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charmymemes · 2 years

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𝐎𝐂 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒!

feel free to tweak questions + all emojis r listed in text form bc i can't see some of them aAAaaAA! sorry if any of these questions are too similar i tried to avoid that but .. there's a lot lol! categorized by emoji type.

i wanted to make one because i could not find one on tumblr already that had a ton of questions. this was created by combining ones under the #oc ask game tag + my own contributions. hi charmymemes nation i'm back.

people

👁️ EYE - what colour are their eyes? do people notice their eyes? is there anything special about them (shows emotion easily, literally magical...)?

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?

👻 GHOST - do they believe in ghosts? what are their "ghostly experiences", if any?

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

😭 CRYING - what makes them cry? do they cry easily?

👊 PUNCH - are they quick to violence?

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

👪 FAMILY - what is their family like? what is your ocs relationship to them? does your oc have any siblings?

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

food & drinks

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE - when is their birthday? do they like celebrating it?

🍩 DONUT - favourite sweet treat?

🍟 FRIES - do they order food often? or they prefer to cook their own food?

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink?

🍓 STRAWBERRY - do they eat their fruit & veg? what is their favourite fruit or vegetable?

🍰 CAKE SLICE - favourite cake flavour? are they specific about types of cakes?

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

plants & nature

💐 BOUQUET - create a bouqet for them! what do those flowers mean? are any of the flowers their particular favourite?

🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

🌺 HIBISCUS - do they have any allergies?

🍁 MAPLE LEAF - what is their favourite season? why?

🍃 FALLING LEAF - do they enjoy being in nature? what is their favourite outdoor activity?

☀️ SUN - are they a morning person? what is the first thing they do in the morning?

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

🌹 ROSE - do they like valentines day? have they been confessed to before? have they confessed to anyone before?

🙈 SEE-NO-EVIL - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

🙊 SPEAK-NO-EVIL - what is something your oc will refuse to stay quiet about?

🙉 HEAR-NO-EVIL - what is the worse thing your oc could hear from someone?

🌱 SEEDLING - what is their most vivid memory from childhood?

🍀 CLOVER - do they believe in luck? are they lucky?

🌏 EARTH - will they give up the world for someone they love? is this decision easy for them?

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

activity

⚾ BASEBALL - can they play sports? what is their best position if they play a team sport? what's their strong suit (speed, power etc.)?

🏊 SWIMMING - can they swim? or are they afraid of water? how well do they swim? how do they feel about swimming in the ocean?

objects

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

📖 OPEN BOOK - do they like reading? what's their favourite genre?

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

📸 CAMERA - do they enjoy having their picture taken? what's their go-to pose? do they like taking photos? what do they take photos of?

🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the "last straw" for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

💡 LIGHTBULB - is your oc a planner? do they write down every small detail or just wing it?

💎 DIAMOND - how rich are they? can they live the lifestyle they want to?

🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?

🍼 BABY BOTTLE - what are their thoughts on children?

🔪 KNIFE - how do they react to injury / misfortune befalling their loved ones (significant other, family, friends)? do they put themselves at blame?

👑 CROWN - what does your oc want to be remembered as? why?

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

🎵 MUSIC NOTE - what is their playlist like? their favourite artists? do you associate a particular song with them?

🎤 MICROPHONE - are they good at singing? what is their go-to karaoke song?

🎷 SAXOPHONE - do they play any instruments? are they any good at it?

📚 BOOKS - how were they at school? what is their best subject? what is their worst subject? do they have a favourite subject?

👖 JEANS - what is their go-to outfit?

🎨 PALETTE - can they draw? what do they like to draw?

🎡 FERRIS WHEEL - are they someone who wants to kiss at the top of the ferris wheel?

⏳ HOURGLASS - are they usually late or on-time?

🔫 PISTOL - do they trust people easily? how easily will they turn their back to someone? have they been backstabbed before? will they betray someone if given an ultimatum?

🎀 RIBBON - how would they fit into other worlds / aus? what aus would you like to try out? what fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

📦 PACKAGE - what are some "most likely to..." that can apply to them?

🖍️ CRAYON - what advice would you give to them?

⚙️ GEAR - what are your ocs thoughts on science & art? which do they give more importance to? how much value do they place on each?

🔧 WRENCH - are they good at fixing relationships? or do they tend to avoid doing so?

❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value?

📏 RULER - is your oc well educated? where did they get their learning from?

transport

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

🚲 BICYCLE - can they ride a bike? what do they remember from learning to ride a bicycle?

weather

🌩️ LIGHTNING - are they scared of lightning?

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon

❄️ SNOWFLAKE - do people consider them cold? if so, what made them this way?

🌪️ TORNADO - what is the biggest change you've ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version?

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

🔥 FIRE - do they have any self destructive tendencies? what habits do they have that hinder them from becoming their best self?

☁️ CLOUD - a soft headcanon

🌟 GLOWING STAR - what do they think about when they look at the night sky? is there someone they want to star gaze with?

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

hearts

💓 BEATING HEART - what gets their heart racing?

💘 HEART W/ ARROW - what traits do they look for in a relationship? do they believe in love at first sight?

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they're in love?

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

💙 BLUE HEART - do they miss their s/o easily? how do they act when their s/o isn't around?

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

💖 SPARKLING HEART - are they a subtle or a showy lover?

💌 LOVE LETTER - do they like love letters? what kind of messages do they leave for their partner?

