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armallo-and-roul · 1 year

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The Secret Menace Society

Happy birthday Eva! And a happy early birthday, Chels! @evathenovice

And I borrowed Eris @cinnella lololol :3

Of course it was Daisy to coin the name in a hushed whisper of excitement. She had a certain knack for such things. Eris nodded eagerly at their new title, a lock of silver hair bouncing excitedly out of its bun. It was only the Princess who expressed concern.

“M-menace? I don’t know if I want to be a menace to my k-kingdom..”

She busied her hands by rolling them against a ribbon on her royal gowns. The piece of ribbon was more costly to the Crown than a months pay for Daisy. Such was life in the unbalanced game between poor and rich. Could it even be considered a game if the other side stood no chance?

“Well, it just sounds badass, Eva. And quite the title juxtaposed against “Crown Princess.”

Daisy was of course proud of herself. She longed to be nothing more than a menace to the people who had groomed her into the young adult she is. She knew Eva felt the same way. And Eris too.

“We could call ourselves ‘DEE.’ An acronym of our first names?” She beamed at the two, seeing the extremely unimpressed look on Daisy’s face and the slight smile on Eva’s. “I don’t think such a name would work, dear Eris. They could figure us out if it’s our first name initials..” as the gears turned in Eris’s head, she playfully smacked her own forehead. “D’oh!”

And so the Secret Menace Society was formed. Eris immediately took to calling it the SMS, with Eva following suit. Only Daisy stuck with the whole name.

“…But what do we do exactly?” Eva peeped up, genuinely curious as to what Daisy had planned.

“Easy. We secretly be menaces to the people that treat us like shit. To the people we secretly hate. And how do we do it? How do we enact revenge?” Daisy flipped her blonde hair back. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”

Eris’s mouth dropped open. “How do you not know! You created this! I’m sure you have something!”

Daisy smiled. “I was lying, Eris. You have to be able to lie! I was thinking a certain pink haired boy could help us with some things..”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Roul sipped his tea while looking over his morning reports. Daisy was furious. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO!!! Roul chuckled, pulling his reading glasses off. “I was just playing, Daisy. Of course I can help.” Eris cracked up, getting an elbow to her side. “FUCK YOU, FRANÇOIS!” Roul took another sip. “You will have to get in line-“

The plan had been set. The Secret Menace Society plus Roul all stood in Eva’s royal chambers. “A-are you s-sure this will work??” Eva was extremely unsure of the plan. They were taking her outside the castle walls for a night out. And Roul was using his magic to disguise her. “It is my magic. I know it will work, darling.” He stood proud and chest puffed.

“Now, your disguise will be simple. That is the best way to make magic work well. You will simply be a maid like the girls.” Roul focused as the girls watched. He spoke out the spell and let it dance playfully around Eva. Their sights shifted slightly, and an almost Eva stood before them.

“See, easy. I know what I am doing.” Could Roul’s chest be any more puffed up? A typical man. Eris giggled, skipping up to Eva. “Hello, new maid! Ready to prepare a bath for Lord Umbro with me?” Daisy was impressed, walking around in a circle to investigate. “Perfect. Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

With Roul guarding the Princess’s chambers, the three maids headed down to the nearby village for a night of fun.

As they entered the tavern, Eva looking nervously around, only spotting one noble from the castle. The court singer, Cadence was at the bar with what looked like a farmer. Eris whispered into her ear, a shiver going through Eva. “See, you’re safe! Just one fab gay from the castle.” Shoulders relaxing, they grabbed a booth, a pitcher of beer immediately greeting them. Oh, it was bound to be a fun night out.

[Insert dancing montage with Cadence singing for the tavern]

Back at the castle, Eva lay on her bed, giggling. She reeked of beer, it having been spilled on her dress throughout the nights festivities. The once neat bun her hair was in now replaced by her glorious curls laying free on her pillows. “This was amazing, girls! The SMS..” Her eyes suddenly went wide, sitting up to look at Daisy and Eris. “How was this a menace to society?”

Daisy smiled, cherry lips going wide. “It never was. We just wanted to treat you to a little birthday gift. Remember what I said about lying?” She winked at Eva, who suddenly went very red. Eris bounced up from her chair, going to open the closet door to retrieve a small cake.

“It’s early, but we knew we wouldn’t have any other day to do it!”

On the other side of the door, Roul created a web of magic to soundproof the chambers so Eris and Daisy could sing her a happy birthday at the top of their lungs. He smiled to himself, it seemed he might just be an honorary member of the Secret Menace Society too.

Eva blew out the candle, head still swimming from the alcohol and fun times. “You girls are the best. Truly. My special little ‘menaces.’” She even used air quotes around the word. Daisy and Eris couldn’t have been more proud.

#fic #mine #happy birthday eva

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years

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Good Old Drama and Gossip

Characters: Hatter, Niragi Suguru, Morizono Aguni (Mentioned), Chishiya Shuntaro (mentioned), Last Boss (Briefly Mentioned), and me

Genre: Crack. This time it's just blind!Niragi being fussy and me stealing Aguni in the background

1.5k words

Part 3 of being a little shit to Hatter and getting away with it. But hey, at least there's the added bonus of Niragi being dramatic while being able to see nothing. A shame I didn't arm him with a cane and let him smack people.

Hatter was going to get them this time, he swears on it. It’s been more than a week since they last struck, and as far as he knew, there was not a single invasion into his Beach. He was always on alert, just in case something happened. It didn’t get in the way of his primary duty to his people, but the thought never left him to make sure everything he owned was in place.

Checking for any of the other’s stuff wasn’t anything Hatter worried about, thankfully. For some odd reason he could only interpret as ‘being too handsome and irresistible for his own good’ only his stuff was ever snatched like a cookie in the elusive cookie jar. He didn’t want to develop more stress lines making sure his men were okay in their personal possessions. Wrinkles shall only come to accentuate him, make him look good, not just tired and old.

That privilege can go to Aguni.

The man in question was at the very least rocking it, made him look fierce. Hatter could appreciate that in him, and it makes his job easier in subduing the more…. rambunctious of their group.

In fact, one of Aguni’s more problematic men, Niragi, had come back to a game with bad eye issues, even more worse than the appointed med staff could figure out. Apparently the game the oversaturated oil stain was in broke his eyes to the point where he couldn’t use them for a good while. In short, Niragi was left completely blind, and Aguni now had to deal with an increasingly whiny and temper hearty baked bean burrito. Hatter found it funny, but oh boy was it wearing out his poor fried dumpling.

It also left quite a hole in the defense for the intruders, so the issue of Aguni and Niragi was also an issue for the safety of the Beach (and Hatter’s stuff) as a whole.

No point thinking about this now. Hatter leans back on the sofa, sipping at a cold blend of juices and relaxing. His feet were killing him right about now, Hatter flexing his stiff toes and internally begging for a good pedicure to fly in through the doors and give his feet a touch of heaven and bliss.

The door in fact does fly open as the thought passes his head, Hatter sitting up and raising an eyebrow as Niragi stands there, breathing heavily. The sunglasses Hatter has so graciously offered to him in order to make him both sexier and protect his eyes from the sunlight so he didn’t permanently damage them further was slipping slightly off his face, Niragi fixing them after a few more pants.

“ You…..! You fucking coconut slut!” Niragi rasps out, and Hatter quirks his eyebrow in mild amusement, leaning forward and sipping his juice quietly as one arm rested on his knee. Niragi points a finger in Hatter’s direction, if Hatter was 45 degrees to the left and standing. “ You fucking left me tied on that bed for an hour! What fucking gives!”

Hatter says nothing, as Niragi storms in….. and immediately slams into the back of the other couch, Hatter bursting into laughter. Niragi on the other hand starts spouting obscenities and kicks the couch, and the red cocktail man notices the lack of real gun in Niragi’s possession, other than the super soaker that was substituted. Aguni probably replaced it, knowing that a blind trigger happy man was a danger to society and himself.

“ What the fuck is this bull?! What- Oh for fucks sakes this isn’t Chishiya’s room is it.” Niragi finally sputters out, grabbing the top edge of the couch and massaging the soft cushions underneath his long fingers.

“ Oh, I wish I was. Now what was this about being tied to a bed, hm?” Hatter croons, which earns him a hearty middle finger.

“ Like heck am I about to tell you. Okay, let’s try this again-“ Niragi turns around, but Hatter whistles at him, Niragi slowly spinning back around to face Hatter’s general position. “ What is it, I don’t have all day lobster man.”

“ Aww, not even a minute? Well, it’s just a question. Aren’t you supposed to be accompanied until you regain your senses? After all, you have nothing to guide your way.”

“ Fuck that, I don’t know where Last Boss went and he won’t fucking speak up if he’s just been following me like a sneaky little bitch this entire time, and Aguni was called away for something!”

“ Oh?” Hatter leans back again, Niragi throwing his arms up in the air as he starts pacing and nearly running into stuff again.

“ Yeah! So then that tiny mozzarella cheese ball came and said he’d help because I just look sad and stupid wandering around by myself, which I don’t believe because I know he’d push me into the pool the first chance he got, and then suddenly I’m tied to a bed as he puts on a podcast of nothing but some random guy talking about wool! It was hell!”

“ Oooh, I see. How bad was it?”

“ Fucking terrible! I did not need a wool lecture, thank you very little! Who the fuck wants to know the fastest record to shear a sheep was 39 seconds!? Not me, that’s for fucking sure!” Niragi rants, Hatter nodding and grinning as he switches his juice out for the good wine he kept by his foot the entire time, pouring himself a decent amount and taking a slow sip as Niragi continued to rant onwards. At some point Niragi managed to find the couch again (because he stubbed his toe into it, leading to an extra twenty seconds of Niragi cursing out Hatter’s poor couch) and sat down, Hatter pushing a wine glass into Niragi’s hand and filling it. Niragi downed it like he was a war orphan waiting for his arm to be donated to the war effort, Hatter lightly tsking him for not savouring it properly.

It wasn’t Aguni or any of the girls, but Hatter could appreciate the gossip as Niragi continued without a filter in his mouth, the rant going from Chishiya’s wool podcast to anything else Niragi had heard in his blind boredom. He was impressed how much information Niragi was willing to dole out just to get his anger settled for the rest of the day, and Hatter was happily sipping away as he absorbed it all.

Finally Niragi had calmed down, just nursing the wine glass that Hatter just filled with chocolate cereal instead, as Niragi refused to drink his wine like it was good wine. It was a shame really, Hatter liked hearing about Niragi’s auditory bubble day.

