you didn't…"

"What? She likes the fresh air. You can't get fresh air on the ground in this city." Peter lifts his ten-month-old daughter up to the camera. "Here, May, say hi to Auntie Gwen and Uncle Miles!"

"Baaah!" says May happily, on general principles.

"Aw, hi sweetie!" Gwen coos. "Look at how big you're getting! Peter B. Parker, we are not done here. How are you!"

"Gah!"

"She's gonna say my name first."

"Nuh-uh, it's gonna be me. Hey, May, it's Uncle Miles!"

"Mmmmah!"

"See?"

"You're already daddy's superhero," murmurs Peter to May, who giggles.

160. Student

"You can really teach me?"

The kid has potential, Olivia can admit that to herself. But Carolyn Trainer is a Doctor Octopus for a very different sort of world. She's much more into blending virtual reality and physical than looking for new ones. Reasonable, but not the most transferable of skills. Besides, she's already got a pretty good student back at home, even if she's still waiting for the right time to involve Mr. Morales in her…off-the-books research.

Still, she can definitely pass on a few tips.

"Well, I'll try, kid. First of all…actually, first and foremost, don't get too attached to your mentor figures. You might end up kidnapping them without their realizing it, then having a car thrown at you by their super-powered nephew whom you're now not allowed to kill yourself. That gets annoying."

"I…what?"

161. Forward

"This is Peter Pauker," says Miguel, prodding the Cob forward. "Please don't show him any pirate holos."

Peter, who looks like a half-crazed shaman with a moustache worthy of a cowboy, shiny white glasses, and a raggedy red cloak with a tight hood, is still looking around in astonishment.

"Welcome to Brooklyn, my man!" says Miles, cheerfully.

He's still in his spider-suit. So is Gwen, and Peter B., and Billy, and Ham.

Peter leans over to Miguel.

"You're sure I haven't just joined a cult of demons in Hell, right?"

"Seriously? Not to put too fine a point on it, but you're the one with the fangs."

"To be fair," says Miguel, "this is Brooklyn."

Miles looks mildly insulted. "Hey, not cool."

"What can I say, parcero, the Bronx has you beat no matter the century."

"Just please tell me Staten Island has remained the same," mutters the Cob. "We just managed to get rid of the British a few years ago. You know, the bad ones. It's still got that strength of spirit, right?"

The other Spiders look at one another.

"Dude," says Miles, putting a friendly hand on Peter's shoulder, "I am so sorry."

162. Gradation

“I’m serious,” Peter insists. “Whenever I’m around, the universe just won’t let people swear. If you think it’s a swear word, you can’t use it. It’s a curse. I’ll prove it.”

The pig goes to the fridge, and takes something out. “Miles, what delicious delicacy do I have in my hands?”

“Uh...applesauce?”

“Very good! Tall, dark, and breezy, your turn. What’s this?”

“Miles just said it was [bleep].”

The other Spiders blink.

“[Bleep]. [Bleep]. Jumping catfish, what the...[bleep]. [Bleep].”

“I rest my case,” says Peter, walking out of the room. (With his snack, of course.)

But not far enough that he doesn’t hear Noir suddenly roar, “GODDAMN APPLESAUCE!”

“Peter! Language!”

“...sorry.”

This is apparently too much for the other Spiders, who burst out laughing.

Being a cartoon is fun.

163. Similarity

Sometimes, diplomacy is required.

It's nearly midnight, it's probably somewhere in Japan in the mid-19th Century, and there's a spider-demon at the bottom of a crevice near a waterfall. Trying to hide.

Keep away!

It sounds deep and yet surprisingly feminine. It also manages to sound both alluring and deadly while at the same time conveying a terrible panic.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," calls Peni in what she hopes is the right Japanese for the time. (SP//dr's helping to translate and feeding her the words in her head, but it's not always perfect.) "I'm a friend. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Jorōgumo, down in the crevice, stares at her—and then shakes her many-eyed head in puzzlement.

You're…you're like me?