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

#ask games #rp #rp meme #rp memes #oc ask game #oc ask meme #starter meme #starters #headcanon #oc prompt #prompts #writing prompts

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xyliane · 4 years

Text

wild blue yonder

summary: killua had plenty of better ideas for how to spend his eighteenth birthday. a cake a mile high, a day on the town with alluka, maybe even some peace and quiet for once. instead, he’s doing what all zoldycks do: assassination, murder, the works, all at the ass end of the ocean, all because it will tilt the scales of trade just enough in their favor to make a move. he doesn’t have to worry about a blood curse, no matter what his sister says.

notes: think of this less like a fic and more a...preview? I’ve written about 10,000 words of this off and on over the last year or so, and I would love to write more, but [gestures at the world] [pokes at the smoldering remnants of my dissertation]. yeah. so, as special thanks to @trashsketch and @thehuntyhunties, here’s a first draft of the first bit of cursed prince (which, knowing me, will get a wholesale rewrite of the first section at least cuz lol worldbuilding). T (blood and killua’s mouth), pre-killugon; ft: mito, the zoldycks, ikalgo, and did I mention the blood. 4900 words. (title is not the final title, but swiped hastily from the third track of “the horror and the wild”)

notes pt 2: @trashsketch DREW THIS FOR THIS AU aaaaaaa

---

Alluka’s eyes turn black over dinner three weeks before Killua’s eighteenth birthday, and he has to shove half a bread roll into his mouth to avoid making any noise. If he’s lucky, no one else will notice. If Alluka’s lucky, Nanika won’t say anything, will stare at Killua for a few minutes before slipping back into the recesses of his sister’s mind. If they’re both lucky, they can return to their meals and continue ignoring whatever Mom and Illumi are discussing about the southern trade routes, in tones just barely not argumentative. If Killua’s lucky, he won’t have to kill anyone in the next month.

Of course, the Zoldyck family has never owed its success to luck. They have skill, and intelligence, and a massive fortune. They have a town full of merchants and spies at the base of Kukuroo Mountain, centuries of debts of money and life tying the people to the family. They have, Silva Zoldyck is fond of noting, family. And family is paramount.

Even more than that, though, they have Nanika. They have information, dropped right into their minds. All it costs is a bit of death, the risk of death or curse or worse if they don’t do what she suggests. Just that, and Killua’s little sister.

The family thinks it’s worth the price, so they have to deal with it for now. Killua’s his father’s successor to their mountains of gold and death. He’ll change it. He’s promised Alluka.

“Mom, look,” Milluki says. Killua swallows a curse.

A smile stretches across Kikyo Zoldyck’s face, as full of empty pleasure as the black visor stretched over her eyes. “Well. This is convenient.” She turns to Illumi. “Shall we see what to do about our mercantile issues in the South Sea?”

Illumi frowns. “If you must,” he says, and looks expectantly at Killua. “Kil? Take care of it.”

“Alluka’s not an it. And it’s not my turn.”

Mom sighs melodramatically. “Kil,” she says.

“Mom,” he says in the exact same tone.

Father, who’s spent most of dinner silent, snorts a chuckle. When Killua turns to him, he gets a firm nod, bright glimmer in his pale blue eyes. “Go on, Kil,” he says, voice rumbling. “Ask after the block in trade. Best do it now, before the thing in your sibling chooses otherwise.”

Killua nods once, and turns to his sister. She is still staring at him—Nanika is still staring, black eyes blank and a strange little smile on her face.

“Nanika,” he says, voice steady.

Her smile widens. Killua, she says, her voice an echo between his ears. No one else hears. I love Killua.

I love you too, he thinks back, and hopes that she can hear. “Nanika, how do we open up trade in the South Seas to benefit the Kingdom of Padokea?”

“And the Zoldycks,” Milluki says, a sneer in his voice.

“We are Padokea,” Mom says, and sneers right back.

Nevertheless, Killua grits his teeth and adds, “And the Zoldyck family.”

Maybe this time will be different. Maybe she’ll give them a corporation, or an abandoned island full of pirates. Pirates would be fun. Or maybe nothing will happen, and Killua will be able to turn eighteen without being halfway across the world burying a sword into someone’s back. He can take Alluka to town, sneak her out the back while the butlers aren’t looking. It’ll only be for a day, and he’ll be with her.

Nanika opens Alluka’s mouth.

Dammit, is all Killua manages to think, before the vision slams into him.

red

is all he gets at first, and he thinks that maybe this time, he won’t be the center of this vision. Maybe Milluki will get one and have to get off the mountain for the first time all year. Maybe even Illumi will stop hovering, conspicuously leaving profiles of eligible bachelorettes for Mom to coo over and Killua to ignore. But the table turns red and Killua sees

red ocean

red hair green (brown) eyes

red lips

red stains on pale skin

red flower in black (white) hair

red scars on dark stars

red waters overflowing

red death under red sails

red blood

red

red red

red red red red red reD RED

The vision releases him, and Killua barely manages to catch himself before he pitches face-first into the soup. Even after the fact, his senses are swimming in blood, enough that he can practically taste it. One of these days, he’s going to learn how to live with it. The rest of his family does.

“Kil, where are you going?” Illumi asks.

So much for his birthday plans. “Where do you think,” he says.

“Kil,” Mom says again, and he rolls his eyes.

“The ass end of the ocean, I think,” Killua says, and ignores his mother’s affronted gasp as he starts in on the rest of his dinner. It tastes chalky under the blood. “I’ve got a month to kill the queen of Whale Island.”

“Isn’t that the place with the magic storms and the cursed pirates?” Milluki says.