“ Well wasn’t that cathartic!” Hatter chirped as Niragi mumbled around his glass of chocolate cereal, draped over the entire couch as if he wanted to become the couch lord. Or wanting to be painted like the best model in the world, whatever he wanted.

“ Yeah yeah, whatever.” Niragi tips cereal into his mouth just as the crackle of his walkie-talkie alerts him and Hatter. Niragi doesn’t bother to remove the device from his side, too busy eating his cereal as a voice comes through.

And oh boy, what a voice it was, Hatter tuning into it immediately.

“ ….. Testing, testing! Are you hearing me? Hi hi, it’s me, your local menace~ The one with the robe, remember me? Yeah! Hi, don’t mind me, okay? I’m just gonna….. borrow Mr. Beef Stew with extra beef for a few hours! For personal, very important reasons and definitely not because I got a replica statue of a cute dog stuck in a window and now I can’t get it out. Anyways, bye!” The rest becomes static as it disconnects, Niragi snorting a little as Hatter takes one deep breath.

“ Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Niragi, hand it over to me.”

“ You’re not my boss.” “ Yes, but I’m Aguni’s, so hand it over.”

Niragi grumbles, unclipping the walkie-talkie and tossing it in Hatter’s general direction, Hatter humming and pressing the button on the side.

“ Hello? Are you still there, you rascal?” Hatter leans in, pouring as much honey into his voice to lure them out.

“… Yep, still here! Hi, didn’t think you’d be there too Hatter.” “ Oh, I’m here, and I would like to kindly know where you and your little friends are. As a little house visit~” There was a chuckle on the other end. “ Oh, sorry sorry, but I can’t. We can always come over and visit though, even if it’s for a brief moment!” “ Is that so…. Well, you wound me so, you know!” Hatter puts a hand on his chest. “ For you to not even offer me the same respect, ah it hits me right here that you can’t even trust me~”

“ Sorry! Anyways, gotta go, got things to do, got stuff to move with Aguni, who was nice enough to help us.”

“ At your base? Well, what’s stopping me from asking him for directions later for a surprise visit one of these days, maybe have a meet and greet with my beloved stolen items?”

“ Not anywhere near our base, we’re not that dumb my dear red bean paste~ Don’t worry, we’ll return your man in….. 3-5 business days maybe okay byeeeeeeeee-“ The line goes completely dead, and Hatter stares at the black box.

Those cursed beings, they’ve gone too far. Too far.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #hatter #takeru danma #aguni morizono #niragi suguru #last boss #takatora samura #chishiya shuntaro #hatter rues the day he met us conniving thieves #at the very least he got entertainment before being bamboozled from right under his nose #blind niragi is funny because I can make him smack into things without a chaperone #niragi slow down you're slurping too fast-#you can't go anywhere anyways without potentially running into issues #now how did chishiya manage to distract niragi long enough to tie him down? who knows

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wicked-game-black-butler · 3 years

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Fic questions, 2 for wicked game

Question from this post

What’s your favorite part of this fic?

Oh my! I don’t think you realize how difficult of a question this is, lol. I have so many favorite parts, so if you’ll allow me, there are a few that I’d like to mention.

1. I always love it when Sarah tells Sebastian off. Two of my favorites are:

I had been a fool to push him this far.

"Now you will listen and you will listen well," he began, his voice a low, menacing rumble as he brought his face close enough to mine that the warm waves of his breath washed over my face as he continued, "If I have not made it clear in the past, you owe me a great debt for where you are right now. If it were not for me, you would still be in a wheelchair, or worse, murdered by those men who I have protected you from. My master would not have offered you a position as a maid had I not suggested it. You would not be gaining such attention by the Queen if I had not agreed to train you. So, yes, I will train you as long and hard as I feel is necessary, because you owe it to me," he paused, his eyes searching mine.

While he had been speaking, tears had begun to unwillingly spill from my eyes in response to the painful hold he had on my jaw and how cutting his words were, wetting his pristinely white gloves. I had come to realize the night of the ball just how possessive Sebastian had felt towards me, but I had not seen any indication that he felt it to this degree until now. So was that it…he felt he could do these things…he could demand my upmost obedience, touch me and play with my heart as he pleased, even push me to the brink of breaking me physically because he felt he owned me? My heart clenched as the piercing dagger of the truth thrust deep inside. The man who stood before me, the one who I had come to admire, who I considered a dear friend, who had, in fact, done so much for me to the point that I had started to believe he loved me and that I had begun to love in return, was no better a man than the likes of Mr. Woodley. If anything, he was worse.

He gave my cheeks a slight squeeze, snapping my attention back to the present before he continued, "It is infuriating enough that I am saddled with an insolent cur as a master and servants who could not survive if I did not constantly fix their idiotic mistakes, do not give me reason to add you to my list of grievances. However, if you cannot accept my standards, then leave and do not make me waste any more of my time."

As the last venomous word passed his lips, the bridle on my anger snapped. Without thinking, I jerked my knee up to strike his groin, just as he had taught me, causing him to crumble to the ground.

"Accept your standards?!" I spat, my fists clenching with rage as I glowered down at his wheezing form, "How could I accept such absurd standards?" I paused briefly, crouching next to him as I took a fistful of his hair in my hand, pulling back so that he was forced to look at me, knowing I would not have much more time before he recovered from my blow, "If I have not made it clear in the past, you, nor any other man for that matter, owns me. I am Sarah Anne Wakefield and I am a woman of my own possession and I will not be guilted or bribed into being anything other than what I am, a free woman. Now if you cannot accept that, sir, then you are no better than men like my father or the Mr. Woodley who you have come to despise so much."

Chapter 17- Valentine’s Day Misfortune

And

“How long was I out?”

While I waited for his answer, I traced a hand along my skull to search for the source of the incessant pulsation. A whimper sounded from my throat when my fingers brushed against something tender, sticky, and warm.

“Not long. But long enough for me to kill the rest of the crew.” Sebastian answered, gently pulling my hand away.

His eyes widened, and I turned, ignoring the screaming objection of my head, to see what was causing his alarm- the dripping crimson that coated my fingers and stained the cuff of my shirt.

“This has gone on long enough. We are returning to the townhouse.”

“No!” I objected, jerking my arm from his grasp when he made to scoop me up in his arms.

My eyes pricked with tears, Sebastian’s fingers painfully gripping my chin.

His hot, angry breath fanned against my cheeks as he seethed, “That was not a matter of debate. The mission was successful. So we’re returning to the townhouse because your wounds need proper attention. We can interrogate Edward and Lord Willoughby tomorrow.”

“No!” I insisted, despite his answering, exasperated growl, “We have to be the first ones to talk to them. We can’t risk the Infinitas silencing them before we can find out more about Father.”

Fire smoldered in his eyes, nostrils flaring, but I refused to back down. My own determined, unflinching gaze answered his instead.

“Very well.” he spat, “If you insist.”

Without warning, he tugged me forward to press me against his torso. I shoved my hands against his chest and screamed in objection, but he did not budge.

Something warm and wet swiped over the wound on the back of my head once, then twice. My cries ceased and I blinked, mind suddenly clearer as the fog lifted, the throbbing of my wound inexplicably gone as well.

It was only then that Sebastian released his hold on me, allowing me to rest against the mast and steady myself.

“Better?” he asked, cocking his brow mockingly before extending an assisting hand toward me.

I scowled at the tattered, blood-stained glove. There was no chance I would reveal that, while my head was in a far better state, the rest of my body still felt as if I had been run over by a coach. Instead, I rose to my feet- ignoring the pain that shot up my thigh- brushing against his outstretched hand as I did so.

Sebastian’s gaze narrowed while he watched me dust off my pants and give my waistcoat a swift tug.

“In polite society, such assistance is typically answered with some form of gratitude.”

I grimaced, a jolt of pain shooting up my arm as the palm of my hand smacked into Sebastian’s cheek. It was well worth it, though.

His head snapped back, but before he shot off a reply, I grabbed his tie and tugged it to bring our gazes to the same level, my tone even, but no less threatening, “If you touch me like that again without my consent, I’ll break that perfect nose of yours. Got it?”

Chapter 26- The Sea Sprite

2. The Bread Making Scene

Silence fell between us, charged and tense, as we fell into a natural rhythm. Press and pull. Back and forth. My mind clouded over as the rich cinnamon of Sebastian’s scent wafted around me, overpowering the tang of yeast, and I slowly lost awareness of all else save our undulating movements and the hunger it awakened within me. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, the thrill of treading into the unknown silencing any warning from my more rational thoughts. What we were indulging in was illicit...dangerous.

“That’s it.” Sebastian’s voice praised, his voice no more than a gravelly whisper, the air becoming thick and heady as he gave a shuddering breath, “Feel how the mound is becoming firm beneath your fingers.”

A soft gasp escaped my lips, my eyes widening when, as we pressed forward on the the dough once more, an unmistakable hardness pressed against my lower back. Was Sebastian...? As the sound passed my lips, his grip on my hands tightened, almost painfully so, our fingers burrowing deep into the resisting dough. My thoughts whirred sluggishly as we pressed forward once more, torn between propriety and debauchery.

Yielding to such desire was forbidden. If Ciel happened to venture down and discover us, he could give us our notice immediately and he would not be in the wrong, our current behavior dishonorable among those who considered themselves part of polite society. I could demand he cease his salacious behavior. I could storm out in righteous indignation. I could finally put our depraved game to an end and save myself.

However, as his arousal pressed against me, a darker part of my thoughts reminded me that what Sebastian had awoken in me was something that, in spite of the risk, had been one of the most liberating and genuine experiences of my life. Any other pleasure paled in the wake of the carnal force of how it felt to desire him and be desired by him in return. To hold such power over someone who was otherwise so poised, every movement calculated...to see, to feel that composure crumble, giving into insatiable hunger was intoxicating.

Chapter 24- His Butler: Domestic

3. When Sarah finally admits her feelings for Sebastian

My gaze searched his as his honeyed words hung in the air. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, my breaths short and shallow, while my thoughts warred in cacophonous chaos. I should deny it. I should refuse such an offer and return to my quarters. But for what, to delay desire another day? I had reached the pinnacle of release from fantasies of the butler enough to know I could not deny that I wanted him in the most primal, gut-wrenching way possible. And I had experienced the sting of longing for his return and delight in his company enough to know that I loved him.

No, the only way I would ever be safe from Sebastian would be to leave and I should. Despite the danger, I should advertise for a different post under a new master, a new butler-one who could not ignite my body with a mere look.