Peni smiles. "Kind of."

Jorōgumo waves her front legs around in confused despair. But…you're not like me. You're human. Nearly.

"Oh! That extra bit is probably from Takara here," she says, patting SP//dr on the leg. "We're SP//dr—that means, well, spider. We're best friends. And you're a jorōgumo, right? A golden orb spider?"

The spider-spirit nods, miserably. I didn't want to be. I still don't.

Peni sighs. "I don't think you have a choice. But it's okay, you're not alone. There's a whole bunch of us. We can help. It's going to be alright."

There's silence from the crevice.

Can you stop it from happening? whispers Jorōgumo. It gets so hungry. I try to only go after bad guys, but…it keeps coming back.

"I don't know," says Peni. "But I'll try. I promise you. Just…come out. It's okay."

There's a pause, and then a scuttling noise. Slowly but surely, the giant golden spider climbs out of the crevice. As it does, it changes into a young woman, wearing a raggedy red kimono with blue and white wave patterns. (It is August, after all.) She looks strangely familiar.

Peni holds out a hand, which the other Spider takes, and pulls her to the surface. It's not so bad a place, this waterfall, in the moonlight.

"My family name is Pākā. Pākā Peni." She beams, and bows.

The girl—she can't be much older than seventeen (or thirty, or seventy-five)—smiles nervously and bows as well.

"Haraka. Haraka Hida."

…well, that she wasn't expecting.

164. Magnetism

“He’s not too bad-looking,” muses Mayday. “You know, for a guy from the 18th Century.”

“He’s also your father,” says Hobie, bluntly. “Sort of.”

“May has a point, he is right comely,” muses Billy.

“...for you, I have no words.”

“Do you think someone should tell him those are replicas?”

“I want to see how long it takes him to find out.”

Peter Pauker, swinging away at what he knows to be automata dressed as pirates but hoping to put on a decent show for his new friends, is having the time of his life.

165. Dybbuk

"You're actually Peter Parker?" asks Olivia in amazement.

The Superior Spider-Man snorts. "Hardly. I merely took over his body and let his consciousness decay in my own dying form. I like to think I'm putting it to good use."

"As…Spider-Man."

"The Superior Spider-Man, thank you very much."

Well, someone’s proud.

"A psychic transfer…" muses Olivia. "Huh. Do you still have the schematics for that device?"

"I might do. But these are fascinating." Spider-Man is poking at her arms. "A fluid-filled polymer with pulses running through to control movement…oh, marvellous." The mask is removed. Peter Parker stares at her work with a peculiar interest that Olivia's only really seen in the mirror. Even Rosie and Carolyn and Luke were more interested in the person their counterpart was, rather than her tech. Not that she’s one to talk, give her science over people most days of the week, it’s just that it’s…

…actually she's not too sure how she feels about this.

"Guess you didn't need yours anymore, huh." She slowly retracts her arms.

"Oh, you'd be surprised,” says her counterpart, not seeming to notice. “I just swapped them out for a more…lightweight model. Not dissimilar to your own. Now," and Peter Parker sits down while Otto Octavius looks up, "what can you tell me about the multiverse?"

166. Crier

“HEAR YE, HEAR YE! THE MASKED DEMON KNOWN AS THE COB HAS ONCE AGAIN STRUCK UPON OUR BELOVED ISLE! TWO INNOCENT THIEVES WERE...innocent thieves, who wrote this garbage?...TWO INNOCENTS FRIGHTENED NEARLY TO DEATH BY THE SPAWN OF SATAN!”

“...wow,” says Mayday. “Old J. Jonah Jameson actually found his niche. Deafened by the sound of his own voice.”

Peter Pauker laughs, and they go back to leaping across the rooftops.

167. Mayfly

Life is measured differently in the ‘30s. Peter is nineteen; that’s old enough to hold a job, be working for several years, be an adult for two. His older counterpart is thirty-eight; by that age, Peter’s half-surprised he doesn’t have kids already. (Only half; Parker luck probably came into play.) Porker is...actually Porker is probably timeless, which is helpful because it marks him as that much less likely to die on the job. And the rest are just...okay, not children, nearly adults, but so small.