“You can’t use magic to control storms, idiot,” Kalluto mutters, just loud enough for Killua to hear.

“The cost?” Illumi asks.

Killua shrugs. “Blood curse. Nothing new.”

Nanika always exchanges her information for curses. Illumi and Kalluto have messed up before and come back with numb limbs or empty eyes, consequences for having failed within the time limit. But those curses are simpler things. Killua gets the blood curse, every single time.

He loves his sister, and he’s grown to love Nanika, in her own way. But he doesn’t need the extra pressure.

Father claps a hand on Killua’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kil. We will celebrate your birthday when you get home from the ass end of the ocean.”

Mom makes a scandalized noise and Killua smiles, pride radiating out from where Father’s hand rests against his shoulder. It makes him stand taller, almost as tall as Illumi. Never as tall as Silva Zoldyck. No one is that tall.

Behind him, Alluka stirs listlessly, blue eyes foggy. Once Father’s grip lifts from him, Killua reaches over to grab her hand, squeezing in whatever comfort he can. She tries to smile back. No one else notices. “Be careful, Brother,” she mutters. “Blood stains.”

————————————

It takes the better part of three weeks to get to Whale Island. Killua could have taken a cabin in one of the spice merchant’s galleon and been there in half a month. But that would be easy. Zoldycks do their job well, and well doesn’t mean easy. The first ship out of Dentora was only a week, but from there it was a schooner to a sailboat to three days on a blasted fishing dinghy for the last few islands. The sailors had laughed at him when he’d said where he was going. At least the food’s been good, because he’s going to turn eighteen out here in the gods-forgotten nowhere. He’d hate to come home and tell Alluka there had been nothing good out here.

For all that they’re in the middle of nowhere, the Whale Island port is almost impressive. If a place could be valued solely on the number of colors, Whale Island would be the richest port on earth. The ships alone are every shade imaginable, the height of summer trade filling each dock to overflowing. Purple sails from Kakin, greens and yellows from Lukso, the ostentatiously huge gilded galleons out of Yorknew. Even austere blacks and whites from Padokea, sticking out of the rainbow forest like snow-blistered icebergs. It makes him feel like home, almost. He’ll catch one of them off the island as soon as he’s done. Father will make sure they’re fairly compensated for leaving ahead of schedule. And sprinkled throughout are the collection of Whale Island’s mercantile armada, with no set color or design other than a bright circle of orange-gold, open at one end.

The port itself bustles with life, as diverse as the ships in harbor. It lacks the size or height of trade centers on the mainland, or even other islands like Balsa’s landmass-spanning city. But it makes up for it in smells, and shapes, and the honest smiles on merchants’ faces even as they fleece their customers for every extra cent. Out here, there’s no option but the port. They smile at Killua all the same.

Killua’s assassinations usually take a little more finesse—a Zoldyck is a threat, and he’s dyed his hair more than once to vanish into a crowd. But here, Killua’s pale skin and travel-stained dark clothing doesn’t even stick out, so long as he keeps his white hair tucked under a thin hood. No one even looks twice at the sword on his hip or the knives weighing down his boots, not with how everyone else seems to be armed. It’s almost relaxing. He can drift into the forest, kill the queen, and drift back out again, catching a ship out of port before anyone is the wiser.

Maybe this is a pirate nest, and no one thought to tell Killua…?

“Hey, traveler! You come in recently?”

Killua turns and is blasted in the face with the smell of fried fish. Behind a grill covered in pans and fish, a short round man with reddish skin and beady eyes waggles his thick eyebrows, a shock of black beneath a bald head. As he does, his arms dart back and forth between tasks, juggling fire and vegetables and pots as though he has extra arms. It’s kind of hilarious, and Killua doesn’t restrain a laugh.

The man grins back, obviously pleased. “Yeah, not exactly the easiest, getting all the way out here,” he says. “Sit down, look over the grill, tell me what you want.”

“That’s okay, I don’t—” Killua starts to protest, when another man reaches around the cook and drops an assortment of things off the grill and onto a plate. Well, a young man, not much older than Killua, with thick black hair woven back into a single braid trailing halfway down his back. Freckled brown skin is clearly visible beneath an open green vest woven through with gold thread. It would look almost princely, if it weren’t covered in oil and fish guts, and worn almost to the point of being transparent.

The young man hands the plate to Killua with a conspiratorial light in his bright brown eyes. “You should eat,” he says, and his voice is tinged with Whale Island’s rich accent—thick vowels, rolling syllables. It’s musical, in a way Killua wouldn’t have expected.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until the man pushes the plate more insistently at him. Killua shakes his head. He doesn’t want to stay any longer than he has to. He can’t get too close. “I’m not—”

“It’s on the house.”

“It is not!” the chef says, and thwaps the young man across the back of his head with a stack of napkins. “I have a business to run, and the shipping season don’t last all year.”

“Sorry, Ikalgo,” the young man says, an apologetic grin on his face. It doesn’t stop the chef’s rant, loud enough that it attracts the attention of the bread maker next door, who begins to cackle in amusement. The young man does his best to weather the shouting, only occasionally interjecting that he’s been working here for only a few days, that he’ll pay the difference, he promises. But when he catches Killua’s eye, he winks, as though this is all some great game and no one else has caught on yet.

Killua feels his cheeks heat up. Rather than worry about that, he shoves a skewer of fish into his mouth, and then he forgets about the rest because blessed gods that’s good. There’s spice in here he’s never even smelled before, mixed with something sweet that makes it even hotter than it should be.