However, I knew deep down that such a solution would be temporary at best. The connection Sebastian and I shared was something that transcended reason. No matter the time, no matter the space that separated us, I knew unequivocally that chance, fate, God, whatever name humanity assigned the ruling forces of the universe, would lead us together. I was drawn to him, his presence alone magnetic, drawing me to him with the intensity of a collapsar. And I was tired of fighting.

I took a deep breath, trailing my fingers up his torso, relishing as he tensed under my touch. Sebastian’s hurried breath mingled with mine, his eyes sparking with voracious hunger as I snaked my hand around the back of his neck. My eyes closed as I pulled his face to mine, my lips brushing against his as I breathed, with finality and conviction…

“Yes.”

As Sebastian’s lips captured mine, a fleeting hesitation whispered in my mind. Loving Sebastian was dangerous. My desire uncontrollable and consuming. It was like a fire, unquenchable, an ever present threat, for such a heat could devour and destroy as much as it could comfort and please. However, my thoughts whispered in answer as he shoved me against the ledge, our teeth clicking from our fervor, our hands tangling in the other’s hair, such a threat did not frighten me.

I wanted to burn.

Chapter 24- His Butler: Domestic

At the risk of this post being too long already, I’ll stop there, even though I have so many more I could list (like the interactions with the other servants, Nina, Ciel, Menowin, and Madame Red).

Just out of curiosity, what are some of your favorite moments from Wicked Game? I’m always curious to see what catches readers’ attention. (And that question is open to everyone, if you’d like to answer ^_^)

Thank you again for submitting this ask. I love gushing about this story. It’s my literary baby, so I enjoy talking about it every opportunity I can. Take care, darling!

#fanfiction #asks #asks open #wicked game #kuroshitsuji #black butler

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imaginepirates · 4 years

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Quiet Moments

For @groovyenby. The reader comes out to Elizabeth as being non-binary during a quiet moment together in her cabin. Again, if my portrayal of the nb community is off, please tell me. Otherwise, enjoy some fluff!