Peni sees it differently, he knows. What to him is the insurmountable gap of years she sees the same way as being born in different weeks of the same month. Kid’s basically got three times the lifespan he hopes for, six times the lifespan he expects. To her, they’re all kids.

(And yet she’s working a job deemed too risky for most adults even in her time. At fourteen—she started a year ago, same as him, but was bitten at nine. For him, a child; for her, basically a baby.

Sometimes he wonders whether her uncle, nice as he seems, actually is Doc Ock, only out to torment his own niece instead of the unsuspecting “lessers” of New York in general. He's half-worried that he'll find out her Aunt May looks like another super-villain—and one-eighth-worried that she wouldn't need to.)

168. First

It is Peter Pauker's terrible misfortune to be in his home dimension when a black portal opens in the air, and three figures drop out over the southern shore of Manhattan.

A black-and-white giant, flashes of red lightning crossing its featureless ebony face to make a hideous expression. A white wraith with terrible burning eyes, smallest—human height—and possibly most terrifying. An enormous black spider—no, not a spider, a harvestman.

They land on the nighttime rooftops, barely seeming to touch the surface.

itsnotthesamewithouthimisit

That's the giant's voice. It bypasses the ears and scares the mind into remembering it. It sounds…oddly feminine. And young. And familiar.

noitsnot

imisshimtoo

That's the harvestman, deep voice sinking through to the bone and freezing it solid. And also familiar.

focus

werenotgoingtoletKarnturningtraitorspoilourhunt

besides

weneedourstrength

theOneWorldsarecloserthanever

That's the wraith’s voice. Familiar, and terrifying for it, because Peter's heard that one in his own universe and he doesn't like the implications one little bit.

icansmellit

itsclose

The black one twitches, glitches, and suddenly is looking directly at Peter.

dontplaywithyourfoodtoday

letsjusteatit

The wraith again. She sounds distinctly annoyed.

icalldibs

The giant's lightning-mouth has split apart, revealing a deep red cavern and a deep black tongue.

youalwayscalldibs

The black harvestman is already spinning out a line of thread between its front limbs. It sounds amused.

imagrowingspider

ineedsomethingsweet

There’s no time for banter. Peter has two choices at this point. Make a jump, and try to fight off these monsters on his own. Or take the Gizmo Device and hide in another world. Get help.

He wouldn't be the Cob if he let others get hurt (again) for work he should be doing. The burden of capacity, Uncle Bernhard always called it.

“You dare to come to my world?” he shouts. “Stealing the voice of the woman I love? You are not welcome in this place, foul impersonators!”

The three demons look at him like cats watching a very angry one-legged mouse.

thevoiceofthewomanitloves

ihopeitsnotyouagainJennix

rememberthatlasttime

That’s...that’s Gwyneth’s voice. Twisted and warped, but it’s her.

hahahaaa

iremember

itwassofunny

iloveyouyouknowido

youcanfightit

iknowyourestillinthere

wellofcourseiamsilly

whereelsewouldibe

howdidittasteMorlun

High-pitched and giggly.

likeautumnleavestumblingthroughasilentcity

Rumbling and soft.

betyouthisonetasteslikecowardice

italreadyreeksoffear

theseshadowsgetmoreandmorerealisticeverytime

“Coward? Hah! Better insults have been spluttered by dying rats!”

oohfeisty

Peter draws his sword and revolver, and leaps. The Cob’s special abilities push him hundreds of feet into the sky...