The chef’s winding down by the time Killua’s finished, his assistant as apologetic as ever. They both notice Killua’s empty plate at the same time. The chef even seems impressed. “This ain’t your first time on the Islands, eh?”

Killua shrugs rather than answer. No wonder Mom is so invested in taking control of this route, if the spices pack this much of a punch. The investors in Padokea are probably salivating at the possibility of owning even a fraction of the trade. “The food’s really good,” he says instead, and the chef lights up.

“Ikalgo’s got the best seafood on Whale Island,” the young man says. “How long are you here for? Palm’s got great pastries, and she’s right next door.”

If the pastries are even close to as good as the fish, Killua might be convinced to stay here forever. But he can’t. This is why Illumi always tells him to never talk to anyone, not more than he needs to. It’s too easy to fall into conversation, to get attached. When his only job is to destroy the lodestone of a city, or a kingdom, or an island, he can’t afford any distractions. Not even cute boys offering him pastries with big brown eyes.

The assistant seems to sense Killua’s hesitation, and his grin dims a little. But before either of them can say anything else, the chef yanks on his thick black braid and snaps, “You still have another three hours here!”

“But Ikalgo—”

“After last time, you owe me!”

“Even Palm didn’t ask,” the young man whines.

“Palm didn’t lose her entire storefront to a flashflood.”

Killua can’t stick around. He grabs his bag, heavy with travel supplies, and turns to face the edges of the market. The trail leads up and away into the jungle. Theoretically, the queen’s mansion should be somewhere up there. But where…

Well, maybe it can’t hurt to ask one more question.

“Do you know who might know where the queen of Whale Island lives?” he asks, not expecting commoners to know the answer.

But the chef and his assistant shrug. “Ask anyone,” the young man says. “Anyone knows.”

“Anyone from the Island knows,” Ikalgo clarifies. “Her house is up at the end of the path, bout forty-five minutes into the jungle. Can’t miss it.”

Killua blinks. “Can anyone…go?”

The young man shrugs again. “Sure. If you wait a bit, I can—”

“What part of three hours do you not understand?”

“But he—”

“I’ll be fine,” Killua says, and nods politely. The chef and his assistant wave goodbye, and go back to bickering. Out of the corner of his eye, Killua can see the chef getting back to food prep, even as the young man grabs plates and napkins for other customers. He should feel bad that this is all going to ruin. Not immediately, sure. But without a ruler, most places fall apart. And if it falls apart, even for a little while, it’s long enough for Padokeans to set up shop, to reclaim the trade routes and caches of power that they want.

Maybe Whale Island will do okay in the end. Or maybe not. It’s not Killua’s problem.

Too bad, though. The food was good.

The queen’s house is indeed right up the road. Killua makes it within sight of the low walls outside the complex before ducking into the trees, not willing to risk a frontal assault on his own. As friendly as the Islanders seem to be, especially the assistant, the amount of armed fighters and sailors could be a problem. Once Killua finds a good rock, too heavy for a normal person to lift, he swaps his traveling clothes for proper Zoldyck gear: black trousers, an armored black jacket, silver-grey gloves. His sword is sheathed against his hip, and his boot knives are supplemented by another blade at the small of his back. He stashes all of his earrings but one, a sapphire stud Alluka had given him for his sixteenth birthday. She’d said it was for luck. But Zoldycks don’t have luck.

Killua keeps it anyways. Maybe he’ll be lucky this time.

Killua wants to finish this quick and quiet, on the small chance that the young man from the fish grill gets off work and comes up the path. By the time the chaos sets, he should be on the ship and halfway out to sea. Even the fastest ships won’t be able to catch him.

He climbs up the back wall, peering into what looks like a vegetable garden behind a modest two-story building. Killua recognizes about half of the herbs—most of them are useful as poisons, and a few are normally grown in the middle of a forest. None of them have any business being behind a queen’s home. Then again, the building would barely qualify as a merchant’s house in many kingdoms, well-constructed as it is. It’s the color of the sky and thatched neatly, signs of old storms and hard winter winds in the occasional cracked paint. The back door is a solid dark wood, and the window on the second floor is open to the sky. There’s no sign of any caretakers or guards, not even footsteps. The only sound is a quiet hum of a woman’s voice, wafting gently down from the open window.

It can’t be this easy. But part of Killua doesn’t mind. At least this time, the only person he’ll have to kill is the one he has to. No lying, no backstabbing.

And he can go home without risking a blood curse, and celebrate his birthday in peace.

He still takes his time sneaking across the garden, boots falling silently as he steps through the shadows of the house. Taking a chance that nothing in this building is locked, he carefully presses open a window on the ground floor and drops into what looks like a large kitchen. A massive slab of wood serves as a table down the center of the room, with a collection of beautifully carved chairs arranged around it. The smell of herbs permeates the whole room, sinking into the wood and floors.

There’s still no one in sight.

There’s still only the woman’s humming filling the air with gentle wordless noise.

It’s too easy. It has to be.

Killua draws his sword as he creeps up the stairs, following the sound of the woman’s voice. He’ll know the queen when he sees her—Nanika’s visions have a habit of sticking, permanently, or at least until the job is done. Like how he knows the humming is the queen, even though he’s never heard her voice before today. How when he peers around the corner, he knows that the queen is the woman humming over a pile of papers. Her bright orange hair is swept back from her forehead, a simple braid circling her head where a ring made of silver and onyx rests on Silva Zoldyck’s.

The humming stops. “You can stop creeping around my house and tell me why you’re here,” the queen says without looking up from her work. “If you want to petition for the Padokean spice merchants to stay another week, you’ll need to take it up with the portmaster.”