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official

~2500 words (sorry it’s kinda short)

~~~~~~~

The ship rocked back and forth, gently swaying in the waves. Elizabeth had named it the Swann, both after herself and for her family. She’d left them far behind, though, and you knew the thought hurt her. If only they could see her now, you thought. You had always wondered what she’d been like, back when she was a lady of society. You pictured her in billowing dresses, the very picture of grace. Here, aboard her ship, captaining her crew, she was a force to be reckoned with. People respected her; she was tough, and she knew her way around a ship. But she was soft, too. You knew better than anyone.

You had met her during the convening of the Brethren Court, as she stalked in with her new crew. There was something about her confidence, despite being so new to the life of the pirate lords. She hadn’t had her crew a week when she was elected Pirate King. You had stood silent in the uproar, watching this stranger with an awed curiosity. Who is this woman? You’d asked yourself.

You took it upon yourself to find out. You spent days just observing her when you were in the same room. You noticed, beneath her confidence and swagger, a certain tiredness. She looked a little worn.

You were fast friends; you started a conversation with her in the dining hall, and she seemed thankful for someone to talk to. The dining hall was the deck of a massive ship, a well-lit room enclosed by a ship on top of it whose hull had been carved out. From then on, you took your meals together.

Now, you met whenever time permitted. Fighting the East India Company would be hard, especially because they were backed by the British fleet. You and Elizabeth both had ships and crews to tend to. You were the captain of another ship, and you would sail beside Elizabeth into battle.

There were moments, though, when you could forget the impending attack. These quiet moments kept you sane in uncertain times.

You met where you wouldn’t be disturbed; in your cabins, or in empty rooms of the Cove. Today, you were in her cabin. Her ship was outside the safety of Shipwreck Cove, ready to set sail in the coming days. Your ship was there, too. From one of the portholes in the cabin, you could overlook the sea. Its waves rolled gently against the ship, rocking the deck under your feet.

Elizabeth was lying on her bed, rolled on her side with her head propped up by a hand. She patted the blankets next to her, motioning for you to join her. You slid off your boots, gladly laying next to her. The two of you did this- laying together and talking- a better way to spend your time than the rest of your company, who drank and gambled away the hours.

“We’re getting closer to the fight.” Elizabeth pushed a lock of golden hair over her shoulder. “The crew is growing restless.”

“As is mine.” Each man was itching for action. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it, too. You wanted the fight to be over and done with, won or lost. Waiting was torture.

“Are you afraid?”

“Not particularly.” You’d lived through half a hundred battles and skirmishes. You always expected each would be your last. “If I die, I die a pirate. If I’m captured, I’ll be hung as a pirate. If I live, I live as a pirate. I’ll be a free man, no matter what.”

“Are you afraid to die?”

“Are you?”

She sniffed. “No. Death isn’t so bad. I’ll see a lot of people again.”

She’d told you about all of them. Her mother, her father, her friend James. She would know people, if she died. So would you. Captains, crew-mates, family, friends. It was part of the comfort.

“I’d rather live, of course. I still want to watch the sun rise over the waves, feel the deck of my ship under me.” You stretched. The lock of hair had fallen back into Elizabeth’s face, and you tucked it away. “Let’s not talk about such dismal things. I come to you to escape the thought of dying.”

“What would you rather speak of?”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Something about yourself.”

“Oh dear.” She sat up, pushing her hair behind her. She wore loose clothing, not the armor Sao Feng had given her.

“I’ll braid it,” you offered, taking a lock of hair in hand. She turned and let you, humming her approval at the feeling of your fingers in her hair.

“There are many things you don’t know about me, particularly about younger me. Back when I was a part of so-ci-e-tay,” she enunciated each syllable , “I was quite the menace.”

“Oh, I could imagine.” You could. You pictured her running barefoot through the gardens of her home, turning her feet green with grass.

“I used to do all sorts of things. I was a terror on my poor governess, I’m afraid. The woman couldn’t quite tame me.”

Thank god for that. If she had, you would never have met the radiant girl with her brilliant smiles and confident speech. What a wonder this girl is. We were captains born from nothing. She is a captain born from luxury. And yet she’s no different from us.

She continued on. “I had a friend, William. I visited him when I could, though it wasn’t a common thing. He was a blacksmith’s apprentice, and I wasn’t to be seen with him. Just the thought of him maid my governess shudder. She told me I shouldn’t be friends with such a filthy boy, a lowborn boy. It made me sad. Not that I ever listened to her.”

“One day, I snuck out of the house, and I made it all the way to the blacksmith’s without being caught. He was too drunk to do anything but sleep, and he slept in a stool across the room, so he didn’t notice me come in. Will worked away, but he saw me. He asked what I was doing there, and where my governess was, and I told him I’d come to see him alone. That was very scandalous, of course, and it seemed to be a bit much for poor Will, but we went up to his room anyways and talked for quite a long time.”

“We climbed out onto the roof for a better view of the harbor. Captain Norrington had taught me quite a lot about ships, and I wanted to show Will what I knew. By the time I was done, the blacksmith had woken, and he was looking for Will. Not finding Will inside, he stepped out under the roof. Well, I just couldn’t help myself. The man was so awful, and though Will told me not to, I poured water on the man’s head. He never knew who did it, either. Even Will couldn’t help but smile.”

“And what happened to poor Will after that?”

“He helped me slip out the back door before anyone could find me. He got back to work, and the blacksmith thought Will was using the bathroom.”

“That was lucky for both of you.” More like Will got a beating and never told you.

“By the time I got home, the house was in an uproar.” Elizabeth laughed. “My governess had actually fainted. Can you believe that?”

“Was that common for governesses?”

“I’ll never know. I only had the one. We brought her with us from England.”

You finished with Elizabeth’s hair, admiring the golden locks. She patted it with a hand. It was a loose braid, but it served.

“I didn’t know pirates could braid hair,” she teased.

You smiled. “Even Jack Sparrow can braid hair.”

“He can?” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I’d trust him with my hair. Have you seen his? And his hands are dirty.”

You laughed in earnest. “Would you trust Jack to do anything?��

“Would you?”

You planted a soft kiss to her temple, pulling her in close to cuddle with you. You rested your foreheads together, arms draped over each others’ backs. It had been like this for the last few days; your relationship had grown from friendship to something more like love. It was a soft love, quiet and reserved. Calm in dark times.

The ship rocked gently under you, lulling you into a state of sluggishness. You could have fallen asleep right then and there, curled up next to her. You would have, too, if you weren’t so intent on spending as much time with her as possible before the battle. You wanted memories of her, just in case.

You lay in silence for a long time, just staring at each other, running your fingers through the other’s hair and tracing patterns in their arms. She ran a finger across your face; it traced your cheekbones, ran over the bridge of your nose, and ended by lightly dancing across your lips. You kept her hand there, pressing feather-light kisses to each of her fingertips before kissing her palm.

She sighed. “I wish I knew if Will was safe,” she said. “He’s the only thing from home I have left.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” She took a deep breath, turning to look up at a candle hanging from the wall. It was evening, and the light in the cabin grew dimmer. “It’s your turn. To tell me something I don’t know.”

“Deal.” It was only fair.

The problem was, you weren’t sure if you were ready to tell her what you intended to say. It was a better time than ever to do so, but the thought scared you. Elizabeth would no doubt understand you, but you were afraid she’d be uncomfortable or get the wrong idea.

“Elizabeth,” you began, “how do you know that you’re a woman?” The confusion was evident on her face, but she responded anyway. “Well, I have all the girly parts, don’t I? Besides, I feel like a girl.”

“And what makes you feel like a girl?”

She opened her mouth as if to respond, then shut it again. “I don’t know. I just feel it.”

“Do you suppose it’s the same for boys?”

“I should assume so.”

“What if you didn’t feel like a girl. What then?”

“I suppose I’d dress in men’s clothes and go around as I wished. Nobody says that you can’t dress or act how you feel comfortable. Nobody here, anyway.”

“And what if,” you wiggled into a more comfortable position, “you didn’t feel like either? What if you weren’t a man or a woman?”

Elizabeth furrowed her brows. “I don’t know. I didn’t know you could do that. I guess I’d just do what I wanted to. Not that I don’t already.”

You had to smile. “That’s how I feel. I’m not a man or a woman, and you’re right; I do what I want.”

“Oh!” She perked up. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, it’s not that different to you and how you feel like a woman, I’d guess. I don’t feel like either, and that’s just another part of me. It’s not something that I made a decision on, it’s just how I feel.”

“Is it strange?” She asked. “I mean, you must not know too many people like yourself, if you know any. Is that hard for you?”

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “I definitely feel different from others. I know a few people like myself, but not enough.”

“I can imagine.” She twined her fingers through yours. “I’m glad you told me. I like to know these things, especially about you. I want you to trust me with things like this.”

“I’m glad I can tell you, too. I haven’t told many people, and though some may assume, there are still a lot of people who don’t know. It feels good to share it with someone.”

Elizabeth smiled. “What are you going to do when this is all over?”

“What I’ve always done, I guess. And you?”

“I want my own crew. And I want to sail the world over, but I think I’m going to be lonely. I wonder, sometimes, if we could do this again.”

“I hope so.” An idea struck you. “We should get a small house somewhere. We could agree to meet up at certain times. We’ll have the whole house to ourselves.” Your brain filled with images of romantic houses. Somewhere with a view of the ocean, but with a garden full of bright flowers and moss covering the roof. Somewhere small, but comfortable. Homey.

“In France. We could buy an entire chateau with all the money we’ll have. We can fill it with exotic animals and stolen art. Jewels from all corners of the world will hang on the walls. We’ll have so many, we won’t have enough room for them all.”

It was one of your favorite things about Elizabeth. She created entire worlds in her head; completely implausible, unrealistic worlds, but they were still worlds. They were entertaining, if anything, and you appreciated her creativity.

“We’ll have a thousand servants, one for each of our thousand rooms. The cooks will fill the kitchen floor to ceiling with delicious food,” Elizabeth continued. “Can you imagine?”

You laughed. “I can see it now. Though I’m not sure that even today’s aristocracy enjoys such luxury.”

“No, I’m afraid not. Even as the Governor’s daughter, our house only had nine hundred rooms.” She winked at you.

You kissed the hand that held yours. The two of you lay in amiable silence, tracing over each other with your fingers, kissing each other lightly on exposed patches of skin. A gentle push on your shoulder urged you to roll onto your back, only for Elizabeth to roll on top of you. She pressed a kiss to your lips, stroking your hair with her fingers.

“I still want this, after the battle is over,” she mumbled against your lips. “I’m still going to want you.”

“I’ll want you too.” It was no lie. You and Elizabeth got along well; your relationship was calm and functional, and you communicated well. It was the sort of thing you wanted to see last. Your mind wandered to the upcoming fight, but you didn’t dare express your concern. What if one of you didn’t make it?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Elizabeth whispered. “If something bad happens to one of us, what then?”

“You know me too well.”

“I know that you worry.” She closed your eyes with a gentle touch of her fingertips. She kissed both of your eyelids, barely touching them. “Then I hope whoever lives lives well, and whoever dies will greet the other when they meet again.” She backed away, laying down to rest her hands on your chest. You wrapped your arms around her in response, holding her to you. “For now,” she said, “let’s live.”

#potc #pirate #pirates #pirates of the caribbean #elizabeth swann #elizabeth #elizabeth x reader #request #requests #writings #writing #drabbles #drabble #x reader

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death-v-elvis · 5 years

Text

Very dangerous

This is a very self indulgent au my dudes,,, i hope you enjoy

“I still can’t believe you got away with them never knowing.” Crowley looked up from his drink to a drunk enemy.

Enemy was used loosely.

An Enemy that looked flushed and happy and relaxed which wasn’t common.

Crowley smiled softly and swirled his wine.

“Them never knowing what?”

“That your really abilities are time based. The whole super villian society thought you were a- a- That you controlled people with your words.” Aziraphale giggled and the room grew to a comfortable warmth.

Crowley smiled softly as the other giggled.