It occurs to him, as he's high in the air, perhaps a split second too late, that perhaps he's still the Cob in spite of never backing away from a fight—

48 notes · View notes

morimakesfanart · 3 years

Text

Sindria's Prophet #08

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [AO3]

** TW/suicide of family member implied (it is marked ahead with ((text)) so you know what to skip) ~POV shift Mori~ In my old life I had spent 4 or so years as a historical reenactor for the mid 1700's through early 1800's on my weekends. My group mainly acted as pirates/privateers and sang sea shanties. We had done performances on different ships, but every time we were invited onto a period ship I couldn't make it, so I was geeking out when I saw the ship we'd be taking to Sindria. I prayed it didn't show on my face. Sure it was exciting for an other world's nerd like me to get to see a ship like this in use, but to everyone else it was a normal ship. The ship had two masts -both square rigged with a fore and aft sail at the back for better steering. Considering the reputation for the waters around Sindria I expected a bigger three mast ship for strength, but who was I to judge?

With only two masts, this ship probably only needed a crew of about nine people to allow for different shifts. It didn't look like it had room for many passengers. No doubt, Sinbad didn't expect to be bringing four extra people back with him. I was in full on research mode by the time I got on the ship, and I tired my best to not stand out or get in the way. Getting to look up at the rigging from on the deck was an experience. After everyone was settled I'd definitely make a point to look around more. I might even take one of the scrolls out and try drawing the deck of the ship since I never got around to drawing that gorgeous room in the hotel. I considered myself lucky that no one tried to talk to me until the rooms were being divided out -I had been hyperfixating so I might not have even noticed if they did.

Studying the ship could only boost me for so long. About 15 minutes before we left the port I could no longer ignore that my head was throbbing from exhaustion. This headache was undeniably becoming a migraine if it wasn't one already. I decided that sleep was the next thing on my agenda. Luckily, I made that decision around the same time the rooms were being divided out. I had figured I'd end up in the same room as Alibaba, Aladdin and Morgiana, but Alibaba was put in the same room as Ja'far and Masrur. Everyone put their bags down, and headed back on deck except me. I sat on my bed with my head in my hands as I started to let myself fully calm down. In the quiet it hit me just how much I had been using working on the scrolls as a way to avoid thinking about my guilt and lost home. I'd have to find time when no one else was in the room to work through these feelings. There was no way I could keep it bottled up until we reached Sindria. "Excuse me, Miss Mori?" Aladdin had re-entered the room and closed the door. We might not have been formally introduced but he was told who I was. "What is it?" I lifted my head to look at him, and tried to keep my expression positive. I felt the waves rising. A Magi was talking to a Prophet in private; something was bound to happen. The walls of the ship creaked, and I heard steps and the floor boards creak in the hallway. The wave got a little bigger. Silence hung in the air as the boy just stood there. Instead of trying to guess what he wanted I waited. His hands tightened around his staff. Aladdin looked nervous as he confronted me. "I know you say you've read Fate, but I don't think Fate is something written in stone. It's something that everyone makes together. It can always change." The hallway floor creaked behind the Magi again. The wave was getting bigger. Someone was definitely listening in, and there was only one King that was a chronic eavesdropper.