Killua doesn’t say anything. His grip on his hilt tightens for a moment, before relaxing.

The queen flips over the page and starts on the next. “Also, no, I am not interested in selling port space, either. Tell your king he can rent like everyone else.”

Killua takes a final step into the doorway, and lunges, his sword lightning fast.

But the queen whirls, nearly as fast as Killua, and catches his strike on a short wavy blade of her own. Her snarl sparks with furious challenge. “And if you’re here to kill me,” she says, “you’d better try harder than that.”

Killua bounces back, narrowly avoiding the sweep of her knife. The queen is unarmored, but holds the blade at her side, other arm lifted in well-practiced defense. Rather than wait for Killua to strike again, she darts forward, bare fist blurring in a fury as she tries to strike Killua’s solar plexus. But Killua is faster, and he catches her strike on his forearm, brushing it aside. She snarls even as she stumbles back, leaving herself open for Killua to strike again. This time, when she catches his blade on her knife, she almost doesn’t make it, only barely managing to slide out from beneath Killua’s strike. But her bare foot lashes out, catching him on the knee, and he feels the joint crumple.

She scoffs. “You’re not the first person to try to assassinate me,” she says. “Tell me who sent you, and I’ll send you home.”

Killua responds by punching her in the stomach with his hilted fist.

To the queen’s credit, she keeps her knife up, enough that she manages to slash him across his forearm. The wavy blade cuts deep and sharp right through his jacket, leaving behind a wide erratic slice. Killua ignores the pain and raises his blade.

She glares up at him furiously, bright brown eyes wide and not scared at all. They look familiar. In fact, they look like—

They look like the young man from the market.

The chef, his assistant, everyone else, is going to lose their queen.

Don’t get attached, Illumi commands in the back of his head, and Killua shakes the hesitation out of his limbs just in time to block the queen’s jab right at his heart. He catches her wrist with his bare hand, wrenching it out of place until she can’t hold on anymore. The wavy knife goes clattering away across the floorboards, out of sight and out of reach.

She kicks him in the side again, shit, and Killua throws her to the ground. The back of her head thuds against the wood floor, and she crumples with a pained noise, trying and failing to get back up again.

If Killua moves now, he’ll kill her.

This time, he won’t miss.

The queen starts to move, and Killua brings the blade down in a single brutal strike.

Blood always smells the same—metallic and warm, life draining out in flows of red. Killua hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes when he struck, but he feels the splash of blood across his face, sinking through the open slice on his sleeve and through the skin of his gloves. Messy. Father would be disappointed. It’s better if it’s quick, and clean, and no one fights back, and no one is gasping shakily on the floor—

He opens his eyes.

The queen lies at his feet, still alive. She has a hazy, almost drunken grin on her face, and her arm is still raised from where it connected with Killua’s sword, blood flowing freely from its stump. Her dismembered hand lies just out of reach. And she’s laughing.

“You should have killed me,” she says. A gust of wind blows up from the ocean, curling around her, almost as wild as her eyes. Outside, a massive storm darkens the sky, clouds near-black and crackling with energy. The air tastes of lightning, and thunder, and danger, and sudden fear jolts down Killua’s spine.

What had Milluki said? Cursed storms and magic pirates?

Killua’s eyes widen. “What—”

“I said,” the queen says, and her voice reverberates in the stormwall. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

She lifts her hand and spits a word, and a wind like a hand bellows up the stairs and throws Killua out the window.

He lands heavily in the garden, nostrils filling with herbs, bouncing once and hitting the building’s wall. At least the ground’s soft. But he dropped his sword somewhere between the second story and the dirt, and he does not have time to look for it before the storm hits. It whirls around the sky, a cyclone of pitch-black clouds centered right over the house. If Killua didn’t know any better, he’d say that it was only on the house, dropping almost to the ground as though trapping him in the eye of a storm.

He clamors over the wall, bad knee jolting with pain and a little voice screaming at him to run, just in time for a wall of rain to come crashing down between him and the jungle.

Stepping out of the rain, as though made from stormclouds and landslides, is the young man from the seafood shop. But instead of a stack of plates, he holds a brutally sharp sabre, blade short and thick and slightly curved up from its guard.

He takes in Killua, waterlogged and covered in blood, and his bright brown eyes go wide. “You’re—” he starts, and then his expression narrows with fury. “It would have been easier if you’d tried to kill me in town.”

“Why would I do that?” Killua says. “I’m only here for the queen, not an assistant fish fry.”

The young man grins with all of his teeth, any amusement from earlier washed away by unrestrained anger. “I’m Gon Freecss,” he says. “You tried to kill my mom.”

He’s the prince. In about the stupidest response Killua could have, he tries to rub some of the queen’s blood out of his eyes. But it doesn’t budge. If anything, the rain is making it worse, seeping into his face and clothes in a bright red tattoo, making his skin crawl.

Blood curse, Nanika had promised. It was always a blood curse.

Shit shit shit gods fucking shit. For all Killua knew, the blood was going to kill him from the inside out.

“I don’t care about who’s next in line,” he says, and takes half a step towards the storm wall. He had to get out, had to get home, or else—

“You should care,” the prince of Whale Island says. “Because if you’d killed me first, the storm wouldn’t have come for you.”

Killua barely has time to draw his knives before Freecss is on him.