You see Crowley was what one would call a ‘super villain’ a menace to society causing terror and crimes. He just so happened to be a super as well. Most upon thinking of the ‘Serpent of London’ was a crime lord. He just spoke to the right people. Convincing them what they already believed and gave them the excuse of being ‘controlled’. Placebo powers if you will. Everyone thought he controlled politicians to take bribes, everyone thought he convinced people to becoming thieves or starting bar fights.

In reality he couldn’t. People had freewill. They always could say no but... Crowley knew the worst in people so they never would say no if he opened the door to crime.

“I am good at it.” He hummed.

“But you weren’t controlling them my dear. You were just really Charismetric- no..... Charismatic.”

“Oh Angel.” He purred, smiling flirtatiously, “You are flattering one of London’s notorious villains.” He purred to the bookshop owner who waved him off.

“Ah- But- I know~.” He sang. Crowley smiled softer. Admittedly he was less drunk then the other. It had been a been a bad day for Aziraphale. He called Crowley over telling him he was breaking into his wine with or with out him and Crowley knew it had been a bad sign.

Aziraphale was a very low class ‘hero’ he More was given a sector of London and told to keep crime off of it. Though had it been Aziraphale’s choice he would have never joined the ‘Angels’. Crowley thought the whole hero system was bull but the man across from him was also a super.

Nothing flashy like flying or super speed, he didn’t have super strength but Crowley has caught himself watching the hero carry around large boxes.

He didn’t even have the light based powers his flashier older Brother Gabriel had.

No his soft sweet enemy was what a fancy science report would call a ‘Thermokinetic’.

Which was a pretentious way to call Someone who can control the temperature of whatever he touched. Though the Bastard really only used it for keeping his cocoa warm.

When Crowley met him, he was given an assignment to meet the new hero that moved into London. He found Aziraphale sitting with people stuck outside an over flowing homeless shelter. Keeping them warm all night. The man had been exhausted by morning and Crowley didn’t have the heart to leave him out on the side of the road so he ‘kidnapped him’ as the official reports said but really he took the man to a hotel booked him a room and left him on the bed.

Turns out even awake the man was an absolute delight. Recognizing him and actually being unafraid to talk to him.

He was actually surprised by his own ‘excuse me but no? I am not using my powers to help you on a heist!’

That was well....what kind of destroyed the whole ‘rivalry’ they were suppose to have. Because Aziraphale was clever. He was clever and devastatingly smart and realized very quickly Crowley never actually controlled people. Mean while Crowley found his hero less of a fighter and more of a spread gentle good and warmth.

It really worked out for Crowley who wasn’t all that evil.

So they took over London.

Aziraphale was ‘immune’ to him so on grand productions Aziraphale came in and twarted him. They made themselves more trouble then either of their companies worth.

So they were left alone.

For years and years... they were left alone.

Crowley falling deeply in love with his gentle companion. Who used his powers to keep cocoa warm and the book shop so cold people barely came in.

He warmed blankets and kept wine chilled.

He bumbled and fumbled and Crowley tempted the only person who knew he would never be controlled by the demon.

He tempted the angel to food, to wine, to walks in the park, to watching stars, to the random big production to keep their sides off their back...

Of course Aziraphale would know his real powers. He used them to save the dumb ass in the multiple times he got in trouble. The first time he did it Aziraphale was shocked and reasonably freaked out... then laughed. He asked questions, seemed answers and then the bastard would tease him into using them.

Like how Crowley knew Aziraphale was actually dangerous. On paper he was a thermal kinetic. His brother outed him while bragging about his own powers and Aziraphale said quickly he only could control the temperature of the things he touched. Because he kept his cards to his chest.

Like Aziraphale knew his secret Crowley knew Aziraphale’s.

Because Aziraphale like Crowley didn’t want to be used or manipulated so instead he manipulated the situation.

He was the the cleverest person Crowley knew... yet some how the thickest person.

But that was why he had Crowley.

He smiled and took in Aziraphale’s face as he downed more Alcohol. He pushed a glass of water towards the hero.

“Angel drink water.”

“Get me another glass and I will drink two glasses of water.” Aziraphale smiles and the demon snickered but took the offer.

“Ready to tell me about your day?”

“Hmn Gabriel tried to get me to train with other heroes.... a team building exercise.....pretty sure he was trying to get back to your boss.... what is their name?” Crowley came back to Aziraphale drinking the glass of water and accepting the second one.

“They got by Beelzebub. Not surprised.” Crowley said setting the refilled glass of wine next to him.

“Hmmm. Dangerous enemies getting along like that.” Aziraphale got a mischievous glint in his eyes that almost ripped Crowley’s heart out.

Because he probably didn’t mean that like how Crowley wanted it to mean.

“Very dangerous.” He agreed smiling to hide the way his heart pounded.

Very dangerous indeed.

#superhero au #they are very bad at it #per form #Ineffable Husbands #not going to lie this is so self indulgent #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #good omens au #super omens au

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dragonmaiden79 · 4 years

Text

Sir Knight, Taj

Introducing, Madame Tajira

People left Vesuvia in droves after the horrendous situation involving the palace and word spread like wildfire, traveling with the survivers and bystanders alike, plummetting the country into poor conditions. Abandoned businesses and homes meant suffering economy, with land becoming cheaper and cheaper to encourage people to move back or stay; It had become destitute and were it not for the Magician, the Lovers, and the Fool's constant support and efforts, nothing would have remained. The Countess had no supporters left.

"Serves her right, doing this to me..." Said the bitter, homeless former Count as he read a discarded news paper in an alley. He crumpled it up and tossed it away, ducking behind a few trash cans to avoid the royal guard as they marched by.

He had been lurking in the shadows since begging wasn't feeding him enough, turning to petty theft. The shop and store owners became fed up in a matter of weeks, and had reported his worthless ass without a second thought. He scratched at his patchy beard and looked at his worn, dingy clothes. Suddenly the concept of wearing all white became incredibly overrated. "No one in all the history of mankind..." he grumbled to himself, slinking from back alley to back alley like common trash. He slipped in a puddle of Lord-knows-what and screeched indignantly. "Has ever suffered as I am now!!!" He growled, gritting his teeth as the cool, foul smelling liquid seeped into his pants.

"Hey, wasn't that-"

"Oh, that was definitely him."

It's too bad Lucio was so horrible at being inconspicuous. The rapid clang of metal approaching didn't allow him time to dwell on his miserable fate and he quickly staggered to his feet, trying to find a place to hide. It was at this moment that the worn leather heels that he had refused to give up upon his banishment broke, sending him careening to the ground. The last thing he remembered was the feel of cold cobblestone against his face and the metal clang from the knights armor as they surrounded him.

A splash of ice water snatched him from his unconscious state. He looked around frantically, realizing that he was flanked by a knight on both sides, each holding onto a chain that was coiled around his body. He immediately began to rant and struggle. "What the hell is this!? I can take you both--"

"Settle down, Count Lucio." Said a smooth, sultry female voice.

He followed the sound of the voice upwards to a dais, where a petite woman clad in armor stood looking down at him. More careful inspection made him realize that she wasn't alone too; There was a semicircle of about 11 chairs a behind her, all except 1 occupied by very regal and well dressed individuals with decorated faces masks, and head pieces.

"...Or I should say, former Count." The woman continued speaking. "Yes... The former Count of a bastardization of a country. It's a shame what you have been reduced to."

Lucio growled.

"Judgement will be enacted here, today, on you, dear Lucio. You are charged with several counts of theft, threats, harassment, and even a couple of physical assaults due to your behavior involving my lovely citizens. Your testimony begins now. My council will then take a vote based off of your word and your word alone, leaving me to consider their opinions before I make the final decision. How do you plea?"

"Not guilty!" He shouted, "Your townspeople are so stingy and selfish! You'd think they'd help me out, but no!"

The woman laughed shrewdly, glancing over her shoulder at the council members. "Okay, Lucio. While you do seem adamant in your stance, there are a few specific charges that I must ask you about. Did you steal food from any of the local vendors?"

"I would hardly call such gruel 'food'!"

"Did you get into a fight with a man whom you claimed to be 'being greedy' because he bought what you considered an excess amount of fruit and refused to share with you?

"Who eats THAT much fruit?"

"Did you threaten or menace at any children for teasing you on the streets?"

"Those brats were asking for it! They're lucky I didn't tan their hides!"

The woman fell silent for a brief moment. "Is there anything else you would like me to know, Count?"

"Your backstreets are filthy, these chains are awful, and --"

"About your case, Lucio."

"Nope. Clearly I've done nothing wrong. So whaddya say? I'm done now, right?"

She laughed shortly again. "Very well then. Regarding the testimony of the accused, Grand Council, how say you?"

One by one each elaborately decorated Noble rose and stated their verdict, which turned out to be unanimous. "Guilty."

"Mmhmm. Duly noted." She nodded. "Count Lucio, if you'll look to your left you'll see that carved into the white stone walls of this arena is a lion. On the opposite side, to your right is a bull. These are permanent symbols of the two houses that came together to build this country and comprise it's nobility. As such, I am to adhere to the laws set by each house in my position as acting Princess of Pierreblanc."

She leapt elegantly from the dais and landed a perfect summersault in the center of the arena, approaching Lucio slowly until she stood before him. "You have a stunning lack of discipline and are completely irresponsible, which means that the short-comings that riddle your life are rooted in your childhood. Therefore, where other people have failed you, I shall succeed. You will be properly trained and imparted with the skills and knowledge to function as a productive member of my society."

She gestured to the lion carving. "Through the dignity and authority on my left side," and then raised the other hand to point to the bull. "Partnered with the magnanimity and valor of my right... This is true justice, for the ignorant cannot be properly tried." Her voice echoed throughout the arena. "Have you any legitimate way or reason to contest my judgement?"

His eyes widened in a mix of fear and shock. "What are you on about? You aren't going to let me go!?"

She laughed, far too amused by Lucio's attitude to correct his manners. "Then I shall make my ruling immediately. I, Princess Tajira of Branch Et Serpentium, declare that you, former Count of Vesuvia 'Lucio' Montag Morgasson, be sentenced to indefinite full-time etiquette training with Most High advisor and royal tutor, Giles Christophe. Guards, that will be all."

***

The Guards escorted Lucio all the way from the arena to the fantastic display of architecture that was the Pierreblanc Palace. The stones that composed the building were bright white and perfectly polished, making them reflect every color of the rainbow and giving the entire thing an ethereal quality. There were many slick curves and perfect arches that gave it a unique silhouette and the gates were twinkling gold. Even Lucio was stunned into silence.

Awaiting him there was a clean cut purple haired man and a team of six maids.

"You may release him." He said to the guards that held Lucio's chains. "Quickly now, he desperately needs to be bathed and fed." They wasted no time in heeding the orders, finally removing the biting metal from the former Count's wrists and neck.

"I am Giles Christophe and by royal decree you are my responsibility from this moment on. I will ensure that Madame Tajira is satisfied with your reformation, but for now we will escort you to your personal quarters and attempt to make you presentable at once. Understood?"

"Great! Finally some proper treatment around here."

Giles merely frowned his disapproval. The Princess told him that he'd have his work cut out for him in even before her officers had made the arrest.

"He's kind of a bimbo, but if anyone can fix him, it's you."

"If you don't mind my asking Madame, why not one of our traditional corrections facilities?"

"Ah, yes." She had said, lounging in her tub full of sweet smelling bubbles, a bath girl feeding her small slices of fruit. "It's gotten very stuffy around here, so he will be a breath of fresh air- A ray of sunshine even! Just fix him up a bit." She said, waving her hand dismissively. "He is nothing to be concerned about."

Giles shook his thoughts away as he lead Lucio to his quarters, the maids in tow. "Her Majesty has personally selected and furnished this room for you." He said as he opened the door and gestured in.

The room was gorgeous; the farthest wall of it was made entirely of sliding glass doors, which opened up to huge balcony tiled in sparkling opal. The bed was a magnificent piece of art and the centerpiece of the room. It was low sitting and round with a blue chiffon canopy that extended from the ceiling to veil it. Much bigger than a king sized bed, it had no defined head or foot board but instead carved polyhedron railings to stand in their places.