"I agree," I said bluntly. I wanted Sinbad to hear my answer. Ten years ago, he came to the conclusion that Fate was something already written as a way to cope with his guilt and trauma, and he thought he was 'the chosen one' for being able to read ahead through the waves, but he was wrong on both accounts. "You do?” Aladdin was surprised. It must sound weird coming from someone who read Fate. "I've read more than one Fate for this world, so I know there is no one true path." The manga, anime and OVAs were a little different after all. "And if Fate couldn't be changed then I couldn't be here." I turned so I was sitting facing him. "You see, I wasn't in any of the Fate I read. I wasn't even in this world until five days ago." The magi took a few steps towards me with wide eyes. Aladdin had felt very alone for not being from this world -now he would know he wasn't the only one. It wasn't a reveal that caused problems on its own when Aladdin explained in the original so I didn't see an issue in letting Sinbad overhear about me either- I had already implied as much the previous day. I felt the need to elaborated. "Everything I do changes the Fate I read because I wasn't here. For example, only one of the Fates I read showed the conversation where you all found out about the Kou Fleet. Remember how I yelled at Alibaba? If I didn't convince him to leave then King Sinbad would have knocked him out, and Alibaba would be kept asleep with medicine for this whole trip. Since I was there this time, I was able to change that." "Oh!" He brightened up a bit. "I much prefer things this way." "I agree. Like this it will be much easier for him to heal." I looked down at my intertwined hands. "I have no idea how this will change the Fate I read though." Aladdin hummed a question mark, but he didn't say or ask anything directly. I answered the obvious question to my words, "I can't read a Fate that I'm a part of, so now that I'm here I can't read how my actions are changing Fate. Eventually, the Fate I did read will become useless, and I have no idea if I'm changing it for the better." It was only as I said it that I remembered that Sinbad was listening. I had basically just told him that my usefulness as his Prophet would have a definite expiration date. All I had wanted was to let Aladdin know that he might not be able to rely on me for everything. I definitely wasn't thinking clearly. Aladdin cut into my thoughts. "Is that why the Rukh are so active around you? Because you weren't originally a part of the Flow of Fate?" "Probably." I didn't know what else to say. I knew I had to be making distinctive waves in the Rukh just by being here, let alone with all of my changes. "Miss Mori, where are you from?" I hummed in amusement at that. "I'm from much farther away than you or your parents-if you can believe it." I was from the same world as the person who wrote the original Fate of this world. There was no way I could tell anyone that. He was shocked again. It was written all over his face that he was questioning if I was really from a dimension farther away than Alma Torran. Aladdin gripped the flute that he always wore. "Then... Are you the person he didn't recognize?" "He?" Which 'he' -oh. I lowered my voice. "Ugo?" I put one finger over my lips and looked at the door. Sinbad has to remain ignorant about the Sacred Palace; he's too self-absorbed. Aladdin looked confused at my change in volume. He followed my gaze to the door and back then nodded. He didn't look all that surprised that I knew about Ugo. I kept my voice low. "Aladdin, let's talk more about this some other time. The walls have ears on such a small ship. And I'm exhausted." "Okay. Rest well, Miss Mori." Aladdin spoke at normal volume. I heard a scramble in the hallway, the magi left, and I put my glasses in the top of my bag for safe keeping. I could hear Aladdin through the wall. "Oh! Mr. Sinbad, Mr. Ja'far, did you want to check on Miss Mori too?” "Uh, yes. How is she doing?” Was King Sinbad's response. I could hear the nerves he was trying to

cover up. "Real smooth there, Sin." I mumbled as I finally drifted into unconsciousness. --- I was a young man of 20 some years. I had started a family. We didn't have enough money for food. I ended up taking a risky job because I knew it would pay better. ... No. I'm a six year old girl? I don't remember if I had parents, but I remember going to visit this old dog every day. ... If life was hard, and I had nothing to loose then there was no reason not to bet everything I had on one last round. How could I return to my family without money? The last time I saw my son he was three. Would he even remember me? ... Ya know, when you grow up with someone and everyone else can see your chemistry you'd think it would be obvious that we'd marry when we grew up, but she met someone else. ... I knew things were bad, but I never even considered that my neighbor was stealing from me when I was at work. Bastard stabbed me with my own kitchen knife when I caught him. --- I wasn't myself in my dreams. Every time I woke I had to ground myself and remember where and when I was. Rereading the scrolls I had made helped. Just how many Rukh had merged with me, and why? I had no connections to any of those spirits while they were alive. Was it just because ghosts like me? I wrote down every dream I had; their lives might have been over, but they were a part of me now. I was too exhausted to go on deck, and I could feel that there were still more lives inside of me that I had to get aquatinted with. When I wasn't sleeping, I was working on scrolls again since I at least had enough energy to write and draw. My breathing was getting difficult, and I was struggling with temperature regulation. I wasn't okay enough to tell if it was my body struggling with the changes in my magoi, like when Sinbad took in all the Rukh after the Fall of First Sindria, or if I was just sick. After making sure I could still use magoi manipulation I decided that it was probably the later. I mainly left that room for food, and I waited until almost everyone was done before going. I avoided talking to others too. If I was sick I needed to minimize my contact with others. Alibaba seemed to be in a similar state to me. We both found that staying near each other when around the others made them less likely to approach us with the depressing cloud that hung over us.