Maybe it’s the panic worming its way out of Killua’s stomach, or the sharp pain in his knee, or the blood curse scratching at his face. Maybe it’s the resolute fury in Freecss’s eyes. Either way, the prince moves nearly as fast as Killua, hacking at the assassin with brutal short slashes. Killua manages to block all of them, barely, boots slipping in the torrential mud. The prince is good enough to make Killua work if he was in good condition, and between the rain and the blood and the knee, they’re all but equally matched.

Killua finally blocks a blow and shoves Freecss back, the prince leaving himself open. Killua presses his advantage in height and speed by kneeing the other man in the chest. Freecss coughs out a pained curse, and he tumbles back, mud covering his skin and his long braid. Killua follows, slashing out half-blind with his knives, and he feels his blades connect as the prince bounces away. Another splash of blood, this time on a bare hand. This time, Killua feels it sink in, painting his pale skin the color of rust.

Freecss has a slash on his cheek and shoulder, Killua’s wild strike having gotten him on bare skin. The weight of the blade also caught the prince’s braid, which droops tangled and waterlogged across his brown face, half-covering his eyes. Freecss curses again, something foul, and simply slices his sword through his hair. The rest of his braid lands in the mud with a heavy thump.

The prince wipes a streak of blood off his face, not seeming to care that the wound continues to flow freely. “I’m going to kill you,” he says, voice low as thunder.

Killua has fought soldiers and mercenaries and assassins, from the weakest to the most skilled. He’s been tired, fought for hours in the snow and sleet, wherever Father has asked. He’s fought with half the bones in his hand broken, with his legs immobilized by ice. But then, he’d been ready. He’d known what to expect. He hadn’t been fighting a storm at the same time he was fighting a prince. Freecss presses ceaselessly, forcing Killua back until his foot hits the wall around the queen’s home. The prince’s home. He can’t go any further back.

The prince’s eyes glint in the storm, and he slashes the sabre across Killua’s front.

And Killua’s leg slips out from under him.

The mud carries him stumbling out of range of the prince’s slash, but also costs him one of his knives. Killua staggers to his feet, trying in vain to rub the blood off his face. All he gets is mud, and rain, and more blood. A callous on his hand must have ripped in the fight.

Oh. And his jacket is cut open across his front. Distantly, he can feel blood dribbling down his chest, starting at the shoulder and cutting towards his side. That should hurt more than it does. Even his leg doesn’t hurt so much anymore, a dull throb beneath the rain.

He’s tired.

Freecss snarls—just like his aunt, a small part of Killua notices—and slices the sabre straight down through the air.

Static gathers in the air, bright and sharp, and Killua realizes he’s going to die.

“Sorry, Alluka,” he says. The words are lost under the wind and rain.

Then Killua is struck by lightning.

And everything is white.

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nanbaka-82 · 3 years

Note

Danny!!!

So I was wandering around in Inazuma bc I thought it would be fun when I know it is not.

So I once again use Kaeya to cross the ocean bc I don’t like the boats and didn’t feel like finding their station to get one.

And I came across this weird island??? Like it’s a spooky island that had at least 7 ship wrecks around it yeah?

And saw a samurai looming over a sleeping hilichruls and I was like “imma avoid that place bc they are asleep” and since the sun had already sat, I try to just ice bridge my way to another island.

Alas, that didn’t work and the samurai started attacking so I changed the time into day to see better and while fighting him, i somehow got yeeted into where the hilichruls are sleeping and they didn’t move???

So I thought they were under a spell or something bc they looked way too peaceful laying there so I went “ maybe I need to defeat the samurai for them to wake up?”

So I did that and they didn’t wake up??? And was starting to panic bc “wHy ArE tHeY sTiLl AsLeEp???!!!” And literally used Barbara’s healing thingy to try to get them to wake up but they didn’t!!!

AND I REALISED THEY ARE DEAD!!! WHY ARE THEY DEAD DANNY!!!!!! AAAAAAA

I feel so sad now bc of that and I am never stepping a foot there again, I can’t even dig a grave for them or place flowers next to them :((

Oh whAT

can

you show me where it is on the map

and yes,,, there was this quest where dead hilis were every where,,, I didn’t like it

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suzudaru · 4 years

Text

yuletide scramble.

words: 1097. fandom: fire emblem heroes. desc.: the summoner & berkut go into town for very late gifts, & honestly, maybe they should have gotten their gifts for each other earlier.

my gift for @sunni-side-up, hosted by @summonersecretsanta! i hope you enjoy this aaaaaaa!

this is how he should spend his evenings: teetering on the edge of exertion & prowess, channeling fury & devotion into lance alone. through that, he can fulfill his contract, & he can go home.

this is how berkut is actually spending his evenings: with sol. in town. surrounded by bustling citizens & softly lit lamps, he is only just catching up to her, “ how on earth are you going to get anything? the holiday rush must have sold out on everything already. ”

“ oh, no, it’s alright. ” so flippantly dismissive─ he huffs his disapproval, but all she does is smile at him. “ you’re welcome to leave any time! ”

“ & risk leaving you out here, lost & alone? i would rather not. ” oh, he’s walked right into that one. she gives him a sweet smile, too pleased with herself that he’s pushing towards annoyance, & still his heart stutters. how dreadful. “ who are you getting this for, anyways? seems a bit flippant for you to get them a gift so late. ”

“ well, ” she says, & pauses for so long he actually stops. she’s looking on ahead, &─ if he knows her well enough, & he believes he does, thank you very much─ sol is glassy eyed, worried, & taking his comments a little too much to heart. ah, duma curse him. “ it’s not that important, really─ but! how awful, of you, berkut! plenty of people get their gifts just before christmas eve. ”

as if the crowds weren’t enough of an answer. “ but will you get the things that you want? ” he asks nonchalantly, & she whips around enough to huff at him instead.