Lucio didn't have much time to admire though, as he was then led out of a pair of double doors within the room. Exiting, he noted that suddenly he was two maids short. It went outside to a tall stone staircase that led down to a what appeared to be an empty pool. There were towering white and gold marble lion statues on each side of it. "Her taste isn't half bad! Much better than her attitude." He said to no one in particular.

Giles exhaled with annoyance, "Ladies, if you'd please." He said to the maids as he moved to a bench that sat near the pool, sending them into perfectly practiced action. They all disrobed to reveal different variations of soft, elegant curvature that could only be described as uniquely female and split into teams of two. One set used magic to get themselves atop the lion heads; Completely synchronized, they put their hands together as if meditating and water began to flow down from the mouths of the lions, and into the pool. In conjunction with them, the others began quickly undressing Lucio, leaving him bared from his rags in a matter of moments. "My, my ladies, one at a time..." He remarked, as if he wasn't in desperate need of care.

Little to no maintenance had been done to him since his eviction from Vesuvia so his skin was sunburnt and dirty, not to mention his overgrown facial hair and chipped nails. Even his golden arm had lost all of its luster and most of its magic, making it hard for it to function. His stench was wretched to the noses of everyone within arms reach as well. Certainly he needed to be cleansed as soon as possible. "This water is freezing!" He cried out, as the girls pulled him down few stairs that led into the pool. "I can't bathe like this! Back in MY palace there was hot water!"

"Give them a moment." Giles said sharply, having had his fill of Lucio's commentary.

He winced at the harshness of Giles' tone but, remained silent as the girls in the bath with him hovered their hands over the water, transferring heat into it. Goosebumps began to spread across his skin as the water warmed considerably. Before long, the pool was filled and the other duo had climbed down from the Lions. They moved to the statues' mounts which had hidden compartments that held towels, sponges, soaps, and an assortment of crystals. Each grabbed their own selections, placing them in decorative woven baskets and joined the others in the water.

Yellow and blue crystals were placed about the water, giving it a mysterious green glow with the relaxing energy blanketing the space. As soon as the soothing aura touched every corner of the water, the same girls who had undressed Lucio, grabbed soap and sponges from the baskets now afloat and went to work.

As they scrubbed his skin, layers of caked up dirt and sweat mixed with the suds and permeated the water. He moaned as they went further down, switching to a soft cloth to clean his dick and balls. They were thorough and gentle, massaging and caressing his sack until he was at full attention. A small crystal chair was synthesized with stone magic for him to be seated, so that his hair could be washed. It was so greasy that the shampoo wouldn't lather when the girl- the one Lucio thought the cutest, massaged it into his scalp.

She had olive skin and green eyes, with freckles and black hair. Her fingers felt like magic as they danced across his head, scrubbing diligently until finally, on the third go, the shampoo lathered into a nice foam. He relaxed into the touches of her and her tall, slender partner who had just finished washing his chest and was now seated on his lap, massaging his shoulders. "Ohhh, this is more like it..." He moaned, "Hey, what're your names?"

"I see you're enjoying my girls, Lucio." Came the Princess' voice from the long stairwell. "The one who washes your hair is called Ariella. Zafira is on your lap." She stepped directly into the pool without regard for the thin, loosely tied white robe she wore, carrying a long decorative case.

As the two maidens that prepared the baskets made the glowing water circulate around them, Tajira approached, giving a kiss each to Ariella and Zafira. Slowly, she trailed her fingers down Lucio's golden arm. "Mmm...What magnificent piece this was in your glory days, Wasn't it Count?" He frowned but otherwise made no comment as she let her fingers carefully trace over every detail and intricacy of the arm. "Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful..." She whispered, free hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "Can you feel my touches, Lucio?" He widened his eyes, unprepared for the question.

"O-Of course I can feel it!" He shouted. She raised an eyebrow. "I mean...Well, mostly... Somewhat." He conceded, blushing. "It doesn't exactly work like it used to."

"I didn't think so." Taj said, her own magic bleeding into his shoulder, making it tingle.

"Hey, what are you--!" He began to protest. Suddenly, the golden prosthetic popped off, falling into the water and sinking to the bottom of the pool. "Why did you do that!?!" He cried out in alarm, girls still draped over him. Without a word, she popped open the fancy case that she was carrying to reveal perhaps the most sumptuous piece of work that Lucio had ever laid eyes on.

An arm. Crafted of diamond-- the purest blue diamond. With perfectly sized gold scales and 4 mounted red andesine going up it's shoulder. "I know red is your preferred color, but as you assimilate into the House, I would like you to look the part. I hope it still within the parameters of your taste. Will you accept my gift?"

He ran his fingers over the smooth finish of the diamond underside, to the perfect ridges of the golden scales, and then finally, over the bright red stones that decorated the piece. It even had tiny, fine-line etchings on it. "Yes!" He said with childlike enthusiasm, "I can really have it?"

"Certainly." She said with a glimmer of a smirk. "We will have it attached for you as soon as you're settled."

"Well Tajira, was it?" he said seductive smile tugging on his lips.

"Taj, please." She said. Giles’ small gasp could be heard in the background.

"Taj, then. I am very, very thankful for your present. You know, if there's anything that you want me to do to repay you, I'll do it." He batted his long blonde lashes at her. With his erect cock out and two beautiful women clinging to him, pouting and writhing in place it was incredibly hard to deny...

"Not yet." Taj reminded herself in her head. She bristled in place, eyes having gone slightly hooded and dark as she slowly closed the case for the arm. She loathed denying the throbbing of her nether regions. "No..." She said out loud. "You won't ever have to pay me back."

"What? You're sure?" He asked in disbelief.

"No, no, it doesn't work like that. This my pleasure. Giles, hold onto it for him." She said, exiting the water. The white fabric, now see through clung to her as she approached him, accentuating her thick thighs, toned calves, and perky rump. "Bring him to dinner after you're done in here. I want the Council and House Advisors to see him up close and groomed before you begin the discipline process.

"Yes, Madame." Giles nodded slowly. "You-- You're certain of this choice? To have him before the Nobles without any training?"

"It's not as if they can tell me not to." She shrugged casually. "And it's not as if I will allow them to question your advisory skills, If that's what you are concerned about." She kissed his cheek, patting his shoulder lightly. "Now, I must go dress myself." She continued with a nod. "I shall see you all tonight." And with that, she swept out of the room.

Ch.1 End.

Hope you enjoyed! There will be another part!

#lucio #giles #crossover #oc #hc #au #the arcana #midcin #midnight cinderella #the arcana game #lucio x mc #mc #theterrifyingten #the arcana mc #dragonmaiden79 #taj #princess #knight

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jbuffyangel · 6 years

Text

Bored Now: Arrow 6x19 Review (The Dragon)

What in the ever-loving hill tops of Olympus was THAT?

I was exhausted Thursday, so I missed the episode. However, I waited until Sunday because I wasn’t motivated to watch given the fan reaction. But I figured it couldn’t be that bad right?

Yes. Yes it can.

I would rather watch Oliver pontificate about his super-secret plan to stop gun violence (without revealing his super-secret plan to stop gun violence) than “The Dr*gon.” I would rather watch L*urel earn her BC suit (without really earning it) by hallucinating her dead sister. I could watch Oliver and Sara bang fifty times over. Yes, I know what I am saying. 6x19 is worse than all the terrible 13th episodes combined! After six years and 134 episodes I am bestowing “The Dr*gon” with the title of WORST EPISODE EVER. Congratulations. We have a new low.

I flitted between enraged and bored watching “The Dr*gon”, so I feel Evil Willow’s iconic expression conveys my emotions nicely.

Let’s dig in… it won’t take long. I promise an excess of snarky gifs.

Felicity Smoak and Curtis Holt

This is the first week post Oliver firing Felicity. Yes, he can dress it up any way he likes, but that’s exactly what he did. Felicity chooses to devote her extra free time to her company and reaches out to Curtis for a truce. A truce in these writers’ minds means FELICITY APOLOGIZES TO CURTIS.

Liz Kim, who co wrote the episode, explained:

Let’s pretend we live in a world of rainbows and unicorns where the main governing body is the Girl Scouts and instead of paying taxes we get free cookies.

We must live in this kind of world to understand what Liz Kim is pushing. Fine. Felicity isn’t holding a grudge. She’s being the bigger person and is sorry for her role in the fight. If we look objectively at all six characters Felicity has the least to apologize for, but that’s just details.

What infuriates me is Curtis just stands there and glowers at her. He oozes moral superiority, contempt and arrogance.

Why, dear writer, didn’t Curtis then apologize to Felicity? If this is all about being the bigger person and not holding a grudge, why didn’t Curtis step up to the plate next? Last time I checked, Curtis has as much to apologize for if not more than Felicity. Instead, we get Felicity apologizing to yet another man on this show and Curtis just stands there like a condescending lump.

UNACCEPTABLE.

Then Curtis cannot hide his glee over Diggle quitting the team. He wants to skip around the room and sing, “Nananana boo boo” while Felicity is distraught about her husband being alone in the field. CURTIS HAS THE NERVE TO TELL FELICITY HE MUST FIGHT THE DESIRE TO GLOAT. But sure, what an amazing friend.

Listen asshat, if you tell someone you are trying not to gloat that’s the same as gloating.

Why is Curtis the only “friend” Felicity is ever allowed to speak to? Why couldn’t she have gone to Lance or even Diggle. Diggle has a beef with Oliver, not Felicity. I don’t see how going to Curtis is any better than going to John in Oliver’s eyes. Hell, I’d take a phone call Thea over this. I don’t need to hear her side of the conversation.

How does anything Curtis says correlate to real friendship? He states the obvious – Felicity is using work to distract her from worrying about Oliver. OH MY GOD. THANK YOU SO MUCH CURTIS. WHAT WOULD WE HAVE DONE WITHOUT YOU HERE TO EXPLAIN THAT COMPLETELY OBVIOUS PLOT POINT TO US ALL?

Then, he almost laughs in her face about it, but can control himself enough to only gloat. Wow. Felicity’s friendship cup runneth over. And last, but not least, he refuses to take any responsibility for his role in the team breakdown. How magnanimous of him. What a petty little prick.

Also, why is Curtis always the one to fix a problem with the Helix tech? JUST ONCE I would like to see Felicity solve something tech related to this company without Curtis’ help. Felicity Smoak can program and hack anything. SHE INVENTED THE KEY PIECE OF RAY’S ATOM SUIT. But whenever Curtis is around she is forced to be clueless and rely on Curtis’ brilliance to save the day because LOOK AT WHAT A GOOD TEAM THEY ARE. She is a shining example of a genius female character and now she’s being used to prop Curtis’ man baby brain. It’s nauseating and unbelievably insulting to my gender.

If this is the route Arrow chooses to fix the breach between the two teams (OTA members apologizing while Newbies gloat) then I can safely say I will not forgive the newbies for anything they’ve done. They will be on my list of “Characters Who Need to Die” for the remainder of the show. Starting with my number one spot – Curtis Holt.

Olicity

At least the writers knew the only way to get Olicity fans to watch this garbage pile of nonsense was to stick a 3 minutes Olicity scene at the end and promo the crap out of it. Unfortunately, the scene didn’t give me “all the feels” the writers intended.

Felicity comes home in a panic after watching a news report stating the Green Arrow is probably dead.

Source: @oliverfelicitygifs

Oliver pops up behind her and a very relieved Felicity throws herself into his arms. Any gooey feels I have over Felicity’s concern and emotional hug are about to be obliterated. Felicity informs Oliver this set up doesn’t work for her. When she’s in the bunker, and knows where he is or can see what is happening, it’s easier to cope with her worry. Oliver condescendingly implies there’s very little Felicity can do to help him while she’s in the bunker.

Excuse me, but is Oliver a pod person now? How do we get from THIS

to THIS

to THIS.

Do the Arrow writers watch Arrow? This is why people get so fed up. We can go from one episode to the next and characters act completely OOC to push a storyline along. Oliver “You’re My Partner” Queen is now saying Felicity can do very little to help?

Let’s just unravel the entire basis of the show and the reason the character exists in the first place

for another bullshit Oliver Queen regression that makes no sense.

All I am asking for is a modicum of character cohesion and storyline consistency. Is it so much to ask that the Arrow writers know the show and characters they are writing for? I think not.

After Felicity correctly argues she can and HAS helped Oliver many times, he does another 180 and tells Felicity she can never be helpless. Cool bro, but you stated the exact opposite 15 seconds ago.

Oliver decides it’s time to placate his wife’s legitimate fears by telling her he will always come home.

Source: @oliverfelicitygifs