Those that did see me could obviously tell I was unwell. From their words it seemed like they were assuming I was just mourning -they were only half wrong. It gave me an easy excuse to leave, so I never corrected them. I did feel bad for worrying everyone. The whole situation sucked. I wanted to cry. I had been in lock down back home because of Covid-19 for 8 months as an at risk person (it's still Oct 2020 in this story). I was literally in a fantasy anime world now. I wasn't given a better immune system, but my boobs didn't need a bra anymore??? WTF?? If the current arbiter of Fate was me writing fanfiction, then they had a lot of explaining to do. ... Who was I kidding? I knew why I would write something like this. I wanted to see more stories about people like me -someone with my disabilities and life experiences- get to be someone "valued" even if they couldn't be on the front lines. My migraine wouldn't go away, and it wasn't the only part of me in pain. I think I got palpitations a few times -breathing was even worse during those episodes. If I hadn't had health problems growing up I probably would have been panicking. I knew it was stupid to not tell anyone what was going on with me. But would anyone even be able help me on a ship? Telling them would just make them worry more than they already were. Aladdin and Morgiana could tell something more was wrong with me; I couldn't fully hide from them while sleeping in the same room. They must have let the others know since they gave me some pain killers at some point. It tasted awful. I'm honestly not sure how affective it was, but it did knock me out. ((Skip to the next paragraph to avoid the trigger)) At least I was left alone most of the time. I had no choice but to sit with my thoughts about Balbadd. I grew up mourning. The blood on my hands might not be the same as losing most of my loved ones back home, but it was damn similar to when I was in high school thinking "if only one of us had answered the phone that day." The Balbadd revolt would have been much worse if I wasn't there. And even if I had said something sooner there was little that could be done to actually stop Al Thamen when they had their hands so deep in that country. Even with Sinbad there to sway Fate, Al Thamen would still find a way to spill blood. Even if I told Alibaba days in advance and he tried to talk to Cassim about it, Cassim wanted nothing to do with Sinbad, so any help that came from him would be refused. Cassim was twisted around Issnan's fingers and out for blood. I did the best I could. My actions did save some people. I'd have to take solace in that. --- I woke up to something wrapped around me, almost like I was tied down. I couldn't move my legs. I gave up trying to untangle my skirt and covers from me, and just pulled the skirt out from under the cloth belt -kicking the whole mass off like a cocoon. I had put my underwear on underneath and I still had the tunic on so I wasn't left totally uncovered. Star light shown in from the window. I had slept through another day. I couldn't remember my dream. Maybe I had finally returned to having my own dreams. The other beds in the room were occupied. My head was still swimming. I felt trapped. I needed something. I heard the waves outside, and felt the waves of Fate washing over me. Their sounds called to me. Back home I had used the sounds of waves to meditate and stim regularly. I had been hearing them all this time, but I wanted to see them. I didn't bother to slip on my flip-flops as I made my way to the door, didn't even think about grabbing my glasses until I was already on deck. It had been so dark below that I couldn't see anyway, and didn't realize I wasn't wearing them. The wave of Fate I had been following lead me farther into the space. When I hit it's end, the adrenaline that had got me that far died out. The night air hit my legs and I shivered. It was colder than it was at night in Balbadd. I thought we were heading south. Did I still have a fever? The cold reminded me that I really should have put on