“ awful! ” she reiterates, moving ahead into the crowd, & he cannot help his grin as he races to catch up to her once more. awful indeed, to ask him on this trip anyways.

he realizes, partway through, that he has forgotten to get his own present to her. &─ that is all the more horrifying. seems like he will join her in this yuletide scramble.

he is turning over a hair pin in his hand, thoughtlessly gazing at pale oranges & sunny yellows, when─ “ is that for rinea? ”

“ no , absolutely not, ” he says, when sol eyes him suspiciously. he hastily switches from suns to oceans, a much more suitable blue in tow. there─ at least now it looks believable.

“ uh huh. okay. let me see, i’ll help you choose a gift for her. ” ah─ no. he most certainly cannot have that. firstly, he already got rinea a present. a delicate tome swathed in gold & pale blue, & secondly, it’s for sol.

“ no. then it would not truly be a gift from me, ” he says matter of factly. sol sighs, leans over to judge the hairpin, shakes her head.

“ if you say so. though i think you will, anyways. ”

“ why not go busy yourself with a gift for your recipient instead? i am sure chrom or alfonse will be delighted to hear that you certainly got their gifts beforehand. ” he doesn’t mean that to sound bitter, truly─ but sol levels him with a glare bordering on sympathetic that his heart stutters again. truly, what an awful night.

“ let’s just... go, then, ” she says, & disappears without another word.

he only spares her a glance, & then the vendor, before he’s reaching for the golden pin. that’s the apology gift, he decides, & then he can continue looking for a more suitable yuletide gift afterwards.

they dance around each other like that for the entire night─ he’s caught her looking at both lances ( for dimitri, most likely ) & a dazzling array of pins ( for edelgard, because he truly cannot believe her getting it for anyone other than the emperor ). she’s caught him staring a little too wistfully at elaborate holsters ( for breidablik ) & hairpins as well ( they caught each other at the same store, on accident. it was an awkward gathering, but now they stand, exhausted & ready to turn in for the knight. )

“ my apologies, sol, ” he says into cooling air. the trip back to the castle suddenly seems less arduous as she smiles wearily at him, all too quick to forgive.

“ no matter. i think we’re both a little disgruntled, especially since─ well─ neither of us had any plan about gifts, did we? ”

“ it’s still not rinea, ” he argues, & she laughs. throws her head back, attracts the attention of too many people, bu─ looking at her is like looking at the sun, isn’t it? so befitting; from her name to the glowing streetlights to the way she is the center of his world, at this moment. how... spectacular.

awful. he’s a fool in love.

“ & i assure you, i’m not getting a gift for dimitri or chrom. ” she seems almost bewildered, curiously so, & he looks away. feigns a huff, half a scowl.

she laughs again & pushes to meet him once more. truly, truly, a fool in love.

in the next two days, they lose sight of each other for a bit. he badgers her into training; she invites him to sit next to her in the dining hall. & their cycle continues, as if yuletide is not coming, & then...

“ merry christmas, berkut. ” ( he still does not get the difference in name, even after a small explanation & a scour through askr’s extensive library. ) it’s wrapped in brilliant blue & darker purples, leaves him speechless. he finds himself gentle; plucks apart the seals & does not tear through the paper. wrapped with care, he finds a brilliant, decorative spearhead, & a chain around it.

“ the chain is for your crown, ” she says, & suddenly shy. he lets it dangle through his fingers; ornamental, flowery, & the same black metal as his as well. “ you know!─ in case it falls off in battle. i don’t know how it stays on, really. ” an awkward laugh, & then she’s shuffling from foot to foot.

“ thank you, sol, ” he says, & it is much more fond & appreciative then he expected. or─ rightly so, if the way she brightens up is anything to say about it. & in turn, he presents his─ dutifully wrapped in shimmering yellow, pale & small compared to her own presentation for him. he hopes the warm yellow bow is enough to impress, at least.

but─ she seems too happy at the surprise ( only after trying to handle the wrapping paper with such ease; she gives up & rips through, much to his utter delight ), the hairpin embedded with yellow flowers, the brilliant white & gold holster he managed to fit just for her. “ berkut, ” she says, soft & fond, & then─

“ ─ were we looking for each other’s presents at the same time? ”

& that, it seems, brings the world to its knees. he throws his head back & laughs to yuletide light.

#prospera writes #feh #fire emblem heroes #feh summoner #berkut #summoner secret santa #this was so cute to write!!#i hope you enjoy this! lmk if anything seems weird or out of place

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purplesmmr · 7 years

Note

more dwsa headcanons pls!!!!!! ❤️

aaaAAAA !!! anon, of cou r s e! i would LOVE to !! ❤️❤️❤️ i lov my kidsi’m jus gonna do the same layout as my other one bc it’s Neat lol (yet again, credit to @wordofyourbodyreprise for helping me out w these)

melchior:

has a secret star trek obsession

he’s also a huge military history buff

def a ravenclaw

he smells like a library & old spice bc he’s a ne r d

he’s fuckin Tall

he does swimming, football, and track

he’s totally the philosophical drunk

ends up goin to mit bc he’s a Smarty Pants

he also ends up getting a doctorate in something (idk,, mb physics??) but doesn’t do anything with it besides teaching at a college

has a cat named alexandria (yes after the former library in egypt) but he will veh eme ntl y deny that the cat is his

he sings when he’s drunk

wendla:

will stop everything she’s doing to pet a dog

she’s a dancer n a rly fukcign good one at that

likes to color bc she cannot actually Art

she goes to juilliard for a bit before dropping out & then going back to school to become an elementary school teacher

plays the flute

Does Not Do Running Sports

hufflepuff

she has asthma

she n ernst went to the same catholic combined elementary & middle school

that said, they dated to half make sure ernst really was gay, and half to hide that fact from their school

talks in her sleep

is al w ay s singing or humming something

moritz:

ends up with a collection of deaf animals

gallaudet bb !!