Sure, it’s a nice foreshadow for the future since Oliver is probably going to land himself in jail. This scene can serve as reassurance for all those terrified Oliver is going to do 25 to life. I take issue with the promise, however. Do you know why Oliver didn’t make that promise to Felicity in 2x09?

Because he respected her too much to lie to her. Oliver knew then he doesn’t always have control over what happens to him in this line of work. Accepting death and not being afraid of it is part of the job description. Oliver knows this is a promise he can’t keep because NOBODY CAN. The tiny look of hesitation and resignation his face after hugging Felicity proves it.

Source: @oliverfelicitygifs

We tell our children little white lies to ease their fears because sometimes they aren’t old enough to understand the truth. Was the promise Oliver made to William completely true? No. Should he have made the promise? Probably not, but I understood why he did. Oliver was trying to ease his son’s fears because William is a child.

But Felicity is a grown woman. Oliver doesn’t need to tell little white lies to his wife so he can continue his deeply stupid need to regress. The only reason Felicity needs to buy into this obvious lie is so she can function while Oliver is out in the field by himself. How about Oliver LISTENS to his wife and acknowledges the truth – he can’t do this without her. Even emotionally stunted Oliver Queen understood THAT.

We’re really supposed to believe emotionally evolved Oliver doesn’t?

I MEAN GIVE ME A FRIGGIN BREAK.

This is why viewers get so frustrated with Arrow. The characters can change personalities like the show changes writers.

Things we know to be true, and are the backbone of the series, are tossed aside to make an illogical plotlines work. It does nothing to service the characters, show or viewers. All that’s left is a terrible hour of television.

The Dr*gon and Bl*ck S*ren

The function of this episode is to make us give a flying flip about the Dr*gon. However, we are given a sloppily slapped together back story that doesn’t connect to any of the main characters whatsoever – particularly Oliver.

Di*z grew up in an orphanage and was bullied by an older boy. This is the reason he’s become a menace to society.

He named his fear “The Dr*gon” and tattooed it everywhere because he’s so tortured and intense.

He’s been trying to move up the criminal ladder to conquer his fear and be respected as a legitimate crime lord. Ummm… okay? Good luck with that. WHY DO I CARE? Oh, that’s right. I don’t.

Ultimately, Di*z gets a seat on the Quadrant (Season 7 villain set up for sure) and revenge on the kid who bullied him as a child. The moral of the story is don’t be a bully because someday the kid you tortured might show up on your door step and light you on fire.

I thought this was supposed to be the season of many villains. Weren’t we doing away with the singular Big Bad? Why are we suddenly zeroing in on the lamest villain in the group? He’s so lame the writers had to come up with an entire episode to mitigate the lameness.

Di*z and Sir*n spend 85% of the episode sitting in a car trading fortune cookie sayings with one another. They go on and on and on about power, control and not being a dog. It’s a lot about not rolling over, bellies, tails... maybe an ear. Think of every single villain cliché you’ve ever seen and that sums up “The Dr*gon.”

Di*z’s moves are utterly predicable and I’ve heard the dialogue in about fifty other shows/movies. I wish they had just gone full throttle with plagiarism and stuck, “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse” in there. It’d feel more honest.

BS spends the entire episode asking the big strong man how to be a big strong villain. So, a win for feminism all around.

BS is so busy telling Di*z not to “roll over” she fails to see she’s following him around like a lost puppy.

Di*z is the lamest Arrow villain in history (Yes, even worse than Sebastian Blood), but BS is his henchman. So, what does that make her? Nothing good! I’ll tell ya that much.

In C*ssidy’s defense the dialogue is cringe worthy, but she didn’t make it any better with the over the top acting.

BS tells Di*z not to be a wuss, but when he listens she acts like she has a problem with violence. YOU JUST TOLD HIM NOT TO ROLL OVER. HE’S DOING WHAT YOU ASKED, KEVIN.

Yet, her eyes cannot behold the horror of Di*z beating a man. Her soul withers at the sight of Di*z killing. She blinks, sighs and turns away in disgust. SHE IS SO CONFLICTED.

Oh, holy hell. Are you kidding me with this crap? This is the same character who killed a security guard begging for his life. This is the same character who screamed in another man’s ear until his veins popped. She’s tried to kill the team multiple times. It’s a little difficult to believe BS has a hard time watching someone get punched. But we’re supposed to believe it because REDEMPTION. Sorry, Imma gonna need a little more than excessive blinking from C*ssidy to sell me on that one.

Di*z’s need to be a legitimate crime boss doesn’t mean the character translates as any more than the common street thug he is. His backstory is intended to make him look complex, but it does the direct opposite. We’ve seen “a villain is made not born” trope a thousand times, including on Arrow. Unfortunately, “bullied in an orphanage” doesn’t hold up against the backstories of Slade, Merlyn, Ra’s Ahl Ghul or Prometheus.

BS has the nerve to compare Di*z to Adrian Chase and I laughed out loud.

BS spent all of 15 seconds with Chase, but she knows his anger consumed him? Okay, cupcake. Whatever you say. Comparing the genius ways Chase inflicted pain and revenge on Oliver to the Dr*gon’s hum drum plan of vertigo and the Quadrant is just wrong. Why didn’t they do this villain focused episode with PROMETHEUS? That would have been a good time.

“But Jen, you didn’t like Prometheus at first. You thought he was boring and then you loved him.” Sure, that’s true, but by episode 19 we were full throttle on Adrian’s crazy.

There’s nothing to unmask with Di*z. This isn’t Josh Segarra going to another level. If it was those things then 6x19 was the episode to do it. All that’s revealed is more boring on top of boring. I can tolerate a misfire in the 10-15-episode range, but we’re rapidly approaching the end. It is incredibly late in the season to be telling us why we should give a flying fig newtin about Di*z. The writers need to come armed with a hell of a lot more than bullied and power hungry for a chair.

Stray Thoughts

It’s safe to say it’s going to be a terrible episode if the writer is tweeting as a PR defense strategy. We shouldn’t need episodes explained to us, but if we do then the answers should make a modicum of sense.

Oliver was in episode 3x10 more AND HE WAS “DEAD.” There’s a reason why Stephen Amell is the star. He carries the show. Don’t ever bench him, writers.

This wins Twitter:

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 6x19 gifs credited.

#arrow #arrow 6x19 #felicity smoak #olicity #anti curtis holt #anti ricardo diaz #anti dragon #anti black siren #anti laurel lance #arrow reviews #arrow season 6 reviews #season 6 episode review #season 6 episode reviews

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veronicatalyst · 3 years

Text

Let us hear the confession of an old friend in Hell:

"O Lord, O Celestial Bridegroom, do not turn thy face from the confession of the most pitiful of thy handmaidens. I am lost. I'm drunk. I'm impure. What a life!

"Pardon, Lord in Heaven, pardon! Ah! pardon! All these tears! And all the tears to come later on, I hope!

"Later on, I will meet the Celestial Bridegroom! I was born to be His slave. - That other one can beat me now!

"Right now, it's the end of the world! Oh, girls... my friends!... no, not my friends... I've never gone through anything like this, delerium, torments, anything... It's so silly.

"Oh! I cry, I'm suffering. I really am suffering. And still I've got a right to do whatever I want, now that I am covered with contempt by the most contemptible hearts.

"Well, let me make my confession anyway, though I may have to repeat it twenty times again, - so dull, and so insignificant!

"I am a slave of the Infernal Bridegroom, the one who seduced the foolish virgins. That's exactly the devil he is. He's no phantom, he's no ghost. But I, who have lost my wits, damned and dead to the world, - no one will be able to kill me! - How can I describe him to you! I can't even talk anymore. I'm all dressed in mourning, I'm crying, I'm afraid. Please, dear Lord, a little fresh air, if you don't mind, please!

"I am a widow... - I used to be a widow... - oh, yes, I used to be very serious in those days, I wasn't born to become a skeleton!... He was a child or almost... His delicate, mysterious ways enchanted me. I forgot all my duties in order to follow him. What a life we lead! True life is lacking. We are exiles from this world, really - I go where he goes, I have to. And lots of times he gets mad at me, at me, poor sinner. That Devil! He really is a Devil, you know, and not a man.

"He says: "I don't love women. Love has to be reinvented, we know that. The only thing women can ultimately imagine is security. Once they get that, love, beauty, everything else goes out the window: all they have left is cold disdain, that's what marriages live on nowadays. Sometimes I see women who ought to be happy, with whom I could have found companionship, already swallowed up by brutes with as much feeling as an old log..."

"I listen to him turn infamy into glory, cruelty into charm. "I belong to an ancient race: my ancestors were Norsemen: they slashed their own bodies, drank their own blood. - I'll slash my body all over, I'll tattoo myself, I want to be as ugly as a Mongol: you'll see, I'll scream in the streets. I want to get really mad with anger. Don't show me jewels; I'll get down on all fours and writhe on the carpet. I want my wealth stained all over with blood. I will never do any work... "Several times, at night, his demon seized me, and we rolled about wrestling! - Sometimes at night when he's drunk he hangs around street corners or behind doors, to scare me to death. - I'll get my throat cut for sure; won't that be disgusting." And, oh! those days when he wants to go around pretending he's a criminal!

"Sometimes he talks, in his backcountry words, full of emotion, about death, and how it makes us repent, and how surely there are miserable people in the world, about exhausting work, and about saying goodbye and how it tears your heart. In the dives where we used to get drunk, he would cry when he looked at the people around us - cattle of the slums. He used to pick up drunks in the dark streets. He had the pity of a brutal mother for little children. - He went around with all the sweetness of a little girl on her way to Sunday school. He pretended to know all about everything, business, art, medicine. - And I always went along with him, I had to!

"I used to see clearly all the trappings that he hung up in his imagination; costumes, fabric, furniture... It was I who lent him weapons, and a change of face. I could visualize everything that affected him, exactly as he would have imagined it for himself. Whenever he seemed depressed, I would follow him into strange, complicated adventures, on and on, into good and evil: but I always knew I could never be a part of his world. Beside his dear body, as he slept, I lay awake hour after hour, night after night, trying to imagine why he wanted so much to escape from reality. No man before ever had such a desire. I was aware - without being afraid for him - that he could become a serious menace to society. Did he, perhaps, have secrets that would remake life? No, I told myself, he was only looking for them. But of course, his charity is under a spell, and I am its prisoner. No one else could have the strength - the strength of despair! - to stand it, to stand being cared for and loved by him. Besides, I could never imagine him with anybody else: we all have eyes for our own Dark Angel, never other people's Angels, - at least I think so. I lived in his soul as if it were a palace that had been cleared out so that the most unworthy person in it would be you: that's all. Ah! really I used to depend on him terribly. But what did he want with my dull, my cowardly existence? He couldn't improve me, though he never managed to kill me! I get so sad and disappointed; sometimes I say to him: "I understand you." He just shrugs his shoulders.

"And so my heartaches kept growing and growing, and I saw myself going more and more to pieces - and everyone else would have seen it, too, if I hadn't been so miserable that no one even looked at me anymore! and still more and more I craved his affection... His kisses and his friendly arms around me were just like heaven-- a dark heaven, that I could go into, and where I wanted only to be left - poor, deaf, dumb, and blind. Already, I was getting to depend on it. And I used to imagine that we were two happy children free to wander in a Paradise of sadness. We were in absolute harmony. Deeply moved, we labored side by side. But then, after a piercing embrace, he would say : "How funny it will all seem, all you've gone through, when I'm not here anymore. When you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes. Because I will have to go away someday, far away. Besides, I've got to help out others too: that's what I'm here for. although I won't really like it... dear heart..." And in that instant I could feel myself, with him gone, dizzy with fear, sinking down into the most horrible blackness: into death. I made him promise that he would never leave me. And he promised, twenty times; promised like a lover. It was as meaningless as my saying to him: "I understand you."

"Oh, I've never been jealous of him. He'll never leave me, I'm sure of it. What will he do? He doesn't know a soul; he'll never work. He wants to live like a sleepwalker. Can his kindness and his charity by themselves give him his place in the real world? There are moments when I forget the wretched mess I've fallen into: he will give me strength, we'll travel, we'll go hunting in the desert, we'll sleep on the sidewalks of unknown cities, carefree and happy. Or else some day I'll wake up and - his magic power will have changed all laws and morals, - but the world will still be the same and leave me my desires and my joys and my lack of concern. Oh! that wonderful world of adventures that we found in children's books, - won't you give me that world? I've suffered so much, I deserve a reward. He can't. I don't know what he really wants. He says he has hopes and regrets: but they have nothing to do with me. Does he talk to God? Maybe I should talk to God myself. I am in the depths of an abyss, and I have forgotten how to pray.