my shorts or something before coming out here. The tunic just barely covered me. My vision was going grey scale. This was bad. Really bad. I recognized this feeling. I was about to pass out from not being able to breathe right. I used to have fainting spells as a kid because of my weak raspatory system and needed to carry smelling salts for a few years. The last time it happened was about five years ago -I had been really sick. My head was throbbing; my heart was pounding. Guess I was sicker than I thought. I needed to focus on breathing and getting to the ground. I stumbled to the bowsprit (the pole that sticks out the front of the ship) as support. I needed to get to the ground safely before I collapsed. I'd gotten a concussion once because I didn't get down before the black out hit. A wave crashed into me from behind. If I hadn't been putting all my weight on that wooden shaft I would have been pushed over even though it wasn't a physical wave. What in the world was behind me that would cause such a wave? I removed one arm to look back as my knees started to give out. There was definitely someone there. Their color balance didn't match anything I could remember, but they were really familiar. Without my glasses I couldn't really tell anything -especially since everything was becoming different shades of black. And I already had bad night vision. The light was fading. Shapes were getting harder to discern. Even though I was breathing deeper I hadn't managed to counter the fainting spell. I was going down. I definitely fell, but it didn't feel like I fell for long enough to hit the ground. The feeling across my back was really familiar. Someone had caught me.

Sometimes I was able to stay conscious when I fainted. It was kinda like ending up in sleep paralysis but with a -20 to all sensory inputs. Seemed like this was one of those times. I couldn't hear what they were saying or see them. It was like my head was deep under water. There was a pressure on my forehead. Were they checking my temperature? When someone faints you're supposed to lay them on the ground and position them so they can breath easier. This person didn't take first aid classes or forgot or something because I was being lifted upwards instead of laid down. It was really warm and comfy though. I liked this feeling. What was it? Safe? Was that it? I hadn't felt actually safe in a long time. I certainly didn't feel safe in that house back home even after everything was over. Maybe it was the feeling of warmth and safety. Maybe it was the way the waves were moving. Maybe it was the numbness that comes with blacking out. But whatever it was had stopped the pain. With the pain gone I calmed the rest of the way. I felt my spine straighten out onto a soft surface. The warmth faded even though something was now covering my legs. I was in a bed. The cold was back without a source of warmth to leech from. I definitely had a fever if I was this cold. Damnit. I grew up with all sorts of chronic health conditions and have always gotten sick easily. Even though I was now in an anime world, I was still me. Was I going to die in this world from some common illness that was already cured back home? We might not have had a lot of money back home but I was lucky enough to get a job with usable health insurance that let me work from home during a pandemic. I could at least get medicine every time I got a normal illness. I was finally able to afford to get and keep an inhaler. Not that any of that was of use to me now. My motor functions were returning. I rolled to the side and curled into the fetal position. I had lost everything. No home. No friends or family. Who would want to look after a stranger with nothing to give back? I was doing what I could to seem worthy of the main cast, but how long would that last? The story would reach its end in five years. What would I do after that? What was the point of all of the savings I had managed to make back home if I was going to be Isekaied? I had been the main bread winner and now my family couldn't even use my savings because I hadn't left a body behind as proof that I had died. All of the thoughts and feelings I was still running from were flooding through me. I couldn't even distract myself with writing scrolls or anything. This was probably for the best. Pushing things away for much longer would be unhealthy. And if I couldn't let myself feel miserable when I was sick and alone, then when could I? I let the tears fall. I hadn't been a loud crier since I was a kid, so I was caught off guard when I could hear my own sobs. I didn't have it in me to hide any more. The bed I was on creaked but I hadn't moved. There was a new weight on the mattress.

I wasn't alone.

The concept that someone was checking on me hurt harder. I didn't grow up in a healthy environment, so now feel immense guilt when someone shows me genuine kindness. But I am also aware and recovered enough to know I deserve kindness, so the guilt always paired with an equal amount or more of relief. I felt a hand stroke my hair. They wanted to comfort me. And I wanted comfort. The waves washing over me encouraged me seek out more. I used what little strength I had to pull myself against them. Having undeniable proof that I wasn't alone and that someone cares was overwhelming. The relief made me cry harder. I'd have to thank them later. But for the time being I'd pour out as much emotion as they'd let me.

#sindria's prophet #magi prophet fanfic #king sinbad #magi sinbad #sinbad magi #sinbad x oc #sinbadxoc

33 notes · View notes