he’s always twitchy & jumpy and yet he drinks highly caffeinated things anyway

got a handjob from melchior once their freshman year (it made him realize he was ace)

he’s shorter than his gf (martha)

smells like vo5 ocean breeze conditioner, cigarette smoke, and hair gel

gryffindor for some reason??

he’s still in his teenage emo phase bc he works at hot topic (he used to work w his brother there but alex got fired. from hot topic)

he, otto, n mart all live together n they’re ha p p y

ilse:

no one ever rly knows where she is

smells like acrylics and pine trees

ends up going to yale for art but double majors it and does law too

her lawyer ass throws martha’s pos dad in jail for the rest of his mcfuckin miserable life

makes it a Thing every week to make sure her nails are short enough ;))))

doesn’t trust herself with any pets besides fish

she has two named vincent and claude

she found out a year after she had them that vincent was actually frida

gryffindor

she’s the drunk person that you can’t tell is actually drunk

martha:

she has Birds

slytherin baby

always smells like conditioner and nail polish

she took violin lessons for the longest time

for as Tol as she is, she can curl up so sm al l when she’s sleepy or is having a Rough Time

plays guitar

shows up at melchiors house unannounced sometimes??

she doesn’t go to college right away bc she needs a Break

it’s ridiculous how much she loves her boyfriends,,

like she’s always ready to kill someone if they fuck w them

hanschen:

had braces as a kid

he’s soooo bad at remembering to wear his retainer

he prbly lost it lbr

slytherin as well

goes to caltech bc he’s Fancy

he has a earthy/woody smell w a lil bit of smokiness. no one knows how he smells like that

he’s shorter than his bf and it makes him Mad

always knows when people are lying

he smokes and ernst Does Not Like That

as i’ve said before, my boy is depressed

bc of that depression + self destructive behaviors (probably learned from moritz) he’s one of the guys who’ll stub out cigarettes on his skin

he’s got a big gay crush on chris evans

ernst:

he anxiously taps but it’s always in a three-four pattern

bites his nails

hufflepuff

he has a notebook for pressing and diagramming plants

he presses flowers for all his friends

he’s got some in a phone case to make it pretty

gets ver y loud and swears a lot during sex

he’s naturally left handed but was forced to use his right hand in elementary school bc they thought left handedness was the devil’s work

he smells like orange ginger shampoo

he’s a soccer nerd and also does knowledge bowl

georg:

he’s,,, a fuckign band student an d a wrestler

he gets shit all the time for wresting from his friends (specifically otto)

he n otto are gryffindor buddies

as mentioned previously, he plays a fuckton of instruments

piano, cello, trumpet, percussion, slide whistle, french horn, oboe, alto clarinet, and my personal favorite, the super bone

he ends up with sooo many dogs

smells like valve oil and rosin. even after he showers and does laundry

he sometimes doesn’t think before he says things and ends up making ppl upset

h*cka jewish

he got melitta to listen to Emo bands like fall out boy and panic! at the disco but in return, she got him to religiously listen to lana del rey

otto:

golden retriever guy. that’s all i have to say on the matter

smells like charcoal and fire smoke

he’s an artsy hoe who likes to do portraits of his gf

he knows how to surf

ends up going to unc for college, not really sure what he’s gonna do for a career

he eventually becomes a pediatric nurse who loves all the kids and sneaks small animals in for them

proposes to martha a nu m be r of times but she’s happy with things as they are (she eventually says yes though)

he gets really good at being able to calm moritz down when he’s not doing too well

would drop literally ev ery th in g for mo and mart

thea:

she’s dating marianna wheelan and they’re adorable

ravenclaw

wendla’s best friend

has some kind of Twin Telepathy with melitta

she smells like hazelnut

she’s hoh and uses sign in most public situations, melitta usually acts as her translator

makes constant closet jokes

always has a deck of cards on her

she’s got some depression

has a combined playbills collection with melitta

Huge crush on tom holland

gay for brenda song

melitta:

makes terrible puns at even worse times

has a te r ri b le memory and adhd

loves to just,, sit in small coffee shops to feel the atmosphere

smells like vanilla

ravenclaw

she, hanschen, and thea are all witches (so is martha)

loves crystal and candle magic, is really good about sensing auras

tarot master

she and thea are supposed to follow hanschen out to california for college after they graduate, but melitta ends up staying on the east coast

tends to excessively beat herself up about things, even after people aren’t mad anymore

never leaves the house without stones and/or crystals

always shading, always vague posting

anna:

she’s a hufflepuff

smells like a combination of floral and fruity

her fashion sense is to die for and everyone goes to her for advice

everyone minus ilse that is bc she’s ilse and she makes her own fashion rules

would totally make the red carpet her bitch

v confrontational

lives in a constant state of Denial that she’s related to bobby

Mom friend that makes everyone’s appointments for them

during the winter season at school, she carries two thermoses around

one is hot chocolate and the other is vodka

she charges melchior for the vodka

she has asthma too and likes to make jokes about “ well thank god i don’t run”

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