"Suppose he did explain his sadness to me, would I understand it any better than his jokes and insults? He attacks me, he spends hours making me ashamed of everything in the world that has ever meant anything to me, and then he gets mad if I cry.

"- Do you see that lovely young man going into that beautiful, peaceful house? His name is Duval, Dufour, Armand, Maurice, whatever you please. There is a woman who has spent her life loving that evil creature: she died. I'm sure she's a saint in heaven right now. You are going to kill me the way he killed that woman. That's what's in store for all of us who have unselfish hearts..." Oh, dear! There were days when all men of action seemed to him like the toys of some grotesque raving: he would laugh, horribly, on and on. - Then he would go back to acting like a young mother, or an older sister. If he were not such a wild thing, we would be saved! But even his sweetness is mortal. I am his slave. - Oh, I've lost my mind!

"Some day maybe he'll just disappear miraculously, but I absolutely must be told about it, I mean if he's going to go back up into heaven or someplace, so that I can go and watch for just a minute the Assumption of my darling boy!"

One hell of a household!

#Arthur rimbaud #a season in hell #i can recite this blindfolded #foolish virgin #celestial bridegroom #paul verlaine

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inthisformiambadwolf · 7 years

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Requested Anonymously

FATHER/DAUGHTER RELATIONSHIP, Time Lady!Reader Specific

I'm not in the habit of writing non-romantic imagines for the Doctor and I don't plan to be, but since this was my first request for the Second Doctor... I thought I'd make an exception. This was actually pretty fun to write.

The best part, you think, is that the Doctor cares, and he doesn't even know the whole truth. He cares because he does, not because he thinks he has any obligation to you, and not because you told him that you are just one more dirty little secret that Gallifrey has kept from him. And that's probably the most important reason you have for not telling him.

You wonder what he would say, if you told him. Would he be glad? Would he smile and hold you and tell you all the things that fathers are supposed to tell daughters? (What are fathers supposed to say to their daughters? You don't know.) Would he be angry at you for, well, everything? Would he boot you out of the TARDIS? Would he believe you at all? Would he deny your story and ignore the evidence?

You don't know and it's probably best that you don't let yourself care. There are to many unpredictable variables and too many outcomes that you do not like the look of, so it seems prudent to leave the variables well alone and not test them. Variables are like old sticks of dynamite: fragile and unpredictably explosive.

So you don't tell the Doctor that you really are his. It's irrelevant, and a bit cliché, if you think about it. "Doctor, I'm your daughter. No, really!" Pfft. Please. How dramatic. You don't need that in your life.

And what excuse do you have for waiting so long to tell him, anyway? Only the truth - that you had been too scared to speak up. You were scared of what kind of man he might be, that a Renegade Time Lord would be a vicious creature. You were scared that even if he was decent and kind, he would not like you. Had it been so, you would have walked away. You would have turned your back on him and on Gallifrey and you would have carved out a life for yourself among the stars. But it was not so. He was decent and kind, and wonderful, and he cared about you a great deal. So now, you stay with him, carrying on with the act that your meeting each other had been random.

"Are you alright?" he asks when you're feeling contrite over your deception.

"Mostly," you say, because you can't tell him another lie or hide another secret. You just have to keep this one.

It would be easy to tell him. The words are there. The explanation is simple. "They loomed a child from your blood without asking your permission or telling you what they did. You are a menace to society, but your genetics are too good to waste. Too bad they got me - I am too much like you. A Renegade. I even got myself kicked out of the Academy for how rebellious I was. Not before I stole some regenerations- yes, stole. I'm a thief, like you, are you proud?" He would understand. This story is not strange or unbelievable, not to a Gallifreyan. You are not special. There are other children, just like you, loomed from blood samples even though no Contract of Conception was signed.

It doesn't matter, you tell yourself. He has no idea that you are his daughter, but he loves you anyway. That is more than enough.

"What's with the Beatles hair?" you tease him when you are finally comfortable enough to do so. You reach out and ruffle his silky black hair, tousling it into a mess.

He makes a grumpy face at you, exasperated with your youthful antics, but you can see his lips resisting a smile. That, you think, is how you like him. He seems like your father and like a friend, and you can feel how much he cares in the little moments like these.

When you are separated, he searches for you. When you are reunited, you run to each other and he scoops you up and holds you tight. When you are foolish, he scolds you, but only ever gently, and with kindness. When you are brilliant he is proud of you, so proud, as if he knows that you are his own.

"Where is your mother?" he asks you one day. It's a day when your femaleness seems to be a bit too much for him. He handles everything as gracefully as a man can, but sometimes he doesn't quite know what to do. He had other children, legitimate ones, but he had never been a father to them, not really. He had Susan, but she was so... different from you. She had fewer problems and far more needs, oddly enough. You are so very independent, compared to her, but he wants to help you more than he ever had to help Susan. He's trying harder with you, even though he doesn't know that you're really his.

"She doesn't like me," you say, which shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone because it is very common that parents on Gallifrey want nothing to do with their Loomed offspring. The Doctor, after all, had barely been involved in the lives of his children (he was too young, hardly any more than a child himself despite being hardly over a hundred years old when his son and daughter were Loomed, it was unfair to bind him into a marriage contract and demand he become a Looming father).

"Oh," the Doctor croons, soft and sympathetic. "I'm so sorry, my dear. And... your father, what of him?"

"He didn't sign a Contract of Conception," you say. "He doesn't know."

The Doctor frowns at that, black brows furrowing. "Have you met him?"

"Many times."

You don't offer any further information, and the Doctor, to his credit, doesn't ask.

When he accidentally calls you Susan, it hurts.

He thinks your injured, maybe even dead, when it happens. That, perhaps, is an excuse, but it still sparks anger in your heart. He shouts her name in fear as he watches you fall, and keeps on shouting it even as he pulls you from the rubble. He takes you by the shoulders and shakes you, but all you can think is of how her name falls from his lips.

You shove him off when you finally get your wits back, limping away as a bruise aches deeply on your right hip. The Doctor nags like an old woman, tugging at you, worrying, his hands fluttering over you to search for injuries. You've ever been so annoyed with him, or, in fact, with anyone. Your heart hurts more than you body does.

"I'm not Susan's replacement, Doctor!" you snarl at him when his pestering finally pushes you over the edge, and he recoils like you've struck him. "I'm not her!"

His eyes are pained as you limp away from him, but he does not call you back.

Neither of you apologize for anything, which turns out just fine, as Jamie's joviality and Victoria's curiosity are both perfectly legitimate distractions. Sometime you even forget that it happened, except when you'll catch the Doctor observing you from the corner of his eye, or the aching pain he planted in you suddenly throbs at the slightest reminder of the event. But, other than that, all is well.

"What did you think of your father, when you met him?" the Doctor asks you when Jamie and Victoria are suitably distracted and there are no monsters to defeat.

"He was alright," you say, and your tone of voice implies the shrug that your shoulders don't bother to make.

"He was a good sort of man, then?" The Doctor sounds like he's putting puzzle pieces together in his mind. The wrong pieces, you're sure. You've mislead him by just enough that he's probably come to the wrong conclusion about nearly everything, most especially your family background. "Why didn't you tell him? I mean, that you were his? I assume you never said anything, since you told me he doesn't know about you."

"No, I never said anything," you confirm. "At first I was... cautious. And then I got to know him and I didn't want things to change. It was too much of a risk, you know? And it didn't matter. He liked me without knowing I was his daughter, and that was... even better."

"I suppose," the Doctor acquiesces gracefully, but with that roundabout tone of voice that implies he doesn't quite agree even if he understands what you mean.

Well, he wouldn't agree, would he, you think, huffing, and that's the end of it.

For the most part, life goes on, not much changed from how it has been for... well, how long has it been? A few years, you think, but time in the TARDIS is fluid. Not that it matters. Neither you or the Doctor have aged in the time it has taken to go from traveling acquaintances to close friends. You imagine, though, that enough time has passed that you might... tell him.

If you want to. Which you don't.

It has nothing to do with the risks anymore. Now it's a matter of... something. Of pride, perhaps, or the comfort of how you and the Doctor now live. Your situation is easy and you don't want to provoke any unnecessary upset. That's fair enough, isn't it?

Yes, you decide. That's more than fair enough.

Until it's not.

His name is... well, they call him Hadrasserimalorrin. You just call him Lory.

The problem with Lory is that, like most Gallifreyans, he's a major drama queen who wants to be in everybody else's business. You would like for him to stay out of your business, but as your cousin, he believes most thoroughly that he has some sort of dibs on your personal life. He doesn't, but you sort of put up with him, because keeping the peace with family is important.

"So, when you gonna tell him?" Lory asks, because of course Lory knows.

"I might never tell him," you answer, making a point to act like you're on a mission of importance as you search the library. There's not actually anything in specific that you're looking for, but if you act busy enough, maybe Lory will get bored with you and go away. Lory has the attention span of a gnat, after all, so it could conceivably work.

"I call fib!" Lory crows. You clap your hand over his mouth, hard.

"Lory," you say, deadly quiet, "we're in a library. Do shut up."

Lory's reply is muffled under your hand. You don't care.

"Go away before the Doctor sees you," you tell him, taking your hand off his mouth and giving him a firm shove. "I don't want you here."

"It's a public library!" he hisses. And then he perks up. "Speaking of which, isn't it rather doting of the Doctor to bring you to thee library of Alexandria?"

"Get out."

You don't see Lory again, but his attitude sticks to you like a burr, and your secret, which has been resting so peacefully for so long, suddenly turns to fire. Specifically, the liar-liar-pants kind of fire. So, you make a decision.

A DNA test in the TARDIS is easier than making a sandwich. A paternity test is easier still, and you don't even need the TARDIS's assistance, even though she offers.

You look at the results. There was no doubt about your parentage, of course, but seeing the results on paper is sort of like having the last nail driven into that coffin. Your coffin.

"I guess I'm gonna be leaving soon," you tell the TARDIS. "I don't think he'll want me here after this.

The TARDIS whines mournfully, but doesn't have the words to deny your claim.

You organize all the data into a file and leave it next to the equipment in the small lab.

"Make sure he finds that later," you tell the TARDIS.

You pack your bags when the Doctor's not around.

You make your subtle goodbyes to Jamie and Victoria when the Doctor's not looking. They're not goodbyes in the up-front way. They're more like gentle let-me-go's as you release them from your heart. Victoria notices, but only slightly, maybe only subconsciously. Jamie, though, is a shrewd little man, and he knows. You can tell, but the look in his eyes, that he wants to say something. Wants to tell you not to go, that whatever's wrong will be taken care of; that you can stay. But for all that you can see this in his eyes, he must see the determination in yours, and he doesn't try to stop you.

You leave and don't look back when the Doctor's not paying attention.

You look up one day, and there he is. It's been a while, longer than you thought it would be, but he's found you, halfway across the universe from where you left him.

"You foolish girl," he says.

"Oblivious old man," you say, not to be pushed around just because he knows he's your father. You're not actually a child. You're an adult. "I still can't believe you never figured it out."

"There's no need to be cruel," he chides you, softly. "I came all this way to meet my daughter, after all."

You look away, and the feeling that overcomes you... you think it's shame. You don't look back up, don't see he him as he draws closer to you, but you feel it with every part of you when he wraps his arms around you and draws you into a hug.

"You're mine," he whispers against your ear, but it sounds like a question, as if he's asking your permission. You think that, maybe, he is.

"Yes." Permission given. "I'm sorry."

"Really?" He hugs you tighter. "I'm not."

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